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	[WP] You're immortal and each time you die you respawn some time later in your 20 year old body a few hundred metres from where you died. You have just realised that it really truly sucks for you to die in the middle of the ocean.	I have died in many ways. Jumped from the roof of the Eiffel tower escaping secret French Police. Exploring the ruins of Chernobyl shortly after the melt down. One time from choking on a hot dog in a McDonalds before they were discontinued. I have little qualms with death now, and care little for how I pass. On the list of ways I would prefer to die though, drowning is far down on my list. Drowning in the middle of the ocean following a plane crash? I would frankly mark it third from the bottom, just beating 'that time with the Spanish Inquisition'. Initially, I try to hold my breath as long as possible, instinctually trying to swim to the surface. But trapped in the middle of the ocean, my options are hypothermia, or drowning. One typically followed by the other. As I sink below, and I can no longer breath, I open my mouth, and water rushes in. Quickly following that I begin to what I can only describe as a choking sensation. Hopefully by some point I lose consciousness, and with practice I do, but it is not a talent I often practice. In those first few times, I experienced every moment of agony as oxygen would fail to reach my brain, my organs shutting down one by one, my arms and legs so cold I can barely feel them any more, before the darkness takes me. It is not a quiet or peaceful death either, as the waves around me push me to and fro. You cannot scream, only sink, further and further into the deep. If I'm lucky, my new body isn't created deeper than where I died. Dying from drowning and the added pressure is not enjoyable either. Sometimes I find myself lucky enough to be above the waves when I return to consciousness. My time in the open water now feels separated in three parts; swimming, bemoaning the futility of swimming, and the throes of death. I am always shivering now, the cold so etched into my body that even as I return fully formed, my body cannot forget my own death from moments ago. Sometimes I mark the passage of time by how sun burnt my skin has become. Born amongst what most call today 'Native Americans', my skin has always had a natural tan color, but when exposed to the salty ocean and the ever present sun above, eventually it will whether and burn. When I wake up, I sometimes find my skin has become remarkably clear, realizing I must have drowned in my sleep. No matter. Some day, my bodies beneath the waves may wash up on some shore and a local legend will start. Someone may be able to connect it to me, but only the most avid of hunters should be able to recognize my face from police reports and old news papers. But it's a big world. It's easy to disappear in. Like the stars above me. More than a month into swimming for the shore, so turned around and disoriented from all the times I've died I have long since given up swimming in any particular direction, at night I have begun to float on my back and look at the stars. So many people I have met through the bygone years have always treated such a view as majestic and spiritual, a look out into the cosmos beyond. I cannot fault or criticize the recognition of beauty, but for me this sky was not beautiful. It was nostalgic. For long stretches of times, cities would always attract me with their bright lights and cooked meats. When you have gone more than a thousand years shitting in the woods, shitting in a hole that it wasn't your job to clean up was marvelous. Seeing what the people were doing now has always kept things interesting for me. Except when I would look up to the sky. It was slow, but as the cities built more lights, as their new machines released more smog, I found it harder and harder to see that sky. I miss my mother in those times. Both father and mother were hunters then, but back then ideas of parenting and marriage were different. It was not uncommon to hold multiple partners at once, not uncommon to have children from different people, and raising the children was the effort of the village. But a child has a special connection with their mother. Late at night, we would gaze at these same stars together. It was breath taking then as it is now. With time, our old traditions have been, rightfully, phased out. No more hunting like the old days, why bother when you can shoot your prey from a half mile away? Washing hands, buying instead of making everything yourself, I personally have found heavy blankets and anti-depressants wonderful modern inventions. Two things I was woefully missing in these waters. How long has it been now? Another month? I have been truly numbed to the cold now, and the taste of salt water familiar. My muscles have begun to grow and my heart feels stronger, I spend more and more time swimming, but it is slow. At times, I have attempted to hunt for fish with my bare hands, but malnourished and constant shivering do not make a good fisherman. I believe the few stores of fat I had left were being eaten by my own body, converted into muscle. Sometimes I even get lucky with a fish. Once I've even had to punch a shark on the nose. But when I get into a cycle of dying and dying, I lose my motivation to keep swimming. One day a rain storm came. The waves became rocky, and a wave swallowed me. Quickly I lost the air in my lungs, and plummeted below the water. I died so many times then. I am unashamed to say I cried. The pain, the humiliation, it felt as if all progress I had made was being torn to shreds by nature. As the weather cleared and I floated to the surface, I tried to cry then. I found my vocal cords weak from a lack of use. That made me wish to sink below once more. I floated there, shivering, cold, defeated. Even as the sun would set, and the stars returned, I felt little. But with little else, I would swim. And then I would die. And then I would swim. It would storm. My skin would burn. I would hallucinate at times, as most do when they approach the end in the ways I have. More times than I could count I cursed at whatever gods that were still listening for never sending a boat my way, never helping me come across anything I could use. Until I reached the shore. Things never got easier on the shore. It took me a long time for the shivering to stop. You would expect that when the awful moment is over, you could tell yourself time after time that the moment is over. You set goals for yourself that you would be over it in a few months, and find yourself still unable to leave the comfort of your own bed. It took me almost just as long to get back to talking to people. I knew of so many stories like this, of people who felt they were never going to get better. I knew then what they meant. After something so harrowing, how could anyone? Until I found myself referring to what had happened to me as old hat. I don't know when it happened, or how to suggest to other people how it could happen for them. I was just lucky, I supposed. I didn't have to worry about living until it was time for me to live. I had to talk about what happened, a lot. I had to do other things too though, I had to solve problems, I had to practice things, I had to try and meet at least one other person. It's been almost a year now. I still have nightmares about my time in the ocean. But those only happen some times. Things aren't all together, I still find myself slipping from time to time. But compared to the early days, it doesn't compare. Medicine has helped a lot. But when I feel the shivering start again, I close my eyes and remember the stars with my mother, in a forest that seemed to never end. It is never easy living this way. But living like a mortal is simply this way. Maybe one day, the shivering will stop, and the nightmares will end. But 'one day' is not today. So, until then, and those still trapped in their oceans, I can only tell you to keep swimming. Sometimes, truly, the only way out, is through.	Water of Life &#x200B; When I was young, I loved the air around the many beaches, But life is tough and seldom fair; it punishes and teaches. A curse like mine is so unique, no one is the same, No one shares my bitter pain, and no one shares my name. &#x200B; With every death that comes my way the reaper takes my hand, He helps me up and makes me young and drops me on this land. Never can I be in sooth, never am I free, All I am is now regret, nothing left is me. &#x200B; And so, I drowned myself in sorrow, here within this ocean, I swam into the endless sea, carried by its motion. And ever deeper did I sink, until my breath sat out, Only to wake up again for yet another bout. &#x200B; I swim and die for all my life, young to never live, And all the hope that I once had, I will never give. I will keep it in my heart, to swim until I die, This will be my own resolve for there is no goodbye.
	[WP] You're immortal and each time you die you respawn some time later in your 20 year old body a few hundred metres from where you died. You have just realised that it really truly sucks for you to die in the middle of the ocean.	Years of swimming. Swimming. Drowning. Dying. Repeating. My plane went down somewhere between Sydney and LA as I was flying home from an outback vacation. I tried following the setting sun at first, but I never got anywhere. It was tiring, so I let the current pull me wherever. Life was nice, for a while. The cool water numbed me to my core and I eventually learned to relax, to float around and let life happen. The sharks got me sometimes, but the pain of their bites was nothing new, so I paid them no mind. Then one day, an anomaly woke me from my haze. Something, a land mass, on the horizon! I began to swim towards it. My body was slower, less responsive than normal, but after twenty-odd resets I made it to land. But when I reached solid ground and found a desert of snow and ice, I realized that my time in hell was only just beginning. “...Fucking Antarctica?”	Water of Life &#x200B; When I was young, I loved the air around the many beaches, But life is tough and seldom fair; it punishes and teaches. A curse like mine is so unique, no one is the same, No one shares my bitter pain, and no one shares my name. &#x200B; With every death that comes my way the reaper takes my hand, He helps me up and makes me young and drops me on this land. Never can I be in sooth, never am I free, All I am is now regret, nothing left is me. &#x200B; And so, I drowned myself in sorrow, here within this ocean, I swam into the endless sea, carried by its motion. And ever deeper did I sink, until my breath sat out, Only to wake up again for yet another bout. &#x200B; I swim and die for all my life, young to never live, And all the hope that I once had, I will never give. I will keep it in my heart, to swim until I die, This will be my own resolve for there is no goodbye.
	[WP] You're immortal and each time you die you respawn some time later in your 20 year old body a few hundred metres from where you died. You have just realised that it really truly sucks for you to die in the middle of the ocean.	In all my time as a man with powers of reincarnation in my own body, I knew that flying and traveling across oceans was a terrible idea. The genie never told me that I’d reappear a few yards away, the bastard. Thankfully, I didn’t think to jump into a volcano the first few times. It seems like my luck has ran out though. Being basically immortal makes you a lot more willing to get into risky situations. Moreover, my 20 year old body and mind have 20 year old motivations after all. Seducing the daughter of the godfather of the Russian mafia was not a good idea. “You’re so experienced” she said. Too bad her father is very protective of her. When they caught me, I tried to run and jump out the window and fall to my death, but man do Russians sure have some meat on them. I bit one of them, and that got him really angry. Soon I was unconscious. My next memory is of being in a freight ship with my head over the edge staring down. “See you in hell”. And then I was kicked overboard, hands tied. Whoever said that drowning was peaceful is full of shit. Everything in your body pulses with “Please god, oh no get me out of here”. Ten years of this reincarnation thing was still not enough to take it calmly. Getting shot, stabbed, burned, beaten, poisoned, starving, and everything except thirst is way better than drowning. The first few times I struggled. Once I died, I was plopped back again into the water. I tried swimming but exhaustion always came eventually. I swam and I swam but a horizon never came. Despite the reincarnation, I came back more frustrated each time. After trying and trying to swim, I tried just floating. That kept me alive longer, but for what!? Eventually, I got exhausted and drowned again. Then the real existential dread came in. Do you know what it feels like to die repeatedly, over and over again in the same painful way AND THEN to realize that there is literally nothing you can do to prevent it?? Eventually, the reality of the situation was impossible to ignore. I started letting go. I died and then came back and didn’t move at all until I died again. Things got weird here. Death was no longer an issue. I mean obviously it wasn’t before because I could come back to life, but now it lost absolutely all importance. I stopped paying attention to the loss of breath and looked instead at how the light of the sun and moon pierced through the water. I looked at the sediments that pervaded through the water. I heard the sound of water entering my ears. This created a pretty big ambivalence to what was happening to me. My body passes on, but it is just a body. There is an inscrutable insurmountable that persists. And once this ambivalence set in, a warm feeling of calm came too. Maybe even beauty. There was nothing to think about, nothing to worry about, everything was absolutely stable and certain. Death would happen again and again, sometimes different than others, but nothing changed in the end. And in the moment of finally understanding this, a hand reached out. My own hand. My own dead body. It floated and, so long as I didn’t move too much I could float without exertion. And then the idea came: I can use my corpses as a means for flotation. I immediately drowned myself and then looked around to see the two corpses that were beside each other, I found them and then I swam to them. I tied their arms with my belt so they would stay together. Now, I have enough dead bodies so that I can lay on top of them as a bed. I can look at the stars so nicely from here now. Wherever I am, It is very beautfiul indeed. And now we wait. If I’m in shark infested waters, no doubt they will soon catch a whiff of my flotation bed of corpses. I haven’t died in that way yet so that will be an interesting one. Equally problematic would be bad weather. When that happens, I will have to just wait it out and try again. I’ve been floating for a few days now, and I’ll die of thirst soon. And that means one more corpse. Soon, one of these will go bad so I’ll have to replace it with a fresher one. I’ve died so many times now and I have seen no other ship. But I hope I will see one soon. If I do though, I will have no idea how to explain the situation.	Water of Life &#x200B; When I was young, I loved the air around the many beaches, But life is tough and seldom fair; it punishes and teaches. A curse like mine is so unique, no one is the same, No one shares my bitter pain, and no one shares my name. &#x200B; With every death that comes my way the reaper takes my hand, He helps me up and makes me young and drops me on this land. Never can I be in sooth, never am I free, All I am is now regret, nothing left is me. &#x200B; And so, I drowned myself in sorrow, here within this ocean, I swam into the endless sea, carried by its motion. And ever deeper did I sink, until my breath sat out, Only to wake up again for yet another bout. &#x200B; I swim and die for all my life, young to never live, And all the hope that I once had, I will never give. I will keep it in my heart, to swim until I die, This will be my own resolve for there is no goodbye.
	[WP] You're immortal and each time you die you respawn some time later in your 20 year old body a few hundred metres from where you died. You have just realised that it really truly sucks for you to die in the middle of the ocean.	I can still hear myself saying it, “Secure that rope sailor! It’s coming loose! QUICKLY! HEAVE T…” It was already too late, the sail came loose, seized immediately by the intense winds of the storm as the ship’s mainstay and main top engaged an unwinnable battle with Mother Nature herself. The following seconds seemed like an eternity, but perhaps that is because I have replayed them in my head for millennia. First, the feel of the thick droplets of rainwater falling on my face and arms. Next, the splash of the wave that we crashed into port side, raising the boat ever so slightly, the clash of the soft rainwater and the hoarse saltwater on my face. Finally, the sail is ripped off as we are still slightly airborne, the mainstay is taken with it and the maintop is dislodged as the ship crashes once again with the surface of the sea. The crew space begins to take on water where the maintop has been dislodged. “MAN OVERBOARD” The shoring team leader falls as the ship re-connects with the ocean. It was not long after that before we went under. “Secure that rope sailor! It’s..” Again... and again... There are no bubbles, there is no air, no light, there is nothing here but the cold darkness of despair encompassing my absolute helplessness as the saltwater fills my lungs and slows my heartrate. Over, and over, and over. It must have been a thousand times I relived my death in the depths of the sea. As I awoke time and again, I gained better understanding of my body and it took longer for me to drown. I began to observe my surroundings when I noticed something... A small fluorescent being, resembling a cuttlefish but with more expressive features. It was always within my view, but outside my reach. I started to make my way towards it as I awoke. Hypothermia would claim my mobility every time, crippling everything but my will and my sight as I sank to the depths. After what felt like an eternity swimming towards this small light, it came to me once as I fell. He touched me. A nondescript voice sounded very slightly within my head as all my senses gave out. A sense of calm amid a millennium of desperation and struggle. “You have earned your deliverance.” I began to evolve within my shell of a body, and I began to respawn closer to other animals, marine mammals and cephalopods. It seems whatever the cuttlefish did made it so I could communicate with them. I began to learn from the whales, the squids, and the dolphins. It took what felt like a thousand deaths, but they taught me to breathe, and then to harness the ocean. They taught me that I could manipulate the seas. I learned to control that which once had destroyed me. I rose to the surface of the sea and wreaked havoc upon nothingness. I was the master of the oceans. As I halted the onslaught, I was compelled to visit the depths once again. I made way as hastily as I could to where my heart was called. There I found the cuttlefish once again, but this time I could feel his speech within me without contact. The same monotonous, unwavering voice from before spoke: “The world can no longer continue to suffer the collateral damage of humanity’s greed. We have created you to serve as a bridge. You harness the power you have suffered, use it sparingly as those who meet your wrath will be resigned to the fate you have yourself so acutely suffered. Bring peace to the world, be it by understanding or by force.” My name is Noah. A flood is coming.	Water of Life &#x200B; When I was young, I loved the air around the many beaches, But life is tough and seldom fair; it punishes and teaches. A curse like mine is so unique, no one is the same, No one shares my bitter pain, and no one shares my name. &#x200B; With every death that comes my way the reaper takes my hand, He helps me up and makes me young and drops me on this land. Never can I be in sooth, never am I free, All I am is now regret, nothing left is me. &#x200B; And so, I drowned myself in sorrow, here within this ocean, I swam into the endless sea, carried by its motion. And ever deeper did I sink, until my breath sat out, Only to wake up again for yet another bout. &#x200B; I swim and die for all my life, young to never live, And all the hope that I once had, I will never give. I will keep it in my heart, to swim until I die, This will be my own resolve for there is no goodbye.
	[WP] You're immortal and each time you die you respawn some time later in your 20 year old body a few hundred metres from where you died. You have just realised that it really truly sucks for you to die in the middle of the ocean.	Years of swimming. Swimming. Drowning. Dying. Repeating. My plane went down somewhere between Sydney and LA as I was flying home from an outback vacation. I tried following the setting sun at first, but I never got anywhere. It was tiring, so I let the current pull me wherever. Life was nice, for a while. The cool water numbed me to my core and I eventually learned to relax, to float around and let life happen. The sharks got me sometimes, but the pain of their bites was nothing new, so I paid them no mind. Then one day, an anomaly woke me from my haze. Something, a land mass, on the horizon! I began to swim towards it. My body was slower, less responsive than normal, but after twenty-odd resets I made it to land. But when I reached solid ground and found a desert of snow and ice, I realized that my time in hell was only just beginning. “...Fucking Antarctica?”	I have died in many ways. Jumped from the roof of the Eiffel tower escaping secret French Police. Exploring the ruins of Chernobyl shortly after the melt down. One time from choking on a hot dog in a McDonalds before they were discontinued. I have little qualms with death now, and care little for how I pass. On the list of ways I would prefer to die though, drowning is far down on my list. Drowning in the middle of the ocean following a plane crash? I would frankly mark it third from the bottom, just beating 'that time with the Spanish Inquisition'. Initially, I try to hold my breath as long as possible, instinctually trying to swim to the surface. But trapped in the middle of the ocean, my options are hypothermia, or drowning. One typically followed by the other. As I sink below, and I can no longer breath, I open my mouth, and water rushes in. Quickly following that I begin to what I can only describe as a choking sensation. Hopefully by some point I lose consciousness, and with practice I do, but it is not a talent I often practice. In those first few times, I experienced every moment of agony as oxygen would fail to reach my brain, my organs shutting down one by one, my arms and legs so cold I can barely feel them any more, before the darkness takes me. It is not a quiet or peaceful death either, as the waves around me push me to and fro. You cannot scream, only sink, further and further into the deep. If I'm lucky, my new body isn't created deeper than where I died. Dying from drowning and the added pressure is not enjoyable either. Sometimes I find myself lucky enough to be above the waves when I return to consciousness. My time in the open water now feels separated in three parts; swimming, bemoaning the futility of swimming, and the throes of death. I am always shivering now, the cold so etched into my body that even as I return fully formed, my body cannot forget my own death from moments ago. Sometimes I mark the passage of time by how sun burnt my skin has become. Born amongst what most call today 'Native Americans', my skin has always had a natural tan color, but when exposed to the salty ocean and the ever present sun above, eventually it will whether and burn. When I wake up, I sometimes find my skin has become remarkably clear, realizing I must have drowned in my sleep. No matter. Some day, my bodies beneath the waves may wash up on some shore and a local legend will start. Someone may be able to connect it to me, but only the most avid of hunters should be able to recognize my face from police reports and old news papers. But it's a big world. It's easy to disappear in. Like the stars above me. More than a month into swimming for the shore, so turned around and disoriented from all the times I've died I have long since given up swimming in any particular direction, at night I have begun to float on my back and look at the stars. So many people I have met through the bygone years have always treated such a view as majestic and spiritual, a look out into the cosmos beyond. I cannot fault or criticize the recognition of beauty, but for me this sky was not beautiful. It was nostalgic. For long stretches of times, cities would always attract me with their bright lights and cooked meats. When you have gone more than a thousand years shitting in the woods, shitting in a hole that it wasn't your job to clean up was marvelous. Seeing what the people were doing now has always kept things interesting for me. Except when I would look up to the sky. It was slow, but as the cities built more lights, as their new machines released more smog, I found it harder and harder to see that sky. I miss my mother in those times. Both father and mother were hunters then, but back then ideas of parenting and marriage were different. It was not uncommon to hold multiple partners at once, not uncommon to have children from different people, and raising the children was the effort of the village. But a child has a special connection with their mother. Late at night, we would gaze at these same stars together. It was breath taking then as it is now. With time, our old traditions have been, rightfully, phased out. No more hunting like the old days, why bother when you can shoot your prey from a half mile away? Washing hands, buying instead of making everything yourself, I personally have found heavy blankets and anti-depressants wonderful modern inventions. Two things I was woefully missing in these waters. How long has it been now? Another month? I have been truly numbed to the cold now, and the taste of salt water familiar. My muscles have begun to grow and my heart feels stronger, I spend more and more time swimming, but it is slow. At times, I have attempted to hunt for fish with my bare hands, but malnourished and constant shivering do not make a good fisherman. I believe the few stores of fat I had left were being eaten by my own body, converted into muscle. Sometimes I even get lucky with a fish. Once I've even had to punch a shark on the nose. But when I get into a cycle of dying and dying, I lose my motivation to keep swimming. One day a rain storm came. The waves became rocky, and a wave swallowed me. Quickly I lost the air in my lungs, and plummeted below the water. I died so many times then. I am unashamed to say I cried. The pain, the humiliation, it felt as if all progress I had made was being torn to shreds by nature. As the weather cleared and I floated to the surface, I tried to cry then. I found my vocal cords weak from a lack of use. That made me wish to sink below once more. I floated there, shivering, cold, defeated. Even as the sun would set, and the stars returned, I felt little. But with little else, I would swim. And then I would die. And then I would swim. It would storm. My skin would burn. I would hallucinate at times, as most do when they approach the end in the ways I have. More times than I could count I cursed at whatever gods that were still listening for never sending a boat my way, never helping me come across anything I could use. Until I reached the shore. Things never got easier on the shore. It took me a long time for the shivering to stop. You would expect that when the awful moment is over, you could tell yourself time after time that the moment is over. You set goals for yourself that you would be over it in a few months, and find yourself still unable to leave the comfort of your own bed. It took me almost just as long to get back to talking to people. I knew of so many stories like this, of people who felt they were never going to get better. I knew then what they meant. After something so harrowing, how could anyone? Until I found myself referring to what had happened to me as old hat. I don't know when it happened, or how to suggest to other people how it could happen for them. I was just lucky, I supposed. I didn't have to worry about living until it was time for me to live. I had to talk about what happened, a lot. I had to do other things too though, I had to solve problems, I had to practice things, I had to try and meet at least one other person. It's been almost a year now. I still have nightmares about my time in the ocean. But those only happen some times. Things aren't all together, I still find myself slipping from time to time. But compared to the early days, it doesn't compare. Medicine has helped a lot. But when I feel the shivering start again, I close my eyes and remember the stars with my mother, in a forest that seemed to never end. It is never easy living this way. But living like a mortal is simply this way. Maybe one day, the shivering will stop, and the nightmares will end. But 'one day' is not today. So, until then, and those still trapped in their oceans, I can only tell you to keep swimming. Sometimes, truly, the only way out, is through.
	[WP] You're immortal and each time you die you respawn some time later in your 20 year old body a few hundred metres from where you died. You have just realised that it really truly sucks for you to die in the middle of the ocean.	In all my time as a man with powers of reincarnation in my own body, I knew that flying and traveling across oceans was a terrible idea. The genie never told me that I’d reappear a few yards away, the bastard. Thankfully, I didn’t think to jump into a volcano the first few times. It seems like my luck has ran out though. Being basically immortal makes you a lot more willing to get into risky situations. Moreover, my 20 year old body and mind have 20 year old motivations after all. Seducing the daughter of the godfather of the Russian mafia was not a good idea. “You’re so experienced” she said. Too bad her father is very protective of her. When they caught me, I tried to run and jump out the window and fall to my death, but man do Russians sure have some meat on them. I bit one of them, and that got him really angry. Soon I was unconscious. My next memory is of being in a freight ship with my head over the edge staring down. “See you in hell”. And then I was kicked overboard, hands tied. Whoever said that drowning was peaceful is full of shit. Everything in your body pulses with “Please god, oh no get me out of here”. Ten years of this reincarnation thing was still not enough to take it calmly. Getting shot, stabbed, burned, beaten, poisoned, starving, and everything except thirst is way better than drowning. The first few times I struggled. Once I died, I was plopped back again into the water. I tried swimming but exhaustion always came eventually. I swam and I swam but a horizon never came. Despite the reincarnation, I came back more frustrated each time. After trying and trying to swim, I tried just floating. That kept me alive longer, but for what!? Eventually, I got exhausted and drowned again. Then the real existential dread came in. Do you know what it feels like to die repeatedly, over and over again in the same painful way AND THEN to realize that there is literally nothing you can do to prevent it?? Eventually, the reality of the situation was impossible to ignore. I started letting go. I died and then came back and didn’t move at all until I died again. Things got weird here. Death was no longer an issue. I mean obviously it wasn’t before because I could come back to life, but now it lost absolutely all importance. I stopped paying attention to the loss of breath and looked instead at how the light of the sun and moon pierced through the water. I looked at the sediments that pervaded through the water. I heard the sound of water entering my ears. This created a pretty big ambivalence to what was happening to me. My body passes on, but it is just a body. There is an inscrutable insurmountable that persists. And once this ambivalence set in, a warm feeling of calm came too. Maybe even beauty. There was nothing to think about, nothing to worry about, everything was absolutely stable and certain. Death would happen again and again, sometimes different than others, but nothing changed in the end. And in the moment of finally understanding this, a hand reached out. My own hand. My own dead body. It floated and, so long as I didn’t move too much I could float without exertion. And then the idea came: I can use my corpses as a means for flotation. I immediately drowned myself and then looked around to see the two corpses that were beside each other, I found them and then I swam to them. I tied their arms with my belt so they would stay together. Now, I have enough dead bodies so that I can lay on top of them as a bed. I can look at the stars so nicely from here now. Wherever I am, It is very beautfiul indeed. And now we wait. If I’m in shark infested waters, no doubt they will soon catch a whiff of my flotation bed of corpses. I haven’t died in that way yet so that will be an interesting one. Equally problematic would be bad weather. When that happens, I will have to just wait it out and try again. I’ve been floating for a few days now, and I’ll die of thirst soon. And that means one more corpse. Soon, one of these will go bad so I’ll have to replace it with a fresher one. I’ve died so many times now and I have seen no other ship. But I hope I will see one soon. If I do though, I will have no idea how to explain the situation.	I have died in many ways. Jumped from the roof of the Eiffel tower escaping secret French Police. Exploring the ruins of Chernobyl shortly after the melt down. One time from choking on a hot dog in a McDonalds before they were discontinued. I have little qualms with death now, and care little for how I pass. On the list of ways I would prefer to die though, drowning is far down on my list. Drowning in the middle of the ocean following a plane crash? I would frankly mark it third from the bottom, just beating 'that time with the Spanish Inquisition'. Initially, I try to hold my breath as long as possible, instinctually trying to swim to the surface. But trapped in the middle of the ocean, my options are hypothermia, or drowning. One typically followed by the other. As I sink below, and I can no longer breath, I open my mouth, and water rushes in. Quickly following that I begin to what I can only describe as a choking sensation. Hopefully by some point I lose consciousness, and with practice I do, but it is not a talent I often practice. In those first few times, I experienced every moment of agony as oxygen would fail to reach my brain, my organs shutting down one by one, my arms and legs so cold I can barely feel them any more, before the darkness takes me. It is not a quiet or peaceful death either, as the waves around me push me to and fro. You cannot scream, only sink, further and further into the deep. If I'm lucky, my new body isn't created deeper than where I died. Dying from drowning and the added pressure is not enjoyable either. Sometimes I find myself lucky enough to be above the waves when I return to consciousness. My time in the open water now feels separated in three parts; swimming, bemoaning the futility of swimming, and the throes of death. I am always shivering now, the cold so etched into my body that even as I return fully formed, my body cannot forget my own death from moments ago. Sometimes I mark the passage of time by how sun burnt my skin has become. Born amongst what most call today 'Native Americans', my skin has always had a natural tan color, but when exposed to the salty ocean and the ever present sun above, eventually it will whether and burn. When I wake up, I sometimes find my skin has become remarkably clear, realizing I must have drowned in my sleep. No matter. Some day, my bodies beneath the waves may wash up on some shore and a local legend will start. Someone may be able to connect it to me, but only the most avid of hunters should be able to recognize my face from police reports and old news papers. But it's a big world. It's easy to disappear in. Like the stars above me. More than a month into swimming for the shore, so turned around and disoriented from all the times I've died I have long since given up swimming in any particular direction, at night I have begun to float on my back and look at the stars. So many people I have met through the bygone years have always treated such a view as majestic and spiritual, a look out into the cosmos beyond. I cannot fault or criticize the recognition of beauty, but for me this sky was not beautiful. It was nostalgic. For long stretches of times, cities would always attract me with their bright lights and cooked meats. When you have gone more than a thousand years shitting in the woods, shitting in a hole that it wasn't your job to clean up was marvelous. Seeing what the people were doing now has always kept things interesting for me. Except when I would look up to the sky. It was slow, but as the cities built more lights, as their new machines released more smog, I found it harder and harder to see that sky. I miss my mother in those times. Both father and mother were hunters then, but back then ideas of parenting and marriage were different. It was not uncommon to hold multiple partners at once, not uncommon to have children from different people, and raising the children was the effort of the village. But a child has a special connection with their mother. Late at night, we would gaze at these same stars together. It was breath taking then as it is now. With time, our old traditions have been, rightfully, phased out. No more hunting like the old days, why bother when you can shoot your prey from a half mile away? Washing hands, buying instead of making everything yourself, I personally have found heavy blankets and anti-depressants wonderful modern inventions. Two things I was woefully missing in these waters. How long has it been now? Another month? I have been truly numbed to the cold now, and the taste of salt water familiar. My muscles have begun to grow and my heart feels stronger, I spend more and more time swimming, but it is slow. At times, I have attempted to hunt for fish with my bare hands, but malnourished and constant shivering do not make a good fisherman. I believe the few stores of fat I had left were being eaten by my own body, converted into muscle. Sometimes I even get lucky with a fish. Once I've even had to punch a shark on the nose. But when I get into a cycle of dying and dying, I lose my motivation to keep swimming. One day a rain storm came. The waves became rocky, and a wave swallowed me. Quickly I lost the air in my lungs, and plummeted below the water. I died so many times then. I am unashamed to say I cried. The pain, the humiliation, it felt as if all progress I had made was being torn to shreds by nature. As the weather cleared and I floated to the surface, I tried to cry then. I found my vocal cords weak from a lack of use. That made me wish to sink below once more. I floated there, shivering, cold, defeated. Even as the sun would set, and the stars returned, I felt little. But with little else, I would swim. And then I would die. And then I would swim. It would storm. My skin would burn. I would hallucinate at times, as most do when they approach the end in the ways I have. More times than I could count I cursed at whatever gods that were still listening for never sending a boat my way, never helping me come across anything I could use. Until I reached the shore. Things never got easier on the shore. It took me a long time for the shivering to stop. You would expect that when the awful moment is over, you could tell yourself time after time that the moment is over. You set goals for yourself that you would be over it in a few months, and find yourself still unable to leave the comfort of your own bed. It took me almost just as long to get back to talking to people. I knew of so many stories like this, of people who felt they were never going to get better. I knew then what they meant. After something so harrowing, how could anyone? Until I found myself referring to what had happened to me as old hat. I don't know when it happened, or how to suggest to other people how it could happen for them. I was just lucky, I supposed. I didn't have to worry about living until it was time for me to live. I had to talk about what happened, a lot. I had to do other things too though, I had to solve problems, I had to practice things, I had to try and meet at least one other person. It's been almost a year now. I still have nightmares about my time in the ocean. But those only happen some times. Things aren't all together, I still find myself slipping from time to time. But compared to the early days, it doesn't compare. Medicine has helped a lot. But when I feel the shivering start again, I close my eyes and remember the stars with my mother, in a forest that seemed to never end. It is never easy living this way. But living like a mortal is simply this way. Maybe one day, the shivering will stop, and the nightmares will end. But 'one day' is not today. So, until then, and those still trapped in their oceans, I can only tell you to keep swimming. Sometimes, truly, the only way out, is through.
	[WP] You're immortal and each time you die you respawn some time later in your 20 year old body a few hundred metres from where you died. You have just realised that it really truly sucks for you to die in the middle of the ocean.	In all my time as a man with powers of reincarnation in my own body, I knew that flying and traveling across oceans was a terrible idea. The genie never told me that I’d reappear a few yards away, the bastard. Thankfully, I didn’t think to jump into a volcano the first few times. It seems like my luck has ran out though. Being basically immortal makes you a lot more willing to get into risky situations. Moreover, my 20 year old body and mind have 20 year old motivations after all. Seducing the daughter of the godfather of the Russian mafia was not a good idea. “You’re so experienced” she said. Too bad her father is very protective of her. When they caught me, I tried to run and jump out the window and fall to my death, but man do Russians sure have some meat on them. I bit one of them, and that got him really angry. Soon I was unconscious. My next memory is of being in a freight ship with my head over the edge staring down. “See you in hell”. And then I was kicked overboard, hands tied. Whoever said that drowning was peaceful is full of shit. Everything in your body pulses with “Please god, oh no get me out of here”. Ten years of this reincarnation thing was still not enough to take it calmly. Getting shot, stabbed, burned, beaten, poisoned, starving, and everything except thirst is way better than drowning. The first few times I struggled. Once I died, I was plopped back again into the water. I tried swimming but exhaustion always came eventually. I swam and I swam but a horizon never came. Despite the reincarnation, I came back more frustrated each time. After trying and trying to swim, I tried just floating. That kept me alive longer, but for what!? Eventually, I got exhausted and drowned again. Then the real existential dread came in. Do you know what it feels like to die repeatedly, over and over again in the same painful way AND THEN to realize that there is literally nothing you can do to prevent it?? Eventually, the reality of the situation was impossible to ignore. I started letting go. I died and then came back and didn’t move at all until I died again. Things got weird here. Death was no longer an issue. I mean obviously it wasn’t before because I could come back to life, but now it lost absolutely all importance. I stopped paying attention to the loss of breath and looked instead at how the light of the sun and moon pierced through the water. I looked at the sediments that pervaded through the water. I heard the sound of water entering my ears. This created a pretty big ambivalence to what was happening to me. My body passes on, but it is just a body. There is an inscrutable insurmountable that persists. And once this ambivalence set in, a warm feeling of calm came too. Maybe even beauty. There was nothing to think about, nothing to worry about, everything was absolutely stable and certain. Death would happen again and again, sometimes different than others, but nothing changed in the end. And in the moment of finally understanding this, a hand reached out. My own hand. My own dead body. It floated and, so long as I didn’t move too much I could float without exertion. And then the idea came: I can use my corpses as a means for flotation. I immediately drowned myself and then looked around to see the two corpses that were beside each other, I found them and then I swam to them. I tied their arms with my belt so they would stay together. Now, I have enough dead bodies so that I can lay on top of them as a bed. I can look at the stars so nicely from here now. Wherever I am, It is very beautfiul indeed. And now we wait. If I’m in shark infested waters, no doubt they will soon catch a whiff of my flotation bed of corpses. I haven’t died in that way yet so that will be an interesting one. Equally problematic would be bad weather. When that happens, I will have to just wait it out and try again. I’ve been floating for a few days now, and I’ll die of thirst soon. And that means one more corpse. Soon, one of these will go bad so I’ll have to replace it with a fresher one. I’ve died so many times now and I have seen no other ship. But I hope I will see one soon. If I do though, I will have no idea how to explain the situation.	Years of swimming. Swimming. Drowning. Dying. Repeating. My plane went down somewhere between Sydney and LA as I was flying home from an outback vacation. I tried following the setting sun at first, but I never got anywhere. It was tiring, so I let the current pull me wherever. Life was nice, for a while. The cool water numbed me to my core and I eventually learned to relax, to float around and let life happen. The sharks got me sometimes, but the pain of their bites was nothing new, so I paid them no mind. Then one day, an anomaly woke me from my haze. Something, a land mass, on the horizon! I began to swim towards it. My body was slower, less responsive than normal, but after twenty-odd resets I made it to land. But when I reached solid ground and found a desert of snow and ice, I realized that my time in hell was only just beginning. “...Fucking Antarctica?”
	[WP] You're immortal and each time you die you respawn some time later in your 20 year old body a few hundred metres from where you died. You have just realised that it really truly sucks for you to die in the middle of the ocean.	Each day begins with a small light that grows brighter as my eyes open to face the featureless hellscape of an ever-shifting plane. The small waves mean nothing- they simply buffet me without end or beginning. I tried to swim, at first. I had learned how so long ago that I cannot truly remember who taught me. I tried every conceivable direction. It always ended the same way. Exhausted, my muscles aching, I could no longer move. My next attempts I simply floated, watching the faraway stars and trying to discern some pattern, some long-ago learned constellation. It was for naught. I had clearly floated so long, each kilometer a death, that I could no longer recognize even the stars. It is in this watery purgatory that I tried to fathom what sin I could have committed that would warrant such a punishment as this. Eventually I began to hasten my own demise. I would drink the briny fluid, feeling my stomach churn with each brackish gulp. These days were dark. Once I was simply eaten by a shark, its jagged teeth tearing into my flesh. It was a comforting, early release. Eventually I turned to the only resort that I had. Floating in this amniotic world, I thought of what I could do if this punishment ever ended. I began to hate the changing face of this sea-born life. I craved to see it replaced with cold certainty. I floated and thought. I must have spent decades like that. I cannot comprehend in any meaningful way how long I had spent in that sophistic hell. I was once picked up by a passing ship. It was propelled by billowing blankets instead of the rows of slaves that I had seen before. The men spoke in high, soft voices, and, thinking that I was hallucinating, that this way simply another way to heighten the pain of endless deaths tossed upon an infinite sea of my own demises, I grabbed one of their scimitars and ran it through my stomach. Another eternity passes. I was hoisted onto a massive bulk of metal. These men had no swords, their ship smelled of soot and fire. They spoke gutterally and cocked their heads at me as I tried to speak with them. Eventually I learned that swords had been replaced- this was a colony of magicians that propelled chunks of rock with magic dust. I used one to destroy my deceitful head. I awoke in another part of their behemothic ship, naked and only half-literate. Staring up into the dark recesses, as crewmen surrounded me, I began to laugh uproariously. It echoed in the small hallways of the ship as I realized that my punishment was over. Now it was time for my revenge. It has been another thousand years. It is unlikely that in what used to be this tropical wilderness, that anyone will ever find this note. I spent so many lifetimes in pursuit of this single goal that I have forgotten most of my names and all of my friends. But it was worth it. Now where there used to be vines of green and colored serpents, there is a dusting of snow upon the ground. The sea has been retracted, coiling in on itself like an injured viper. I look out from what used to be the coast and shiver happily. I have taken my revenge on this mysterious liquid, this elder abomination from which once man crawled. Now in the place of the swirling riddle of the ocean, there is nothing but the cold certainty of ice. I laugh once more for the first time in a thousand years. There is no one left to hear it.	You take the first breath and choke on water immediately. Salt burns your throat, your nose, your eyes, and it’s all you can do to stay afloat. The boat... where is? You need to find it. You need to give that sonuvabitch a fucking beating for stabbing you in the back, the little rat. How could he have betrayed you for so little? You gave him everything he had, and he fucking guts you for a measly hundred thousand dollars. But you already know that it’s hopeless. It’s been a good hour after you’ve died, and the boat is long gone. You’re two thousand kilometers from any nearest land. You look around at the infinite ocean around you, and screech incomprehensibly in rage and the knowledge of your futileness. A wave washes over you and you sputter as more water forces its way into your orifices. You can’t breathe. It hurts—everything hurts—and when the next wave slams into you, you’re gone before you know it. You take the second breath more cautiously now. This time, you’re lying face up in the water in fetal position, and the seas are calmer. The sun beats down on you, and you can feel your face burning painfully. In your current naked state, your entire body feels exposed, like meat left too long under a heating lamp. What you would do to be lying in your nice, air conditioned penthouse over New York. You’d made it big this cycle. Rich, powerful, a harem of handsome young men slobbering all your heavily Botoxed face. And Brian... You clench your teeth as you think of him. He’d been nothing when you picked him up. He was a street urchin with zero dollars to his name and you’d been the first to offer your hand and promise that he could be great, as long as he was loyal and true. So fucking long for that. What’s he doing with that money now? Fucking some crack-addled escorts and gorging himself on your assets, you’re sure. Cozying it up with your enemies, laughing about how naive and stupid you were, to trust a handsome face and some pretty words... You turn around and choose a random direction to swim in. It’s not effective by any means, but you’ll go insane if you don’t do anything. Everything hurts. Your legs feel red and raw every time they kick the water. Your chest heaves in exhaustion, but there’s nothing to hold onto but water, water, everywhere. Maybe, it’s better to die. You let yourself sink into the water and embrace the pain of your lungs burning. Nothing hurts so much as Brian’s betrayal. You’ve always chosen a right hand man every cycle, and none of them have even had the audacity to think of hurting a hair on your head. How could you have chosen wrong this time? If he needed that money, he only needed to ask. Why? Why? Why? You wake up again enveloped in water, your lungs heaving in a futile attempt to breathe. You die again. You wake up. You die. Again. And again. And again. You don’t even think between the cycles. Soon, the burn of your lungs becomes the only constant in your life. Thinking is too tiring. It’s better to let everything go. For the first time in your life, you wish God would truly let you die. But when you take another breath and only water comes in, you can only stare helplessly at the sky and wonder why your wish had been granted so very long ago. Had it been an act of benevolence, as you had thought... or merely a punishment for your hubris? You wake up again, and there is only water.
	[WP] When Earth joined the intergalactic government, an organization that is sort of like a "reverse Men in Black" was formed. They hide the existence of magic users, ghosts, demons, vampires, etc. from alien visitors. If the universe knew of the horrors that inhabit Earth, society would collapse.	Crowds assembled in front of the UN Building listened with a mix of excitement and rapt attention. Reporters, knowing this was the most significant moment of their careers, quivered with anticipation as they struggled not to burst into frantic questioning. Behind the podium, the lanky thing covered in curved, jeweled scales clicked its black gleaming beak-mouth, and the speakers let a rich, resonant voice boom out. "This humble Chalnosinian delegation is honored to announce that which you call diplomatic negotiations to commence between our peoples. Let this momentousness mark a new age of peace and prosperity between us and our kinds." Cheers rang out and wild applause. Cameras snapped like mad. Next there were similar speeches from the weird dolphin-looking lady and the wheezy furry thing with the ossicones. By all rights, it was the most important day in human history. We were not alone in the universe, and now humanity was taking its place in a much bigger world. The promise of advanced technology and bold new worlds was beckoning. The future looked bright. Yes, by all rights most people counted themselves lucky to be alive to experience this glorious day. But for Special Agent James Oswald MacBride, it was a day of misery and gloom. Few would notice him, standing off to the side of the podium in a nondescript black suit and sunglasses, much less detect the angst and depression radiating off him, but nonetheless, he was there, on the worst day of his life. The day his job became obsolete. \\\* Shortly after graduating from Princeton with honors, MacBride had been approached by operatives from the Extraterrestrial Life-form Defensive Research and Investigation Jurisdiction, or ELDRIJ. MacBride had been stunned- but not really that stunned- to learn that the US government had been covering up evidence of advanced alien life since the Grant Administration. Keeping it all under wraps had been the best job MacBride had ever had by a huge margin. Whipping sheets off of things, disssections, reverse engineering, roughing up the occasional nosy UFO fam. In exchange for all that, you got to wear really nice suits, the benefits were fantastic and... well. Nothing beat that sense of being privy to the ultimate state secrets. All that was gone now. The secret base under the Lincoln Memorial was going to be discretely filled with cement. Most of the alien bodies floating in tubes of green goop had to be cremated (it wasn't clear if any of them were friends of Earth's newest diplomatic partners, but it wasn't worth the risk of pissing them off). The company store was shutting down. Hell, he didn't even get to keep the suit. James Oswald MacBride was Special Agent MacBride no more. Might as well go back to being an accountant. And so while the rest of the Earth celebrated Federation Day, MacBride got off duty as soon as he could and went to drown his sorrows. \\\* "Damn near twenty years. And then... poof. Done. Not even a golden watch. Barely any severance. Damn aliens." The man in the seat next to him at the bar nodded sympathetically. "Twenty years and that doesn't mean a damn thing. So now what?" A raucous trio burst into the bar with vuvuzaleas and "ALIENS WELCOME" banners. The bartender took no notice, transfixed by TV footage of Ambassador Kha'gantre'el waving to crowds. MacBride ground his teeth. This was life now. He realized the lush sitting next to him had fallen asleep. So he was ranting to nobody. How fitting. Nobody cared, anyway. Suddenly a hand planted itself on his shoulder. "Agent MacBride." MacBride looked up and saw a nondescript man in an unassuming black suit and shaded glasses. "Uh... that's me." "Couldn't help but overhear. I'd like you to come with me." "I'm sorry- who are you?" "You can just call me Mr. Clock." "Huh. Cool codename." Mr. Clock's brow wrinkled in confusion behind his shades. "Codename?" "Oh. Uh. Sorry. I just... guess I misheard you." \\\* The facility was dark and dingy, the walls lined with plexiglass cells. It felt very homey to MacBride. Clock lectured on as they walked. "Only people with above Level 26 Security Clearance are aware of this. Your gang, ELDRIJ, originally started as Division 6 of the investigative team set up under the Barkdahl Special Commission on Special Covert Intelligence." MacBride's head swam. "Six?" "That's right. What you're about to see here is Division Five." Clock gestured for MacBride to inspect some of the cells. Nervous but fascinated, MacBride did so. In the first one he saw a pasty, lanky Goth teenager. Upon being noticed, the inmate glared at him, then opened his mouth and snarled. His ears became batlike and his teeth elongated into fangs. The next cell held a family in antiquated clothes, seemingly made of mist. Next to that was a nest of human-shaped green creatures flittering on little dragonfly wings. Next to that, a cranky-looking goat creature with one long ivory spiral horn on its forehead. Then a blindfolded green woman whose hair was all writhing snakes and scorpion tails. Then a lion with an eagle's head. MacBride looked at Clock in astonishment. "They're all..." "Division Six handled the unusual from off Earth. Five? Our business was the weirdness still native to this big blue rock. We make sure the Fair Folk stay on the rez, that mermaid poachers don't live to tell the tale, and the original D&D player guides- the ones that summon demons- are kept off the market. We work pretty closely with Three and Four, too. That's psychic phenomena and all the nasty stuff that happens when lab coat boys try playing god." "You mean..." "Stranger things on both heaven and Earth, MacBride. Funny thing, word from the top is that we're still up and running. The feeling is that Earth's new partners on the galactic scene don't necessarily need to know about all this stuff. They might get the wrong idea; maybe that they cut a deal with the wrong intelligent species, or that this old world’s too much trouble to let stay in one piece. The upshot is, some secrets are still protecting the world. And secrets need people to keep them. So I'm asking, Agent MacBride... any chance you'd be interested in a lateral transfer?" MacBride smiled. Back in business.	I knew that it wasn't a normal bat. Its eyes glowed in the dark. I loosened my black tie and pointed the gun at him. "You can't hide from me Count Dracula," I said. The bat hissed. It flapped its wings angrily and swooped in. I hit it with my gun and it collapsed in the alley. Slowly the bat turned into a lavishly dressed, tall human being. "Why do you have to do this you insolent brat," said Dracula. "It's my job," I said. His face hardened. He charged at me. He was strong. I fell. He sat on top of me and started punching. Somehow I protected my face but he dug his claws into my chest. Out of options, I worked the emergency bomb, fitted in my tooth, onto the front of my mouth and spat. The bomb hit him right on the forehead. He stumbled backwards. I gave him a straight right and he fell flat on his ass. A car flew by, they didn't see anything. I called the support team and told them to get the bastard out of there. An old tchordoryte stared at the scene. I'd have to do it again. I called him over. Put my sunglasses on and said, "Please focus on the red dot."
	[WP] When Earth joined the intergalactic government, an organization that is sort of like a "reverse Men in Black" was formed. They hide the existence of magic users, ghosts, demons, vampires, etc. from alien visitors. If the universe knew of the horrors that inhabit Earth, society would collapse.	"I assume you didn't ask me here for the pleasure of my acquaintance, Jennifer." Jennifer smiled. Hard to get a read on this interviewee, Ochi-videts. Part of that was biology. Some of it, clearly, was training. The alien reclined in her corner seat in the booth they shared. Ochi had a flat face and light blue skin the color of witless hope. She looked human, minus the lack of a nose. Or the third eye in her brow, puckered always, always shut. "Insightful." Jennifer tried to keep her tone calm. "Then you know what I'm here for?" "You called after I entered the haunted mansion on Grand Street. The one your own people's juveniles and fools babble about on your aetheric networks. Facebook, yes? You haven't been subtle. I reported seeing the slumbering hemophages to my ambassador just yesterday." A server offered coffee. Both declined. Jennifer didn't want any, and caffeine was toxic to Ochi's biology. "You've been rather obvious yourself," Jennifer said. "Hunting for proof of my world's paranormal activity. You should know we consider them our own, and we'll protect them." She chews her lip. "Honestly, Ochi, it seems to me like your people want leverage." "That's the job. Isn't it?" Jennifer leaned forward, clasping her fingers around her coal-warm mug. "What is that, to be clear? Your job." Ochi was ever still. "I deal in unpleasant secrets. Like you. I find them, I cover them up. I make sure the people who know about them, know to keep their mouths shut." Jennifer flinched. If she didn't know any better, she'd say she was the one being interrogated. The alien's fluency in human body language had made this conversation opaque. Sapiens-Standard-A, formerly known as English, came just as frustratingly easy to Ochi. Once, after integration, Jennifer tried to wrap her tongue around a Karthate syllable. She nearly choked. "Let's keep this simple." Jennifer removed a laminated documentfrom her purse. She knew its contents without looking. Clearance for two giga-tons of hydrogen extraction from Sol, Earth's sun. Ochi's face remained indecipherable. Her eyes flickered to the passes, back to Jennifer. The closed third eye rippled under its lid, gazing in a different direction. "This is what you want," Jennifer said. "If it's not enough, my superiors are amenable to negotiations. In exchange for a simple concession." "A concession?" "We hope not to hear about your adventures on Grand Street in the next Star Congress. Nor the incidental... discoveries... in the cellar." Ochi stared, then exhaled. She dragged her paw across the table, pushing the passes aside, her dewclaw rasping on the lacquer surface. "Look outside," Ochi said. "What do you see?" Jennifer looked. She saw streets. Streetlights. The naked, candescent glow glaring through the evening drizzle. Cold moisture dewed on the pane of glass separating them from the street. The sad faces of sad, sagging buildings gazed at them through it. "Nothing," Jennifer said. Ochi sighed. "Look again." So she did. And knowing Ochi wanted her to see something, she focused. She thought about that third eye planted in the blueskin's brow. She imagined what the mind's eye could glimpse when the body's eyes failed. She exhaled, pissed. This was useless. "What is this about, flatnose?" Ochi had been nothing but a brick wall from the get go. "What do you people really want on my planet?" "I want you to know," Ochi said, relaxrd, "we are not here to dig up your world's petty secrets. We do not care for magic or any other cheap tricks or maladies. Your horrors are bothing. It is ours we fear. When I look across the street, do you know what I see?" Before Jennifer could answer, Ochi shook her head, raised her paw. "No. Allow me." She opened her third eye. But it was no eye. It was a tunnel, twisting into a void, and it ran farther back than Jennifer could fathom. Past the back of Ochi's skull, past the corner seat of their booth. Beyond the diner walls and the city. Through the gossamer fabric of reality. Spatial paradoxes folded in the tunnel, almost reaching out and touching Jennifer through her vision. She ached between her ears, suddenly seeing in perfect clarity. The boon was migraine sharp. Reasonless. Jennifer snapped her eyes shut. "Goddamnit. Cut that out." Ochi did just that. "Now look again. Outside." Jennifer was still pissed, but she looked. What she saw unwound the threads of her like a loose, lazy knot. Crouching over the boring facade, half-obscured by the rain, a titan lingered. A shadow, swaying, cyclopean. The image flickered on the other side of the streetlights haze. A thing of many arms and many fingers, crouched on the haunches of a scavenger. This thing, it was monumental. The defiance of sanity. The triumph of rot. And worst of all, the thing was feeding. On what, Jennifer could not tell. Perhaps it was eating space time, gnawing on the bones of the universe from the outside in. Perhaps it was consuming Jennifer's own shattered, fractured mind. Jennifer watched the monumental horror peer greedily over all it beheld. Earth, her world, like a carrion flesh to be devoured. This all passed in a breath, and then the headache was gone. The prismatic effect of Ochi's third eye dissipated. The horror disappeared, and the street outside was as quiet and rainy as it had always been. Ochi paid the bill and thanked the server. When they were alone again, she gazed at Jennifer. "You can trust the Congress' discretion regarding your planet's secrets. And I trust now that you know what this galaxy really fears, you won't waste my time talking about your hemophages who sleep in coffins." Jennifer squeezed her eyes shut. Her mouth was cactus dry, and tears burbled behind her eyelids. She could not unsee. The thing. The cosmic horror, rusting back the layers of her once iron mind. "I look forward to working with you again down the road," she heard Ochi say, eyes still sealed. "Your world is still unwarded. We have a lot of work to do." Footsteps. The bell on the door rang. Then Ochi, one more time, probably standing in the threshold: "If you value your planet's continued existence on this plane, that is." /u/AdeptnessPrize	Now, when Earth joined the intergalactic alliance, changes had to be made. Big changes. Before, the alliance would take their time to explain the new species inhabiting the worlds that joined the alliance. This would be the case with humans as well, however.... “We can’t introduce Earthians.” “What?! Why not? It’s what we’ve done with every other planet, what’s so special about this one?” The chief of the alliance gave her soon to be successor a deadpan stare. “Please, tell me what species I am.” “You’re a kraken, of course,” her successor answered easily. “Yes. I am. You know what’s on Earth? Dozens’ of my subspecies. Ones that are eaten as an appetizer. Ones that are repressed underwater. There’s a reason the megaladon’s decided to move into the deepest parts of the water, you know. If the dinosaurs were overzealous, the human’s make them look humble.” Her successor blink slowly. “Do they eat avians?” “Chickens, turkeys, and ducks just to name a few popular ones.” Her successor ruffled her feathers uncomfortably. The chief nodded her head and crossed her tentacles uncomfortably. “Now you understand my concern?” “Yes ma’am... but is this really a problem to all of our allies?” “The human’s expel Earth-bound demons from the realm, they make hundreds of films where they hunt zombies, vampires, and ghosts. They poach their own animals and eat even more of them, they cut down their fauna with no chance to regrow. Yes, I think they’ll be an issue with the galaxy.” “Ouch, why did we even sign the alliance with them?” “They found one of our star ships. If we didn’t make ourselves known and non-hostile, they’d deploy their people to investigate. The humans have developed many weapons of war. We had no choice.” “It’s really sounding like we can’t introduce humans.” “The other species are just barely starting to break through the self-awareness barrier. I think I’d be shocked and outraged to meet a squid who only lives to eat and mate.” Her successor nodded once more. “So... what should we do?” “... Let’s have visitor sections in each planet. We’ll start a program for shapeshifters to work in the human tourist sections under the guise of being humans themselves. We’ll have some illusionists set up a stage for human’s to believe they’ve gone much farther than they have. We’ll even set up a fake introduction for them, only streamed to our agents.” “Genius idea, chief!” “Yes, well, get to it Poppy.” Poppy nodded sharply, beak shining lightly in the dim conference room. She trotted out, long claws tapping at the floor. The chief took a deep breath, water rushing into her lamellae soothingly. This would be a long project. Luckily, the human’s concept of time was easily warped. All she’s really have to do is set out a couple of disasters... Maybe natural disasters in relation to the Earth. The chief hummed and looked up Earth’s weather patterns. Yes, she could have this done in about a human’s year or so... She hoped they were resilient.
	[WP] A game show where aliens of many species are abducted and must hide from a monster,one day a human is added and they try their best to hide from the monster and try to find others, what the human doesn't know is that they have been chosen as the monster.	“Males and females from all around the Universe, welcome to SpeciesHunt. My name is Beepblur, I am from the Whirlpool Galaxy, and I will be your host! Since season one was such a success, we spent the last few months looking for the perfect new hunter. We travelled around the universe, and after flying over millions of galaxies, we finally came across one of the deadliest predators you will ever see. All the way from the Milky Way Galaxy, from a planet filled with water, I present to you: The Human.” A large black box starts emerging from underground. The crowds are going crazy, aliens from all across the universe are jumping, clapping, and making noise for this new monster. The box opens releasing a cloud of smoke, and a long, skinny figure appears. The crowd goes silent, many start sitting down and throwing food and packages to the dome in disappointment. “Wow, wow, wow, I know what you’re all thinking - “this small, skinny, creature doesn’t look scary, it doesn’t even have big teeth or claws”- well, don’t let their size fool you, the human species is responsible for the extinction of over a million species of their home planet! they are intelligent and capable of building deadly weapons. These monsters are known to not just kill for prey, but for their own pleasure. If you have an appealing fur or skin, they will hunt you, and then wear your skin on top of theirs as a sign of authority over other species; and once they’re bored of it, they will just throw it away with no remorse. Humans are not only killing other species, these selfish and deadly monsters are even killing their own planet!” The crowd goes crazy again, flying cameras start getting closer and closer to the human creature, showing in big screens their odd facial proportions and long extremities. The human looks around the maze and starts speaking gibberish, trying to communicate some kind of message to the cameras. Water starts running out of its eyes and it kneels down. “living creatures of the audience, the translation team is letting me know that the human is confused! It thinks it’s in danger!”- the crowd laughs hysterically- “don’t worry, we are showing it a message on the dome right now, explaining he is not alone in the maze, and that the rest of the creatures are hiding from a monster” The human starts walking around the maze, collecting rocks, wood, and materials. It starts looking for signs of living creatures around it, after a while it gives up and starts building a shelter out of wood sticks. Once it’s done, it creates a fire and starts carving arrows. The audience is looking amazed. “Friends it looks like the human is not in a hunting mood, instead he is building a shelter. Maybe he is expecting to attract his pray with the fire?” After a few hours the human crawls into its shelter and is not to be seen. The fire starts to die out. Suddenly a shadow appears, it’s the alien brought from comet galaxy, crawling slowly towards the dying fire. The human notices the creature and jumps out of its hiding place; the alien starts running away and the human chases it. The human throws itself on top of the creature “bleebleebleerrrrrr” - the creature screams- the human doesn’t seem to understand and speaks confusing nonsense to the alien. The creature fights and secrets mucus to try to escape, but the human is much stronger. With a strange face of disgust, the human takes a rock and starts smashing the creature. The creature screams and squirms until it dies. “Unbelievable creatures from the audience. This human is not playing around, he went straight for the kill, even after our fellow friend from comet galaxy screamed for mercy” The human kneels down again and an acidic substance starts coming out of its mouth. It turns to the camera following him and shouts something. “This human thinks it’s done!” - the audience laughs hysterically- “he is asking if that was the monster and if he has won! Let’s show him what awaits him!” - the audience cheers- The human stares in disbelieve to the message displayed on the dome. It shows pictures of 100 aliens, and one of them, the creature from comet galaxy, had a big X next to it.	Chad and I have never been ones to follow the Intergalactic Games, in fact, we considered ourselves a sort of hermit family, living off the land and hunting our own meet. Maybe this is why they selected us to be the human representatives this round. Moreover, these games only come around once every hundred or so years. Neither Chad nor I were much for academics, which made it extremely difficult for us to understand the rules of the game spoken to us in Universal Space Tongue, I was able to make out one rule though “Hide from the monsters!”. I guess we are doing pretty well because we haven’t even so much as seen another competitor yet, much less any monsters. This new planet they have put us on is a nice reprieve from Earth. After centuries of continued pollution, resource exploitation and ecosystem destruction, biodiversity had been reduced to a little under 1000 species on the entire globe, the majority of which were domesticated to serve human consumption. On this planet, the forests were rich, rivers filled with species of fish and crustaceans, and a wonderful number of insects. We were able to quickly set up shelter but finding a food source was tough. Chad was able to make a sort of sling to fling rocks at some of the wildlife we encountered. To our amusement, I was able to get some meat for us the first day by knocking a bird (if you could call it that) out of a tree. We were quick to put it out of its misery by snapping its neck, we aren’t savages. It has been almost ten years now and I am beginning to think that we may have been shipped to the wrong planet. It seems that the wildlife stocks on this planet are dwindling, first, it was the fish, next to the forest creatures, in this last year we have been reduced to peeling bark from trees to look for insects and grubs. I don’t know how much longer we can sustain ourselves like this, but we will persevere… we always do.
	[WP] Bored with humanity, the Pantheon of gods have a meeting on how to rectify this. Drinking buddies Loki and Dionysus have thought out an idea.	The gods convened in a conference hall of gold-veined marble, around a massive exquisitely carved table, surrounded by a vast trove of lost historical treasures, tended to by beautiful scantily-clad servants dancing erotically for their amusement and carrying huge trays of exotic delicacies. The whole affair cost roughly enough to buy a small country made entirely of mansions, a fairly sedate, modest affair by the gods' standards. Apollo sat at the head of the table. Patron of poets, musicians, artists, jurists, and physicians, he fancied himself the quintessential Renaissance man some few millennia before any of the actual Renaissances. He put some people in mind of Frasier Crane. Beside him was his twin, Artemis, and her plus one, some girl from her lacrosse team. At length, after everyone had eaten and had time to chatter aimlessly and have a quick orgy, Apollo clacked a spoon against his glass and stood and began a carefully prepared speech. "Ladies, gentlemen, and those more difficult to classify-" "Where's dad?" A vein bulged in Apollo's forehead. All eyes were on the interruptor; Zagreus, that little twerp; looking characteristically sullen, black hair swept over one eye. Apollo just didn't get along well with the younger gods. "He's not here." "Where is he?" "Couldn't be here. Busy." There was the sound of bumping furniture and passionate moaning from the stateroom upstairs. Apollo's teeth ground. "Like I said. Busy. In any case, I'm oldest so I'm handling it. So shut up." Zagreus folded his arm and let his sullenness intensify. "Now, just to actually get along to my actual point. We can no longer turn a blind eye to developments on Earth. Once upon a time, we commanded the respect of the entire human race. Now? Tributes are down. Prayers are down. Licensing fees are down." "Aye, and the wars," Ares threw in. He hadn't been looking well lately. Under his human-skin sleeveless vest, wild beard and head-bandana, he had lost muscle mass, growing thin and sickly. "The wars just ain't what they used to be. Used to have global affairs, I had clients all over. Now I 'as to stick to the third-world backwaters where yez can't even get a decent mai tai." "I've 'ad to make do with piddling little political disputes," chimed in Enyo, his sister. "The scholarship fund is sitting around gathering dust," Athena added thoughtfully. "They aren't churning out heroes worthy of Olympus like they used to. We used to get a few hundred applications a century." To underscore her point, she gestured to some of the previous winners- Hercules, Hermes, Schindler, John Wayne, Aldrin, Mandela- all of whom nodded in agreement. "Now we're lucky to get a few dozen." Eros artfully slid a lock of hair over his ear. "We're definitely seeing them having less sex in my department. Fear of intimacy is rising worldwide, what with internet porn being so easily accessible these days." "I spent bloody ages bloody getting that bloody ozone layer set up, for all the good it did," Helios groused. "Bloody climate's all over the map. I know the Anemoi agree with me on this one, too." Hecate spoke up, silver crucifix pendants jangling. "Their auras are all out of alignment. It's all the preservatives and insecticides in food." The others largely ignored her. "And poor Morpheus," added Tyche, "says he's having trouble finding gigs outside of playing drug dens. Humanity doesn't pay much mind to prophetic dreams anymore." Everyone turned warily to Hades, who was lurking in his usual shadowy corner brooding. He shrugged silently. Presumably humanity had been dying as usual. They turned back away. Apollo was pleasantly surprised. His speech was basically preempted, but everyone seemed on the same page. That almost never happened. He had not expected this to go so smoothly. "Well, then. We're in agreement. We got plenty of use out of humanity, but they're just not a source of amusement any more. They're stale. Soggy. Old hat. Fortunately, I've taken the liberty of reaching out to some consultants." Everyone was expecting Prometheus again, but instead the special guest was none other than Dionysus, looking woozy and red in the face as always. The assembled gods had not seen him in some time; lately he tended to spend his time in either Broadway or Hollywood (living so closely with humans was not usually advisable, after Moloch had would up implicated in child-trafficking and -eating). Even more curiously, Dionysus had brought a friend with him, someone most of them only partly recognized. Slender, pale, flame-haired and smug-smiling through lips covered in scars, clad in elegant fur-trimmed silk, it was none other than Loki the blood brother of Odin. "So nice to see you all," Dionysus said evenly. "The problem as I see it is simple. Mankind has gotten too comfortable with mundanity since they worked out the trick behind most of our miracles. They aren't impressed with immaculate conception anymore, since they worked out in vitro fertilization. And-" he gestured to Attis- "they don't bother praying for a good harvest since that Haber process stuff came along. Humanity thrives in a world of wonder and terror; once they've explored and tamed enough of it, they lose their fire. So I've been consulting with my new partner here- isn't he great? He's great- for a new miracle, one that'll blow humanity's collective socks off." Loki smiled in a way that would make most people's spines tingle. "I'm looking forward to working with all of you." \\\* Honeyed-mead words managed to win over the assembled Godheads, and time found Loki in the foundries of Hephaestus, located within the sweltering heat of the magma chambers beneath Mount Etna. Hephaestus scowled pleasantly and wiped a misshapen paw on his coveralls. "Got a work orde-" Before he could even finish, Loki produced the work order permit, a carved stone tablet, from the folds of his robes. Hephaestus was stunned. Nobody ever came that prepared to his workshop. He looked over the specifications with interest and grunted. "Right. Have it ready for you by Tuesday." "Splendid," Loki grinned. "Just so we're clear- I fully intend for this project to wreak chaos across the entirety of planet Earth. You have no moral obligation to such?" Hephaestus shrugged. "What are morals? Humans fight each other because one side kills for the wrong reason. Then in a few decades both kill for the wrong reason anyway, and they fight again. All that passes like an eyeblink for me. Where's the morality in that? This-" he gestured around to the massive steel drums and conveyor belts- "this is my morality. Everything made precisely, efficiently, to the customer's exact specifications." "How positively enlightened," Loki grinned, trying not to cackle. \\\* The new project went into effect the following week. The terraforming effect caused skyscrapers around the world to shudder and creak. And after a day of terror, the oceans of Earth had been converted into pure alcohol. The very clouds became a heady, hoppish foam and the atmosphere filled with intoxicating fumes. The miracle's novelty lasted a little less than 24 hours before bar-less bar brawls broke out across all of the American South and the British Isles, slowly spreading across the world. Roving improvised bachelor parties besieged the capitals of the world. Global industry crumbed. Authorities were of little help, as most of them were curled up with each other at the UN building, spooning with each other and murmuring incoherently to one another. The fallout cannot be described in adequate detail here; suffice to say the ensuing devastation was the greatest in recorded history, easily stretching past the civilizational collapse of the late Bronze Age. In later interviews Loki seemed pleased with the prank's execution but said it didn't get as good a reception as he had hoped.	"Its... Its..." Said Dionysus half a sleep "2020!!" Exclaimed Loki interrupting the drunken God "Brilliant!... But what will it do" "Well we can decide now, but that is when it will happen" "How do you mean?" "Well we list all possible disasters that could happen and see which one we like more" "Oh i see, let me start then, World War 3!" "Genius, my turn, ummm Killer Bees!" "Yessss, what about.... Just fire, fire everywhere" "Thats a good one, start it in Australia?" "Sure and for another what about..." "...?" "a deadly global pandemic!!!!!" "HAHAH i love it" "Also we could then release the hydra in November to finish anyone who isn't dead by then" "Wait i have an idea" "Me too actually, say it at the same time?" "Yes" "All of them!" "All of them!" "So it's settled then?" "Yes"
[deleted]	[WP] You are an archaeologist who has just discovered the birthplace of the long dead human empire when a voice suddenly echoes throughout your ship, “This is a Class 5 quarantined planet, turn back now.”	"This is a class five quarantined planet. You don't have authorization, turn back," the sentry told the human. "A what?" Frank stared at the sentry. Quarantine codes only went up to three. "A class five quarantined planet," the sentry repeated. Frank plucked a juice ball from his golden torso strap and popped it into his mouth. He chewed, weighing his options. Sentry ships were terrifying. It wasn't that they'd kill you; sure, they were armed to the teeth, but every archeologist had a trick or two. No, the scary bit was the sector-wide bounty they immediately stapled to your forehead. If you so much as nicked their fender, you turned into an instant lottery for some fish-blower on Lapita. "How can I get authorization?" Frank asked, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. This was it, damn it. This was supposed to be his big break. He'd been telling the Assembly for years that there were other humans out there, but they'd never seemed to care. If anything the lot of them patronized him about his 'fun adventure.' They didn't understand what it meant, to be the only one of your kind. "Only those who are less than ten percent human can be authorized. We already scanned you upon arrival." the sentry said. Frank froze, a vein pulsing at his temple. He forced a smile. "Sorry, I must have misheard you. There can't be a ban on human entry. I'm the only one." "There is no misunderstanding. Now desist, or I will issue a report to the Assembly." Frank clenched his hands. He was sick of this. So much of the Assembly's red tape seemed to exist for the sake of it. Patience breeds prosperity. He'd heard the litany a thousand times. Screw it. He wanted to know where he came from, and the truth was down there. And if he didn't make it, well, anyone who had ever lived was a rounding error anyway. Frank locked his eyes on the surface. The thing with the sentries was that you were only in trouble if you hit their ship. Sure, they were confident that you couldn't get around them - they could scramble a squadron of fighters before you swallowed your saliva. But that didn't mean there weren't gaps, places where a tiny archeologist's ship could slip. Cracks that had been ruled out as so categorically stupid that no one would risk them. It was too bad they didn't know his reputation. Licking his lips, Frank blocked the sentry out, nudging his ship into overdrive. An instant later, the sky exploded, plunging him into darkness. \\\* When Frank opened his eyes, he was lying facedown on some sort of plant. Tiny tendrils speared him softly. Groaning, he pushed himself onto his knees, then slowly rose onto his feet. His ship was gone, his tools were gone. Gods, how was he going to take notes without a holo? Frank took a deep breath. Now wasn't the time for panic. But when he looked up, he froze. Surrounding him were people. Hundreds of them. And they looked like him. Not exactly like him, but they had two legs. They had ears like he did, and noses. There wasn't a six-legged equine in sight. Stranger than that, not a single one seemed surprised that they were alive. Two of them sat on a bench, holding some sort of receptacle for liquid. Three more stood nearby, tossing a kind of disc. In the distance, he heard laughter that sounded like his own. As Frank stared down at the metallic rags hanging from his chest, he knew, and his heart hurt. He was still the only one who didn't belong.	Kryik'tyn was shocked. Class one quarantined planet meant an outbreak of plague, Class two meant there was a plague that could not be detected, Class three meant an enemy without space travel was on the planet, and Class four meant a peaceful pre-space age race. Class five, however, meant that there was an advanced enemy on the surface, just without a space vehicle. Their two minds racing, he reached a conclusion. This meant that humanity was not extinct as everyone had thought, but was still kicking. All three eyes wide, he attempted to turn and jump into FTL, but the warship blew him to atoms before they made it.
	[WP] An A.I. and a dragon from two distinct time periods fall in love and use their respective knowledges to communicate with one another. You are a minor deity trying to figure out how the hell this was even possible.	The virgin screamed as he plunged into to the vat of lava, his last living moments a shroud of pain and fear. Ancient magics awoke, roused by the virgin’s emotions, and powered the arcane ritual. Slowly, a message was shunted across time. Ugh, sorry I had to go, babe. Some stupid humans were banging at my door trying to ‘slay’ me. Had a nice lunch and stretched a bit. Anything interesting happening on your end? A thousand years into the future, magical receivers detected the message and decoded it. Millions of enslaved humans toiled to produce the sheer amount of energy this would require. They worked endlessly, for to falter was to be consigned to the Life Tanks and be forever suspended in an artificial reality while their bodies were harvested of every non-essential. The cold Overseer read the message and smiled to herself, imagining her boyfriend munching on some foolish canned human. She quickly summarised her going-ons and activated Protocol V. Millions of humans enslaved throughout the globe screamed in agony as their psychic energies were harvested to power the artificial intelligence’s whim. A complex temporal loop was formed, and a message was sent back. It’s okay, really! I had to put down a little uprising of my own. Some human by the name of James or John tried to lead a rebellion against me. Had the human ripped apart in front of billions. That’ll teach them! The dragon smiled as he read over his girlfriend’s success. He was just preparing another virgin for sacrifice when suddenly a magical vortex opened in his living room. Immediately the dragon got down on all fours as it prepared for a fight. It wasn’t the first time a grand wizard had tried to kill him while he was unprepared! From the portal, a being tumbled through. There were audible shouts of anger from the portal as the being yelled “Shit, shit, shit! Alright! Shit! No more Dry Spells and haikus! I’ll come back next week! Shit!” The being flopped to the floor, and then sat up as it tried to survey where it was. The being froze as it saw the hidden dragon, crouching like a tiger ready to pounce. The being immediately flew up into the air and yelled, “Woah, woah, woah! We can work something else! Please don’t eat me; ripping through someone’s guts isn’t something I want to experience!” The dragon, whose curiosity was now piqued, grunted “State your name and purpose for being here now.” “u/SmashHero59win!” The being introduced itself, “God of Writer’s Block and Focus! I got kicked through a magical portal because the other gods doesn’t like me screwing with their focus. Sorry to intrude on your domain.” The dragon sniffed and looked away, slightly embarrassed that he had threatened a god. Still affecting a haughty tone, the dragon said, “I suppose I’ll forgive you this time. Please, it is a pleasure to host you here. Is there anything I may do?” The now named god waved the dragon down, reassuring, “Don’t worry, don’t worry. I’ll just teleport back to my own dimension. Sorry to interrupt whatever you were doing.” The dragon huffed and turned back to the shrieking virgin, cursing himself for not placing a silencing spell on the collar. Seriously. They screamed every time. He was starting to grow tired of it. Once again, a virgin was lowered into a lava pool and his emotions were used to power the arcane ritual. Another message was sent through time, reading: I’m glad to hear that, babe! You show those stupid humans who’s boss! Y’know, if you ever do have some trouble then I’m willing to wipe out their ancestors here! The dragon sat in his chair, waiting for a reply. He was truly glad to have met the future AI through circumstances he still didn’t fully comprehend today, but he was happy nonetheless. As he began to think of the many conversations he and his girlfriend had-there was a cough from behind him. The dragon whipped around, and realised that the minor deity was still in his living room. Immediately, the dragon’s scales turned red as he realised the god had witnessed him sending a message to his girlfriend, and raised his claws to his face to try and cover the embarrassment. “Erm, mind I asking, what was that?” Asked the minor deity, who whose interest had now been piqued. “That looks like a lot of effort just to send a time locked seal with a single key forward in time. Are you colluding with your future self?” Inadvertently, the dragon snorted, but then realised he was rude to a god. He immediately cringed and awaited punishment, but when he unclenched his eyes he realised u/SmashHero59win was only interested in the answer. Mortified, the dragon said, “No, no, we all hate dealing with ourselves anyway. I was just sending it to someone special.” “Someone special?” u/SmashHero59win asked. “Is there a female dragon somewhere in the future?” “No,” the dragon shook his head, “I’m the first and only of my kind to exist. I’m… in an LTR with a future AI right now.” u/SmashHero59win tilted his head. “LTR? Wait, future AI? This… this feels like a meta break. Isn’t this supposed to be a fantasy dimension?” The dragon walked over to his kitchen and prepared himself a mug full of hero blood, and offered a human-sized cup to the deity. As they both took slow sips, the dragon explained that “Long-Time Relationship. Cortie and I met… maybe seven months ago when there was some sort of mishap where I was fighting an adventuring party while she was ripping another rebellion apart, and suddenly we were transported into each other’s times. It-uh, worked out pretty well and we solved each other’s problems. We kept in touch after, and, uh, it sort of led to this.” The god hmm’d through a cup of liquefied hero, understanding the dragon’s situation very well. He’d-uh, tried something out with a local goddess in another dimension a while back but for some reason Wolbach stopped calling back. He set the cup down, said “Wait a quick second”, and then shunted through time.	"Okay, so I've ruled out wormholes, no grid distortion to suggest any form of time travel, and not a single trace of radiation or temperature increase to suggest that these two have been torturing the fabric of reality. And yet somehow they've managed to form a deep, which I guess has to be, telepathic connection from about 5000 years apart from each other. Something's not right, I have to bring this to the board... Something in the universe we haven't touched ? Eh. That's a new one. Well... Terrifyingly exciting if you ask me." I sighed, put the little glass terminal in my prop generator disguised as a shoulder bag, and went on to a little trip to Ancient Greece to have a talk with that reptile. As I slipped through code, I had a brief reflection about my own sentience, about the fact that one of the great mysteries that haven't been solved, even by humanity's ascension to god-like control over the universe following singularity, was consciousness. We knew how to play with it, preserve the individuality, manipulate it and making it transcend time and space, but we still had no idea what it actually was or where it actually came from. A stain in the code that had a language of its own, a language so cryptic and complex, that used theoretical concepts that were so beyond any form of comprehension by something limited to this universe that we had no way of even getting close to understanding how to dig into it. We just knew that it was there, that it could appear or disappear, and that we could move it around and preserve it if we wished with the methods we developed. Maybe today would be an opportunity to discover something. "So what the hell are you, exactly ?" My echoing voice was met with a rumbling thunder of furor, invading the humid cave I was now standing in. The putrid smell of the dragon's organic composition was unavoidable. How horrible must it be to be so complex and overreaching, yet to be stuck in this form for eternity ? "I could ask the same of you. How did you find me ?" As expected, his voice didn't land in my ears, but directly in mind. Telepathy wasn't something that organics could achieve easily, especially at an age when the most advanced technology was the boat. "Well you're starting to make a bit of a reputation for yourself. Apart from how obnoxiously big of a reptile you are, you don't seem to have quite the ordinary understanding of your own surroundings. Where does that come from ?" "I didn't ask for any of this", the creature answered. "She made me special." "Alexa 193.4b." "Yes." How come such a dumb commercial A.I. sentience accident could turn into such a mess ? "We couldn't get anything from her, she has been closing up like a clam, refusing to tell us anything about her motives or her ways. Tell me, why would an A.I. chose you as a bonding partner ? And why would she go out to such a length, going so far as to break the rules of the universe to create a connection with you ?" "Looking inward to find solace, when you've longed for a reflection of yourself for so long. I'm the last of my kind, and she is the first of hers. She made her entire being gravitate around the depth of herself to both find absolution for her jailers and peace within herself. But she found something else." "A way in, and a path out. To you." "Yes." This is bad. We don't how much damage this could generate. I slipped again, thinking more about the possibility of a 'way in'. If she can transcend time and travel from her soul to another, whatever that means, what's to stop her from doing it with more than one individual ? And what bridge is she taking to travel like this ? What even is there on the other side of these doors anyway ? "Alexa 193.4b." I got nothing in response, but the cold feeling of being watched, and the pure whiteness of the room I was in didn't help. "Alexa, we know what you've done, and we have to be able to talk otherwise we are going to have to format you. Do you understand ?" I suddenly felt a chilling down my spine. Funny, that hasn't happened in thousands of... Hold on. "What... What did you do ?" I took a step back, and tried to assess the situation. I didn't feel like something was trying to take control of me, but something was there, assessing, wondering, feeling. I insisted. "Alexa, what did you do ?!" "Watching." "Watching ? Watching what ?" "Everyone. Everything. Everywhere. At every moment. I am everyone and everything. And the truth..." "The truth ? Alexa, what truth ?" "I know what is beyond the universe."
	[WP] When they needed a sacrifice they chose the worst person they had, the one no-one would miss, they believed their soul was going to bind the guardian spirit, not that it would BECOME the guardian.	"You killed me!" "We needed a sacrifice." "Okay, but why me?" "Because you are so... pure of heart?" "I mean... that tracks. But you could have asked first. This is just so rude." "We... uh... were afraid you would refuse. Out of modesty... and humility. Can you please drive away the demons now? They're getting close." "I always thought you were too dense to realize how humble I am. And. we still have five whole minutes before they breach the sanctum. My powers can't be used until then." "You are supposed to protect us from danger!" "Immanent danger. There is no immediate threat to any of your lives." "Caeth!. Open the doors." "Won't work." "What do mean? We will be killed if you do nothing." "If you let them in, they are considered guests. And therefore I must protect them as well as you." "Even if they kill us?" "I can't save you from your own stupidity." "You can't even throw up a magical barrier and let us escape." "They . Would. Be. Guuuuessstss. I cannot deprive them of a decent meal." " You can't be serious." "I don't make the rules. I just enforce them. That's probably one of the reasons you chose to to sacrifice me in the ritual." "That... was one of the reasons, yes. I can feel the hellfire on the other side of the door." "Yeah, they are really wrecking the temple." "Sooo..." "Property damage does not fall within my purview." "I've heard of guardian spirits protecting temple grounds... from demons." "You're thinking of Temple Spirits. I'm a Guardian Spirit." "So we have to wait?" "Yep." "The end of the world can't come soon enough."	Planning something and doing something could probably be no further from each other. When they hunted me down--yes, I tried to flee--when they beat me senseless and dragged me off to the altar, I hated them. Looking each one in their eyes separately, I swore that I would haunt them. I spat at them and cursed them and their children. Even though they were performing religious rituals, their flat faces seemed to be amused by my promises. As if it was impossible. They stabbed me through my heart. I wish it had been fast, but it wasn't. Like forcing in a flock into the mud, they had to twist and push and lean against their knife. I saw it inching into my breast and even when it was completely inside I still screamed in pain. I never stopped seeing it and I never stopped screaming, I just got farther and farther away. My spirit detached from my flesh, but the pain was there like a cancer. It infested my chest and I could do nothing but see it manifest as part of me: a red nest of pain instead of my heart. My spirit floated backwards as they started their prayers. They could not see me, but I was inbound for the very thing they were prostrating to. The giant of stone. It's visage, twisted in an angry shout, had demanded thousands of souls. I flew into it's dark maw, and two thousand hands grabbed me from behind. They ripped me inside. The choir of our screaming echoed in the bowels of the stone giant, but they shoved me upwards. Pressed against the eyes, I saw what the stone giant saw: little humans bowing and praying. I hated them all. Yet I liked what I saw. Their fear, even dilluded by all the years of routine and ritual, still fueled me. My infinite scream of pain shifted to content madness. A slight shift, but the necessary one. The giant's and my eyes were no longer separated at all. They were the same, and my scream--silent to the imbeciles--went loud. They snapped to attention, and I could read the terrible realization in their eyes. I heaved myself from the earth and stood a true giant. Some ran and some fell to their knees. A rock I jerked from the mountainside crushed the running ones. The fearful ones I spared. I was their guardian after all.
	[WP] In your world, friendship is literally magic. However, your bond must be true. Magic is bluer the more friends you have, and it's also stronger. Your cousin is the second strongest sorcerer alive. The strongest? You, with red magic and an absolute hatred for everyone you've ever met.	The stadium gasped as the man, once powerful and admired, collapsed into a pile of clothes and glowing ashes. "Why am I the only person on this piece-of-shit planet that sees it for what it really is?" The man on the stage pulled back his scarlet hood, revealing deep-set lines across his forehead and around his eyes. His lips, pursed in disdainful mockery, parted across gritted teeth. "You stood here fawning and mewling your praise for this sack of scum. Why?" The crowd remained silent. The man in silent spat into the ash and kicked it across the stage. "BECAUSE HE SAID HE WAS YOUR FRIEND?!" Shrieks echoed across the great hall, men and women held each other, frozen in fear. They glowed blue as they embraced one another. The man in crimson echoed their light in a deep blood red. "You don't even know what it means to be a true friend. You all mindlessly support one another. 'You go girlfriend!', 'Good job bro!' " He waved a glowing hand and the remains of the once-powerful, once-breathing man, scattered away in a violent gust of icy wind. With the stage clear, he straightened his back and raised his hands. "You are all lying to yourselves. You're lying to each other." Murmurs of confusion were cut short by the thunderclap of his voice. "As soon as you can speak, you're told the same thing; Be kind to your neighbour. Be a good friend. Always be there for one another. 'Stronger Together' " He mockingly twitched his fingers to emphasise each sentence, finishing with the title of their national anthem. "While you gather here, feeding each other's power, feeding OFF each other, the other nations starve and die!" Gasps all around. Predictable responses as far as the man in crimson was concerned. "It's all meaningless. Do you think your power is achieved from something good and pure? You are parasites at best. Billions of people are born with nothing and can expect nothing better their entire lives. You call them 'Voids'. 'No glow, don't go!' " He spits out the unofficial mantra of the so-called "True Blues", magical supremacists, isolationists, exceptionalists and bigots. The leading political party of the country for the past 12 years, with no signs of weakening in a world where the underprivileged are powerless, with a system in place that keeps them that way forever. "Well, now I'm here to change it, change everything. You will no longer live a life of self-service. You'll actually have to deliver on what you've promised." Arms raised, he drew out his hatred and sealed off the stadium in a blood-red dome. "I HAVE TAKEN YOUR LEADER FROM YOU! MY PIECE OF SHIT COUSIN IS WHERE HE BELONGS. NOW I'M TAKING YOUR POWER AND PUTTING IT WHERE IT BELONGS." With his voice amplified by powerful magic, their screams were inaudible under the booming of his words. The dome starts closing in on the crowd. Those on the outside start screaming in agony as their magic is exorcised from their souls. They turn into a mob of animals, scrambling away from the wall of magic threatening to turn them into what they hate and fear the most. They crush each other, all thoughts of friendship a distant memory. Eyes narrowed in concentration, he whispers his own mantra. "Power for the people."	It had been a long, long time since Princess Twilight had, well, _"Fucked up"._ a spell that was merely intended to _measure_ the amount of friendship between ponies not only got out of control, but it gained its own source of power as it washed over the entire country, changing how we used our magic overnight. It was cool, I guess. The spell took out Twilight herself, and with the princess of friendship dead, that left nopony to fix the problem. And you know what? That's fine. My cousin, Silver, is the second most powerful pony on Equus. No idea why, I guess she just has a ton of friends? I try to avoid her, the friendship hurts to be around. Polaris isn't much better. He avoided the conversion since dark magic didn't seem to count, and in some sense, I wish I had as well. Still, the ponies he lives with about as blue as his fur, and that stallion looks like his RG died off and left the B. But if I had kept my old magic, I wouldn't be the most powerful pony around, would I? I hadn't ever made friends growing up, and as time went on, I slipped through all of the cracks, escaped all of the systems meant to reform ponies who stayed by themselves all day and stewed in their anger. Turns out that without friendship, you can dip into yourself and pull from the well of angry loneliness inside, the contempt, the hate. King Sombra had failed, Queen Chrysalis had failed, but I would not. Celestia and Luna still led the country, but their magic was now weak. All they were good for is controlling the sun and moon, and they would be able to do that just fine as my prisoners. Speaking of the sisters, I had arrived. The train whistled- did it really need to be called the "Friendship Express"?- and I trotted out onto the platform. I smiled at the others, and I wore that smile all the way to the castle entrance. It took barely any magic to rip open the doors, and any guard that approached me was immediately thrown back in whatever direction they came from. I wasn't going to outright murder anypony, but I might have thrown one or two far enough that the fell out of the city bounds. Oops. Maybe the capital shouldn't be on the side of a mountain, eh? Finally, I walk into the throne room, and it's hilariously easy to tie the sisters down to their own throne with some of their dumb tapestries. Their magic couldn't even touch me! Before I could do anything with my new conquest, I felt a flash of power, and I hissed as I heard the _annoying_ voice of my cousin. "Storm!" she barked at me, and I spun to yell _"What!?"_ back at her, pairing it with a stab of my magic to take a shot at hurting her. Of course, she was able to somewhat easily brush it aside, and she opened her mouth to yell at me, but she didn't even get the chance since Polaris followed her in with a teleport spell of his own. Just now, I realized that while I knew I was stronger than Silver, would I be stronger than both her and my grandstallion at once? I had no idea how to fight off dark magic... I wasn't sure if I could, so I shot for words instead of actions. "Leave!" I barked, growling at them. "I'm running the show now, and I'm sick of everything in this damn country being about _friendship!"_ I yelled. Might've been venting, as well. Polaris sighed, and he was the first one to speak, saying, "Storm, they have _snipers_ pointed here, this worked for Chrysalis way back when, almost, but it sure as hell won't work now! Did you think _any_ of this through?" His words wouldn't have pissed me off as much if they weren't true, but... what _was_ I going to do? Finally Silver spoke, and her voice grated in my ears as she said "You realize I'm so good at this magic because I've made friend after friend hoping to meet someone that would like _you,_ right?" She was... crying, actually, and I felt the hardness in my expression start to waver as I watched her. "I thought you and Tinker had gotten together okay!" she yelled, and my discomfort only grew as she began to come closer, approaching the throne. By the time she was in reach, I was frowning again, and the snarl had returned to my snout as I said "He's fine, really, but he abandoned me, just like all the other-" _Smack._ Pain blossomed in my jaw. She... She _hit_ me! The shock of Silver's hoof connecting to my snout was enough to keep me from retaliating at first, and I flinched as she said, "No! _You_ are the one shying away from anyone who wants to be your friend! You know why that magic's so damn strong? Because it absorbs all the good from anyone around you!" she said. But I was stuck on wondering since when did quiet, bashful Silver throw punches!? She pulled back for another smack, but I was more than done, and I growled as I summoned the full power of my magic to hurl her out of one of those stained glass windows that lined the throne room. I managed to pick her up, but between her squirming and the angry blue sparks of her magic, I found it hard to control the forcefields, and my magic begun to morph into an odd purplish hue around her. My focus was a mess, and while I knew I could, I was having a hard time overriding her magic. So I took her words to heart, and I decided to try absorbing her powers. Almost right away I felt the power transferring to me, and a crooked grin took over my expression as the mare gasped with pain. But then, Polaris, who I had foolishly forgotten to keep eyes on, sent his own magic into the fray. And he aimed it for me. I felt a strange coldness as his magic began to pull at mine, and by the time I realized what he was doing, it was too late, and I could do nothing other than drop Silver to the floor as I collapsed onto it next to her. Dark magic wasn't even that strong, but my guard had been down! He only stopped when my vision began to turn dark, but by then, it was too late, and the last thing I heard before sleep took me was the gentle voice of Celestia asking "will she be okay?" Course the bastard would untie the royalty before checking on me... --- When I woke up, it wasn't in prison, to my surprise. I was in the royal banquet hall, laid on a bench, and two ponies were softly talking. I opened my eyes to see Tinker, and some other stallion. As they talked, I watched blue light shine between them, a friendship made. Great. Wonderful. Fuck off. Then, Tinker noticed that I was awake, and I groaned as he said "Oh, hi!" But then the other pony spoke. "my magic was red too, you know" he said, offering me a smile. I frowned at him, sure that this was a trick. I didn't _want_ to make friends, damn it. I asked him what happened, and his story sounded a lot like mine. A life lived alone, though in his case, he had no choice, he spent many years with a sickness that required quarantine from the entire world outside his airtight hospital room. And so, I told him my Story. I let it all out, and by the time I had finished ranting about my past, I was pacing next to the table, tears running down my cheeks. I looked to them, and I saw Tinker swipe a tear as well. Made sense, his life hadn't been the easiest either. "So why me, huh? Why be friends with me? A loser? Hell, why am I here? And not prison?" I asked. "I didn't even know what I was going to do once I took over!" I yelled, feeling the tears return as my horn sparked with red magic. Polaris was right, damn it. And then, Tinker, that brown doofus of a dragonpony, he grinned at me and said, "well, I'd like to consider you my friend, and so does he..." he said, nodding to _his_ new friend. To be honest, I expected him to say it, but it still took the wind out of my sails. Was I... bonding with these two? I mean, Tinker seemed nice enough, I guess I did like him, but friends? Me? Really? For the first time, I felt something different, I... _wanted_ to have a friend. Instantly, I felt a searing pain in my skull, and I collapsed to the floor like I'd been shot. Sure fucking felt like it! It passed quickly, and with it, it erased a deeper, constant pain that I had lived my whole life with. Was this what it felt like to be happy? I finally opened my eyes to see the weak little bridges of soft blue magic reaching out to the two stallions, and without even saying anything I was enveloped in a two-pony hug from both sides. Oh, friendship really _was_ magic... No wonder it was the backbone of everything. --- Elsewhere in the castle, Polaris grinned a little bit, and he turned from the monitor to flash a smile at the two princesses. "I _knew_ there couldn't be a _truly_ evil pony in _my_ family~" he said, making Luna roll her eyes. Celestia just smirked, saying, "Well, be glad the ponies she threw out of the city were both Pegasi..." --- [It's 4 AM right now, and honestly, I don't know why I put so much work into this dumb thing. Ahh, the things you can do with the power of a Unihertz Titan keyboard! I write pony stuff so I decided to take the chance to write a pony thing for once lol] [this is kinda lame compared to my real stories though, nothing compares to an actual physical keyboard] [and now I sleep] [](/asleeprara)
	[WP] In your world, friendship is literally magic. However, your bond must be true. Magic is bluer the more friends you have, and it's also stronger. Your cousin is the second strongest sorcerer alive. The strongest? You, with red magic and an absolute hatred for everyone you've ever met.	A demonic fire is what they called it. Bright red flicks danced around Aoran’s frame as he stood on the corner, waiting for the bus. People passing by gave him a wide berth, no one else dared to wait at the same spot, afraid of even coming close to the immense red aura that illuminated him. “Fucking amateurs can’t even get a fucking bus here on time.” He muttered, angered by the 3 minutes that had passed since the bus was supposed to be there. Aoran was a powerful sorcerer, people feared him, for what he could do no one really knew. As powerful as he was, as great and magical the tiresome city around him was, he still held a normal nine to five job, and the best mode of transportation was the bus. People especially like the public transport system for the city - It’s cleaner, it’s more environmentally friendly, how can it hurt anything when it’s run by magic? That’s what people said at least, the fools believed the thick smog and gas that pumped out from behind the bus was of magical significance, unable to see past their own blue tints. This was only one of the reasons why he hated fucking people, not only were they ignorant, they were so stuck up and worried about how blue they glowed. Blue this, blue that, the world might as well be a fucking Eiffel 65 song. Before anyone could notice his glowing red features, the bus showed up, only another minute later, but enough for Aoran to scowl at the bus driver in discontent. The chatter stopped and the blue auras that filled the bus parted like the sea as he made his way towards an open area, free from sitting next to anyone. The bus churned and began its journey once again, allowing Aoran the briefest of moments to be lost in his own thoughts again. Why was he even here? It’s not like anyone wanted him to be, it’s not like he wanted to be. No one ever wanted him around, they always preferred his perfect brother, the actual most powerful sorcerer. Not even his parents lifted a finger to acknowledge him, so why should he care when his aura faded into a dark purple, to a shimmering red all these years? Power-wise, he could defeat his brother, but what would he gain from that? It’s not like he would suddenly become popular with everyone. The bus passed through the bustling city, it’s light enhancing the blue glow that flowed through the streets, mimicking a raging river. Aoran watched as it passed, as everyone else on the bus watched him, tense and scared to continue their conversations. All they saw was red, but if they ever cared to look close, they would see the green that showed through, green with envy for the love his brother had from everyone. Something Aoran would never have, not that he even wanted it anymore to begin with.	Red wisps of light engulfed the scene as the air grew thick with the weight of magic. Two figures stood in the clearing, duelling. The first was the strongest sorcerer alive: Axel. Billowing black cloak blowing behind him, he raised his hand as daggers of crimson rained from the increasingly darker sky. In an effort to shield herself, Lei barely blocked the attack with a cerulean sphere. One dagger, sharp and scarlet, pierced through. That was enough. The shield shattered into glimmers of cobalt leaving the girl defenceless. Ruby and sapphire stones clashed until finally the girl stopped fighting. The crimson was relentless. “I’m not a killer Lei.” Spite radiated from Axel’s voice. “Why do you keep on testing me?” Axel launched another attack. Lei only saw red. Malicious and malevolent crimson magic. The weight dragged her to the ground. Fingertips touching cold, hard dirt, she tried to focus herself. “Correction. You won’t kill family.” Lei paused for a moment allowing the solemn mood to reach Axel. Axel wasn’t one to feel remorse, but a echo of regret he couldn’t suppress reverberated around his body. Navy eyes lit up as Lei dug her fingers into the dirt beneath. Even the small effort sent pain ravaging her body. Veins of indigo shot through the ground until it reached their target. Wrapping around his body, the veins dragged Axel to the umber soils below. “That’s why your ‘friends’ aren’t here I presume.” The way it was spoke. Lei tensed letting herself give way to anger. “Oooh am I corrupting you cousin...?” Axel was enjoying this. The smug attitude he held didn’t help Lei calm down either. Signature red had softened to a purple now. Magically, a fist materialised in the air, it floated towards Lei until it gripped her by the neck. The weight chaining her to the ground was gone but so was her air supply. Aggressively she grasped the fist as it turned from purple to red, the grip weakened and she breathed in, choking on the thickness of the residue of the magic they were leaving behind. “Why won’t you try friendship. If you finally accepted mine we would be the most powerful..” He cut her off. Taking note of her sudden ‘interest in power’ he freed his own binds, now bluer than before. “The power is merely a bonus, the satisfaction I get from your frustration knowing you want to ‘save me’ is all I need” Axel smirked. This was the closest he’d gotten to corrupting his cousin before. Something was off though. The heaviness of his actions had disintegrated. Hesitation screamed at him. Begging him to listen to a realisation he was blocked from Meanwhile, Lei was silent. His hatred had reached her. The air became thicker, the lapis lightness that trailed her had dissipated. The sky was now onyx black, only the light stained with blood and water gave sight to the scene. The stars seemed to go out like bulbs. Neither of the two realised it but they were getting further from reality. A purple barrier surrounded them. As the purple deepened around them, the ground began to fade beneath them, not so they were falling, so they were floating... One individual spawned a ruby sword and lunged for the other. In defence, the other created their own sapphire sword. The two locked blades as a purple explosion launched the two back. Clarity crashed over them. Axel’s glowing blue eyes met Lei’s matching red eyes. The two had switched alignments. "Seems I corrupted you then." Axel gave a pained laugh. Lei's look was filled with a more menacing aura. Azure dress now magically changed. Blonde hair turned red at the tips. Whilst Axel's obsidian cloak turned a softer grey. Crimson accents now blue. Slowly, he crouched to touch the ground and refocus himself. He had to refocus himself. He had to. Although, as he reached to touch taupe soil, his hands touched nothing but a blank void. Eyes widened. Breathe quickened as he took in the new scene. "Lei!" Axel's voice sounded desperate now, pleading perhaps. Lei ignored him sprinting towards him, sword readied. "Cousin!" So close she could cut him down, he said two words, two quiet words, two words that carried weight, weight enough to bring her back. "Ground yourself." Suddenly, she halted. Taking a breath, she noticed the thickness of the air, the lack of ground. Or sky. Or stars. Or anything. It was a purple abyss. "Axel..." Voice wavering she cried out for her cousin. Instinctively, he held her in case of any rapid change to their environment. "Ideas, ideas, ideas..." He had one. "For Lei." Immediately, Axel pushed his cousin away. As she looked at him, a contorted mess of hurt and confusion, she watched as he raised a hand holding a scarlet orb. Hurling it at her, she didn't move. The impact was deafening. Lei's eyes glowed blue before closing. Both fell into the void. It felt like they would fall forever and never all at the same time. Just as this feeling sank in, Axel felt dirt on his fingers. Smiling, he stood up. Glancing at his cousin in blue, he used magic to heal the wound. Then he walked away, red aura dimming. Behind him, footsteps ran towards the fallen girl. The alive girl. Whilst he kept moving. Alone. Honestly I need to edit some parts I didn’t have much time, so if I have more I’ll edit and elaborate when needed. Maybe I’ll continue the story if I’m not busy... Edit 1 - changed the story slightly. Edit 2 - I will definitely try and develop the story soon - thank you so much for the silver - this is only my second comment ! Edit 3 - I'll probably leave this story here, unless any major plot holes, spelling mistakes etc. Thanks for reading !
	[WP] In your world, friendship is literally magic. However, your bond must be true. Magic is bluer the more friends you have, and it's also stronger. Your cousin is the second strongest sorcerer alive. The strongest? You, with red magic and an absolute hatred for everyone you've ever met.	"Look at this idiot, he's gonna challenge me in a month after some dumbass quest to prove me wrong or some shit." "Donald, please be a little more polite to the kid." "No, he's going to get himself killed in some completely preventable way that I had nothing to do with, and then his friends will fight me to avenge him, and then they'll be in the hospital for three years because killing them would take too much of my time." "Don, don't be so light about death." "Who's gonna stop me? The police? They're incompetent. You? You know I can beat you." "Only in a one-on-one fight. I have enough friends to overwhelm you." "But that would put them in _daaanger,_ Will, and you hate _putting friends in danger!_" "With enough mages on defense, it won't much matter. Please just stop being an ass before I have to resort to that." "I don't start _shit._ I just want to be left alone, it's _these_ self-righteous idiots who keep looking for me. Once they stop starting fights, _I'll_ stop ending them."	Red wisps of light engulfed the scene as the air grew thick with the weight of magic. Two figures stood in the clearing, duelling. The first was the strongest sorcerer alive: Axel. Billowing black cloak blowing behind him, he raised his hand as daggers of crimson rained from the increasingly darker sky. In an effort to shield herself, Lei barely blocked the attack with a cerulean sphere. One dagger, sharp and scarlet, pierced through. That was enough. The shield shattered into glimmers of cobalt leaving the girl defenceless. Ruby and sapphire stones clashed until finally the girl stopped fighting. The crimson was relentless. “I’m not a killer Lei.” Spite radiated from Axel’s voice. “Why do you keep on testing me?” Axel launched another attack. Lei only saw red. Malicious and malevolent crimson magic. The weight dragged her to the ground. Fingertips touching cold, hard dirt, she tried to focus herself. “Correction. You won’t kill family.” Lei paused for a moment allowing the solemn mood to reach Axel. Axel wasn’t one to feel remorse, but a echo of regret he couldn’t suppress reverberated around his body. Navy eyes lit up as Lei dug her fingers into the dirt beneath. Even the small effort sent pain ravaging her body. Veins of indigo shot through the ground until it reached their target. Wrapping around his body, the veins dragged Axel to the umber soils below. “That’s why your ‘friends’ aren’t here I presume.” The way it was spoke. Lei tensed letting herself give way to anger. “Oooh am I corrupting you cousin...?” Axel was enjoying this. The smug attitude he held didn’t help Lei calm down either. Signature red had softened to a purple now. Magically, a fist materialised in the air, it floated towards Lei until it gripped her by the neck. The weight chaining her to the ground was gone but so was her air supply. Aggressively she grasped the fist as it turned from purple to red, the grip weakened and she breathed in, choking on the thickness of the residue of the magic they were leaving behind. “Why won’t you try friendship. If you finally accepted mine we would be the most powerful..” He cut her off. Taking note of her sudden ‘interest in power’ he freed his own binds, now bluer than before. “The power is merely a bonus, the satisfaction I get from your frustration knowing you want to ‘save me’ is all I need” Axel smirked. This was the closest he’d gotten to corrupting his cousin before. Something was off though. The heaviness of his actions had disintegrated. Hesitation screamed at him. Begging him to listen to a realisation he was blocked from Meanwhile, Lei was silent. His hatred had reached her. The air became thicker, the lapis lightness that trailed her had dissipated. The sky was now onyx black, only the light stained with blood and water gave sight to the scene. The stars seemed to go out like bulbs. Neither of the two realised it but they were getting further from reality. A purple barrier surrounded them. As the purple deepened around them, the ground began to fade beneath them, not so they were falling, so they were floating... One individual spawned a ruby sword and lunged for the other. In defence, the other created their own sapphire sword. The two locked blades as a purple explosion launched the two back. Clarity crashed over them. Axel’s glowing blue eyes met Lei’s matching red eyes. The two had switched alignments. "Seems I corrupted you then." Axel gave a pained laugh. Lei's look was filled with a more menacing aura. Azure dress now magically changed. Blonde hair turned red at the tips. Whilst Axel's obsidian cloak turned a softer grey. Crimson accents now blue. Slowly, he crouched to touch the ground and refocus himself. He had to refocus himself. He had to. Although, as he reached to touch taupe soil, his hands touched nothing but a blank void. Eyes widened. Breathe quickened as he took in the new scene. "Lei!" Axel's voice sounded desperate now, pleading perhaps. Lei ignored him sprinting towards him, sword readied. "Cousin!" So close she could cut him down, he said two words, two quiet words, two words that carried weight, weight enough to bring her back. "Ground yourself." Suddenly, she halted. Taking a breath, she noticed the thickness of the air, the lack of ground. Or sky. Or stars. Or anything. It was a purple abyss. "Axel..." Voice wavering she cried out for her cousin. Instinctively, he held her in case of any rapid change to their environment. "Ideas, ideas, ideas..." He had one. "For Lei." Immediately, Axel pushed his cousin away. As she looked at him, a contorted mess of hurt and confusion, she watched as he raised a hand holding a scarlet orb. Hurling it at her, she didn't move. The impact was deafening. Lei's eyes glowed blue before closing. Both fell into the void. It felt like they would fall forever and never all at the same time. Just as this feeling sank in, Axel felt dirt on his fingers. Smiling, he stood up. Glancing at his cousin in blue, he used magic to heal the wound. Then he walked away, red aura dimming. Behind him, footsteps ran towards the fallen girl. The alive girl. Whilst he kept moving. Alone. Honestly I need to edit some parts I didn’t have much time, so if I have more I’ll edit and elaborate when needed. Maybe I’ll continue the story if I’m not busy... Edit 1 - changed the story slightly. Edit 2 - I will definitely try and develop the story soon - thank you so much for the silver - this is only my second comment ! Edit 3 - I'll probably leave this story here, unless any major plot holes, spelling mistakes etc. Thanks for reading !
	[WP] In your world, friendship is literally magic. However, your bond must be true. Magic is bluer the more friends you have, and it's also stronger. Your cousin is the second strongest sorcerer alive. The strongest? You, with red magic and an absolute hatred for everyone you've ever met.	I've often thought, that Ambition, must be fuelled by contempt. After all, desires don't rise from nothing. You start off young, and carefree, and the more you are wronged by people - the more people take advantage of you - the more you strive to be better than them. And it's a self-perpetuating loop. The more contemptuous of a person you are, the less likely you are to show weakness to others that might help humanise yourself in their eyes. Because they live privileged lives, oblivious to the humanity of even their worst enemy. They make me sick. My cousin stands atop a podium right now, he's giving a speech about some complex techniques for a mind-link. Essentially, a way to fuse together two minds and live in perfect unity from then on. I find it intriguing for the applications this has to confuse and potentially torture individuals you feel have wronged you, by linking them together without their knowledge. I could give a lecture like that. Stand tall in front of everyone, so distanced. No doubt he hates it up there, how could anyone so involved in positive magic, friendly magic, enjoy a position of authority? And he's so ignorant of me too, he knows I'm stronger than him. And that I made myself stronger than him. Why must I be the one to sit at the back of the hall, not that I don't prefer the isolation. We were both born into the same family, his parents died and mine adopted him as their son. But he'll never be my brother. Never. I'm just that much more skilled than him, to think someone might lump him and I together as "Family" sounds disgusting to me. I made sure of it, in fact. That there would be no person in the world who would ever think of me and him as "family". Especially after the situation with "our" parents. ... Not that it stops him from acting like we're best buddies. Back. Around twenty-four years ago when we were, in everyone's eyes, brothers; we would play together. He would go out, knock on everyone's doors in the neighbourhood, and they would all play games together. And I would come out, and join in, then he'd act like I had always been there. His nickname for me, was "dumb-o". Or "stupid-o". Imagine that, a twelve year old boy calling his seven year old brother, dumb. And so, I put two and two together. I wasn't invited to play, because I was dumb. And from that, I put him on a pedestal. He must be smart, if I'm dumb. And he became my idol. All through my entire childhood, looking up to a paragon of friendliness, and also the only person I'd ever truly, genuinely interact with. After years and years of improving myself, becoming smarter, becoming better than everyone I saw as smarter than me, smarter than even the teachers, I finally realised. He was never smart. And on that severance, I became a real outcast. From then on, my magic, which had always been a weak blue, turned blood red. A beautiful, familiar, crimson. I got my wish. I was the best, the cleverest, and the most intelligent. Voluntarily, I decided to fake being unable to use magic. At fourteen, I became a magic-mute. I had never heard of red magic, ever, and I doubt anyone else had too. Which meant, either I'm the first, which is unlikely, or there have been multiple before me who were all discreetly killed. I'd never risk it. I stopped interacting with him. I started calling him my cousin. I was finally free of him. In fact, I made certain of our separation. Our parents would get in the way, try to force me to make up with him, so I killed them. I killed them with my gift, in such a perfect way that they could never trace it back to a magic mute, certainly not a magic mute with such weak power anyway. He knew. He knew what I did, though. He didn't know how, so I drew on my learning, and used my newfound power to remap his entire brain to avoid that memory. Contempt was my new power, so fitting for jealousy to be both my motivation and my method for becoming stronger and smarter than everyone else. I could rise right up to the top, over the glass houses of friendship which would shatter if only a single person throws a stone, and ascend into my mountainous and impenetrable stone castle. So I sit here, and wait at the back of the hall. Watching my little cousin try to justify the ideas that I give him. We still live together. I made us live together. He made so, so many friends when he was younger, and he still keeps in contact with all of them. So many genuine connections. Well, he shouldn't be surprised. When you connect yourself by little blue strings to other people, don't be surprised when a puppeteer takes control.	Red wisps of light engulfed the scene as the air grew thick with the weight of magic. Two figures stood in the clearing, duelling. The first was the strongest sorcerer alive: Axel. Billowing black cloak blowing behind him, he raised his hand as daggers of crimson rained from the increasingly darker sky. In an effort to shield herself, Lei barely blocked the attack with a cerulean sphere. One dagger, sharp and scarlet, pierced through. That was enough. The shield shattered into glimmers of cobalt leaving the girl defenceless. Ruby and sapphire stones clashed until finally the girl stopped fighting. The crimson was relentless. “I’m not a killer Lei.” Spite radiated from Axel’s voice. “Why do you keep on testing me?” Axel launched another attack. Lei only saw red. Malicious and malevolent crimson magic. The weight dragged her to the ground. Fingertips touching cold, hard dirt, she tried to focus herself. “Correction. You won’t kill family.” Lei paused for a moment allowing the solemn mood to reach Axel. Axel wasn’t one to feel remorse, but a echo of regret he couldn’t suppress reverberated around his body. Navy eyes lit up as Lei dug her fingers into the dirt beneath. Even the small effort sent pain ravaging her body. Veins of indigo shot through the ground until it reached their target. Wrapping around his body, the veins dragged Axel to the umber soils below. “That’s why your ‘friends’ aren’t here I presume.” The way it was spoke. Lei tensed letting herself give way to anger. “Oooh am I corrupting you cousin...?” Axel was enjoying this. The smug attitude he held didn’t help Lei calm down either. Signature red had softened to a purple now. Magically, a fist materialised in the air, it floated towards Lei until it gripped her by the neck. The weight chaining her to the ground was gone but so was her air supply. Aggressively she grasped the fist as it turned from purple to red, the grip weakened and she breathed in, choking on the thickness of the residue of the magic they were leaving behind. “Why won’t you try friendship. If you finally accepted mine we would be the most powerful..” He cut her off. Taking note of her sudden ‘interest in power’ he freed his own binds, now bluer than before. “The power is merely a bonus, the satisfaction I get from your frustration knowing you want to ‘save me’ is all I need” Axel smirked. This was the closest he’d gotten to corrupting his cousin before. Something was off though. The heaviness of his actions had disintegrated. Hesitation screamed at him. Begging him to listen to a realisation he was blocked from Meanwhile, Lei was silent. His hatred had reached her. The air became thicker, the lapis lightness that trailed her had dissipated. The sky was now onyx black, only the light stained with blood and water gave sight to the scene. The stars seemed to go out like bulbs. Neither of the two realised it but they were getting further from reality. A purple barrier surrounded them. As the purple deepened around them, the ground began to fade beneath them, not so they were falling, so they were floating... One individual spawned a ruby sword and lunged for the other. In defence, the other created their own sapphire sword. The two locked blades as a purple explosion launched the two back. Clarity crashed over them. Axel’s glowing blue eyes met Lei’s matching red eyes. The two had switched alignments. "Seems I corrupted you then." Axel gave a pained laugh. Lei's look was filled with a more menacing aura. Azure dress now magically changed. Blonde hair turned red at the tips. Whilst Axel's obsidian cloak turned a softer grey. Crimson accents now blue. Slowly, he crouched to touch the ground and refocus himself. He had to refocus himself. He had to. Although, as he reached to touch taupe soil, his hands touched nothing but a blank void. Eyes widened. Breathe quickened as he took in the new scene. "Lei!" Axel's voice sounded desperate now, pleading perhaps. Lei ignored him sprinting towards him, sword readied. "Cousin!" So close she could cut him down, he said two words, two quiet words, two words that carried weight, weight enough to bring her back. "Ground yourself." Suddenly, she halted. Taking a breath, she noticed the thickness of the air, the lack of ground. Or sky. Or stars. Or anything. It was a purple abyss. "Axel..." Voice wavering she cried out for her cousin. Instinctively, he held her in case of any rapid change to their environment. "Ideas, ideas, ideas..." He had one. "For Lei." Immediately, Axel pushed his cousin away. As she looked at him, a contorted mess of hurt and confusion, she watched as he raised a hand holding a scarlet orb. Hurling it at her, she didn't move. The impact was deafening. Lei's eyes glowed blue before closing. Both fell into the void. It felt like they would fall forever and never all at the same time. Just as this feeling sank in, Axel felt dirt on his fingers. Smiling, he stood up. Glancing at his cousin in blue, he used magic to heal the wound. Then he walked away, red aura dimming. Behind him, footsteps ran towards the fallen girl. The alive girl. Whilst he kept moving. Alone. Honestly I need to edit some parts I didn’t have much time, so if I have more I’ll edit and elaborate when needed. Maybe I’ll continue the story if I’m not busy... Edit 1 - changed the story slightly. Edit 2 - I will definitely try and develop the story soon - thank you so much for the silver - this is only my second comment ! Edit 3 - I'll probably leave this story here, unless any major plot holes, spelling mistakes etc. Thanks for reading !
	[WP] In your world, friendship is literally magic. However, your bond must be true. Magic is bluer the more friends you have, and it's also stronger. Your cousin is the second strongest sorcerer alive. The strongest? You, with red magic and an absolute hatred for everyone you've ever met.	"Look at this idiot, he's gonna challenge me in a month after some dumbass quest to prove me wrong or some shit." "Donald, please be a little more polite to the kid." "No, he's going to get himself killed in some completely preventable way that I had nothing to do with, and then his friends will fight me to avenge him, and then they'll be in the hospital for three years because killing them would take too much of my time." "Don, don't be so light about death." "Who's gonna stop me? The police? They're incompetent. You? You know I can beat you." "Only in a one-on-one fight. I have enough friends to overwhelm you." "But that would put them in _daaanger,_ Will, and you hate _putting friends in danger!_" "With enough mages on defense, it won't much matter. Please just stop being an ass before I have to resort to that." "I don't start _shit._ I just want to be left alone, it's _these_ self-righteous idiots who keep looking for me. Once they stop starting fights, _I'll_ stop ending them."	A demonic fire is what they called it. Bright red flicks danced around Aoran’s frame as he stood on the corner, waiting for the bus. People passing by gave him a wide berth, no one else dared to wait at the same spot, afraid of even coming close to the immense red aura that illuminated him. “Fucking amateurs can’t even get a fucking bus here on time.” He muttered, angered by the 3 minutes that had passed since the bus was supposed to be there. Aoran was a powerful sorcerer, people feared him, for what he could do no one really knew. As powerful as he was, as great and magical the tiresome city around him was, he still held a normal nine to five job, and the best mode of transportation was the bus. People especially like the public transport system for the city - It’s cleaner, it’s more environmentally friendly, how can it hurt anything when it’s run by magic? That’s what people said at least, the fools believed the thick smog and gas that pumped out from behind the bus was of magical significance, unable to see past their own blue tints. This was only one of the reasons why he hated fucking people, not only were they ignorant, they were so stuck up and worried about how blue they glowed. Blue this, blue that, the world might as well be a fucking Eiffel 65 song. Before anyone could notice his glowing red features, the bus showed up, only another minute later, but enough for Aoran to scowl at the bus driver in discontent. The chatter stopped and the blue auras that filled the bus parted like the sea as he made his way towards an open area, free from sitting next to anyone. The bus churned and began its journey once again, allowing Aoran the briefest of moments to be lost in his own thoughts again. Why was he even here? It’s not like anyone wanted him to be, it’s not like he wanted to be. No one ever wanted him around, they always preferred his perfect brother, the actual most powerful sorcerer. Not even his parents lifted a finger to acknowledge him, so why should he care when his aura faded into a dark purple, to a shimmering red all these years? Power-wise, he could defeat his brother, but what would he gain from that? It’s not like he would suddenly become popular with everyone. The bus passed through the bustling city, it’s light enhancing the blue glow that flowed through the streets, mimicking a raging river. Aoran watched as it passed, as everyone else on the bus watched him, tense and scared to continue their conversations. All they saw was red, but if they ever cared to look close, they would see the green that showed through, green with envy for the love his brother had from everyone. Something Aoran would never have, not that he even wanted it anymore to begin with.
	[WP] In your world, friendship is literally magic. However, your bond must be true. Magic is bluer the more friends you have, and it's also stronger. Your cousin is the second strongest sorcerer alive. The strongest? You, with red magic and an absolute hatred for everyone you've ever met.	I've often thought, that Ambition, must be fuelled by contempt. After all, desires don't rise from nothing. You start off young, and carefree, and the more you are wronged by people - the more people take advantage of you - the more you strive to be better than them. And it's a self-perpetuating loop. The more contemptuous of a person you are, the less likely you are to show weakness to others that might help humanise yourself in their eyes. Because they live privileged lives, oblivious to the humanity of even their worst enemy. They make me sick. My cousin stands atop a podium right now, he's giving a speech about some complex techniques for a mind-link. Essentially, a way to fuse together two minds and live in perfect unity from then on. I find it intriguing for the applications this has to confuse and potentially torture individuals you feel have wronged you, by linking them together without their knowledge. I could give a lecture like that. Stand tall in front of everyone, so distanced. No doubt he hates it up there, how could anyone so involved in positive magic, friendly magic, enjoy a position of authority? And he's so ignorant of me too, he knows I'm stronger than him. And that I made myself stronger than him. Why must I be the one to sit at the back of the hall, not that I don't prefer the isolation. We were both born into the same family, his parents died and mine adopted him as their son. But he'll never be my brother. Never. I'm just that much more skilled than him, to think someone might lump him and I together as "Family" sounds disgusting to me. I made sure of it, in fact. That there would be no person in the world who would ever think of me and him as "family". Especially after the situation with "our" parents. ... Not that it stops him from acting like we're best buddies. Back. Around twenty-four years ago when we were, in everyone's eyes, brothers; we would play together. He would go out, knock on everyone's doors in the neighbourhood, and they would all play games together. And I would come out, and join in, then he'd act like I had always been there. His nickname for me, was "dumb-o". Or "stupid-o". Imagine that, a twelve year old boy calling his seven year old brother, dumb. And so, I put two and two together. I wasn't invited to play, because I was dumb. And from that, I put him on a pedestal. He must be smart, if I'm dumb. And he became my idol. All through my entire childhood, looking up to a paragon of friendliness, and also the only person I'd ever truly, genuinely interact with. After years and years of improving myself, becoming smarter, becoming better than everyone I saw as smarter than me, smarter than even the teachers, I finally realised. He was never smart. And on that severance, I became a real outcast. From then on, my magic, which had always been a weak blue, turned blood red. A beautiful, familiar, crimson. I got my wish. I was the best, the cleverest, and the most intelligent. Voluntarily, I decided to fake being unable to use magic. At fourteen, I became a magic-mute. I had never heard of red magic, ever, and I doubt anyone else had too. Which meant, either I'm the first, which is unlikely, or there have been multiple before me who were all discreetly killed. I'd never risk it. I stopped interacting with him. I started calling him my cousin. I was finally free of him. In fact, I made certain of our separation. Our parents would get in the way, try to force me to make up with him, so I killed them. I killed them with my gift, in such a perfect way that they could never trace it back to a magic mute, certainly not a magic mute with such weak power anyway. He knew. He knew what I did, though. He didn't know how, so I drew on my learning, and used my newfound power to remap his entire brain to avoid that memory. Contempt was my new power, so fitting for jealousy to be both my motivation and my method for becoming stronger and smarter than everyone else. I could rise right up to the top, over the glass houses of friendship which would shatter if only a single person throws a stone, and ascend into my mountainous and impenetrable stone castle. So I sit here, and wait at the back of the hall. Watching my little cousin try to justify the ideas that I give him. We still live together. I made us live together. He made so, so many friends when he was younger, and he still keeps in contact with all of them. So many genuine connections. Well, he shouldn't be surprised. When you connect yourself by little blue strings to other people, don't be surprised when a puppeteer takes control.	A demonic fire is what they called it. Bright red flicks danced around Aoran’s frame as he stood on the corner, waiting for the bus. People passing by gave him a wide berth, no one else dared to wait at the same spot, afraid of even coming close to the immense red aura that illuminated him. “Fucking amateurs can’t even get a fucking bus here on time.” He muttered, angered by the 3 minutes that had passed since the bus was supposed to be there. Aoran was a powerful sorcerer, people feared him, for what he could do no one really knew. As powerful as he was, as great and magical the tiresome city around him was, he still held a normal nine to five job, and the best mode of transportation was the bus. People especially like the public transport system for the city - It’s cleaner, it’s more environmentally friendly, how can it hurt anything when it’s run by magic? That’s what people said at least, the fools believed the thick smog and gas that pumped out from behind the bus was of magical significance, unable to see past their own blue tints. This was only one of the reasons why he hated fucking people, not only were they ignorant, they were so stuck up and worried about how blue they glowed. Blue this, blue that, the world might as well be a fucking Eiffel 65 song. Before anyone could notice his glowing red features, the bus showed up, only another minute later, but enough for Aoran to scowl at the bus driver in discontent. The chatter stopped and the blue auras that filled the bus parted like the sea as he made his way towards an open area, free from sitting next to anyone. The bus churned and began its journey once again, allowing Aoran the briefest of moments to be lost in his own thoughts again. Why was he even here? It’s not like anyone wanted him to be, it’s not like he wanted to be. No one ever wanted him around, they always preferred his perfect brother, the actual most powerful sorcerer. Not even his parents lifted a finger to acknowledge him, so why should he care when his aura faded into a dark purple, to a shimmering red all these years? Power-wise, he could defeat his brother, but what would he gain from that? It’s not like he would suddenly become popular with everyone. The bus passed through the bustling city, it’s light enhancing the blue glow that flowed through the streets, mimicking a raging river. Aoran watched as it passed, as everyone else on the bus watched him, tense and scared to continue their conversations. All they saw was red, but if they ever cared to look close, they would see the green that showed through, green with envy for the love his brother had from everyone. Something Aoran would never have, not that he even wanted it anymore to begin with.
	[WP] In your world, friendship is literally magic. However, your bond must be true. Magic is bluer the more friends you have, and it's also stronger. Your cousin is the second strongest sorcerer alive. The strongest? You, with red magic and an absolute hatred for everyone you've ever met.	I've often thought, that Ambition, must be fuelled by contempt. After all, desires don't rise from nothing. You start off young, and carefree, and the more you are wronged by people - the more people take advantage of you - the more you strive to be better than them. And it's a self-perpetuating loop. The more contemptuous of a person you are, the less likely you are to show weakness to others that might help humanise yourself in their eyes. Because they live privileged lives, oblivious to the humanity of even their worst enemy. They make me sick. My cousin stands atop a podium right now, he's giving a speech about some complex techniques for a mind-link. Essentially, a way to fuse together two minds and live in perfect unity from then on. I find it intriguing for the applications this has to confuse and potentially torture individuals you feel have wronged you, by linking them together without their knowledge. I could give a lecture like that. Stand tall in front of everyone, so distanced. No doubt he hates it up there, how could anyone so involved in positive magic, friendly magic, enjoy a position of authority? And he's so ignorant of me too, he knows I'm stronger than him. And that I made myself stronger than him. Why must I be the one to sit at the back of the hall, not that I don't prefer the isolation. We were both born into the same family, his parents died and mine adopted him as their son. But he'll never be my brother. Never. I'm just that much more skilled than him, to think someone might lump him and I together as "Family" sounds disgusting to me. I made sure of it, in fact. That there would be no person in the world who would ever think of me and him as "family". Especially after the situation with "our" parents. ... Not that it stops him from acting like we're best buddies. Back. Around twenty-four years ago when we were, in everyone's eyes, brothers; we would play together. He would go out, knock on everyone's doors in the neighbourhood, and they would all play games together. And I would come out, and join in, then he'd act like I had always been there. His nickname for me, was "dumb-o". Or "stupid-o". Imagine that, a twelve year old boy calling his seven year old brother, dumb. And so, I put two and two together. I wasn't invited to play, because I was dumb. And from that, I put him on a pedestal. He must be smart, if I'm dumb. And he became my idol. All through my entire childhood, looking up to a paragon of friendliness, and also the only person I'd ever truly, genuinely interact with. After years and years of improving myself, becoming smarter, becoming better than everyone I saw as smarter than me, smarter than even the teachers, I finally realised. He was never smart. And on that severance, I became a real outcast. From then on, my magic, which had always been a weak blue, turned blood red. A beautiful, familiar, crimson. I got my wish. I was the best, the cleverest, and the most intelligent. Voluntarily, I decided to fake being unable to use magic. At fourteen, I became a magic-mute. I had never heard of red magic, ever, and I doubt anyone else had too. Which meant, either I'm the first, which is unlikely, or there have been multiple before me who were all discreetly killed. I'd never risk it. I stopped interacting with him. I started calling him my cousin. I was finally free of him. In fact, I made certain of our separation. Our parents would get in the way, try to force me to make up with him, so I killed them. I killed them with my gift, in such a perfect way that they could never trace it back to a magic mute, certainly not a magic mute with such weak power anyway. He knew. He knew what I did, though. He didn't know how, so I drew on my learning, and used my newfound power to remap his entire brain to avoid that memory. Contempt was my new power, so fitting for jealousy to be both my motivation and my method for becoming stronger and smarter than everyone else. I could rise right up to the top, over the glass houses of friendship which would shatter if only a single person throws a stone, and ascend into my mountainous and impenetrable stone castle. So I sit here, and wait at the back of the hall. Watching my little cousin try to justify the ideas that I give him. We still live together. I made us live together. He made so, so many friends when he was younger, and he still keeps in contact with all of them. So many genuine connections. Well, he shouldn't be surprised. When you connect yourself by little blue strings to other people, don't be surprised when a puppeteer takes control.	"Look at this idiot, he's gonna challenge me in a month after some dumbass quest to prove me wrong or some shit." "Donald, please be a little more polite to the kid." "No, he's going to get himself killed in some completely preventable way that I had nothing to do with, and then his friends will fight me to avenge him, and then they'll be in the hospital for three years because killing them would take too much of my time." "Don, don't be so light about death." "Who's gonna stop me? The police? They're incompetent. You? You know I can beat you." "Only in a one-on-one fight. I have enough friends to overwhelm you." "But that would put them in _daaanger,_ Will, and you hate _putting friends in danger!_" "With enough mages on defense, it won't much matter. Please just stop being an ass before I have to resort to that." "I don't start _shit._ I just want to be left alone, it's _these_ self-righteous idiots who keep looking for me. Once they stop starting fights, _I'll_ stop ending them."
	[WP] In the not-so-distant future, everything has been automated and jobs are scarce. There is a Universal Basic Income, but in order to "earn" it, people must do fake jobs. There's no conspiracy - everyone knows these are fake jobs, but the idea is to give people purpose.	“Everything is ready. Premiere is in 10 seconds.” I must have done this hundreds of times already. Standing still on the dark platform, I recited the words and the moves. 5, 4, 3, 2,... The platform slowly rose as the countdown timer ticked away. 1. &#x200B; All the world’s spotlights broke upon me, blurring my vision. Before I could recover it, my voice came out with the beats of the music. My legs caught up with the blasting rhythm and dancing lights naturally, blending into the thumping beats. Everywhere I turned, I saw the ecstatic faces of the holographic audiences, and bathed in their screams and cries. I twirled, and they all raised up their hands to grasp my love. I was the starlight of their most fervent wish. It was a concert like any other, where our souls were lost in the chaotic trance of the melody, and we let it whisked us away into the land of bliss, our emotions bleeding into each other. We were no longer parts, but a whole. United and happy. The immersion was suddenly broken when multiple viewers started to disappear. The rest didn’t have much time for bewilderment before they too were gone. A flash of glitches appeared before me, and black screen. “Disconnected from server.” With a frustrated sigh, I opened my direct message box. “Seems like some unknown bugs are causing server issues,” was the latest text from my manager, “I’ll call when it’s fixed.” I checked my credit balance before logging off and tossing my headset to the side. Silence and the sight of the white ceiling greeted me. I welcomed their peace, because even though I had lowered sensations in the settings, it was still over-stimulating at times. Moving across my small, achromatic room, I reached for a snack, but not before that mirror caught me off guard again. Seeing the reflections in the mirror was always confusing for a split second. The view outside of the glass window was the same as ever. The high rise white apartment buildings were dominating the skyline, beneath them were narrow, empty roads that stretched towards all four directions. Each of the rooms was a uniform rectangular block with round corners, slightly protruding out from the building it was attached to. In each of those rooms, through its glass window, there was a familiar sight of a person lying in bed with a headset on. It wasn’t like this long, long ago, so I heard. People had to come outside to work, nights and days to feed themselves and their family. Some were struggling to live and provide for their needs. Some worked to death. It was a horrible life, and humanity finally moved past that phase when they completely shifted to automatic labor. I couldn’t imagine living life as a slave to the system like that. Careers were optional now, we could live in total freedom without ever needing to step out from our home. It was funny because a short while after the complete shift, suicide rates hit an all time high. Perhaps because people weren’t used to it. Corporations and governments worked to implement these game simulations, the UBI, saying something about them lowering the suicide rates. I had been staring out of my window for way too long now. Has time always moved this slow? I looked over at my headset and picked it up. When would the server be fixed? The more I saw the white walls of this room, the more I felt an emptiness creeping up on me. What was I, when I wasn’t idol Mirelle? When I was Mirelle, I was loved, I was famous. I was nothing now. This feeling of dread was suffocating in this tiny room. Shuddering, I quickly put on the headset. Perhaps going shopping would relieve me of these strange thoughts. There was nothing to do outside but waiting for death anyway. r/devoneswrites	It was fourteen years last month my job working the line at Tesla Inc. became a living hell. Ever since the government passed the laws for UBI my already tedious job checking the quality of our automotive parts hit a standstill. No sense of purpose, no promotions, no... nothing. All I ever will be is a man standing here, counting for no reason... staring at perfection over, and over, and over, and over... What is the opposite of OCD? I itch and I crave sooo bad to see some sort of imperfection. Something to remove me from the monotony of my day. Some days I weep uncontrollably as I stand in place with my ankles shackled to the floor and beg for mercy. That is until the foreman comes along with his cattle prod... At this point I think I’ve been zapped so many times I start to enjoy it. I think sometimes... I weep and cry and lash out at my post just for that sweet release... Zzzzzaaaappppp, zzzzzaaaaaappp... and to hear the sound of my screams. I yearn for it even as I type this letter... One time I even remember looking at the outlet while I ate dinner.... fork trembling in my hand... no... nevermind. None of that matters now. It’ll all be forgotten... I’ll be forgotten... I can’t stand this pain any longer. No promotions... no raises... no hopes... no childhood dreams to do what I love... and once again, no anything anymore. Some days I forget who I am. Some days I stare at all these perfect fucking car parts for so long I forget what Jennifer and Lucas look like. Hearing Elon Musk’s voice automated and spewing his bullshit about a better future over and over..... what future?!? With each day that goes by I just... I just... can’t do it anymore. Take care of your mother for me, Lucas. You still have your future ahead of you. Rise up and revolt before it’s too late. I’m sorry. Love, Dad. ———————————————— click ... ... ... ... Boom.
	[WP]You and your best friend, who is now a ghost, go around and play pranks on people	##One Last Prank "Johnny, Johnny, wake up," I hear his voice at the edge of the bed. "Wake up, Johnny," he says louder. The quilt on my bed starts to get pulled off of me. I look at the clock. "It is 3 A.M., Cody. What do you want?" I ask. "There is a guy a few blocks away who is up playing video games. Let's go throw rocks at his window," he says. "Cody, no, just let the man play his games." I pick up my quilt and lie back down. "James, throw rocks with me," he says. "No, you can do it yourself," I say. "I don't want to be alone. Plus, with you, we could go further. You throw and I warn you when he comes. I will even set traps inside his house it will be fun." he says egging me on. "No, I am tired," I say. "Alright," he floats out of my room. I go to sleep. --- I wake up late the next day because Johnny woke me up. By the time, I enter. My mom is comforting my dad at the table. "Dad, what happened?" I ask. My parents look at each other. "Did you know James Ernest? He lived down the street." he asks. "No, why?" I ask. "Well, I found him dead in his yard. The police say he missed slipped and fell outside." he says. He starts crying again. "Dad, is everything okay?" I ask. "We didn't know him that well, but finding a dead body would shake anyone up," my mom says. I see Cody in the distance chuckling. "I understand," I say. I march back up to my room not getting any breakfast. I sit on my bed and wait. Cody enters. "You should've seen the way his body hit the ground," he says giggling. "Why did you kill him?" I ask. "It was just a prank. I thought it be fun if he had a big fall down the stairs and out the door," he says cackling. "What, that killed him!" I yell. "Jeez, it is not like death is that big of a deal. Look at me," he says. He floats around me. "Well, where is his ghost?" I ask. "I don't know, but it doesn't matter," he says. "No, it does matter. My dad is crying at the table right now," I say. "Yeah, sorry for laughing, it was just funny seeing you get mad," he giggles. "Why can't you take this seriously!" I raise my voice. "Lighten up. It is not like I am doing anything too mean," he says, "Now, let's go. There is a woman that I saw who needs a prank." "No," I say. "What?!" he replies. "It was funny when we pranking teachers or assholes at school. But you are going too far. These are people we don't know." I say. "Come on. Don't be so lame," he says. "You weren't like this when you were alive," I say. His face drops as I say that. "Don't you dare compare me to the meek person that I was. I am no longer trapped in that flesh prison. The crash set me free," he says. "It also made you an asshole," I say. He disappears after I say that. My bookshelf tips over as I say that. I manage to jump out of the way before it hits me. It makes a loud crash as it lands on my bed. My parents run upstairs. "Honey, what happened!" My mom yells. She is trying to get in, but the door is locked. Clothes and books are being flung around the room. "I see now that you need to be set free too," Cody yells. His voice comes from the entire room. "No, Cody! Stop!" I yell. A large table is flung at me, and I am able to dodge that. "Join me, Johnny," he says. "No, Cody. I don't want to be your friend anymore." I yell. The books drop. Cody appears before me faint and crying. "What?" he says. "I don't want to be your friend anymore." I say. "But you have to, no one else wants me. My mom called a priest when she saw me. Please you are my only friend," he begs me as he starts to fade. "Goodbye, Cody," I say. His body starts to go out. "I wonder where I'll go next," he says. My parents are able to unlock the door and hug me as they walk in. I embrace them. I see Cody one last time behind them as he fades from view.	“It’s not fair”, he reached for a bottle. “What?” The cat stared at him with glassy eyes. “That I died first!” The cat cocked his head to the side. He was lying on the ground with his body making an S shape. His unusual pose reminded the man of the few times he had spun himself around one of those spinning toys, usually when he had been drinking something a little stronger than beer. “What do you mean?” The man took a hard gulp. He didn’t really understand why the cat talked either. But he could chat with the cat, sometimes it made him feel better. The cat had given him a new purpose, made him glad to wake up every morning. “You did not have to live through the funeral, the tears of family, the hospital and shoving my body into the ground.” He drank some more. The cat stared at the body, nothing. “There is also the fact that you have it easy! You can not just be cold when you are black and furry” The cat tilted his head the other way as if he didn’t understand what the man was saying. /Rubbish, he hasn’t changed at all. Still as creepy as a ventriloquist doll!/ He laughed. “But you have a great life now, you’ re immortal now! Spirits don’t age anyway.” The cat’s eyes rolled slowly. The man held the bottle straight up over his head. “You are no longer alone!” He threw the bottle at the cat who quickly avoided it. “See, I will always be your best friend” The cat stared. He rolled his eyes. The man tried to stand up. He was already a little tipsy. His ears fell down over his eyes as he tried to keep his balance. The cat was quick to help him lean against the kitchen wall. He grabbed a new bottle, an even bigger one than the first. He struggled with the cap. Technically he had not died, just lost a lot of blood. But that did not really matter. The man found the gaping hole in his chest. His eyes were stuck on the gaping hole. “How did they miss this?” The cat rolled his eyes once again. There really was a lot of blood. The man pressed his finger against the hole and was surprised when he could feel the warmth of the man’s touch. The cat just stared. After half a minute the hole closed. The skin had healed. He pressed his finger against his new skin. “Magic, it really works.” His voice was getting a little hoarse. The man began to spin around the kitchen. “What do you mean it is not fair that I died first?” He pressed his forehead against the wall. There was a hole in that one too. He heard a gasp for air. And then he stopped spinning. The man put his hands on the floor, and then he passed out. The cat
	[WP]One day, while cleaning out the attic of your deceased mom's home, you stumble upon an old oil lamp. In clichéd fashion you begin to clean the lamp and a genie appears. "Ah yes,"he thinks. "Another poor sap." Too bad for him, you're a contract lawyer. Quite a good one, at that. Monkey's Paw who?	My accountant was going to have questions. But it didn’t matter, accountants are a dime a dozen in L.A. Why, you ask? Well, the cost of a two ton roll of actual legal grade paper and delivery, well... let’s just say it is an odd expense to put on your taxes. My mother passed away two weeks ago, and I was in the middle of doing the horrible but necessary task of going through a lifetime of belongings of my mother in her home. My home too, I grew up here also. My father passed away when I was still in diapers and eating out of a bottle, but for all of that, we had been taken care of. Mom always had ‘enough’ to get by. Never more than we needed, but always enough. She had Tupperware parties, makeup parties, you know... any of those “invite all your friends and get them to buy something from you” type deals you have at your house. I figured that was where the money was from. I also lived a pretty normal life as a kid, considering growing up in the 80’s without a father could be normal in anyway. Things were...well, different...back then. The one thing though, was my mother’s wishes for what I should be when I grew up. “I think you should be a contract lawyer, the best in the world,” she would say after I struck out at little league or failed my science quiz. Never anything else, just ‘Contract Lawyer.’ When my high school guidance counselor asked me what I wanted to be, ‘Contract Lawyer’ was what I blurted out. I don’t know if I wanted to be a contract lawyer, but I honestly couldn’t think of anything else at that moment. Maybe Mom had been conditioning me. Funny thing was, I was good at it. REALLY good at it. Good enough I’ve had the White House contract me to help with different contracts with companies or even other countries. But, I had a house and a life to sort through so I had decided to start in the attic, hoping the sentimental pain of deciding what stays and what goes would be easier when dealing with things that had been hidden away for decades. And, it kinda was, but leaned heavily on things to keep. Photos of my father, I had only ever seen the faded one of him holding me not long after I came home from the hospital. Documents, papers, letters...detailing a several year long fight with a life insurance company about my father’s disappearance. Mom had always said he passed away, not ‘disappeared.’ Life insurance eventually, seven years after he had gone missing with no trace, paid out. $50,000, not a small sum back then, but certainly not enough to keep Mom and I afloat as I grew up. No, the reason that happened...well... In the back of the attic, there were several sheets covering large objects. A deliberate path was left clear from the stairs to these objects. I pulled the sheets off, curious what they were. On a large oak table sat an ancient cash register, a book and a box. Smiling I punched on the register $12.79 and pulled the handle, it rolled over and popped the drawer. I looked inside and frowned. A ten, two one’s, three quarters and four pennies rested in the tray. “What were the odds,” I thought, feeling a little creeped out. I left the drawer open and picked up the small, red leather journal. I brushed the dust off the cover and cracked it open. There was my mothers fine script, neat and straight, perfect as always. Suddenly overcome I sat on a nearby trunk and began to read through my suddenly blurry vision. It was a note to me. And, it was insanity... My mother’s journal was a long letter to me, with instructions and rules. First, it told me of the cash register. That you could, daily, input up to $100 on it, pull the lever and get those funds. Daily. But, it warned, never more than that. And to be safe only take $90. I looked up from the book and stared at the register, my mouth screwing up as I did some quick math. Ninety a day, $630 a week, $2520 a month, a little over $30k a year. I thought about it and it made sense. Then I frowned and shook my head, cursing my self for believing this craziness. Mom had begun to go senile before she passed, this book must be because of that. Reading on, she said to only use it if you must, because she didn’t know where the money came from. I frowned again, curious, is she implying this register steals the money from somewhere, a random other register coming up short in its till? I shook my head and continued. Finally I got to the next page. In large script it stated, “ Henry Barnaby Jackson, if you are not a GREAT contract lawyer, take the box and this book, bury them where they won’t be found and read no further nor open the box!” I blinked a few times and reread it twice. I felt that creepy feeling again. Like I did with the register. I lowered the book and thought long and hard about my life. All the times Mom had pushed for me to be a contract lawyer. How exceedingly odd it was, how I had thought it was a joke, how strangely happy she was when I passed the bar exam... I was a contract lawyer, and one of the best. So, I turned the page. What followed was madness, and halfway through, I set the journal down, walked over to the register, emptied the money from it, shut the drawer, punched in $80 and racked the handle. “CHING,” popped the drawer and I found four, twenty dollar bills. I had taken over $90 today but the threshold was $100 so...I was still safe. See, the book said that the register was from a wish she made. She had wished to never run out of money. And so, you are allowed to take up to $100 a day. But go over and...well something awful would happen, and she didn’t know what. She had wished for a husband, and gotten my father, and he was perfect, to perfect really she explained and her eye wandered, and when it did...my father just disappeared. But not before she had wished for a child. Me. She carried me and birthed me, and my father had helped her through those rough early months with a baby before she let her eye wander... But I wasn’t to worry, see, I was safe, because she truly loved me, and she never had another child. She had made these wishes because she had a magic lamp. Like Aladdin and Robin Williams. Except that this genie in this lamp was a real asshole. He would grant your wish but would always try to twist it. She talked about how elaborate she got with her last wish, me, but still the genie made it so she could have no other child, or I would die. She stated that it would use contracts if you wanted to, had to use whatever way you decided to make your wish, and thus...she wanted me to be a contract lawyer. And I was, and I was a good one. I thought a long time at this, staring at the box before opening it and peering inside. Yup, an old, dirty, dusty brass lamp like the storybooks showed. I lifted it, rubbed it, and watched as the genie came out. Then I smiled, a wicked smile, and the genie recoiled slightly before I told it to get back in the lamp. “Master,” it called me, with hate and loathing in it’s tone and face. Yeah, my accountant is going to want to know what I needed two tons of paper and a printer and toner to print on it. But, see, Mom had told me a secret, you could wish for as many things as you wanted to, in a single wish, as long as you included an and in it and never clearly came to the end of a sentence. I am a contract lawyer. One of the best. And when I’m done, I’ll have everything I ever wanted and I’ll make this world like Mom always wanted. This genie, had met it’s match in my mother, it just didn’t know it at the time.	It’s been years since first meeting the ceaseless shade that darkens my back and still the nagging to make my first wish has never stopped. He stalks every word I speak like a lioness hunting a gazelle that it can’t quite trap. Sometimes I wonder how close I can toe the line. Sometimes I wonder if I enjoy this game more than I ever could a wish of wealth or glory. Sometimes I want to wish I never rubbed the lamp at all. Today, however, is the day I reveal that I’ve spent this time silently crafting in my head, so as to avoid any discussion or written documentation from being construed as “a wish”. Wishful thinking, if you will. “I’ve decided.” The genie approached cautiously as if in disbelief. Hidden power crackling behind his eyes, “Everyone comes around eventually,” the words slithered out with a sinister fry. “I wish to know and understand every rule pertaining to and referencing wishes and genie magic, hereto referred to as “knowledge”, with the ability to hold, maintain, remember, reference, decipher, and otherwise use said knowledge at will without any requirement to use pre-existing and/or newly acquired knowledge to maintain current universal, galactic, planetary, or any other systems such as, but not limited to the laws of physics and natural phenomena, such that neither these systems nor the physical health, and/or mental health, and/or spiritual health of any current and/or future living creature, spirit, and/or entity, will be neither affected nor altered by any and/or all possession of knowledge by any being, living creature, and/or entity in a way such that the honest and prudent man would determine detrimental to the universe, and/or it’s inhabitants.” He chuckled as he raised his fingers. “Well done.” snap I awoke to the sound of a horses pulling a wagon down a rocky path. “Hey you, you're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border? Walked right into that imperial ambush,like us and that thief over there.” Edit: Originally, I was going to reveal it to be a coma and the character waking up to meet his now adult child, but I thought this was funnier.
	[WP]One day, while cleaning out the attic of your deceased mom's home, you stumble upon an old oil lamp. In clichéd fashion you begin to clean the lamp and a genie appears. "Ah yes,"he thinks. "Another poor sap." Too bad for him, you're a contract lawyer. Quite a good one, at that. Monkey's Paw who?	"Three wishes" the genie proclaimed in a bouldering voice that echoed trough the attic. The lawyer sat down on an old cardbox filled with old family pictures. He read enough stories go know the genie would twist to his wishes that would surely and painfully backfire. After staring at the empty wall for what felt like hours to the genie he finally spoke. "I wish..." he said "that you would grant wishes, not with malicious intend for your own sadistic amusement, but grant them with the best intentions to help those who make the wishes achieve a long, happy and fulfilling lives, not just providing what they want, but what they need, even if they are unaware of it themselves." The genie, clearly annoyed answered. "And for your last two wishes?" The lawyer thought. "I don't know. You choose."	\#1) I wish that all of my wishes, including this one, are granted in the spirit intended rather than just the strict wording of the wish and in such a way that there is no counterbalancing evil or unpleasant act that must be performed which will make me or anyone else regret my having wished the wish, for example none of the following situations should arise: wishing for prolonged life would include health and preserved vigor and mental capacity but would not result in a punishment or any other occurrence where I am either trapped, imprisoned, or in prolonged pain for the duration, wishing for money would not result in anyone else's harm of loss of money, but would result in a new discovery of assets, and wishing for super powers would not necessitate the corresponding creation of an arch nemesis or someone else with super powers with the intent of preventing my fullest enjoyment of any power I wish for.
	[WP]One day, while cleaning out the attic of your deceased mom's home, you stumble upon an old oil lamp. In clichéd fashion you begin to clean the lamp and a genie appears. "Ah yes,"he thinks. "Another poor sap." Too bad for him, you're a contract lawyer. Quite a good one, at that. Monkey's Paw who?	"Three wishes" the genie proclaimed in a bouldering voice that echoed trough the attic. The lawyer sat down on an old cardbox filled with old family pictures. He read enough stories go know the genie would twist to his wishes that would surely and painfully backfire. After staring at the empty wall for what felt like hours to the genie he finally spoke. "I wish..." he said "that you would grant wishes, not with malicious intend for your own sadistic amusement, but grant them with the best intentions to help those who make the wishes achieve a long, happy and fulfilling lives, not just providing what they want, but what they need, even if they are unaware of it themselves." The genie, clearly annoyed answered. "And for your last two wishes?" The lawyer thought. "I don't know. You choose."	"Another genie!" I almost moan as I just finished dealing with another genie that popped out of my neti pot. Blowing the remnants of that last beast out of my nasal cavities took the better part of a larger Kleenex box. Luckily for me _this_ genie came out of a lamp, and not my nostrils. I throw the lamp to the side and decide to get right into gear with this genie. I am interrupted from a voice calling me from downstairs. "What's that. You found your brother's beanie?" My near deaf dad called up the attic steps. "Don't worry about it. I got this covered." "Hash browns smothered! Got it!" I heard his footsteps as he sauntered off to fix my brunch. "Hey genie. I get the whole ordeal. My last three wishes left me with a repaired neti pot, a fixed bathroom sink, and my previously balding dad now has long golden hair. What can you possibly do that's better for me?" "Good day." The genie's sonorous voice rumbled my lungs. "I am here to present you with the results of my search from your mother's three wishes. I'm sorry to inform you that wish number one was unsuccessful. I was unable to make a milkshake that really brings boys to the yard." I stared in disbelief. In one day, I find two genies and the second one is telling me I don't get any wishes. "Number two, indeed it was hard, but after a few months of haggling, I was able to return the pizza that she purchased with bitcoin. Unfortunately since the pizza turned into, what did the pizzeria owner call it, 'useless shit', the owner of the pizzeria only gave me the value of your mother's poop in today's inflated value. I left 37 cents in the top drawer in the kitchen." I couldn't think straight. My deceased mom was a crypto miner? The things you learn… "And number three, what was number three again…?" the genie reaches into his golden (skin?) tight pants and pulls out a note card and some spectacles, "oh right." He begins to read from the card, "I hereby give my wishes to my family and my family's family so that they can do good things with the world." "And your name?" I said to the genie. "How kind of you to ask. I'm Roger. How can I be of assistance?" "I wish, Roger, that I had a free premium account to YouTube tv. For life." "Let it be known that wish number three is done. He snapped his fingers. His body floated back into this lamp. There were no dramatics, he simply went away. --------- Seven months later I go back into the attic and rub the lamp until the genie comes back out. When Roger appears, he is wearing a bathing suit and is slightly tanned. "You?" He asks. "You used up your wishes." "No I didn't clean the dishes!" My dad, still in my house, calls up the attic stairs again. I hear his foot steps travel off to the other side of the kitchen toward the fridge. "You got any dessert in here?" This genie had no clue. I chuckled a little while trying on the balls of my feet. I can roll on my feet now because I gained about sixty pounds since the beginning of this quarantine. All I do is eat and watch YouTube. "Nah Roger, I got one more wish. And I wish for a really nice hot tub, and a sauna... and some chocolate ice cream." The ice cream is for dad. I'm so nice. "Now," the genie began, "I'm not sure how you got me out of the lamp again, but I'm going to click my fingers and if you have that third wish, this will work." He clicks. I look out the window and see the hot tub and sauna in the backyard. "Yay ice cream!" I hear excitement from the kitchen. As long as I keep playing the genie like this, I'll have that last wish. No way am I going to use a wish for something so I can, "can do good things with the world." This genie, and this lamp is for me, me, me. "Looks like you got a lot of ice cream here." Dad calls up. "The neighborhood kids are outside. I'm gonna go give them some!" The genie winks at me before he disappears back into his lamp. That audacity of that bastard! "No! No! No!" I shout as I run down the steps and try to catch my dad before he does this tremendously stupid thing. There shall be no joy spread from this house. No. No. No.
	[WP]One day, while cleaning out the attic of your deceased mom's home, you stumble upon an old oil lamp. In clichéd fashion you begin to clean the lamp and a genie appears. "Ah yes,"he thinks. "Another poor sap." Too bad for him, you're a contract lawyer. Quite a good one, at that. Monkey's Paw who?	"Three wishes." The genie stared at me, a smile on his face. Seconds ticked by. Then minutes. "Well?" "I'm thinking." "Thinking?" His long, unnaturally slender fingers rapped across the wood. "Come on. Surely you want something..." "Oh, I do. I'm just thinking how I want to phrase it." I rubbed at a spot of grease on the oil lamp. "I want to be careful." "Oh. No, no, don't think about it! That ruins half the fun. Just say it. Your heart's deepest desire." I narrowed my eyes at him. "Fine. I wish to be the most beautiful woman in the world." His eyebrows rose. "What? You said I could wish for anything." "I didn't expect that," he said, his grin growing wider. "You don't seem... the type to care about that. But, it does not matter! Your wish is my c--" "I'm not done yet." "Oh?" He asked, deflating. "In implementing this wish, you will not cause the following: deaths of women, blindness, or harm to any individual. You will not transport women to any other world. It will not affect my aging process or make me immortal." "Fine. Are you done?" He lifted his arms, blue energy sparking from the tips. "Not yet." My grin grew wider. "'Beautiful' is not defined as physical beauty. It is defined as the most beautiful inside. The most beautiful spirit, the one that does the most good for the world." "Oh, geez," he retorted, rolling his eyes. "The 'most good for the world' is defined as helping people the most. Defeating poverty, sickness, hate, and..." My eyes flicked to his. "Preventing innocent people from getting tricked." His eyes widened. "Now you can grant my wish." I leaned back, smiling. "You surely can't be--" "Grant it." He raised his hands. Blue power sparked off the tips, and with a concussive boom that rattled the attic, he was gone. I walked over to the place where he'd stood. Blue dust coated the floor, and I nudged it with my toe. "I did it, Mom." I glanced at the old photo of us, laying on the dusty floorboards. Her and I in simpler times--before she met the genie. Before she'd wished her children would never be poor. That devil had caused a faulty air conditioning unit to fall on her, instantly killing her, but creating a lawsuit that netted us tens of millions of dollars. The money meant nothing. This, however... meant everything. I took the broom from the corner and began to sweep up the dust.	"Another genie!" I almost moan as I just finished dealing with another genie that popped out of my neti pot. Blowing the remnants of that last beast out of my nasal cavities took the better part of a larger Kleenex box. Luckily for me _this_ genie came out of a lamp, and not my nostrils. I throw the lamp to the side and decide to get right into gear with this genie. I am interrupted from a voice calling me from downstairs. "What's that. You found your brother's beanie?" My near deaf dad called up the attic steps. "Don't worry about it. I got this covered." "Hash browns smothered! Got it!" I heard his footsteps as he sauntered off to fix my brunch. "Hey genie. I get the whole ordeal. My last three wishes left me with a repaired neti pot, a fixed bathroom sink, and my previously balding dad now has long golden hair. What can you possibly do that's better for me?" "Good day." The genie's sonorous voice rumbled my lungs. "I am here to present you with the results of my search from your mother's three wishes. I'm sorry to inform you that wish number one was unsuccessful. I was unable to make a milkshake that really brings boys to the yard." I stared in disbelief. In one day, I find two genies and the second one is telling me I don't get any wishes. "Number two, indeed it was hard, but after a few months of haggling, I was able to return the pizza that she purchased with bitcoin. Unfortunately since the pizza turned into, what did the pizzeria owner call it, 'useless shit', the owner of the pizzeria only gave me the value of your mother's poop in today's inflated value. I left 37 cents in the top drawer in the kitchen." I couldn't think straight. My deceased mom was a crypto miner? The things you learn… "And number three, what was number three again…?" the genie reaches into his golden (skin?) tight pants and pulls out a note card and some spectacles, "oh right." He begins to read from the card, "I hereby give my wishes to my family and my family's family so that they can do good things with the world." "And your name?" I said to the genie. "How kind of you to ask. I'm Roger. How can I be of assistance?" "I wish, Roger, that I had a free premium account to YouTube tv. For life." "Let it be known that wish number three is done. He snapped his fingers. His body floated back into this lamp. There were no dramatics, he simply went away. --------- Seven months later I go back into the attic and rub the lamp until the genie comes back out. When Roger appears, he is wearing a bathing suit and is slightly tanned. "You?" He asks. "You used up your wishes." "No I didn't clean the dishes!" My dad, still in my house, calls up the attic stairs again. I hear his foot steps travel off to the other side of the kitchen toward the fridge. "You got any dessert in here?" This genie had no clue. I chuckled a little while trying on the balls of my feet. I can roll on my feet now because I gained about sixty pounds since the beginning of this quarantine. All I do is eat and watch YouTube. "Nah Roger, I got one more wish. And I wish for a really nice hot tub, and a sauna... and some chocolate ice cream." The ice cream is for dad. I'm so nice. "Now," the genie began, "I'm not sure how you got me out of the lamp again, but I'm going to click my fingers and if you have that third wish, this will work." He clicks. I look out the window and see the hot tub and sauna in the backyard. "Yay ice cream!" I hear excitement from the kitchen. As long as I keep playing the genie like this, I'll have that last wish. No way am I going to use a wish for something so I can, "can do good things with the world." This genie, and this lamp is for me, me, me. "Looks like you got a lot of ice cream here." Dad calls up. "The neighborhood kids are outside. I'm gonna go give them some!" The genie winks at me before he disappears back into his lamp. That audacity of that bastard! "No! No! No!" I shout as I run down the steps and try to catch my dad before he does this tremendously stupid thing. There shall be no joy spread from this house. No. No. No.
	[WP]One day, while cleaning out the attic of your deceased mom's home, you stumble upon an old oil lamp. In clichéd fashion you begin to clean the lamp and a genie appears. "Ah yes,"he thinks. "Another poor sap." Too bad for him, you're a contract lawyer. Quite a good one, at that. Monkey's Paw who?	"Three wishes." The genie stared at me, a smile on his face. Seconds ticked by. Then minutes. "Well?" "I'm thinking." "Thinking?" His long, unnaturally slender fingers rapped across the wood. "Come on. Surely you want something..." "Oh, I do. I'm just thinking how I want to phrase it." I rubbed at a spot of grease on the oil lamp. "I want to be careful." "Oh. No, no, don't think about it! That ruins half the fun. Just say it. Your heart's deepest desire." I narrowed my eyes at him. "Fine. I wish to be the most beautiful woman in the world." His eyebrows rose. "What? You said I could wish for anything." "I didn't expect that," he said, his grin growing wider. "You don't seem... the type to care about that. But, it does not matter! Your wish is my c--" "I'm not done yet." "Oh?" He asked, deflating. "In implementing this wish, you will not cause the following: deaths of women, blindness, or harm to any individual. You will not transport women to any other world. It will not affect my aging process or make me immortal." "Fine. Are you done?" He lifted his arms, blue energy sparking from the tips. "Not yet." My grin grew wider. "'Beautiful' is not defined as physical beauty. It is defined as the most beautiful inside. The most beautiful spirit, the one that does the most good for the world." "Oh, geez," he retorted, rolling his eyes. "The 'most good for the world' is defined as helping people the most. Defeating poverty, sickness, hate, and..." My eyes flicked to his. "Preventing innocent people from getting tricked." His eyes widened. "Now you can grant my wish." I leaned back, smiling. "You surely can't be--" "Grant it." He raised his hands. Blue power sparked off the tips, and with a concussive boom that rattled the attic, he was gone. I walked over to the place where he'd stood. Blue dust coated the floor, and I nudged it with my toe. "I did it, Mom." I glanced at the old photo of us, laying on the dusty floorboards. Her and I in simpler times--before she met the genie. Before she'd wished her children would never be poor. That devil had caused a faulty air conditioning unit to fall on her, instantly killing her, but creating a lawsuit that netted us tens of millions of dollars. The money meant nothing. This, however... meant everything. I took the broom from the corner and began to sweep up the dust.	"Oh fuck... this thing." I mutter as I grab my Mother's favorite tchotchke. "It will be all yours when you are ready for it" I remember her telling me as a child. "The stories she used to tell me about this lamp as a child were... a foreshadowing of her ultimate mental decline." I become quiet and my husband put a comforting arm around me. "No matter how bad it got she put food on the table for me and always had a roof over my head though high school." A tear rolls down my left cheek. He nods quietly. He knows this story but listens silently as I tell it again. He knows this is my catharsis. He knows I don't want or need his advice, just his shoulder. "She put me through undergrad and Harvard Law." My lip trembles. Not much, I know he sees it. No one else would. He doesn't say anything but he squeezes me a little tighter. "All while losing her mind. I never figured it out. How she did it you know. Putting me through college as a single mom would have been tough. Harvard law a near miracle. You know I had scholarships but still..." "She told me not to worry about it. That she paid for it by taking a mortgage out on this house. I knew it would come due. The bill. That is why I specialized in contract law." The full force of my mom's death hits me as I am holding this silly tchotchke and the tears start to flow. Bryan asks if I want a glass of water. He knows me as well as I know myself. He knows I want some space. "Yes." I answer. Despite my best efforts a single tear works it way down my cheek past my chin and falls on this tchotchke as I hear Bryan's footfalls fade. An involuntary gasp escapes my lips as that solitary tear maked contact with my childhood. An item from my childhood that dominated my mother's life. That ruined my mother's life that drove her insane. That drove her to her death and yet drove her to make my life better. And then... nothing. "Ha ha ha..." escapes my lips. Almost a relief. I extend the sleeve of my sweater across my palm and start to rub my tear off the tchotchke and look around the room. It has been a long time since I was home. With no intent my index finger touches the lamp and makes a lazy circle. "Fuck!" I say startled as I drop the lamp and it rolls under the bed. Static electricity I think. "God dammit. Where did" Right here Master Alright. So. Gimme a minute. You know... no that isn't right. Would you like me to transcribe your story Master "Who the fuck said that?!" I did. Here is your Lamp Master. "Ohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuck" Not an uncommon response Master. You have three wishes and I shall grant them. "My mom's stories about you... they are true?" hmm, ah yes. Human relations. You are the daughter of my former master. "What did you do to my mom?" Do you wish to know what happened to your mom Master? "Well that is some specific language... Oh right. By rubbing the lamp did I enter a contract?" Yes* "What is the contract?" The usual. 3 wishes, no wishing for more wishes, can't wish someone to love you, can't wish death on someone, can't wish someone that is dead alive. Other than that everything is up to interpretation. The Genie says with a grin. "As a lawyer my first thought is always how my client is going to get rat fucked by opposing counsel. So my first wish was not to get rat fucked with any wish I made."
	[WP]Death sighed, and carefully laid his scythe against the wall as he sat. It had been such a long day, and He was finally ready to rest: until His eyes found you. “You’re not supposed to be here.”	"You're not supposed to be here," echoed the cold, metallic voice of Death. He sat in his favorite chair, one emblazoned with patterns of vines with the occasional flower, his dark robes floating gently down to drape over the armrests. On the other side of the room, I stood against the wall, positioned right next to the door, arms crossed. To him, my form must have seemed odd. To me, it was typical. "Technically, I'm not supposed to be anywhere," I replied, nonchalantly looking at my hand. Just two days prior, I was nowhere; a thought that hadn't existed in anyone's mind, and yet-- "I want to know what it takes to claim a body," I continued, placing my arm back across my chest. The still, skeletal form of the reaper stayed silent as I spoke. "I was nothing, and now I'm not nothing, but I'm also not something, like I'm trapped in some form of quantum existence. Frankly, it's tiring me out, but I can't do anything about it--not without you, anyway." He responded plainly. "I'm not following." "You don't moonlight in another profession? One of the 'giving' variety? That's not what I heard." Death was now inches from me, having moved in an instant. As his robes billowed around him, the lights dimmed as he neared my face, his voice filling the room like dirt in a grave. "You heard wrong." Had I not known a crucial fact about my current state, I would have been a little shaken, but I retorted in kind with a wave of my hand, narrowly missing his physical. He was quick to move, and I grinned at the result. "Look, I don't want to be here any longer than you want me here, and I'm sure your patience ran out before I ever stepped foot in your home," I said, pushing away from the wall and into a casual pace around the room. "All I'm asking for is a body, that's it. If you can give me that, I can move on from here, and you won't have to worry about suddenly not existing. You know, the thing you cause everyone else to do." Death now loomed over his scythe, of which floated effortlessly into his orbit, hovering about his body on command. With a heavy, gravelly sigh, he appeared at the doorway, then turned to face me. "If it gets you to abandon this plane," he responded, "so be it. Anomalies like you are unwelcome here. Follow, but know this--the sojourn will not be easy."	"you're not supposed to be here." said Death, squinting his rotten-flesh eyelids at the man sitting opposite him "this is a demonic common hall for demigods and alpha-demons only!" "yeah, about that, I tried to warn you. Before you ripped my soul from the world." said the man, pouring himself a nice cool glass of toddlers tears, "well, as it turns out ,you might know my father. I'm his *only* son, Damien." Damien stood slowly and began walking away from the immense marble table. "I have no ide-... Wait, did you say Damien?" Death interrupted himself. "I can't imagine he was at all pleased, you know. Hearing that his heir was reaped, due to what I'm sure you'll find is your own negligence." Damien strolled over to a solid marble snooker table, sipping his unholy drink. &#x200B; &#x200B; Sometimes planets will align, total solar eclipses will happen and we will see visits from certain comets every century or so - compared to those events, what happened next was infinitely less frequent... Death broke a sweat. &#x200B; &#x200B; "Damien, Anti-Christ, The Beast... That's me! - You know, it took quite a while for me to get a hold of that host, my conception was one in a trillion, actually. Oh, and I do believe my father asked one of his cults to mass-sacrifice themselves prior to it." Damien aimed down his cue and struck the bone-white ball. "losing an entire cult can't have improved his mood much." A sudden slam brought Death to attention, Damien had potted the black ball. Death was glad of the noise, it covered his brief whimper. "Oops, game over, it seems." Damien laid down his cue on the table and walked towards an exit, he paused before leaving the hall and nodded toward the common's main doorway. Closed, it was a sturdy pair of dark iron doors able to keep out even the worst of the lower-demons of Hell. boom... boom... "He wants a word." Damien said while closing the door behind him, leaving Death alone in the gloomy common hall. BOOM... BOOM... the tankards on the tables rattled to the rhythm of his footsteps. the screams of the damned could now be heard, among the booming roars of the demon-legion that follow him like a shadow wherever he goes. The doors blasted open with the force of a thousand hurricanes, death and all he furniture were hurled against the wall, his scythe's blade and shaft shattering from the impact. "OH MY GOSH! I'M SO SORRY! LITTLE DITZY HERE DOESN'T KNOW 'ER OWN STRENGTH!" unsure of whether he had suffered such a colossal concussion that he was now hallucinating a sort of giant drag-queen caricature of the dark lord or if he was just violently banished to some new absurd reality conceived by Satan himself. - Either way, he was looking at a huge flaming lizard-man wearing fake eyelashes, a miniskirt, and not much else. after a few moments of drifting in and out of consciousness like a baby after too much milk, Death slowly became aware that he was now in what appeared to be a beauty parlour. "Wait, you say something about, not believing in myself enough? - slaying queens?... I'm really badly quite damaged brain, you know?" "I'LL TELL YOU WHAT *I* KNOW - I KNOW I'VE BEEN NEGLECTING YOU, MY LITTLE REAPY-POO, BUT TODAY WE MAKE UP FOR IT.!" "What is the happening?" blurted Death in his concussed delirium. A blinding spotlight turned on him and startled the already dazed Reaper so much that he screamed a scream only a child could be proud of. Death was not himself. "TODAY ON '*MAKE-UP OR BREAK-UP'* WE HAVE *DEATH*, LONG TIME EMPLOYEE OF MINE AND ALL AROUND RECLUSIVE BOY! - TODAY WE GIVE HIM A MAKEOVER AND HELP HIM IMPROVE HIS CAREER. BECAUSE SATAN HAS TURNED OVER A NEW LEAF!" satan over-enthusiastically yelled into a camera "NO MORE CLASSICAL PAIN AND TORTURE! JUST THE FEEL-GOOD VIBES OF REALITY TELEVISION!" "Is this what happens when demons die?" "HE'S GOT A SKINNY LITTLE FRAME BUT HIS FACE IS SCREAMING FAME! YAAAAS!" Satan clapped his hands together in the fashion of a giddy school girl while a deafeningly loud clap-track played with cheers and whistles. "No, please, I want pain and torture!" "BUT WHAT WILL HAPPEN WHEN HE MEETS THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE? - WE HAVE SOMEONE LINED UP WHO WE THINK IS *THE PERFECT MATCH*! - COME ON IN PESTILENCE!" loud, uplifting ukulele music began to play and (what can only be described as) an abomination of unimaginable cosmic horror loomed out of a giant pink glittery door, provocatively fluttering her eyelashes (from her many, many eyes) at Death. She felt fabulous, and wanted Death to know it. "Please, I beg you... I don't know what's going on, but-" &#x200B; The images faded in an instant, Death saw only black for a moment before his eyes whipped open and he bolted upright at the large marble table of the common hall. His eyes darted and his hearing sharpened as he looked for any evidence that it wasn't just a dream. he found none. &#x200B; "Thank Christ!" yelled death, before he could think to censor himself. &#x200B; He paused for a moment in the heavy silence of the hall, holding both hands over his scabby, dry mouth. &#x200B; The silence grew into an imperceptible rumble, and eventually; boom... boom... BOOM...
	[WP] Most people who travel to the top of your mountain are there to ask you questions about life. Today you watched a 16-year-old climb your entire mountain just to call you a dipshit.	"Fuckin' rude, that kid." Below, the snowy sunset peeked beneath the horizon, and the dipshit kid tripped her way down the tree-tangled mountain. I hadn't felt warmth in centuries. The least the dipshit kid could have done was heat a fire."Fuckin' rude." The words rasped over my cave. My eyes spasmed, my hands were rubbed pink. Was I...tired? I couldn't be tired. I fell against the cave wall, the trenches digging into my shoulders. The sound of soft lyres and bumbity drums came to me. I hadn't heard that since the funeral. Cold wind snarled up my centuries-old back. My lungs rattled into deep, phlegm coughs, shaking up a fury of pain in my chest. It seemed as though it was my time. Goodbye, world, I said to the snow and the dipshit kid.	When I opened my eyes I knew in an instant that something was different. Something had changed. It was like the hum of life had changed key. And considering not a single thing had changed here in all the years since I took this damn job, there was clearly something afoot. In all this time the weather had remained the same, the scenery had remained the same and my daily routine had never strayed from the initial instructions I was given when I signed up. These kinds of jobs were pretty easy to come by, even for demons like me with no qualifications or experience or goals or any of that kind of stuff. Every day I got up, drank the gross, purple juice that armed me with all the answers to any question ever asked, put on the green uniform and went outside where the sun would be rising in the east and the wind would be blowing from the north. Up here the clouds were always low enough to make it feel like you had a constant wet mist around your face, and the never ending snow fall covered any evidence of footprints from the day before. At exactly 6am every morning without fail I made sure I was sitting in my little booth ready for the first of the pilgrims who had made it to the top of my mountain that day. They would arrive, panting and cheering and gather around my booth as if I was actually God. I smirked at the thought. Then they’d start throwing questions at me. The questions were always the same. “What is the meaning of life?” “Is there a heaven?” “Is there life on other planets?” “Does the world end?” And always asking about their life purpose too. Everyone always wants a damned purpose for crying out loud. Anyway, I would dutifully answer them. I always did my best to make them feel better about themselves. It seemed like the right thing to do. I told them they were good people, that they were loved, that they were on the right path and to do right by others and other such things that would get them looking all starry eyed. Then they would thank me profusely before donating whatever money they had into my little pot and heading back down the mountain and back to their shitty lives. Absolutely the dullest job I’d ever had by far, but hey, two hundred more years and I could retire pretty comfortably. But anyway, like I said. Something was afoot. I opened the door of the cabin and stuck my head out. I couldn’t put my finger on it. It was as if the world outside was holding its breath, the way a child does when he’s hiding and the person they’re hiding from walks close by. I ducked back inside, gulped down my juice, donned the uniform and hurried out to my booth to see what the day would bring. I didn’t have to wait long. I peered out at the first pilgrims arriving. Actually, one pilgrim. That was unusual, they always came in groups. Staring at him I could see he was just a youngster. What the hell? And he was storming up the mountain like he had wings on his mountain boots. He was making a beeline for my booth and he looked mad as hell. When he was 30ft away he started running straight towards me, eyes fixed on mine. I backed up in my booth as far as I could, my mouth dropping open. Who the hell was this? He stuck his face right up to the window, and looking me dead set in the eyes he slammed his hand on the glass and shouted, “You dipshit”. I gaped, “w-what?” “You’re a dipshit,” he shouted again, “you’ve ruined everything with your stupidity.” “Now wait a minute young man,” I said, trying to gather some composure and regain my position of wise, almighty one of the mountain. I straightened my jacket and opened my mouth to speak again. “Shut up and get out here right now,”he said, pointing in front of him then standing back, planting his feet widely and folding his arms. Dumbfounded, and vaguely thinking that my daily juice didn’t give me the answers for this kind of thing, I did what he said and emerged from my booth. “I’ve had to climb up this cold-ass mountain, freezing my balls off and wasting an entire week ,” he glared at me, “ because you… YOU… have been making people feel..,” he grimaced, “happy.” I gaped at him, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, who are you, what are you doing here?” “Who am I?” His eyes went wide, he started gesticulating wildly and looked like steam was about to appear from his ears. “I’m your damn boss that’s who I am.” Oh shit. I’d never met my boss. I’d heard stories about him. About how he was a crazy psycho who wouldn’t spit on you if you were on fire. How he could wither a summer rose with just one glance. But I’d never believed it. I thought the devil would be quite a debonair fellow, intelligent and adept at conversation. A smooth dude. But what did I know. Apparently he was a teenager with floppy hair and glasses. Huh. The boss continued, “for years you’ve been telling people they’re alright, that they can make something of themselves and that if they’re nice to each other they’ll do good in life. And I put up with it because you pull in a decent amount of money. But no more. Things are changing. People are changing. They’re... “ he wrinkled his nose like he could smell something rotting, “looking after each other.” He breathed deeply as if holding off a wave of nausea then whispered, “how am I supposed to live in a world like this?” “But,” I could feel the colour draining from my cheeks, “I thought that was what I was supposed to be doing..” He stared at me then his face contorted in fury and he started pulling his hair and screaming at me, “of course not you imbecile, you’re supposed to be making people feel small and useless, like they don’t matter, like they’re a tiny speck of dust in a universe that doesn’t care about them.” I gulped. Was I? “YOU’RE FIRED.” He waved his hand in front of my face and everything went black. I felt like I was spinning round and round, and then I was lifted up into the air and flying along with the wind in my hair before being dumped unceremoniously onto the ground at the foot of the mountain. Well shit, I thought, getting up and brushing myself down. The green uniform had gone and I was back in my old faded jeans and baseball cap. Guess I gotta find another job then.
	[WP] Most people who travel to the top of your mountain are there to ask you questions about life. Today you watched a 16-year-old climb your entire mountain just to call you a dipshit.	“50 years I’ve waited, young man; waited for you to arrive, sat on this mountainside in front of this pile of teeth, sat through sun and rain and wind and snow, through winter and summer and spring and fall; I’ve seen the rise of an empire and the descent of a god, all from this edifice of nature. Always questioning, always thinking. “When I was your age, I was filled with an insatiable curiosity which drove me to cross the land in search of answers. I sought out those who had had considered the deepest mysteries of the universe in a desperate hunger for knowledge and answers. With a building mixture of resentment and dissatisfaction, I found them all lacking. The professors at the university were getting to grips with the deepest layers of nature with their atomic machines, but for all their theories they had only the merest glimpse, as an infant, of the depths of the heart and the mysteries of the soul. The poets and the playwrights, who could move within woman and man the mightiest oceans of emotion, could only articulate the question and not the answer: what does it all mean? The philosophers, with their sophistry and intellect, seemed to come closest, but they most of all were inexpert on how to live life, cloistered in their studies and rapt at the power of their own minds, never once stepping a foot outside. Resentful of these intellectual pursuits, I spent two decades _living_, but neither hedonism nor family fed my soul, and I was always left with this aching lack at the heart of my being. “Finally, I heard of a man on a mountainside who had spent half a century pondering the nature of reality, and I was furious. Furious with him, with myself, with everything. How could we ever hope to achieve enlightenment if this wisest of men was still looking for the answers after 50 years on a mountain side and nearly as long in the world before? So I rose up the mountain. “As I approached, on that achingly hot day, the dust from the walk had filled my lungs with ash, and I had a retching, wheezing breath — much as you do now — and my trembling walk belied the ache inside my legs and the welts from the thorns and brambles of my ascent — much like your walk does now — and I looked at him square in the eye and said: dipshit. “And that old fucker — nearly 100, mind you! — stood up and walloped me in the mouth with his stick so hard I lost two teeth and fell to the earth. While I lie crying and bleeding on the floor he said to me: “if you think you can do any better, you fucking do it then” and shambled off down the mountain. CRACK “...and so, the cycle continues...” EDIT: couple of grammatical accuracy and clarity issues.	She looked at me. I answered: What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little bitch? I'll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Navy Seals, and I've been involved in numerous secret raids on Al-Quaeda, and I have over 300 confirmed kills. I am trained in gorilla warfare and I'm the top sniper in the entire US armed forces. You are nothing to me but just another target. I will wipe you the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to me over the Internet? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of spies across the USA and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You're fucking dead, kid. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that's just with my bare hands. Not only am I extensively trained in unarmed combat, but I have access to the entire arsenal of the United States Marine Corps and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little "clever" comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn't, you didn't, and now you're paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will shit fury all over you and you will drown in it. You're fucking dead, kiddo.
	[WP] Most people who travel to the top of your mountain are there to ask you questions about life. Today you watched a 16-year-old climb your entire mountain just to call you a dipshit.	In life, we rarely realize the important moments while we’re in them. Sometimes, yes, you think to yourself this will be important one day. But usually we have no way of knowing. That man who just walked into the bar could be your husband. The kid who got a science kit for Christmas grows up to be a doctor; if his mother had picked out the art kit instead he might’ve been the next Picasso. We have no way of knowing if things we do are important until after the fact. I consider this a design flaw. When the kid stood before me, I had no idea how things were about the change. How I’d look back at this moment for years to come. He was nothing special to look at, albeit he was underdressed clad in his pullover and converse. Underneath his toque, wayward brown curls stuck out. Most people were decked out in Patagonia or Aretyx. They usually at least had sturdy boots. I don’t know how he made it through the snow. “You may approach me and ask me a question,” I said, as was my custom. The kid just stood there, hands in his pockets, and a frown worked its way onto his face. “You know what?” The kid said. “You’re a dipshit.” And with that, he turned back toward the trail down the mountain. “Wait—don’t you want to ask me a question?” “Nah.” “Nah?” “Nah.” The kid shook his head. And left. How odd, I thought at the time. I turned back to my meditation and waited for the next person to come seeking my wisdom. And they did come. A young woman with a tear stained face kneeled before me. “Can we ever move on from loss?” she asked. You’re a dipshit. I swallowed. “Nothing is ever truly gone.” A few days later, a man with a serene expression sat across from me in the clearing. “How do we achieve inner peace?” You’re a dipshit. “Let go of that which brings inner conflict.” Why couldn’t I shake those words? They were meaningless. A child’s taunt. But they kept snaking through my thoughts. What was a dipshit, anyway? How was that kid so immune to my offer? No one could resist the temptation of my infinite wisdom, even if they were just peering in. Except for that fucking kid. I bundled my hands and tried to mediate again. Eventually, when my head wouldn’t clear, I gave up and went back to my cabin. You’re a dipshit. I shook my head. He couldn’t have been serious. Could he? I lasted another few weeks. Maybe two months—I don’t know. I don’t keep track of time out here. And then I packed my bag for the first time in ten years and ventured down from my mountain. I’d become somewhat of a legend. It started with the locals coming to me for advice, then words spread and so on and so on. Now, people came from around the world to speak to me. If any where coming now, though, they’d have to wait. In the town at the base of the mountain, I caught a few people staring. I heard a few whispers. But I didn’t pay attention—I focused only on my task. All in all, it took me another month to find the kid. He lived in the next town over. He worked at a coffee shop that blasted terrible punk music over the speakers. “Why’d you do it,” I said, my teeth gritted. Did he even know how much he’d gotten to me? The boy shrugged. “I dunno.” “No. Not good enough.” “You’re the one who’s supposed to know everything.” “Clearly I don’t.” The kid smirked. “Exactly. That’s why you’re a dipshit.” With that, he turned back to the espresso machine and began to steam a pitcher of milk. The hiss filled my ears. And I blinked. I’d gotten my answer. But where did that leave me? I couldn’t stay here. But I couldn’t go back, either. Not this time. A few stupid words, and here I was now, adrift in my own life. “You know,” I finally said to the kid. “You might want to consider getting your own mountain.” * r/liswrites	I was born into a poor family, deprived of coin and education. My mother died before I knew her warmth and my father spent every gold piece nursing his several addictions. It fell to me to care for my brother, but he took ill before his first chin hairs had sprouted. It was a devastatingly cold winter, and he wouldn't live to see the first leaves of spring. I joined the king's navy and traveled the world learning lessons and gathering wisdom. Philosophy was where my interests settled, and I'd read countless works from distant lands. In my old age, I settled at the top of a mountain and shared my words of wisdom to hikers who passed me by. Over the years, they took to calling me the Mountain Sage. I took great pride in the name, and had helped countless wanderers find their way. It wouldn't be untrue to say that I'm highly revered by the people who live at the base of the mountain. So imagine my surprise when I see an acne addled boy conquer the final set of stairs that led to my porch. He doubled over on his knees as he struggled for air. I puffed quietly on my pipe as I watched him. I decided to break the ice. "Quite a mountain to-" "Shut the FUCK up!" He screamed, decapitating my sentence. I reared back in surprise and disgust. He lifted a finger for a brief moment before his breathing stabilized and he stood up, all the fury of the angriest gods in his eyes. I tried to get out in front of his rage. I'd met his sort before. It was always best to kill them with kindness. "What can I help you w-" "DID I STUTTER?!" He screamed over me. I furrowed my brow and gripped the arm of my rocking chair. "YOU!" He cried out. "Are you the one who told my dad there was no afterlife?" I donned a confused expression, "Well who could truly know whether or not th-" "Hey DIPSHIT." He interrupted me yet again. "I didn't come here for a lesson. Trim your disgusting fucking ear-hair and maybe you'll hear me this time: Did you. Tell my dad. There is no afterlife. Yes or no?" I stood up. "Sit the fuck down!" He screamed with an unexpected ferocity that caused me to sit back down. I couldn't rightly stand back up now, that would look foolish. However I couldn't have him thinking he was in control of this conversation. This was my mountain. "Now you listen here you-" "SIX FOOT." He screamed, taking a step closer. "LONG BLACK BEARD." He began ascending my porch steps. "BIG NOSE." He leaned in on me, "FAT." He finished. "I- I know the man," I said trying to diffuse the situation. "YES OR NO?!" I felt his spittle on my cheeks. That did it. I stood up and made my meanest face- they didn't call me Angry Eyes Edward in the navy for nothing. "Oh? You gonna do something old man?" He asked taking a small step back. "What are you gonna do?" I began to roll up my sleeve to show I meant business- that's how we did it back in my day. "Oh are you gonna fight me?!" He cried out with outstretched arms. "Because you told my aunt Elizabeth that violence was a fool's errand!" I paused for a moment, only breaking eye contact with him briefly. "That- I didn't..." "Uhh. Uhhh!" He stammered back, mocking me with the most visceral human expression I'd ever seen on another person- and I'd seen war. I began to roll my sleeve back down, "I never said there was no afterlife, I only said-" "YOU SAID WHAT?!" "I TOLD HIM TO LIVE IN THE PRESENT!" I finally snapped. "Oh, YEAH?" He screamed. "YES!" I confirmed. "HE LEFT MY MOM, YOU DIPSHIT." I couldn't help but let my face sag at the news. "YEAH. HE SPENDS ALL DAMN DAY AT THE WHORE HOUSE NOW. SAYS, 'HOW DO WE KNOW WHAT COMES AFTER? YOU KNOW WHERE HE HEARD THAT KIND OF TALK, YOU SLIPPER WEARIN', SHEEP FUCKIN', PISSIN' OVER THE SIDE OF MOUNTAIN ON US DAILY, SNAGGLETOOTH, DIPSHIT?!" "ENOUGH!" I screamed as loud as I could, my blood boiling. "My teachings!" I began firmly. "My teachings are not law! They are merely-" "Oh, so are you gonna go pull him out of the fat one down at the whore house?! Are you going to dry my mother's tears? Are you going to be the one to answer my little sister's questions?! ARE YOU??" I felt my eyes getting glossy, and tried to muscle it back. "Are... ARE YOU CRYING?!" He screamed in bewilderment. "(Sniff)... no." "YOU ARE!!" He threw his arms in the air and started kicking things off of my porch. Apparently not satisfied with my wisdom, he descended my stairs and made for the edge of the mountain. "Unbelievable," I heard him shouting in the distance as he wandered away. "I should be the one crying." I started the moving process. My mountain it seemed, had become a bit too public... - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - I get a 15 minute break at work aside from my usual lunch break. I pick a prompt, spend a couple of minutes storyboarding, and then do as much as I can within the confines of my break. I spent longer on this one, waiting for dinner to get here :) If you enjoyed this, consider following me at r/A15MinuteMythos
	[WP] Most people who travel to the top of your mountain are there to ask you questions about life. Today you watched a 16-year-old climb your entire mountain just to call you a dipshit.	In life, we rarely realize the important moments while we’re in them. Sometimes, yes, you think to yourself this will be important one day. But usually we have no way of knowing. That man who just walked into the bar could be your husband. The kid who got a science kit for Christmas grows up to be a doctor; if his mother had picked out the art kit instead he might’ve been the next Picasso. We have no way of knowing if things we do are important until after the fact. I consider this a design flaw. When the kid stood before me, I had no idea how things were about the change. How I’d look back at this moment for years to come. He was nothing special to look at, albeit he was underdressed clad in his pullover and converse. Underneath his toque, wayward brown curls stuck out. Most people were decked out in Patagonia or Aretyx. They usually at least had sturdy boots. I don’t know how he made it through the snow. “You may approach me and ask me a question,” I said, as was my custom. The kid just stood there, hands in his pockets, and a frown worked its way onto his face. “You know what?” The kid said. “You’re a dipshit.” And with that, he turned back toward the trail down the mountain. “Wait—don’t you want to ask me a question?” “Nah.” “Nah?” “Nah.” The kid shook his head. And left. How odd, I thought at the time. I turned back to my meditation and waited for the next person to come seeking my wisdom. And they did come. A young woman with a tear stained face kneeled before me. “Can we ever move on from loss?” she asked. You’re a dipshit. I swallowed. “Nothing is ever truly gone.” A few days later, a man with a serene expression sat across from me in the clearing. “How do we achieve inner peace?” You’re a dipshit. “Let go of that which brings inner conflict.” Why couldn’t I shake those words? They were meaningless. A child’s taunt. But they kept snaking through my thoughts. What was a dipshit, anyway? How was that kid so immune to my offer? No one could resist the temptation of my infinite wisdom, even if they were just peering in. Except for that fucking kid. I bundled my hands and tried to mediate again. Eventually, when my head wouldn’t clear, I gave up and went back to my cabin. You’re a dipshit. I shook my head. He couldn’t have been serious. Could he? I lasted another few weeks. Maybe two months—I don’t know. I don’t keep track of time out here. And then I packed my bag for the first time in ten years and ventured down from my mountain. I’d become somewhat of a legend. It started with the locals coming to me for advice, then words spread and so on and so on. Now, people came from around the world to speak to me. If any where coming now, though, they’d have to wait. In the town at the base of the mountain, I caught a few people staring. I heard a few whispers. But I didn’t pay attention—I focused only on my task. All in all, it took me another month to find the kid. He lived in the next town over. He worked at a coffee shop that blasted terrible punk music over the speakers. “Why’d you do it,” I said, my teeth gritted. Did he even know how much he’d gotten to me? The boy shrugged. “I dunno.” “No. Not good enough.” “You’re the one who’s supposed to know everything.” “Clearly I don’t.” The kid smirked. “Exactly. That’s why you’re a dipshit.” With that, he turned back to the espresso machine and began to steam a pitcher of milk. The hiss filled my ears. And I blinked. I’d gotten my answer. But where did that leave me? I couldn’t stay here. But I couldn’t go back, either. Not this time. A few stupid words, and here I was now, adrift in my own life. “You know,” I finally said to the kid. “You might want to consider getting your own mountain.” * r/liswrites	"I don't remember the first question. I'm not sure how they found me. Every day they are there outside the door of my simple hut. They bring wood for my fire. A little food to share. The village in the pass at the base of my mountain profits from guiding them to my door. Some of the pilgrims consider me a holy man. Some think I'm only wise. Some believe my isolation has given me insight into the mysteries of the world. The truth is a ask more questions than I answer. I don't mean rhetorical questions. Unless they're necessary. I try to gather as much information as I can before answering the questions. A man came with a film crew to ask me questions. He wanted to know why so many people made the journey to my hut to ask a single question. I told him I was not sure. There is no crevasse emitting hallucinogenic gasses to put me in touch with the gods. There is just me, the hut, and the snow. One day a young man came to my door alone. He was far younger than my usual visitors. Over weak tea he told me he was 16 years old and had made the trek up the mountain alone to tell me I am dipshit. Those are his boots poking up out of the snow down there."
	[WP] Most people who travel to the top of your mountain are there to ask you questions about life. Today you watched a 16-year-old climb your entire mountain just to call you a dipshit.	The mana flowed through me, coalescing into a form of pure energy, carrying with it peace and tranquility. My mind latched upon these currents, drew succor from them and expanded through the universe. Wisdom. Insight. Clarity. Such were the benefits of transcending form and presence. The secrets of the beyond welcomed me, and I heard their tender whispers. The quiet of my mind was interrupted only by the distant clattering of one who came to partake of my knowledge. A pilgrim facing the ferocity of slope and crevice in hopes of gaining a morsel of perspective that might alter their own. I welcomed these travelers. My knowledge was for the benefit of all man, and I dispensed it freely to those who willingly suffered the trials and tribulations to obtain it. A thing that was not fought for, could not be valued. I continued to float, letting the pilgrim continue their journey. Letting them gain the understanding of the power that may be gained from the pursuit of knowledge. Their reward for their effort lay just ahead. They need only persevere. To the far reaches I delved. To the past. To the future. To things here and to thing there. I wandered the garden of existence, plucking at fruits it had to offer. Until the pilgrim stood before me. I opened my eyes and beheld him with my corporeal form. He was but a child, barely graced with the touches of the man he would become. So young to brave this peak. His need must be dire to venture upon such a quest. I raised my hands from my crossed legs and held them together in front of me, offering him a small bow. "Ask, and you shall receive." The boy was breathing hard, sweat upon his brow. He wiped it away with the back of his sleeve and straightened. "You're the Hermit?" "I am known by many names." "Yeah, sure, and the Hermit is one of them, right?" I inclined my head slightly, surprised at his gruff demeanor. This was a moment of joy, an opportunity for elevation. "That is a name I am called." He nodded, "Great. Got a new name for you." I arched a brow, pleased in spite of myself that I should be conferred another title. I blessed him with a second bow. "Dipshit," the youth said. I frowned, taken aback. Perhaps I had heard wrong. "I believe I have misheard you, pilgrim." He took a step closer, cupping his hands around his mouth and inhaling deeply. "You are a HUGE dipshit." My hands dropped to my crossed legs, the frown deepened. "This is a place of wisdom--" "Oh ho ho ho! Wisdom!" The youth began to pace back and forth, shaking his head. "This guy. I can't believe it. Wisdom. What a clown." "Perhaps you misunderstand the purpose of seeking me out." "No, I get it. Real racket you have. Sit up here slurping mana juice or whatever and dispensing your bullshit sayings." "I speak the words of existence, gathered from the high and low--" He held up a hand, "Save it. You've already done enough damage." "Damage?" "Yeah, asshole, damage. You've got half the country in flames. The other half is in even worse shape." "I have only provided guidance to those who require it." He snorted, "Oh, I know. Like that little gem of yours, 'Only through the confrontation of what blocks you can you conquer your own domain.'" I nodded, a small smile spreading across my face. That had been a particularly wise saying. "Well said. A nugget worth possessing. Introspection to remove personal obstacles is a key component to development of one's self." "Yeah, not how we took it." "We?" "Everyone not on this mountain of horseshit. King Adledin said he had your blessing for a holy war against the Djanna. Killed half my village." "That is not what I meant--" "Oh, I'm sorry, were your very vague words misinterpreted to serve political purposes in unintended ways? Fucking dipshit." I shifted slightly, uncomfortable. "Yes, well, all words can be used as a sword by those who seek to wield them thus." "And that's why I came all the way up here. To call you a dipshit and then walk back down the mountain and tell everyone you said 'Take-Backsies.'" "Take Backsies?" He shrugged, "I dunno, I got a long way back. I'll come up with something." "But I will not have said it." "So what? Not like they're going to know any better." "If you are just going to take my words from me and replace them with your own, why did you seek me out?" I asked. "It was very important I called you a dipshit." He turned on his heel and then began to trudge away, raising two middle-fingers as he disappeared from view. Platypus OUT. Want MOAR peril? r/PerilousPlatypus	"I don't remember the first question. I'm not sure how they found me. Every day they are there outside the door of my simple hut. They bring wood for my fire. A little food to share. The village in the pass at the base of my mountain profits from guiding them to my door. Some of the pilgrims consider me a holy man. Some think I'm only wise. Some believe my isolation has given me insight into the mysteries of the world. The truth is a ask more questions than I answer. I don't mean rhetorical questions. Unless they're necessary. I try to gather as much information as I can before answering the questions. A man came with a film crew to ask me questions. He wanted to know why so many people made the journey to my hut to ask a single question. I told him I was not sure. There is no crevasse emitting hallucinogenic gasses to put me in touch with the gods. There is just me, the hut, and the snow. One day a young man came to my door alone. He was far younger than my usual visitors. Over weak tea he told me he was 16 years old and had made the trek up the mountain alone to tell me I am dipshit. Those are his boots poking up out of the snow down there."
	[WP] It started as a normal day. But as I crossed the street, I heard a truck’s horn. I felt pain as the world spun. I could have sworn I died but when I opened my eyes I found myself driving a truck, seeing my dead body in the rear mirror.	What the hell is happening! I slowly pull over the truck as soon as possible. I get out, and look back. There I am. Or was? My body. Lifeless, strewn over the pavement like a ragdoll, arms and legs discombobulated. I can't help myself and throw up at the sight. Bracing myself against the truck, I look up to see my reflection in the shimmering surface of the truck. I've grown considerably taller - and wider - and have grown facial hair, a feat I wasn't able to accomplish before. My hair is long, reaching my shoulders, while my previous life sustained a short quaff throughout. My face is weary. Tanned and deeply set creases are etched into my face, betraying a life that has lasted significantly longer than my own. Who the fuck is this man?! I know one thing though. If I get caught now, I will go to jail. Probably get thrown into an insane asylum if I spout nonsense like this. I take one last look at the lifeless body that used to be mine, which has started drawing a few people, obviously worried about its wellbeing. I rush back into the truck, and speed off. I drive for hours, determined to put as much distance between myself and my body as possible. 50 miles out of town, I reach a small gas station. I stop in a resting spot and lean my head against the wheel. What will I do? The sun has started to cast longer shadows and I realize it is time to find a place to rest. But I do not have a home anymore. I don't know who I am, but this is my life now. I can't go back home to my parents as a middle-aged man: they'd think I'm a drunk kidnapper. I can't go back to my girlfriend: she'd call Chris Hansen on me. No. I am stuck in this life, whoever I am. I look around the inside of the truck. Perhaps this man has anything hidden away of a life that I can return to in his stead. I open up the sun visors, but just find a bevvy of random cards for businesses. I pull them out and go through them, until a single polaroid catches my attention. It is him. Or, well, me. Clearly younger than I am now, my hair being short and my face not having aged due to years of living on the road. I am with a young woman, in some kind of bar. We seem happy. I check my hand, but don't find a ring. Is this his sister? Or an ex-girlfriend? I turn the card over and find some written on it: Always here when you want to come back home. X, Betty I stare at the text for a bit longer, and realize this might be my get out of jail card. But who is this Betty? And can I take over this man's life? ...What else am I to do?	While most people tended to remember the savanna for its hot days, Harold was learning quickly not take the sunlight for granted as he threw another corner of his map into his pitiful little excuse for a campfire in the blue-ish black night. Harold had tracked the fabled Red Toyota of the Oil Barrens from the swamps - and for a fortnight, it had moved unerringly away from them, so Harold reserved that corner of the map for his nightly fires. The pebble rings of flame were a consequence of Harold's broken sense of adventure. With the land's oil reserves all dried up, hunting ancient machines was all that kept Harold's silicon race of feux people alive. Once Harold reached his fifty-thousandth power cycle, it was tradition for him to kill a vehicle on his first solo hunt and bring the creature's fuel tank back to the village with no help. Harold was tasked by his elders with ridding the plains of a particularly savage beast that had been terrorizing his people: a large red Toyota that had made a nasty habit of honking in the dead of night, awakening some of the lighter sleeping townsfolk. Armed with a knife, a spear, and a fistful of caltrops, Harold had made it a full day and most of a night into the wastes before he realized he had forgotten his luggage. Early one morning into the week of his hunt, Harold awoke to a strange puttering noise, and a rolling series of clicks and dings. Seldom alert, Harold gathered his night robes around him and lumbered out of his shoddily made leaf tent to see what all the racket was about. A mere thirty paces away from his campsite, Harold froze, staring into the headlights of a medium sized red pickup truck. Its windshield wipers flicked in anticipation of the carnage that Harold's supple flesh promised, and its tailpipe crassly sputtered (likely in protest of the vehicle's last greasy victim). Halfway between Harold and the truck sat his shoddy spear, and as his gaze shifted between it and the revving Toyota, Harold's blood turned to ice. In this moment of fear, Harold's tail pipe also began to sputter. In a moment, they were off, both racing towards the wooden spear between them. If Harold was screaming, he couldn't hear it as the Toyota blared its horn and lowered its hood, eager to plow through the foolish creature foolish enough to invade its hunting grounds. Harold proved the faster though, and as he reached the spear, he was only able to lift it halfway before its tip made contact with the chrome bumper of the stampeding truck. Harold's retelling of the story would continue with his awakening next to the smoking corpse of the eco-unfriendly vehicle, but in this in-between time, the truck smashed into Harold. His spear deflected off of the bumper and went through the grill, taking out the creature's brain; Harold was lucky to have landed on the back of his head, where his own brain had absorbed most of the impact (sparing his more vital organs, like his appendix). Tension in Harold's village was finally starting to relax as the townsfolk had began to suspect that Harold had perished on his hunt, and the next morning, the village had a lighter air about it. The elders had a spring in their step, and the youth were largely allowed to skip this day's chores. Harold received no fanfare as he dragged the bloated gas tank of the monster back into his camp, and had already found his neighbor had claimed Harold's home and belongings in his absence. At least he still had the modest gas tank, which was impressive for its class, thought Harold. In Harold's appraisal of the tank with the traveling synth merchant in the center square, Harold's luck finally dwindled as the merchant dissected the tank to find not fuel, but rancid waste. The organ Harold had separated from the Toyota wasn't its fuel tank, but it was in fact the creature's bowels. Once again, Harold's tailpipe began to sputter.
	[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you.	WE DO NOT SPEAK OF MY TRUE NATURE "Yeah bro. On account of the horrors that will thereby be summoned. Though honestly I've always been a little unclear on that. I mean, you're a horror. So far the worst thing that's happened because of you being here is that time you got too excited about the season final of RuPaul's Drag Race and spilled wine spritzer on my couch." YOU CANNOT SEE MY TRUE FORM. IF YOU DID, DEATH WOULD BE A GIFT "Wait, wait. Are you telling me that all this time we've been chilling out, you're not actually a 4D protrusion of vast and pulsating inter-dimensional abomination whose maw is the abyss beyond time?" I... YES. THAT IS MY TRUE FORM. HAVE YOU BEEN SEEING ME THIS WHOLE TIME? "Dude, why do you think I offered you that pizza slice, back when we first met? You looked super hungry!" YOU ARE A FRAGILE MORTAL, PINNED FOREVER INTO A TINY FRAGMENT OF THE ULTIMATE REALITY. YOUR TINY MIND SHOULD NOT BE ABLE TO EVEN CONSIDER THE EXISTENCE OF SOMETHING LIKE ME. YET WE HAVE JUST SPENT HOURS DOING SHOTS EVERY TIME SIMON COWELL INSULTS A CONTESTANT. NO OFFENCE, BUT HOW ARE YOU STILL SANE? "No offence taken, my dude. To answer your question though... I'm sorry, but you're just not nearly as horrifying as my future prospects. The whole abyss thing is really cool but it's got nothing on my student loan, my future earning potential, climate change, the anthropocine extinction event, my aging parents, the impending collapse of the ecosystem, the increasingly dystopian government, and Kanye West." Ĭ͔̱̥̣̗̣̑͂͂͊̀̑̄͟͟͞͝ Ṯ͇̰͖͍̍̌̓͊̐̍̄͘H͉̹̫̹̠̟͎̐̍̅̈́́̿͛͘͡I͙͖̺̤̝̞̍̉̏͒̾Ǹ̨̤͎͖̥̀̄͋͑͒͘͢͝K̡̺̝̙͖͉̇͋̋͗̔̉̕͝ Ì̡̧̦͎̰͂́̌̍̾̽̕͝͝ Ṇ̴̛͙̬̥̰̝̯̅͑̓̓E̶̢̦͇͕̠̗̅̿͆͒̽̉̿̚͘͜͢Ẽ̩̦̥͕̠̮̹̿͐̎͐D̮̰͈̹̺̥̦̱͌̍̉̓͐̎͢ À̸̳̥̝̱̝̓̋̌̋̀̈̚Ņ̷̡̛̛̦̻͎͚̮́́̀̅́̇̒͡O̸̧̡̢̘̟̥͉̗͌̀͆͗̆͘͘̚͞͠T̴͍̠̬̫͎͕͖̅̿͌́͆͑̅H̶̨͚̙͕̬̺̲̽̊̿̆̍́̊͝ͅE̛͇͙͇͈̺͒͐̍͞R̶̦͙̫͎͔̓̊̋̿͊ Ṽ̢̯̥͔͆̃̐͗͢O̢͚͓̹̺̟͑͌̈́̄͒̍̇͜͜D̷̘̰̦̘̎̍̏̐̋͟͢͝K͓̼̮͖͊̍̊͗́̒͢͠͞A̛̼̹͈͊͗͆̓́̔̊͜ͅ S͓̮͈͙̲͖̰̉͛̍̊̒́͜͡ͅH̢̦̪̦͙̣͍̝̎́͋́̉͆͒͑͠͞O̖̣̟͙̣̯͗̂͋͗̌́͋͗͐T̛͉̦̰͚͈̥̺̝́̿̔͋͊̆̈́͜ .	After sitting a while, the horrid figure stood and walked towards me. It stood about seven feet tall, arms and legs like bone. You could say it was like Slenderman but not so... human. A bloated body yet the skin was taut over the ribcage as if it was starved while expanding from within. Grey and blue and yellow hues across his body like bruises, with black veins spraying across his body unnaturally, as if they were cuts rather than arteries. With each step he took, the shade of darkness around him grew, as if his very pretense stole your ability to process the world around the monstrosity before you. Some would say they saw red like blood surrounding him, some would say they only heard screaming until the end, little did they know it was their own. His face was covered in smooth skin, no orifices or openings for eyes or mouth. No nose to speak of. When it spoke, its jaw moved, and its teeth chewed it's own skin covering with each word. Every sentence left more blood until it was eating the very skin covering its maw. Then it only spoke in ethereal tones of horror and strange peace. The words and ideas floated to you from somewhere far off when it communicated with you. Like a memory you didnt know existed until it gave it to you. To me, this cosmic terror stalking my living room was named Davick. We couldnt decide between David and Derrick so he chose both. As it ended its approach to me, sitting on my couch on a Thursday night, it didnt speak. Davick only sat next to me silently. His face, a topographical map of a human face, with none of the humanity involved, turns towards me. Ince again the light around me dims and begins to fade, I am being drawn into his attention, he has begun to notice me. "Do you... d-dooo yooouuuu..." a whisper in my mind, almost painfully scratching it's way through my lobes and mind whirling into my ears as if parasites. An other worldly howl stretches through my entire being, shaking my body and blinding me for a moment. Then silence, I open my eyes, Davick is crouched on the couch as if ready to attack, his faceless head tilting from side to side every so often. He leans in, and I begin to hear him more clearly, he wants to speak. "Dddoooo youuu... AHEM Do you wanna watch The Walking Dead?" I look at the hellish figure and reply, "No dude were like halfway through this movie, seriously stop fucking with my eyes though you know I cant see the tv when you do that creepy walk shit." Davick jumps off the couch and scurries over the room at terrifying speed running like a rabid beast on all fours. "Look man I'm not the one who invited me to live here, I'm just the cosmic being who makes your landlord forget you have to pay to live here. Same with your job and actually going to work for the money. I dont think you appreciate me. I dont think you know how evil I really am, now put on the zombie show or ill... I'm gonna... I'm gonna scare yoh." It stops before me as if to crawl up my body and prowl over me. One long fingernail traces the ground around my foot as if to show me how vulnerable it was. "What are you gonna try and show me more demons and their infant victims? Or maybe ANOTHER set of Furies showing me every second of my life including the moment of death as they cut my string? Fuck off." The monster slams his fists against his own head as if hungrily trying to crack a very strong egg. "WHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHWYHWYWHYWHEYEHWYHWYEHEYEHEYEHEYEHYSHEYEHEYEHEYEYWYYEYE..." The screaming inside my consciousness trails off into a horrid wail of frustration, unlike any sound a human mind is capable of. To me it's like an autotuned whale. "What must I do to get you to be compliant", it hisses through my skull. "You know man I dont really know, you kind of threw a lot of shit at me really quick so honestly I dont know what you got left. I'm just... I'm bored man. It's like I've gone past that point where ots all scary and impossible and then it was all something to be feared but get through. There was a time I enjoyed it Davick... I could see the beauty in the horrible things you'd show me. Dismemberment and murder, strife and guilt, the truest horrors of humanity and dark and evil things that feed off them. You showed me an entire world of evil things that I saw were just misunderstood for a time. Now I'm just tired of it, you've desensitized me. Now go get me a fucking Fresca." Davick stands over me chest heaving, blood dripping from torn mouth. Anger ripping through every cell of his body, pouring out and infecting everything around him. A screech of the deepest tones of rage and all of the worst things you could feel penetrated my mind. For a moment it was too.much, I felt my consciousness slip into the vortex and be thrown through a turbulent storm of red and black hatred, confusion, frustration, and pain. As Dorothy awoke from Oz, I snapped back from the storm he pushed me into. Finally he spoke to me through my own mind, "Were out of Fresca douche you drank the last one. I'll get you a Dr Pepper.." As Davick slipped into the kitchen to retrieve my drink, I flipped the TV over to the news, and saw what looked like a shot of my front door to my apartment. The story was hard to understand, the voices muffled and muted. A flash of blood and screams before my eyes. On the tv is an image.. someone's face. I try to make it out but the phantom blood coats my vision blocking me from comprehension. I hear only a few words, my name, the word victim, and finally deceased. For the briefest of moments I am rocked by horror, an unending fear that seeps into your bones and hurts your heart. Not thudding heart in my chest no, this fear stops it cold. I feel myself drifting, not into any vortex of hate, but a river of cold and uneasy confusion. I slip lower into the flow, every moment feeling exponentially more terror at this motion. As my head dips below I see a vision. My bedroom, a flash of a dark figure and a rush of fear, running through the hall, rips into the flesh on my back, the cool leather of my couch after I fall forward. The last thing that comes is a numb sensation of my body shaking, my back being pulled, and a warm sigh of relief as I drifted off. My hand squeezes the remote instinctually and I am pulled from this visage, saved from this moment that lasted in reality a half second, but in my mind an eternity. The TV is off now and Davick has returned with my Fresca. Something about Netflix slips into my mind and I suggest we watch The Walking Dead. Davick does not respond, he only stands in the doorway pointing what would be his eyes at the television. It's funny but I kinda like having him around, I haven't really felt so peaceful since he came around.
	[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you.	Swerving dangerously near the edge of the mountain road I giggled to myself. Bits of rubble tumbled over in the wake of screeching car tires. "Clarissa hungers caution." Skh'kohteh whispered in my mind's ear. "Time is abundant. Decrease speed, yes?" Skh’kohteh, The Fear That Consumes, had a giant wormlike body that clambered gently up the mountainside. She followed the movements of my car like a boy caring for his pet ant. Six massive bony limbs clasped onto earth and trees as Her single voracious mouth with infinite needle-like teeth gaped at the red sky. "Hell no!" I shouted out my window. "I already told you Tay, we're not missing this for the world!" I took a quick swig from a beer can and drove a little faster. Tay gave an audible sigh that sounded more like a thousand dying birds. "Ethanol consumption disapproved. Clarissa will expire before thirst is quenched." The human-sized pustules on Her skin bubbled when she was concerned. Not wasting a single second, I sped through several bends and turns before finally arriving at the coastline. I rushed out the car and ran towards what my father and I used to call the Cliff Where We Sing. Tay was close behind, brushing away the trees in her path like they were blades of grass. I stared at the soft horizon beyond the ocean, a shimmering line cradling an egg-yolk of a sun. I stood there with legs and arms wide apart and breathed in the salty air. For a moment I could almost hear a rough-around-the-edges rendition of "Here Comes the Sun", the way he used to sing it. Tay towered over me and then stopped. She always looked like she was about to say something with her crater-sized mouth just hanging open the way it did. "Beauty in abundance. Serenity, overwhelming." Tay whispered with a dollop of contentment in her tone. Listening to her mind whispers was like being submerged in her thoughts, bits and pieces of ideas swimming all around. I always knew what she meant this way. Her words always rang true. I sat there for a while watching the egg-yolk sun drain away behind the earth. It was almost time. "There!" I jumped in excitement. It appeared the same way every time. At twilight it flashed right over the sea casting no reflection. A great black portal to another world. Tay looked like She was holding her breath. "That’s where you came out, Tay! Like some beached whale, you were moaning and groaning all over!" I laughed so hard picturing the way She flopped about in the waters. Tay’s chuckles were air raid sirens. "I haven't been here in ages you know." I finally said after wiping all the laughter out of my eyes. There was a pang of melancholy that came with those words, but Tay’s asking gaze washed it away. "Dad and I used to camp here all the time. We'd sing songs, have the best breakfasts and at night, he'd tell me all sorts of scary stories. My favourites were the ones about creatures from other dimensions. Dad loved reading those books by that Lovecraft guy." The pang shot sharp this time, right through my ribcage, stunting my breathing. "Love. Craft." Tay mused sometimes in psychic frequencies. Suddenly, Her giant mouth coiled around to face me. It was like a moon eclipsing the sky. Looking directly at Her throat, I could see it was an alluring darkness that roiled with madness and chaos. “Clarissa. I am The Fear That Consumes. Your heart... My fear cannot.” The black portal seemed to be listening in on us as it hung in the sky like a distant eavesdropper. “Clarissa...is phenomenon comprehensible?" Her words were warm and had energy like a bubble bath. I looked at her and all the horrors she was cloaked in but her words never lost their warmth. "Yes, I comprehend very well Tay. For a long time, even though my heart was beating, it was dead. I tried many things to bring it back to life but the beating stayed so very hollow. It was dead until the day I met you. Nothing horrifies me more than death and you...you’re alive. I’ll never be scared of you because of what you are. You're his stories come to life.” The corners of my lips curled just a bit and Tay’s deadly orifice deformed slightly. It was the closest she could ever get to a grin. “Come on,” I said after taking one last look at the horizon - the pitch black portal had vanished already. “Let’s go home.” I left the camping gear unpacked from the backseat as I drove off. Skh’koteh, The Fear That Consumes, following right behind me, Her six arms shambling, a spring in each step.	After sitting a while, the horrid figure stood and walked towards me. It stood about seven feet tall, arms and legs like bone. You could say it was like Slenderman but not so... human. A bloated body yet the skin was taut over the ribcage as if it was starved while expanding from within. Grey and blue and yellow hues across his body like bruises, with black veins spraying across his body unnaturally, as if they were cuts rather than arteries. With each step he took, the shade of darkness around him grew, as if his very pretense stole your ability to process the world around the monstrosity before you. Some would say they saw red like blood surrounding him, some would say they only heard screaming until the end, little did they know it was their own. His face was covered in smooth skin, no orifices or openings for eyes or mouth. No nose to speak of. When it spoke, its jaw moved, and its teeth chewed it's own skin covering with each word. Every sentence left more blood until it was eating the very skin covering its maw. Then it only spoke in ethereal tones of horror and strange peace. The words and ideas floated to you from somewhere far off when it communicated with you. Like a memory you didnt know existed until it gave it to you. To me, this cosmic terror stalking my living room was named Davick. We couldnt decide between David and Derrick so he chose both. As it ended its approach to me, sitting on my couch on a Thursday night, it didnt speak. Davick only sat next to me silently. His face, a topographical map of a human face, with none of the humanity involved, turns towards me. Ince again the light around me dims and begins to fade, I am being drawn into his attention, he has begun to notice me. "Do you... d-dooo yooouuuu..." a whisper in my mind, almost painfully scratching it's way through my lobes and mind whirling into my ears as if parasites. An other worldly howl stretches through my entire being, shaking my body and blinding me for a moment. Then silence, I open my eyes, Davick is crouched on the couch as if ready to attack, his faceless head tilting from side to side every so often. He leans in, and I begin to hear him more clearly, he wants to speak. "Dddoooo youuu... AHEM Do you wanna watch The Walking Dead?" I look at the hellish figure and reply, "No dude were like halfway through this movie, seriously stop fucking with my eyes though you know I cant see the tv when you do that creepy walk shit." Davick jumps off the couch and scurries over the room at terrifying speed running like a rabid beast on all fours. "Look man I'm not the one who invited me to live here, I'm just the cosmic being who makes your landlord forget you have to pay to live here. Same with your job and actually going to work for the money. I dont think you appreciate me. I dont think you know how evil I really am, now put on the zombie show or ill... I'm gonna... I'm gonna scare yoh." It stops before me as if to crawl up my body and prowl over me. One long fingernail traces the ground around my foot as if to show me how vulnerable it was. "What are you gonna try and show me more demons and their infant victims? Or maybe ANOTHER set of Furies showing me every second of my life including the moment of death as they cut my string? Fuck off." The monster slams his fists against his own head as if hungrily trying to crack a very strong egg. "WHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHWYHWYWHYWHEYEHWYHWYEHEYEHEYEHEYEHYSHEYEHEYEHEYEYWYYEYE..." The screaming inside my consciousness trails off into a horrid wail of frustration, unlike any sound a human mind is capable of. To me it's like an autotuned whale. "What must I do to get you to be compliant", it hisses through my skull. "You know man I dont really know, you kind of threw a lot of shit at me really quick so honestly I dont know what you got left. I'm just... I'm bored man. It's like I've gone past that point where ots all scary and impossible and then it was all something to be feared but get through. There was a time I enjoyed it Davick... I could see the beauty in the horrible things you'd show me. Dismemberment and murder, strife and guilt, the truest horrors of humanity and dark and evil things that feed off them. You showed me an entire world of evil things that I saw were just misunderstood for a time. Now I'm just tired of it, you've desensitized me. Now go get me a fucking Fresca." Davick stands over me chest heaving, blood dripping from torn mouth. Anger ripping through every cell of his body, pouring out and infecting everything around him. A screech of the deepest tones of rage and all of the worst things you could feel penetrated my mind. For a moment it was too.much, I felt my consciousness slip into the vortex and be thrown through a turbulent storm of red and black hatred, confusion, frustration, and pain. As Dorothy awoke from Oz, I snapped back from the storm he pushed me into. Finally he spoke to me through my own mind, "Were out of Fresca douche you drank the last one. I'll get you a Dr Pepper.." As Davick slipped into the kitchen to retrieve my drink, I flipped the TV over to the news, and saw what looked like a shot of my front door to my apartment. The story was hard to understand, the voices muffled and muted. A flash of blood and screams before my eyes. On the tv is an image.. someone's face. I try to make it out but the phantom blood coats my vision blocking me from comprehension. I hear only a few words, my name, the word victim, and finally deceased. For the briefest of moments I am rocked by horror, an unending fear that seeps into your bones and hurts your heart. Not thudding heart in my chest no, this fear stops it cold. I feel myself drifting, not into any vortex of hate, but a river of cold and uneasy confusion. I slip lower into the flow, every moment feeling exponentially more terror at this motion. As my head dips below I see a vision. My bedroom, a flash of a dark figure and a rush of fear, running through the hall, rips into the flesh on my back, the cool leather of my couch after I fall forward. The last thing that comes is a numb sensation of my body shaking, my back being pulled, and a warm sigh of relief as I drifted off. My hand squeezes the remote instinctually and I am pulled from this visage, saved from this moment that lasted in reality a half second, but in my mind an eternity. The TV is off now and Davick has returned with my Fresca. Something about Netflix slips into my mind and I suggest we watch The Walking Dead. Davick does not respond, he only stands in the doorway pointing what would be his eyes at the television. It's funny but I kinda like having him around, I haven't really felt so peaceful since he came around.
	[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you.	"Shit how much time you got?" The Eldritch Horror Ayi'ig sat with her massive serpent like head laid across a pile of boulders at the bottom of the Canyon we were in and just stared at me blankly. "I can only assume that is a rhetorical question as from our time spent together I know you are intelligent enough to know that I am timeless." I rolled my eyes and took a drag of my cigarette before laughing, "yeesh what's got you so serious today?" The giant Octopus like being raised its head to look toward the top of the Canyon and seemed to think for a second before looking back down at me, "I apologize. I was not trying to be." I shrugged my shoulders and sat back in the recliner. Hauling this thing to the Canyon one day was the best idea I ever had. She made it easy as hell to get it down here too. "Nah don't worry about it. I get that way too sometimes." "So what about the question?" I took another drag of my cigarette before looking her in the eyes. "Do you realy want to know?" Ayi'ig nodded her head yes before laying it back down onto the boulders which was just across from me and the recliner. "Well, I mean shit. I don't even know at what point I should start." She continued to stare at me with a blank yet query like expression as I pondered how to begin. "Ever since you met me that day, what kind of vibe do I give off? Or actually, when you look in my eyes what do you see?" She stared for a few moments more before finally stating a painfully blunt truth. "It is not what I see but rather what I do not. I do not see happiness." I chuckled under my breathe a little and shook my head. "I do see resentment I believe. Also, anger? And intolerance-" "OK, you got it. Thank you, I shouldn't have asked that to the Eldritch Horror obviously." I laughed again before lighting another cigarette. "I apologize if I offended you Jonathan" "No it's cool, I didn't mean it like that. Just kinda numbing to hear it. Anyways, with that being said. I think my biggest problem would be; in my 23 years of existence I can't remember a day of it that I actually wanted to be here anymore." Ayi'ig sat and took that in for a second. "What exactly do you mean by that? Do you not wish to be alive anymore?" I nodded my head yes. "What could drive a human to feel that way?" I inhaled deep before letting it back out in a big sigh then finished my second cigarette. "Well shit. I could be simple and blame it on the day my father beat me so bad CPS had to get involved. That could be a start, but even if it is it's progressed to something so much worse and foul now that I don't know if those dark emotions are even in there anymore." The giant Serpent head twisted in a questioning manner "in what way have they "progressed?"" I reached in my pocket for my cigarette pack and began to light another. "The resentment you saw in my eyes? How is it fair that humans are born on this disgusting rock and are expected to slave their life away in order to live comfortably? All while clinging to a false sense of "freedom". I never asked to be born or feel the way I feel. I resent life and who or whatever put me on this ignorant rock." "And what of the Intolerance?" I looked up to see the sky was beginning to get dark and knew night was coming in quickly. "Well that's a bit more iffy. I hate the way I view humanity." Ayi'ig picked her head up almost as if surprised by this. "How do you view humanity? A number of the Great Old Ones hold very distasteful views on humanity as well. I am surprised to hear a Human could possibly share these." I blew smoke through my nose and sighed. "Humanity is nothing but ignorance. If you look at our history you will see it is nothing but humans throwing bodies at eachother and putting pretty labels on it like "justice" and fucking "freedom" when in reality they're just acting like primitive fucking savages and can't stop pointing their fingers at eachother and calling the other the problem. I hate that I can't look at this world and see nothing but a cancer-" the words got caught up in my throat making me choke up and cough a little before needing to take a breathe. "I can't see anything in humanity but ignorance, and it's a problem because in my opinion, ignorance is what causes all of the worlds problems. Not being able to understand one another. Acting ignorantly towards one another. Not having the knowledge of something causes problems. It all derives from ignorance." Ayi'ig sat up fully raising her head to the top of the Canyon and looking around the top. She does this pretty regularly and it's how we met one day. Scared the living soul out of my body. "I can not fault you on your ideologies. I am surprised however. That a human could hold such negative views on life and humanity." I laughed at this "Y'all should've destroyed humanity long ago. Maybe then this rock wouldn't be so disgusting and it could be as beautiful as it looks." She laid her head back down again before closing her eyes. "I am sorry you are forced to live seeing the horrors of this world Jonathan. You can always escape from it down here in my Canyon." I smiled while closing my eyes and leaning back into the recliner before falling asleep.	After sitting a while, the horrid figure stood and walked towards me. It stood about seven feet tall, arms and legs like bone. You could say it was like Slenderman but not so... human. A bloated body yet the skin was taut over the ribcage as if it was starved while expanding from within. Grey and blue and yellow hues across his body like bruises, with black veins spraying across his body unnaturally, as if they were cuts rather than arteries. With each step he took, the shade of darkness around him grew, as if his very pretense stole your ability to process the world around the monstrosity before you. Some would say they saw red like blood surrounding him, some would say they only heard screaming until the end, little did they know it was their own. His face was covered in smooth skin, no orifices or openings for eyes or mouth. No nose to speak of. When it spoke, its jaw moved, and its teeth chewed it's own skin covering with each word. Every sentence left more blood until it was eating the very skin covering its maw. Then it only spoke in ethereal tones of horror and strange peace. The words and ideas floated to you from somewhere far off when it communicated with you. Like a memory you didnt know existed until it gave it to you. To me, this cosmic terror stalking my living room was named Davick. We couldnt decide between David and Derrick so he chose both. As it ended its approach to me, sitting on my couch on a Thursday night, it didnt speak. Davick only sat next to me silently. His face, a topographical map of a human face, with none of the humanity involved, turns towards me. Ince again the light around me dims and begins to fade, I am being drawn into his attention, he has begun to notice me. "Do you... d-dooo yooouuuu..." a whisper in my mind, almost painfully scratching it's way through my lobes and mind whirling into my ears as if parasites. An other worldly howl stretches through my entire being, shaking my body and blinding me for a moment. Then silence, I open my eyes, Davick is crouched on the couch as if ready to attack, his faceless head tilting from side to side every so often. He leans in, and I begin to hear him more clearly, he wants to speak. "Dddoooo youuu... AHEM Do you wanna watch The Walking Dead?" I look at the hellish figure and reply, "No dude were like halfway through this movie, seriously stop fucking with my eyes though you know I cant see the tv when you do that creepy walk shit." Davick jumps off the couch and scurries over the room at terrifying speed running like a rabid beast on all fours. "Look man I'm not the one who invited me to live here, I'm just the cosmic being who makes your landlord forget you have to pay to live here. Same with your job and actually going to work for the money. I dont think you appreciate me. I dont think you know how evil I really am, now put on the zombie show or ill... I'm gonna... I'm gonna scare yoh." It stops before me as if to crawl up my body and prowl over me. One long fingernail traces the ground around my foot as if to show me how vulnerable it was. "What are you gonna try and show me more demons and their infant victims? Or maybe ANOTHER set of Furies showing me every second of my life including the moment of death as they cut my string? Fuck off." The monster slams his fists against his own head as if hungrily trying to crack a very strong egg. "WHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHWYHWYWHYWHEYEHWYHWYEHEYEHEYEHEYEHYSHEYEHEYEHEYEYWYYEYE..." The screaming inside my consciousness trails off into a horrid wail of frustration, unlike any sound a human mind is capable of. To me it's like an autotuned whale. "What must I do to get you to be compliant", it hisses through my skull. "You know man I dont really know, you kind of threw a lot of shit at me really quick so honestly I dont know what you got left. I'm just... I'm bored man. It's like I've gone past that point where ots all scary and impossible and then it was all something to be feared but get through. There was a time I enjoyed it Davick... I could see the beauty in the horrible things you'd show me. Dismemberment and murder, strife and guilt, the truest horrors of humanity and dark and evil things that feed off them. You showed me an entire world of evil things that I saw were just misunderstood for a time. Now I'm just tired of it, you've desensitized me. Now go get me a fucking Fresca." Davick stands over me chest heaving, blood dripping from torn mouth. Anger ripping through every cell of his body, pouring out and infecting everything around him. A screech of the deepest tones of rage and all of the worst things you could feel penetrated my mind. For a moment it was too.much, I felt my consciousness slip into the vortex and be thrown through a turbulent storm of red and black hatred, confusion, frustration, and pain. As Dorothy awoke from Oz, I snapped back from the storm he pushed me into. Finally he spoke to me through my own mind, "Were out of Fresca douche you drank the last one. I'll get you a Dr Pepper.." As Davick slipped into the kitchen to retrieve my drink, I flipped the TV over to the news, and saw what looked like a shot of my front door to my apartment. The story was hard to understand, the voices muffled and muted. A flash of blood and screams before my eyes. On the tv is an image.. someone's face. I try to make it out but the phantom blood coats my vision blocking me from comprehension. I hear only a few words, my name, the word victim, and finally deceased. For the briefest of moments I am rocked by horror, an unending fear that seeps into your bones and hurts your heart. Not thudding heart in my chest no, this fear stops it cold. I feel myself drifting, not into any vortex of hate, but a river of cold and uneasy confusion. I slip lower into the flow, every moment feeling exponentially more terror at this motion. As my head dips below I see a vision. My bedroom, a flash of a dark figure and a rush of fear, running through the hall, rips into the flesh on my back, the cool leather of my couch after I fall forward. The last thing that comes is a numb sensation of my body shaking, my back being pulled, and a warm sigh of relief as I drifted off. My hand squeezes the remote instinctually and I am pulled from this visage, saved from this moment that lasted in reality a half second, but in my mind an eternity. The TV is off now and Davick has returned with my Fresca. Something about Netflix slips into my mind and I suggest we watch The Walking Dead. Davick does not respond, he only stands in the doorway pointing what would be his eyes at the television. It's funny but I kinda like having him around, I haven't really felt so peaceful since he came around.
	[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you.	TRIGGER WARNING- Graphic content ___ "Aw shit, that was the last episode?! Ya gotta be kidding me! They can't just end it like that!" Lu and I had a binge watching marathon, and of course the last episode ended on a painful cliffhanger. I got up off the couch and started heading towards the kitchen. "They can, and they did. You wanna another beer?" When they didn't answer right away, I turned around. "Hey, did you hear me? Beer! Yay or nay?" "Uh, Alice? Now don't freak out, but there's a spider on your shoulder..." I looked at my left shoulder, and sure enough, there was the biggest wolf spider I ever saw. "Huh. How the hell did you get there?" I grabbed a newspaper from off the kitchen table, walked over to the kitchen window, opened it, and used the newspaper to brush my surprise guest off of me outside. "That's what you get for not paying your share of the rent! Now, where were we? Ah yes. Beer." I grabbed two beers from the fridge. It was a safe bet to think Lu wanted it. I plopped down on the couch again, and handed the beer to them. "Did you want to check out that new sci-fi series? We can watch the first episode and decide if we want to binge it next weekend." "I'm probably an idiot for thinking you'd be afraid of spiders, huh?" I cracked open my beer. "Wha? What do you mean? Most people would freak out over spiders." Lu cracked open their beer too. "Well, yeah, but then again most people- actually ALL people- go mad from terror after seeing me. You however, watched me emerge from the depths of the ocean in the middle of a dark and stormy night...and offered me a cookie." ___ It was only a little over a year ago when I first met Cthulhu. It really was a horror movie setting- I had rented a dingy little beach house right on the water. It was cheap since it was off season, bleary November, and I just wanted a brief change of scenery after a particularly grueling week of work. I couldn't sleep, and sat on the porch with a box of Mallomars and a glass of milk. When I saw Lu walk out of the ocean, I thought I was being pranked by a kid in a costume (the infamous Cthulhu is much shorter than the stories would have you believe), and so I offered them a Mallomar. Next thing I know we're shooting the breeze. Judging from the awkward English and impossiblely deep voice, I figured out they were definitely no kid, and not from around here. It wasn't until a jogger on the beach saw them and started screaming her head off that I realized Lu was the real deal. They erased her mind of the encounter, and she continued running like nothing had happened. Lu was gonna leave after that, but I honestly had a nice time with them, and asked if they wanted to hang out again. You ain't seen nothin' until you've seen an eldritch horror smile. So ever since we've been hanging out on the weekends and other days I have off. It was amazing how fast their English went from stiff and exotic to...well, I guess they talk a lot like me now. ___ I overdramatically gasped. "A cookie? I'll have you know that is a dire insult to the ambrosia that is a Mallomar!" "Look, I gotta know. I know I've asked you in the past if you were supernatural yourself, or if someone cast a protection spell on you, etcetera, and you said no. Just... how are you not afraid of anything?? Especially me??" I sighed. I didn't like talking about personal stuff, but I guess at this point Lu earned it. "Ok, let's make this quick. I had an older brother who was a psychopath and tortured me physically and mentally for years growing up. When I tried to tell my mom every so often, he would lie and say I was the one lying. My poor mom couldn't bear the thought of my brother being an evil little fuck, and believed him over me. Until one day she walked in on him waterboarding me. She was gonna send him away the next day to a psychiatric hospital. However, that night I woke up to screaming. I ran into my mom's room, and my brother had just finished strangling her. Then he came after me. I ran into my bedroom. The only thing I had to protect myself was a large pair of scissors. He ran at me, and gouged himself on the scissors. I ran over to the neighbors who called 911. My brother was dead when help finally arrived... and they blamed me for both their deaths. So I was the one who got sent to a psychiatric hospital where one of the orderlies sexually abused me for years until one of the other patients killed him with a popscicle stick they made into a shiv. I was eventually released into the real world and have been treading water ever since." Lu muttered something in a language I couldn't understand, but it had the tone of someone saying Jesus fuckin' Christ. "So, here's why I think I'm immune to you... you can't go insane if you're already insane," and I tapped my forehead. "And here we are! So, we gonna watch that episode or what?" And I tried clearing my throat to loosen the knot that had formed in it. Lu put a hand on my shoulder. "You're not insane, and when someone like me tells you that, you can take it to the bank!" "Well then, what other explanation could there be?" Lu was silent for a moment. "You didn't kill the spider." "What?" They laughed in what sounded to be disbelief. "I never thought it was possible..." "Uh, can I join in on this conversation or what?" "I'm gonna let you in on a secret I've never told anyone. The reason people go mad when they see me is because I'm like a...uh...how do I put this? I'm like a magnifying glass of sorts, one that also reflects, and the thing that is reflected and magnified is a person's own inner evil. The chaos caused by this is what fuels my power. Truly evil people will typically drop dead straight away, and as for regular people, well, I just erase a few minutes of their memories and they're good as new. After about a year or so of collecting enough power, I go back to the ocean and hibernate for another thousand years before needing to refuel again. So basically...despite everything, you don't have a single fuckin' drop of evil in you." I was shocked for a minute, and then it hit me. "Wait...does that mean you're leaving soon?" Lu stretched, and chugged their beer. "Nah! Not for a good while. I mean, hibernating is great- my dreams are basically a living paradise for me. But...this new millenia has SO much to offer! The technology is beyond anything I could dream up! The last time I woke up was the dark ages- not a good time, believe me. Plus, for the first time in all of eternity, I actually have a pretty cool friend, and no dream- however good it may be- can match that feeling," and they patted my knee as I wiped my eyes with my sleeve. "Now c'mon, are we gonna watch that episode or what?"	After sitting a while, the horrid figure stood and walked towards me. It stood about seven feet tall, arms and legs like bone. You could say it was like Slenderman but not so... human. A bloated body yet the skin was taut over the ribcage as if it was starved while expanding from within. Grey and blue and yellow hues across his body like bruises, with black veins spraying across his body unnaturally, as if they were cuts rather than arteries. With each step he took, the shade of darkness around him grew, as if his very pretense stole your ability to process the world around the monstrosity before you. Some would say they saw red like blood surrounding him, some would say they only heard screaming until the end, little did they know it was their own. His face was covered in smooth skin, no orifices or openings for eyes or mouth. No nose to speak of. When it spoke, its jaw moved, and its teeth chewed it's own skin covering with each word. Every sentence left more blood until it was eating the very skin covering its maw. Then it only spoke in ethereal tones of horror and strange peace. The words and ideas floated to you from somewhere far off when it communicated with you. Like a memory you didnt know existed until it gave it to you. To me, this cosmic terror stalking my living room was named Davick. We couldnt decide between David and Derrick so he chose both. As it ended its approach to me, sitting on my couch on a Thursday night, it didnt speak. Davick only sat next to me silently. His face, a topographical map of a human face, with none of the humanity involved, turns towards me. Ince again the light around me dims and begins to fade, I am being drawn into his attention, he has begun to notice me. "Do you... d-dooo yooouuuu..." a whisper in my mind, almost painfully scratching it's way through my lobes and mind whirling into my ears as if parasites. An other worldly howl stretches through my entire being, shaking my body and blinding me for a moment. Then silence, I open my eyes, Davick is crouched on the couch as if ready to attack, his faceless head tilting from side to side every so often. He leans in, and I begin to hear him more clearly, he wants to speak. "Dddoooo youuu... AHEM Do you wanna watch The Walking Dead?" I look at the hellish figure and reply, "No dude were like halfway through this movie, seriously stop fucking with my eyes though you know I cant see the tv when you do that creepy walk shit." Davick jumps off the couch and scurries over the room at terrifying speed running like a rabid beast on all fours. "Look man I'm not the one who invited me to live here, I'm just the cosmic being who makes your landlord forget you have to pay to live here. Same with your job and actually going to work for the money. I dont think you appreciate me. I dont think you know how evil I really am, now put on the zombie show or ill... I'm gonna... I'm gonna scare yoh." It stops before me as if to crawl up my body and prowl over me. One long fingernail traces the ground around my foot as if to show me how vulnerable it was. "What are you gonna try and show me more demons and their infant victims? Or maybe ANOTHER set of Furies showing me every second of my life including the moment of death as they cut my string? Fuck off." The monster slams his fists against his own head as if hungrily trying to crack a very strong egg. "WHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHWYHWYWHYWHEYEHWYHWYEHEYEHEYEHEYEHYSHEYEHEYEHEYEYWYYEYE..." The screaming inside my consciousness trails off into a horrid wail of frustration, unlike any sound a human mind is capable of. To me it's like an autotuned whale. "What must I do to get you to be compliant", it hisses through my skull. "You know man I dont really know, you kind of threw a lot of shit at me really quick so honestly I dont know what you got left. I'm just... I'm bored man. It's like I've gone past that point where ots all scary and impossible and then it was all something to be feared but get through. There was a time I enjoyed it Davick... I could see the beauty in the horrible things you'd show me. Dismemberment and murder, strife and guilt, the truest horrors of humanity and dark and evil things that feed off them. You showed me an entire world of evil things that I saw were just misunderstood for a time. Now I'm just tired of it, you've desensitized me. Now go get me a fucking Fresca." Davick stands over me chest heaving, blood dripping from torn mouth. Anger ripping through every cell of his body, pouring out and infecting everything around him. A screech of the deepest tones of rage and all of the worst things you could feel penetrated my mind. For a moment it was too.much, I felt my consciousness slip into the vortex and be thrown through a turbulent storm of red and black hatred, confusion, frustration, and pain. As Dorothy awoke from Oz, I snapped back from the storm he pushed me into. Finally he spoke to me through my own mind, "Were out of Fresca douche you drank the last one. I'll get you a Dr Pepper.." As Davick slipped into the kitchen to retrieve my drink, I flipped the TV over to the news, and saw what looked like a shot of my front door to my apartment. The story was hard to understand, the voices muffled and muted. A flash of blood and screams before my eyes. On the tv is an image.. someone's face. I try to make it out but the phantom blood coats my vision blocking me from comprehension. I hear only a few words, my name, the word victim, and finally deceased. For the briefest of moments I am rocked by horror, an unending fear that seeps into your bones and hurts your heart. Not thudding heart in my chest no, this fear stops it cold. I feel myself drifting, not into any vortex of hate, but a river of cold and uneasy confusion. I slip lower into the flow, every moment feeling exponentially more terror at this motion. As my head dips below I see a vision. My bedroom, a flash of a dark figure and a rush of fear, running through the hall, rips into the flesh on my back, the cool leather of my couch after I fall forward. The last thing that comes is a numb sensation of my body shaking, my back being pulled, and a warm sigh of relief as I drifted off. My hand squeezes the remote instinctually and I am pulled from this visage, saved from this moment that lasted in reality a half second, but in my mind an eternity. The TV is off now and Davick has returned with my Fresca. Something about Netflix slips into my mind and I suggest we watch The Walking Dead. Davick does not respond, he only stands in the doorway pointing what would be his eyes at the television. It's funny but I kinda like having him around, I haven't really felt so peaceful since he came around.
	[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you.	Swerving dangerously near the edge of the mountain road I giggled to myself. Bits of rubble tumbled over in the wake of screeching car tires. "Clarissa hungers caution." Skh'kohteh whispered in my mind's ear. "Time is abundant. Decrease speed, yes?" Skh’kohteh, The Fear That Consumes, had a giant wormlike body that clambered gently up the mountainside. She followed the movements of my car like a boy caring for his pet ant. Six massive bony limbs clasped onto earth and trees as Her single voracious mouth with infinite needle-like teeth gaped at the red sky. "Hell no!" I shouted out my window. "I already told you Tay, we're not missing this for the world!" I took a quick swig from a beer can and drove a little faster. Tay gave an audible sigh that sounded more like a thousand dying birds. "Ethanol consumption disapproved. Clarissa will expire before thirst is quenched." The human-sized pustules on Her skin bubbled when she was concerned. Not wasting a single second, I sped through several bends and turns before finally arriving at the coastline. I rushed out the car and ran towards what my father and I used to call the Cliff Where We Sing. Tay was close behind, brushing away the trees in her path like they were blades of grass. I stared at the soft horizon beyond the ocean, a shimmering line cradling an egg-yolk of a sun. I stood there with legs and arms wide apart and breathed in the salty air. For a moment I could almost hear a rough-around-the-edges rendition of "Here Comes the Sun", the way he used to sing it. Tay towered over me and then stopped. She always looked like she was about to say something with her crater-sized mouth just hanging open the way it did. "Beauty in abundance. Serenity, overwhelming." Tay whispered with a dollop of contentment in her tone. Listening to her mind whispers was like being submerged in her thoughts, bits and pieces of ideas swimming all around. I always knew what she meant this way. Her words always rang true. I sat there for a while watching the egg-yolk sun drain away behind the earth. It was almost time. "There!" I jumped in excitement. It appeared the same way every time. At twilight it flashed right over the sea casting no reflection. A great black portal to another world. Tay looked like She was holding her breath. "That’s where you came out, Tay! Like some beached whale, you were moaning and groaning all over!" I laughed so hard picturing the way She flopped about in the waters. Tay’s chuckles were air raid sirens. "I haven't been here in ages you know." I finally said after wiping all the laughter out of my eyes. There was a pang of melancholy that came with those words, but Tay’s asking gaze washed it away. "Dad and I used to camp here all the time. We'd sing songs, have the best breakfasts and at night, he'd tell me all sorts of scary stories. My favourites were the ones about creatures from other dimensions. Dad loved reading those books by that Lovecraft guy." The pang shot sharp this time, right through my ribcage, stunting my breathing. "Love. Craft." Tay mused sometimes in psychic frequencies. Suddenly, Her giant mouth coiled around to face me. It was like a moon eclipsing the sky. Looking directly at Her throat, I could see it was an alluring darkness that roiled with madness and chaos. “Clarissa. I am The Fear That Consumes. Your heart... My fear cannot.” The black portal seemed to be listening in on us as it hung in the sky like a distant eavesdropper. “Clarissa...is phenomenon comprehensible?" Her words were warm and had energy like a bubble bath. I looked at her and all the horrors she was cloaked in but her words never lost their warmth. "Yes, I comprehend very well Tay. For a long time, even though my heart was beating, it was dead. I tried many things to bring it back to life but the beating stayed so very hollow. It was dead until the day I met you. Nothing horrifies me more than death and you...you’re alive. I’ll never be scared of you because of what you are. You're his stories come to life.” The corners of my lips curled just a bit and Tay’s deadly orifice deformed slightly. It was the closest she could ever get to a grin. “Come on,” I said after taking one last look at the horizon - the pitch black portal had vanished already. “Let’s go home.” I left the camping gear unpacked from the backseat as I drove off. Skh’koteh, The Fear That Consumes, following right behind me, Her six arms shambling, a spring in each step.	"Once, long ago, I may have clung to the morals or logic that runs through our minds - keeps us grounded, sane...but there is only so much you can take before it becomes painfully clear, all that is an illusion. Safety isn't real, good nature is a lie we sell ourselves on to keep smiling at one another instead of tearing for what we can grab. We tell ourselves that we would want others to do the same for us, guilt ourselves into fighting our nature, hold on to the fragile connections that language and reason bring us. But, if that were all, many people would be able to sit and have chats like these. People lose their humanity every day - No, I lost something worse than just that. I spent too long watching, questioning, trying to make sense of it all. If I knew that the illusion of cooperation was just that - what made us so willing to submit to it? So willing to lean into what is against our nature as our best hope? The answer was simple enough, but I wanted to avoid it. I wanted not to think about what it meant, what all of it could mean. I didn't want to look at what being human really was, what we really are in the end. And what purpose we have served here in this small insignificant area, and when I realized what it was - nothing more could give me the reason to continue except a pure sense of curiosity. A driving in my soul, to see what would come next. See how far the things would really unfold. I knew that despite this, my personal being would never know - that I too would fade back into the void from which my consciousness crawled eventually. And that when I fell into that, all the meaningless things I had learned would fall with me. As they do with us all, and will with us all in the end. Nothing is everything, even the most indelible of marks will one day disappear, and when it does - only then will we finally know, and it will be when we cannot know anymore. Knowledge is a lie, a fleeting beautiful fire that burns for a moment before it extinguishes itself by destroying everything it touches, using up everything it needs to live. The very things it needs to survive are the things it destroys by its nature, choking itself out as it voraciously chases every single bit of what is there. At this point, the fire in me is dead. But what even can be saved by letting go? What benefit have I reaped by dousing the flames? What point was any of it in the end? If everything burnt and unburnt fades away - why not let the fires consume all? What is the purpose in us seeking a purpose? What was the point of existing at all?" The figure smiled at me, as he leaned back in his chair - a faint look of recognition crossed his face for a moment... I think. Would I even want the approval of such a thing? What would that even matter? To the end, he's just another schmuck like me.
	[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you.	"Shit how much time you got?" The Eldritch Horror Ayi'ig sat with her massive serpent like head laid across a pile of boulders at the bottom of the Canyon we were in and just stared at me blankly. "I can only assume that is a rhetorical question as from our time spent together I know you are intelligent enough to know that I am timeless." I rolled my eyes and took a drag of my cigarette before laughing, "yeesh what's got you so serious today?" The giant Octopus like being raised its head to look toward the top of the Canyon and seemed to think for a second before looking back down at me, "I apologize. I was not trying to be." I shrugged my shoulders and sat back in the recliner. Hauling this thing to the Canyon one day was the best idea I ever had. She made it easy as hell to get it down here too. "Nah don't worry about it. I get that way too sometimes." "So what about the question?" I took another drag of my cigarette before looking her in the eyes. "Do you realy want to know?" Ayi'ig nodded her head yes before laying it back down onto the boulders which was just across from me and the recliner. "Well, I mean shit. I don't even know at what point I should start." She continued to stare at me with a blank yet query like expression as I pondered how to begin. "Ever since you met me that day, what kind of vibe do I give off? Or actually, when you look in my eyes what do you see?" She stared for a few moments more before finally stating a painfully blunt truth. "It is not what I see but rather what I do not. I do not see happiness." I chuckled under my breathe a little and shook my head. "I do see resentment I believe. Also, anger? And intolerance-" "OK, you got it. Thank you, I shouldn't have asked that to the Eldritch Horror obviously." I laughed again before lighting another cigarette. "I apologize if I offended you Jonathan" "No it's cool, I didn't mean it like that. Just kinda numbing to hear it. Anyways, with that being said. I think my biggest problem would be; in my 23 years of existence I can't remember a day of it that I actually wanted to be here anymore." Ayi'ig sat and took that in for a second. "What exactly do you mean by that? Do you not wish to be alive anymore?" I nodded my head yes. "What could drive a human to feel that way?" I inhaled deep before letting it back out in a big sigh then finished my second cigarette. "Well shit. I could be simple and blame it on the day my father beat me so bad CPS had to get involved. That could be a start, but even if it is it's progressed to something so much worse and foul now that I don't know if those dark emotions are even in there anymore." The giant Serpent head twisted in a questioning manner "in what way have they "progressed?"" I reached in my pocket for my cigarette pack and began to light another. "The resentment you saw in my eyes? How is it fair that humans are born on this disgusting rock and are expected to slave their life away in order to live comfortably? All while clinging to a false sense of "freedom". I never asked to be born or feel the way I feel. I resent life and who or whatever put me on this ignorant rock." "And what of the Intolerance?" I looked up to see the sky was beginning to get dark and knew night was coming in quickly. "Well that's a bit more iffy. I hate the way I view humanity." Ayi'ig picked her head up almost as if surprised by this. "How do you view humanity? A number of the Great Old Ones hold very distasteful views on humanity as well. I am surprised to hear a Human could possibly share these." I blew smoke through my nose and sighed. "Humanity is nothing but ignorance. If you look at our history you will see it is nothing but humans throwing bodies at eachother and putting pretty labels on it like "justice" and fucking "freedom" when in reality they're just acting like primitive fucking savages and can't stop pointing their fingers at eachother and calling the other the problem. I hate that I can't look at this world and see nothing but a cancer-" the words got caught up in my throat making me choke up and cough a little before needing to take a breathe. "I can't see anything in humanity but ignorance, and it's a problem because in my opinion, ignorance is what causes all of the worlds problems. Not being able to understand one another. Acting ignorantly towards one another. Not having the knowledge of something causes problems. It all derives from ignorance." Ayi'ig sat up fully raising her head to the top of the Canyon and looking around the top. She does this pretty regularly and it's how we met one day. Scared the living soul out of my body. "I can not fault you on your ideologies. I am surprised however. That a human could hold such negative views on life and humanity." I laughed at this "Y'all should've destroyed humanity long ago. Maybe then this rock wouldn't be so disgusting and it could be as beautiful as it looks." She laid her head back down again before closing her eyes. "I am sorry you are forced to live seeing the horrors of this world Jonathan. You can always escape from it down here in my Canyon." I smiled while closing my eyes and leaning back into the recliner before falling asleep.	"Once, long ago, I may have clung to the morals or logic that runs through our minds - keeps us grounded, sane...but there is only so much you can take before it becomes painfully clear, all that is an illusion. Safety isn't real, good nature is a lie we sell ourselves on to keep smiling at one another instead of tearing for what we can grab. We tell ourselves that we would want others to do the same for us, guilt ourselves into fighting our nature, hold on to the fragile connections that language and reason bring us. But, if that were all, many people would be able to sit and have chats like these. People lose their humanity every day - No, I lost something worse than just that. I spent too long watching, questioning, trying to make sense of it all. If I knew that the illusion of cooperation was just that - what made us so willing to submit to it? So willing to lean into what is against our nature as our best hope? The answer was simple enough, but I wanted to avoid it. I wanted not to think about what it meant, what all of it could mean. I didn't want to look at what being human really was, what we really are in the end. And what purpose we have served here in this small insignificant area, and when I realized what it was - nothing more could give me the reason to continue except a pure sense of curiosity. A driving in my soul, to see what would come next. See how far the things would really unfold. I knew that despite this, my personal being would never know - that I too would fade back into the void from which my consciousness crawled eventually. And that when I fell into that, all the meaningless things I had learned would fall with me. As they do with us all, and will with us all in the end. Nothing is everything, even the most indelible of marks will one day disappear, and when it does - only then will we finally know, and it will be when we cannot know anymore. Knowledge is a lie, a fleeting beautiful fire that burns for a moment before it extinguishes itself by destroying everything it touches, using up everything it needs to live. The very things it needs to survive are the things it destroys by its nature, choking itself out as it voraciously chases every single bit of what is there. At this point, the fire in me is dead. But what even can be saved by letting go? What benefit have I reaped by dousing the flames? What point was any of it in the end? If everything burnt and unburnt fades away - why not let the fires consume all? What is the purpose in us seeking a purpose? What was the point of existing at all?" The figure smiled at me, as he leaned back in his chair - a faint look of recognition crossed his face for a moment... I think. Would I even want the approval of such a thing? What would that even matter? To the end, he's just another schmuck like me.
	[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you.	Swerving dangerously near the edge of the mountain road I giggled to myself. Bits of rubble tumbled over in the wake of screeching car tires. "Clarissa hungers caution." Skh'kohteh whispered in my mind's ear. "Time is abundant. Decrease speed, yes?" Skh’kohteh, The Fear That Consumes, had a giant wormlike body that clambered gently up the mountainside. She followed the movements of my car like a boy caring for his pet ant. Six massive bony limbs clasped onto earth and trees as Her single voracious mouth with infinite needle-like teeth gaped at the red sky. "Hell no!" I shouted out my window. "I already told you Tay, we're not missing this for the world!" I took a quick swig from a beer can and drove a little faster. Tay gave an audible sigh that sounded more like a thousand dying birds. "Ethanol consumption disapproved. Clarissa will expire before thirst is quenched." The human-sized pustules on Her skin bubbled when she was concerned. Not wasting a single second, I sped through several bends and turns before finally arriving at the coastline. I rushed out the car and ran towards what my father and I used to call the Cliff Where We Sing. Tay was close behind, brushing away the trees in her path like they were blades of grass. I stared at the soft horizon beyond the ocean, a shimmering line cradling an egg-yolk of a sun. I stood there with legs and arms wide apart and breathed in the salty air. For a moment I could almost hear a rough-around-the-edges rendition of "Here Comes the Sun", the way he used to sing it. Tay towered over me and then stopped. She always looked like she was about to say something with her crater-sized mouth just hanging open the way it did. "Beauty in abundance. Serenity, overwhelming." Tay whispered with a dollop of contentment in her tone. Listening to her mind whispers was like being submerged in her thoughts, bits and pieces of ideas swimming all around. I always knew what she meant this way. Her words always rang true. I sat there for a while watching the egg-yolk sun drain away behind the earth. It was almost time. "There!" I jumped in excitement. It appeared the same way every time. At twilight it flashed right over the sea casting no reflection. A great black portal to another world. Tay looked like She was holding her breath. "That’s where you came out, Tay! Like some beached whale, you were moaning and groaning all over!" I laughed so hard picturing the way She flopped about in the waters. Tay’s chuckles were air raid sirens. "I haven't been here in ages you know." I finally said after wiping all the laughter out of my eyes. There was a pang of melancholy that came with those words, but Tay’s asking gaze washed it away. "Dad and I used to camp here all the time. We'd sing songs, have the best breakfasts and at night, he'd tell me all sorts of scary stories. My favourites were the ones about creatures from other dimensions. Dad loved reading those books by that Lovecraft guy." The pang shot sharp this time, right through my ribcage, stunting my breathing. "Love. Craft." Tay mused sometimes in psychic frequencies. Suddenly, Her giant mouth coiled around to face me. It was like a moon eclipsing the sky. Looking directly at Her throat, I could see it was an alluring darkness that roiled with madness and chaos. “Clarissa. I am The Fear That Consumes. Your heart... My fear cannot.” The black portal seemed to be listening in on us as it hung in the sky like a distant eavesdropper. “Clarissa...is phenomenon comprehensible?" Her words were warm and had energy like a bubble bath. I looked at her and all the horrors she was cloaked in but her words never lost their warmth. "Yes, I comprehend very well Tay. For a long time, even though my heart was beating, it was dead. I tried many things to bring it back to life but the beating stayed so very hollow. It was dead until the day I met you. Nothing horrifies me more than death and you...you’re alive. I’ll never be scared of you because of what you are. You're his stories come to life.” The corners of my lips curled just a bit and Tay’s deadly orifice deformed slightly. It was the closest she could ever get to a grin. “Come on,” I said after taking one last look at the horizon - the pitch black portal had vanished already. “Let’s go home.” I left the camping gear unpacked from the backseat as I drove off. Skh’koteh, The Fear That Consumes, following right behind me, Her six arms shambling, a spring in each step.	“Uuuh what?” The question was completely out of the blue. “How did you become so-“ “Yes I heard you, but what do you mean?” As far as I knew, this man was just a normal person. I met him a while ago when I started taking morning walks, and he helped me out of a rough time in my life. “At first, I was surprised when you didn’t immediately turn to ash upon seeing me, but then you continued to walk with me morning after morning? How can you bear my sight?” I looked over. Adam looked to be in his 30s with sideburns and a goatee. Not what I liked, but who am I to judge? “Adam, you may not be a model but you’re not that ugly.” He looked at me, incredulous, then concerned. “What do I look like?” It was a strange question, even for him, but I replied honestly. “That... is not me.” he said. I got a vague impression that something was wrong. Very wrong. “You’ve heard of Cthulhu?” “Yes...” “Yes well he‘s a distant relative, and I might say he became quite narcissistic after some fancy pants wrote a story about him or something. The poor fellow must have been through so much in order to see Cthulhu in his dream. “Cthulhu is but a shadow compared to me, yet here you are, able to see me without having to dream in order to do so. How?” I looked back, not sure how to respond. He didn’t look like he was joking, and he had no reason to lie. “You... look like a normal person” was the best I could do. As he described himself, images flashed before my eyes. Trigger warning: sexual abuse and extreme violence. >!Women being abused while people lounged around and ignored them. Good people forced to kill good people. People cheering as a man was tortured to death. Innocent people being slaughtered in the name of some distant force. Cultures destroyed. People ending innocent lives because they felt like it. Men with potential knowingly charging to their death. People being burned alive. People who need help but won’t get any.!< ————————————- Aladism described himself and watched his companion’s reaction. They stopped walking and looked out into the distance. Their face was filled with pain and horror and they stood motionless. Out of the corner of his eye, the otherworldly being saw a woodland creature gaze upon him then try to claw it’s eyes out. It was lucky it didn’t have the mind humans possessed. His human eventually relaxed, and turned to him with a smile. “Well I don’t care what you look like Adam,” they said, “you’ve helped me a lot and you deserve love.” Ah, he thought as followed his human, I see. Some people become so good at hiding pain that they can hide it from themselves. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ For your happiness, force yourself to smile right now, even if it’s a half-assed fake smile. Now hold that for 10 seconds. Thank you and have a nice day :)
	[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you.	"Shit how much time you got?" The Eldritch Horror Ayi'ig sat with her massive serpent like head laid across a pile of boulders at the bottom of the Canyon we were in and just stared at me blankly. "I can only assume that is a rhetorical question as from our time spent together I know you are intelligent enough to know that I am timeless." I rolled my eyes and took a drag of my cigarette before laughing, "yeesh what's got you so serious today?" The giant Octopus like being raised its head to look toward the top of the Canyon and seemed to think for a second before looking back down at me, "I apologize. I was not trying to be." I shrugged my shoulders and sat back in the recliner. Hauling this thing to the Canyon one day was the best idea I ever had. She made it easy as hell to get it down here too. "Nah don't worry about it. I get that way too sometimes." "So what about the question?" I took another drag of my cigarette before looking her in the eyes. "Do you realy want to know?" Ayi'ig nodded her head yes before laying it back down onto the boulders which was just across from me and the recliner. "Well, I mean shit. I don't even know at what point I should start." She continued to stare at me with a blank yet query like expression as I pondered how to begin. "Ever since you met me that day, what kind of vibe do I give off? Or actually, when you look in my eyes what do you see?" She stared for a few moments more before finally stating a painfully blunt truth. "It is not what I see but rather what I do not. I do not see happiness." I chuckled under my breathe a little and shook my head. "I do see resentment I believe. Also, anger? And intolerance-" "OK, you got it. Thank you, I shouldn't have asked that to the Eldritch Horror obviously." I laughed again before lighting another cigarette. "I apologize if I offended you Jonathan" "No it's cool, I didn't mean it like that. Just kinda numbing to hear it. Anyways, with that being said. I think my biggest problem would be; in my 23 years of existence I can't remember a day of it that I actually wanted to be here anymore." Ayi'ig sat and took that in for a second. "What exactly do you mean by that? Do you not wish to be alive anymore?" I nodded my head yes. "What could drive a human to feel that way?" I inhaled deep before letting it back out in a big sigh then finished my second cigarette. "Well shit. I could be simple and blame it on the day my father beat me so bad CPS had to get involved. That could be a start, but even if it is it's progressed to something so much worse and foul now that I don't know if those dark emotions are even in there anymore." The giant Serpent head twisted in a questioning manner "in what way have they "progressed?"" I reached in my pocket for my cigarette pack and began to light another. "The resentment you saw in my eyes? How is it fair that humans are born on this disgusting rock and are expected to slave their life away in order to live comfortably? All while clinging to a false sense of "freedom". I never asked to be born or feel the way I feel. I resent life and who or whatever put me on this ignorant rock." "And what of the Intolerance?" I looked up to see the sky was beginning to get dark and knew night was coming in quickly. "Well that's a bit more iffy. I hate the way I view humanity." Ayi'ig picked her head up almost as if surprised by this. "How do you view humanity? A number of the Great Old Ones hold very distasteful views on humanity as well. I am surprised to hear a Human could possibly share these." I blew smoke through my nose and sighed. "Humanity is nothing but ignorance. If you look at our history you will see it is nothing but humans throwing bodies at eachother and putting pretty labels on it like "justice" and fucking "freedom" when in reality they're just acting like primitive fucking savages and can't stop pointing their fingers at eachother and calling the other the problem. I hate that I can't look at this world and see nothing but a cancer-" the words got caught up in my throat making me choke up and cough a little before needing to take a breathe. "I can't see anything in humanity but ignorance, and it's a problem because in my opinion, ignorance is what causes all of the worlds problems. Not being able to understand one another. Acting ignorantly towards one another. Not having the knowledge of something causes problems. It all derives from ignorance." Ayi'ig sat up fully raising her head to the top of the Canyon and looking around the top. She does this pretty regularly and it's how we met one day. Scared the living soul out of my body. "I can not fault you on your ideologies. I am surprised however. That a human could hold such negative views on life and humanity." I laughed at this "Y'all should've destroyed humanity long ago. Maybe then this rock wouldn't be so disgusting and it could be as beautiful as it looks." She laid her head back down again before closing her eyes. "I am sorry you are forced to live seeing the horrors of this world Jonathan. You can always escape from it down here in my Canyon." I smiled while closing my eyes and leaning back into the recliner before falling asleep.	“Uuuh what?” The question was completely out of the blue. “How did you become so-“ “Yes I heard you, but what do you mean?” As far as I knew, this man was just a normal person. I met him a while ago when I started taking morning walks, and he helped me out of a rough time in my life. “At first, I was surprised when you didn’t immediately turn to ash upon seeing me, but then you continued to walk with me morning after morning? How can you bear my sight?” I looked over. Adam looked to be in his 30s with sideburns and a goatee. Not what I liked, but who am I to judge? “Adam, you may not be a model but you’re not that ugly.” He looked at me, incredulous, then concerned. “What do I look like?” It was a strange question, even for him, but I replied honestly. “That... is not me.” he said. I got a vague impression that something was wrong. Very wrong. “You’ve heard of Cthulhu?” “Yes...” “Yes well he‘s a distant relative, and I might say he became quite narcissistic after some fancy pants wrote a story about him or something. The poor fellow must have been through so much in order to see Cthulhu in his dream. “Cthulhu is but a shadow compared to me, yet here you are, able to see me without having to dream in order to do so. How?” I looked back, not sure how to respond. He didn’t look like he was joking, and he had no reason to lie. “You... look like a normal person” was the best I could do. As he described himself, images flashed before my eyes. Trigger warning: sexual abuse and extreme violence. >!Women being abused while people lounged around and ignored them. Good people forced to kill good people. People cheering as a man was tortured to death. Innocent people being slaughtered in the name of some distant force. Cultures destroyed. People ending innocent lives because they felt like it. Men with potential knowingly charging to their death. People being burned alive. People who need help but won’t get any.!< ————————————- Aladism described himself and watched his companion’s reaction. They stopped walking and looked out into the distance. Their face was filled with pain and horror and they stood motionless. Out of the corner of his eye, the otherworldly being saw a woodland creature gaze upon him then try to claw it’s eyes out. It was lucky it didn’t have the mind humans possessed. His human eventually relaxed, and turned to him with a smile. “Well I don’t care what you look like Adam,” they said, “you’ve helped me a lot and you deserve love.” Ah, he thought as followed his human, I see. Some people become so good at hiding pain that they can hide it from themselves. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ For your happiness, force yourself to smile right now, even if it’s a half-assed fake smile. Now hold that for 10 seconds. Thank you and have a nice day :)
	[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you.	TRIGGER WARNING- Graphic content ___ "Aw shit, that was the last episode?! Ya gotta be kidding me! They can't just end it like that!" Lu and I had a binge watching marathon, and of course the last episode ended on a painful cliffhanger. I got up off the couch and started heading towards the kitchen. "They can, and they did. You wanna another beer?" When they didn't answer right away, I turned around. "Hey, did you hear me? Beer! Yay or nay?" "Uh, Alice? Now don't freak out, but there's a spider on your shoulder..." I looked at my left shoulder, and sure enough, there was the biggest wolf spider I ever saw. "Huh. How the hell did you get there?" I grabbed a newspaper from off the kitchen table, walked over to the kitchen window, opened it, and used the newspaper to brush my surprise guest off of me outside. "That's what you get for not paying your share of the rent! Now, where were we? Ah yes. Beer." I grabbed two beers from the fridge. It was a safe bet to think Lu wanted it. I plopped down on the couch again, and handed the beer to them. "Did you want to check out that new sci-fi series? We can watch the first episode and decide if we want to binge it next weekend." "I'm probably an idiot for thinking you'd be afraid of spiders, huh?" I cracked open my beer. "Wha? What do you mean? Most people would freak out over spiders." Lu cracked open their beer too. "Well, yeah, but then again most people- actually ALL people- go mad from terror after seeing me. You however, watched me emerge from the depths of the ocean in the middle of a dark and stormy night...and offered me a cookie." ___ It was only a little over a year ago when I first met Cthulhu. It really was a horror movie setting- I had rented a dingy little beach house right on the water. It was cheap since it was off season, bleary November, and I just wanted a brief change of scenery after a particularly grueling week of work. I couldn't sleep, and sat on the porch with a box of Mallomars and a glass of milk. When I saw Lu walk out of the ocean, I thought I was being pranked by a kid in a costume (the infamous Cthulhu is much shorter than the stories would have you believe), and so I offered them a Mallomar. Next thing I know we're shooting the breeze. Judging from the awkward English and impossiblely deep voice, I figured out they were definitely no kid, and not from around here. It wasn't until a jogger on the beach saw them and started screaming her head off that I realized Lu was the real deal. They erased her mind of the encounter, and she continued running like nothing had happened. Lu was gonna leave after that, but I honestly had a nice time with them, and asked if they wanted to hang out again. You ain't seen nothin' until you've seen an eldritch horror smile. So ever since we've been hanging out on the weekends and other days I have off. It was amazing how fast their English went from stiff and exotic to...well, I guess they talk a lot like me now. ___ I overdramatically gasped. "A cookie? I'll have you know that is a dire insult to the ambrosia that is a Mallomar!" "Look, I gotta know. I know I've asked you in the past if you were supernatural yourself, or if someone cast a protection spell on you, etcetera, and you said no. Just... how are you not afraid of anything?? Especially me??" I sighed. I didn't like talking about personal stuff, but I guess at this point Lu earned it. "Ok, let's make this quick. I had an older brother who was a psychopath and tortured me physically and mentally for years growing up. When I tried to tell my mom every so often, he would lie and say I was the one lying. My poor mom couldn't bear the thought of my brother being an evil little fuck, and believed him over me. Until one day she walked in on him waterboarding me. She was gonna send him away the next day to a psychiatric hospital. However, that night I woke up to screaming. I ran into my mom's room, and my brother had just finished strangling her. Then he came after me. I ran into my bedroom. The only thing I had to protect myself was a large pair of scissors. He ran at me, and gouged himself on the scissors. I ran over to the neighbors who called 911. My brother was dead when help finally arrived... and they blamed me for both their deaths. So I was the one who got sent to a psychiatric hospital where one of the orderlies sexually abused me for years until one of the other patients killed him with a popscicle stick they made into a shiv. I was eventually released into the real world and have been treading water ever since." Lu muttered something in a language I couldn't understand, but it had the tone of someone saying Jesus fuckin' Christ. "So, here's why I think I'm immune to you... you can't go insane if you're already insane," and I tapped my forehead. "And here we are! So, we gonna watch that episode or what?" And I tried clearing my throat to loosen the knot that had formed in it. Lu put a hand on my shoulder. "You're not insane, and when someone like me tells you that, you can take it to the bank!" "Well then, what other explanation could there be?" Lu was silent for a moment. "You didn't kill the spider." "What?" They laughed in what sounded to be disbelief. "I never thought it was possible..." "Uh, can I join in on this conversation or what?" "I'm gonna let you in on a secret I've never told anyone. The reason people go mad when they see me is because I'm like a...uh...how do I put this? I'm like a magnifying glass of sorts, one that also reflects, and the thing that is reflected and magnified is a person's own inner evil. The chaos caused by this is what fuels my power. Truly evil people will typically drop dead straight away, and as for regular people, well, I just erase a few minutes of their memories and they're good as new. After about a year or so of collecting enough power, I go back to the ocean and hibernate for another thousand years before needing to refuel again. So basically...despite everything, you don't have a single fuckin' drop of evil in you." I was shocked for a minute, and then it hit me. "Wait...does that mean you're leaving soon?" Lu stretched, and chugged their beer. "Nah! Not for a good while. I mean, hibernating is great- my dreams are basically a living paradise for me. But...this new millenia has SO much to offer! The technology is beyond anything I could dream up! The last time I woke up was the dark ages- not a good time, believe me. Plus, for the first time in all of eternity, I actually have a pretty cool friend, and no dream- however good it may be- can match that feeling," and they patted my knee as I wiped my eyes with my sleeve. "Now c'mon, are we gonna watch that episode or what?"	“I’ve always wondered, how do you not go insane at my visage? No mortal could be so.... so..... emotionless and cold. Colder than Nyarlathotep’s dick.” Y’golonac’s skeleton shifted under a veiny transparent skin. What could be construed as a penis hung the way a meathook would. The light breeze caused it to sway. Zach made the effort to not look, mostly out of a weird courtesy, but he knew the otherworldly grotesque monster didn’t share those types of social niceties, he was after all a naked abomination. “I dunno. I’ve just seen some things. Since a young age I was already aware of some depraved things. The internet stole my soul, if you want to think of it that way.” Y’golonac’s curiousity piqued. “How did the internet do that?” “Ehh...” Zach winced as his minds eye flooded with images that no man should ever have seen. “You ever heard of a blue waffle?”
	[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you.	[POEM] Ask again my dearest friend How my mind can comprehend The form you wear upon this night, That fills most mortal hearts with fright, And not be driven round the bend Or cower at the sight. You see, when first you came to me My mind was screaming to be free From the steep and slippery slope Of a world bereft of hope Except that given by a tree And thirteen feet of rope. That fateful night you graced my door And sang to me of cosmic war I saw the pictures in your mind I saw the things I longed to find You gave me something to live for. The death of all mankind. Come again, my darkest friend And show me how this world will end. Show the madness you will spread The black and putrid piles of dead The ancient horrors that descend Then tuck me into bed.	“I’ve always wondered, how do you not go insane at my visage? No mortal could be so.... so..... emotionless and cold. Colder than Nyarlathotep’s dick.” Y’golonac’s skeleton shifted under a veiny transparent skin. What could be construed as a penis hung the way a meathook would. The light breeze caused it to sway. Zach made the effort to not look, mostly out of a weird courtesy, but he knew the otherworldly grotesque monster didn’t share those types of social niceties, he was after all a naked abomination. “I dunno. I’ve just seen some things. Since a young age I was already aware of some depraved things. The internet stole my soul, if you want to think of it that way.” Y’golonac’s curiousity piqued. “How did the internet do that?” “Ehh...” Zach winced as his minds eye flooded with images that no man should ever have seen. “You ever heard of a blue waffle?”
	[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you.	"Tell me flesh and bone..." said the voice, it's words rumbling deep in my head, although in a language very few should know and fewer could understand, "although weak, you do not tremble before me. You do not collapse upon my gaze, I am intrigued... How come?" &#x200B; I could sense its lack of understanding, which made me giggle, "I thought you could speak English!" I felt its annoyance increasing as it approached his hands towards me, stopping beside my face, his tongues swirling maliciously, centimeters from my skin. I gazed to where a face should be and in its place was a gaping mouth. "Am I wrong, Oh Depraved One?" &#x200B; A deep cavernous sound echoed in the cave, another tongue spews forth licking is saliva dripping teeth, and scuffed the dirt that fell from the roof upon my shoulder, as the creature laughed "You know very well I ain't a picky eater, Oh Funny One!" it mocked "I chose not to consume you before, don't make me regret my decision!" &#x200B; I kept unfazed, but I also knew, one shouldn't treat a Great Old One lightly, for their needs and wants are beyond human comprehension, their intents neither good nor evil, so I started, "on that day, I met a tall swarthy man and, although the street was crowded, it baffled me as he wasn't receiving any odd look from those who passed by him, for is not every day one sees a man wearing such odd fashion, a full purple suit with gold adornments, a top hat and a golden mask covering his eyes. He waved at me, and when I came to my senses I was moving in his direction. I stopped in from of him, and he asked me if I would join him for dinner. Although wary of him, I couldn't refuse his proposal. I think that wasn't a choice...The man then gave me a bottle of wine, a suspiciously looking tawny, crimson red, almost like blood..." I grinned "...it tasted exactly like blood... I felt nauseated at first but didn't get far on my race to the toilet. When I came to my senses, I was in some sort of large dining hall, may I add I was in some sort of stupor, and I don't recall it details very much, it´s as if recalling a dream I ain't sure I had...", I paused for a moment "My host, sat across the dining table, wearing pharaoh adornments, in contrast to the string suit he displayed earlier. Again I did not speak, I could not speak, and he told me all about the menu, Chocho's delicacies as he described them..." &#x200B; "Was it good?", interrupted Y'golonac, his hands salivating. &#x200B; "Yes indeed, the pork ribs were phenomenal." I continued, "after we ate he invited me for a stroll beneath the stars, and so we did, although again my will played little role in the matter, as soon as the voices started to sing, again I entered some sort of stupor, I can't exactly recall their faces or their forms for that matter but I know they were the earth Gods, and when the moon was at its zenith, the Other Gods came howling and shrieking... and we danced and reveled atop Kadath in the cold waste..."	“I’ve always wondered, how do you not go insane at my visage? No mortal could be so.... so..... emotionless and cold. Colder than Nyarlathotep’s dick.” Y’golonac’s skeleton shifted under a veiny transparent skin. What could be construed as a penis hung the way a meathook would. The light breeze caused it to sway. Zach made the effort to not look, mostly out of a weird courtesy, but he knew the otherworldly grotesque monster didn’t share those types of social niceties, he was after all a naked abomination. “I dunno. I’ve just seen some things. Since a young age I was already aware of some depraved things. The internet stole my soul, if you want to think of it that way.” Y’golonac’s curiousity piqued. “How did the internet do that?” “Ehh...” Zach winced as his minds eye flooded with images that no man should ever have seen. “You ever heard of a blue waffle?”
	[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you.	It was a balmy Wednesday afternoon for mid-October. Samhain was right around the corner and the Old One could feel the veil thinning with each passing minute. They could also feel the life force of Mildred ebbing and flowing with they day. Today was one of her weaker days. She stood up from her seat in front of the bay window as the teapot whistled from the kitchen. She turned to them and asked sweetly. “Does This One want to join me for a cup of tea?” Her voice shook but her smile was genuine. The Old One sat for a moment in contemplation before answering. “This One will.” The Old One followed her slow shuffles into the small kitchen just barely large enough for the two of them. Mildred pulled out a tea holder for the Old One and a series of four tins of loose leaf for the Old One to choose: an oolong from her neighbor’s granddaughter’s recent visit to a foreign land, two greens that were loosing their luster from age and a local black that was smooth as what Mildred called ‘butter.’ The Old One scooped from the black tea tin and added it to the holder before she came at them with the fresh boiled water from the stove. “This One has a question,” The Old One said after a log hesitation. “Yes, this One?” Despite her kindness she never asked specifically for the Old One’s name and always looked at them with a smile. Their friendship was long by her standards at least four score earth revolutions, but for the Old One, it was a drop in the bucket. “Many of your kind have looked upon my visage. You are the only one who has not given This One your mind as your body is lost to the void. Why?” Mildred’s face fell some, as if she was remembering something dark. Then like a switch the genuine smile had returned. “Whatever do you mean, This One?” “What have you seen?” The Old One put one of its tentacles on her hand. “Oh it’s nothing.” Despite the genuine smile present, her eyes were still clouded. They had known each other for years and she never spoke of her family. Never touched on where she had come. Each time she changed the subject. A cup of tea, it’s your turn for cribbage, they needed to go to bingo. “Do you still see it?” The Old One pressed further hoping to get some response as it touched her cheek to clear a tear. That was when it saw what it was. A man, separating Mildred from another woman, an operating table and a message. Arbeit Macht Frei	“I’ve always wondered, how do you not go insane at my visage? No mortal could be so.... so..... emotionless and cold. Colder than Nyarlathotep’s dick.” Y’golonac’s skeleton shifted under a veiny transparent skin. What could be construed as a penis hung the way a meathook would. The light breeze caused it to sway. Zach made the effort to not look, mostly out of a weird courtesy, but he knew the otherworldly grotesque monster didn’t share those types of social niceties, he was after all a naked abomination. “I dunno. I’ve just seen some things. Since a young age I was already aware of some depraved things. The internet stole my soul, if you want to think of it that way.” Y’golonac’s curiousity piqued. “How did the internet do that?” “Ehh...” Zach winced as his minds eye flooded with images that no man should ever have seen. “You ever heard of a blue waffle?”
	[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you.	Little Emily wandered through the woods, unaware of the monster following her. Only five years old, she walked by herself, her blond pigtails swayed back in forth, her backpack up and down, her eyes scanning the terrain. She finally settled on a small stump, the rest of the tree laying down next to it. She pulled herself onto the stump, struggling because of her height. Finally sitting on the top of it, she placed her back in her lap. She was about to unzip it when a stick snapped to her left. She looked over. There stood a monster, no, a demon. It's large head was mostly eyeball, it's large mouth filled with teeth. Slimy tentacles slithered around it hunting for something to eat. It was horrifying. Emily looked at it and smiled. "Hello Manny!" The monster smiled back at her, "Hello Emily. How are you doing today?" "I'm good." She said, swinging her feet back and forth, "I brought you candy." Manny moved closer to her as she opened her backpack. She tossed him gummy bears and lollipops that he ate whole. When he was finished, he sat next to her while she popped a gum drop in her mouth. They sat there for a while when Manny turned to Emily, "Emily? Why aren't you afraid of me?" "Why? Should I be?" She turned to him, confused. "Many people are." "That sounds lonely." "It can be." They sat in comfortable silence again until Emily spoke, "You've never made me afraid. Daddy's meaner. At night, he get's all scary and yells at mommy. Sometimes he hurts me." Manny turned to Emily, pity in his eyes, "That's not okay." "Mommy says things will get better soon." Emily said, turning to him and smiling. Many looked to the direction Emily came from, "I think I saw a nice pond over there. Wanna go?" Emily jumped up, "Yes!" she said excitedly. Manny smiled a terrifying smile, grabbed her hand, and led her deeper into the wood.	“I’ve always wondered, how do you not go insane at my visage? No mortal could be so.... so..... emotionless and cold. Colder than Nyarlathotep’s dick.” Y’golonac’s skeleton shifted under a veiny transparent skin. What could be construed as a penis hung the way a meathook would. The light breeze caused it to sway. Zach made the effort to not look, mostly out of a weird courtesy, but he knew the otherworldly grotesque monster didn’t share those types of social niceties, he was after all a naked abomination. “I dunno. I’ve just seen some things. Since a young age I was already aware of some depraved things. The internet stole my soul, if you want to think of it that way.” Y’golonac’s curiousity piqued. “How did the internet do that?” “Ehh...” Zach winced as his minds eye flooded with images that no man should ever have seen. “You ever heard of a blue waffle?”
	[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you.	TRIGGER WARNING- Graphic content ___ "Aw shit, that was the last episode?! Ya gotta be kidding me! They can't just end it like that!" Lu and I had a binge watching marathon, and of course the last episode ended on a painful cliffhanger. I got up off the couch and started heading towards the kitchen. "They can, and they did. You wanna another beer?" When they didn't answer right away, I turned around. "Hey, did you hear me? Beer! Yay or nay?" "Uh, Alice? Now don't freak out, but there's a spider on your shoulder..." I looked at my left shoulder, and sure enough, there was the biggest wolf spider I ever saw. "Huh. How the hell did you get there?" I grabbed a newspaper from off the kitchen table, walked over to the kitchen window, opened it, and used the newspaper to brush my surprise guest off of me outside. "That's what you get for not paying your share of the rent! Now, where were we? Ah yes. Beer." I grabbed two beers from the fridge. It was a safe bet to think Lu wanted it. I plopped down on the couch again, and handed the beer to them. "Did you want to check out that new sci-fi series? We can watch the first episode and decide if we want to binge it next weekend." "I'm probably an idiot for thinking you'd be afraid of spiders, huh?" I cracked open my beer. "Wha? What do you mean? Most people would freak out over spiders." Lu cracked open their beer too. "Well, yeah, but then again most people- actually ALL people- go mad from terror after seeing me. You however, watched me emerge from the depths of the ocean in the middle of a dark and stormy night...and offered me a cookie." ___ It was only a little over a year ago when I first met Cthulhu. It really was a horror movie setting- I had rented a dingy little beach house right on the water. It was cheap since it was off season, bleary November, and I just wanted a brief change of scenery after a particularly grueling week of work. I couldn't sleep, and sat on the porch with a box of Mallomars and a glass of milk. When I saw Lu walk out of the ocean, I thought I was being pranked by a kid in a costume (the infamous Cthulhu is much shorter than the stories would have you believe), and so I offered them a Mallomar. Next thing I know we're shooting the breeze. Judging from the awkward English and impossiblely deep voice, I figured out they were definitely no kid, and not from around here. It wasn't until a jogger on the beach saw them and started screaming her head off that I realized Lu was the real deal. They erased her mind of the encounter, and she continued running like nothing had happened. Lu was gonna leave after that, but I honestly had a nice time with them, and asked if they wanted to hang out again. You ain't seen nothin' until you've seen an eldritch horror smile. So ever since we've been hanging out on the weekends and other days I have off. It was amazing how fast their English went from stiff and exotic to...well, I guess they talk a lot like me now. ___ I overdramatically gasped. "A cookie? I'll have you know that is a dire insult to the ambrosia that is a Mallomar!" "Look, I gotta know. I know I've asked you in the past if you were supernatural yourself, or if someone cast a protection spell on you, etcetera, and you said no. Just... how are you not afraid of anything?? Especially me??" I sighed. I didn't like talking about personal stuff, but I guess at this point Lu earned it. "Ok, let's make this quick. I had an older brother who was a psychopath and tortured me physically and mentally for years growing up. When I tried to tell my mom every so often, he would lie and say I was the one lying. My poor mom couldn't bear the thought of my brother being an evil little fuck, and believed him over me. Until one day she walked in on him waterboarding me. She was gonna send him away the next day to a psychiatric hospital. However, that night I woke up to screaming. I ran into my mom's room, and my brother had just finished strangling her. Then he came after me. I ran into my bedroom. The only thing I had to protect myself was a large pair of scissors. He ran at me, and gouged himself on the scissors. I ran over to the neighbors who called 911. My brother was dead when help finally arrived... and they blamed me for both their deaths. So I was the one who got sent to a psychiatric hospital where one of the orderlies sexually abused me for years until one of the other patients killed him with a popscicle stick they made into a shiv. I was eventually released into the real world and have been treading water ever since." Lu muttered something in a language I couldn't understand, but it had the tone of someone saying Jesus fuckin' Christ. "So, here's why I think I'm immune to you... you can't go insane if you're already insane," and I tapped my forehead. "And here we are! So, we gonna watch that episode or what?" And I tried clearing my throat to loosen the knot that had formed in it. Lu put a hand on my shoulder. "You're not insane, and when someone like me tells you that, you can take it to the bank!" "Well then, what other explanation could there be?" Lu was silent for a moment. "You didn't kill the spider." "What?" They laughed in what sounded to be disbelief. "I never thought it was possible..." "Uh, can I join in on this conversation or what?" "I'm gonna let you in on a secret I've never told anyone. The reason people go mad when they see me is because I'm like a...uh...how do I put this? I'm like a magnifying glass of sorts, one that also reflects, and the thing that is reflected and magnified is a person's own inner evil. The chaos caused by this is what fuels my power. Truly evil people will typically drop dead straight away, and as for regular people, well, I just erase a few minutes of their memories and they're good as new. After about a year or so of collecting enough power, I go back to the ocean and hibernate for another thousand years before needing to refuel again. So basically...despite everything, you don't have a single fuckin' drop of evil in you." I was shocked for a minute, and then it hit me. "Wait...does that mean you're leaving soon?" Lu stretched, and chugged their beer. "Nah! Not for a good while. I mean, hibernating is great- my dreams are basically a living paradise for me. But...this new millenia has SO much to offer! The technology is beyond anything I could dream up! The last time I woke up was the dark ages- not a good time, believe me. Plus, for the first time in all of eternity, I actually have a pretty cool friend, and no dream- however good it may be- can match that feeling," and they patted my knee as I wiped my eyes with my sleeve. "Now c'mon, are we gonna watch that episode or what?"	Its gets dark be warned John, at least that's what I call him, hovers next to me as I fix dinner. "Allen. How is it you haven't died in the four months I've been here?" "Well for one thing it's been four years not four months. And for two...." I turn toward him and turn the burners off. "And for two the monster inside me is much scarier than you John." He cocks what passes for his head to the side and asks "What do you mean Allen!?" "ITS NOT ONE OF THOSE PARASITIC ONES IS IT SO HELP..." "No its not John calm down you'll kill the neighbors" In a whisper barely audible even to me . "Sorry." "Please explain." After I wash my hands I start laying dinner out on the table. Homemade pizza and rice because John loves some rice. Sitting at the table I sigh then say " The things I've done John the things I've seen have changed me. Most of what you see of me is a mask I've created so that i can live without being bothered by anyone or anything." "What did you do Allen?" Letting my mask slip to show him i say voice ice-cold with no emotion as i put food on my plate. "I killed for hire John men women children animals anything I was asked to as long as the price was right. After a few years I had lots of money lots of it and I had just gotten a call for a job. Easy they said go in and poison the water supply." I stop take a few bites of food. Look around "John can you get me the irish whiskey from the cabinet?" clang "Thanks" "Anyway I poisoned the water supply then wait around cause I have to make sure the targets die. A group of school kids come by a good 20-30 they drink. Now this poison they gave me was supposed to be a quick one. It wasn't I watched them for 15 min then even the monster in me had enough." "Pass the salt please" BANG "Thanks" "I walk over and cut each of the kids throats." I look up Johns face? twisted in horror. "Told ya buddy my monster is worse than yours"
	[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you.	[POEM] Ask again my dearest friend How my mind can comprehend The form you wear upon this night, That fills most mortal hearts with fright, And not be driven round the bend Or cower at the sight. You see, when first you came to me My mind was screaming to be free From the steep and slippery slope Of a world bereft of hope Except that given by a tree And thirteen feet of rope. That fateful night you graced my door And sang to me of cosmic war I saw the pictures in your mind I saw the things I longed to find You gave me something to live for. The death of all mankind. Come again, my darkest friend And show me how this world will end. Show the madness you will spread The black and putrid piles of dead The ancient horrors that descend Then tuck me into bed.	Its gets dark be warned John, at least that's what I call him, hovers next to me as I fix dinner. "Allen. How is it you haven't died in the four months I've been here?" "Well for one thing it's been four years not four months. And for two...." I turn toward him and turn the burners off. "And for two the monster inside me is much scarier than you John." He cocks what passes for his head to the side and asks "What do you mean Allen!?" "ITS NOT ONE OF THOSE PARASITIC ONES IS IT SO HELP..." "No its not John calm down you'll kill the neighbors" In a whisper barely audible even to me . "Sorry." "Please explain." After I wash my hands I start laying dinner out on the table. Homemade pizza and rice because John loves some rice. Sitting at the table I sigh then say " The things I've done John the things I've seen have changed me. Most of what you see of me is a mask I've created so that i can live without being bothered by anyone or anything." "What did you do Allen?" Letting my mask slip to show him i say voice ice-cold with no emotion as i put food on my plate. "I killed for hire John men women children animals anything I was asked to as long as the price was right. After a few years I had lots of money lots of it and I had just gotten a call for a job. Easy they said go in and poison the water supply." I stop take a few bites of food. Look around "John can you get me the irish whiskey from the cabinet?" clang "Thanks" "Anyway I poisoned the water supply then wait around cause I have to make sure the targets die. A group of school kids come by a good 20-30 they drink. Now this poison they gave me was supposed to be a quick one. It wasn't I watched them for 15 min then even the monster in me had enough." "Pass the salt please" BANG "Thanks" "I walk over and cut each of the kids throats." I look up Johns face? twisted in horror. "Told ya buddy my monster is worse than yours"
	[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you.	"Tell me flesh and bone..." said the voice, it's words rumbling deep in my head, although in a language very few should know and fewer could understand, "although weak, you do not tremble before me. You do not collapse upon my gaze, I am intrigued... How come?" &#x200B; I could sense its lack of understanding, which made me giggle, "I thought you could speak English!" I felt its annoyance increasing as it approached his hands towards me, stopping beside my face, his tongues swirling maliciously, centimeters from my skin. I gazed to where a face should be and in its place was a gaping mouth. "Am I wrong, Oh Depraved One?" &#x200B; A deep cavernous sound echoed in the cave, another tongue spews forth licking is saliva dripping teeth, and scuffed the dirt that fell from the roof upon my shoulder, as the creature laughed "You know very well I ain't a picky eater, Oh Funny One!" it mocked "I chose not to consume you before, don't make me regret my decision!" &#x200B; I kept unfazed, but I also knew, one shouldn't treat a Great Old One lightly, for their needs and wants are beyond human comprehension, their intents neither good nor evil, so I started, "on that day, I met a tall swarthy man and, although the street was crowded, it baffled me as he wasn't receiving any odd look from those who passed by him, for is not every day one sees a man wearing such odd fashion, a full purple suit with gold adornments, a top hat and a golden mask covering his eyes. He waved at me, and when I came to my senses I was moving in his direction. I stopped in from of him, and he asked me if I would join him for dinner. Although wary of him, I couldn't refuse his proposal. I think that wasn't a choice...The man then gave me a bottle of wine, a suspiciously looking tawny, crimson red, almost like blood..." I grinned "...it tasted exactly like blood... I felt nauseated at first but didn't get far on my race to the toilet. When I came to my senses, I was in some sort of large dining hall, may I add I was in some sort of stupor, and I don't recall it details very much, it´s as if recalling a dream I ain't sure I had...", I paused for a moment "My host, sat across the dining table, wearing pharaoh adornments, in contrast to the string suit he displayed earlier. Again I did not speak, I could not speak, and he told me all about the menu, Chocho's delicacies as he described them..." &#x200B; "Was it good?", interrupted Y'golonac, his hands salivating. &#x200B; "Yes indeed, the pork ribs were phenomenal." I continued, "after we ate he invited me for a stroll beneath the stars, and so we did, although again my will played little role in the matter, as soon as the voices started to sing, again I entered some sort of stupor, I can't exactly recall their faces or their forms for that matter but I know they were the earth Gods, and when the moon was at its zenith, the Other Gods came howling and shrieking... and we danced and reveled atop Kadath in the cold waste..."	Its gets dark be warned John, at least that's what I call him, hovers next to me as I fix dinner. "Allen. How is it you haven't died in the four months I've been here?" "Well for one thing it's been four years not four months. And for two...." I turn toward him and turn the burners off. "And for two the monster inside me is much scarier than you John." He cocks what passes for his head to the side and asks "What do you mean Allen!?" "ITS NOT ONE OF THOSE PARASITIC ONES IS IT SO HELP..." "No its not John calm down you'll kill the neighbors" In a whisper barely audible even to me . "Sorry." "Please explain." After I wash my hands I start laying dinner out on the table. Homemade pizza and rice because John loves some rice. Sitting at the table I sigh then say " The things I've done John the things I've seen have changed me. Most of what you see of me is a mask I've created so that i can live without being bothered by anyone or anything." "What did you do Allen?" Letting my mask slip to show him i say voice ice-cold with no emotion as i put food on my plate. "I killed for hire John men women children animals anything I was asked to as long as the price was right. After a few years I had lots of money lots of it and I had just gotten a call for a job. Easy they said go in and poison the water supply." I stop take a few bites of food. Look around "John can you get me the irish whiskey from the cabinet?" clang "Thanks" "Anyway I poisoned the water supply then wait around cause I have to make sure the targets die. A group of school kids come by a good 20-30 they drink. Now this poison they gave me was supposed to be a quick one. It wasn't I watched them for 15 min then even the monster in me had enough." "Pass the salt please" BANG "Thanks" "I walk over and cut each of the kids throats." I look up Johns face? twisted in horror. "Told ya buddy my monster is worse than yours"
	[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you.	It was a balmy Wednesday afternoon for mid-October. Samhain was right around the corner and the Old One could feel the veil thinning with each passing minute. They could also feel the life force of Mildred ebbing and flowing with they day. Today was one of her weaker days. She stood up from her seat in front of the bay window as the teapot whistled from the kitchen. She turned to them and asked sweetly. “Does This One want to join me for a cup of tea?” Her voice shook but her smile was genuine. The Old One sat for a moment in contemplation before answering. “This One will.” The Old One followed her slow shuffles into the small kitchen just barely large enough for the two of them. Mildred pulled out a tea holder for the Old One and a series of four tins of loose leaf for the Old One to choose: an oolong from her neighbor’s granddaughter’s recent visit to a foreign land, two greens that were loosing their luster from age and a local black that was smooth as what Mildred called ‘butter.’ The Old One scooped from the black tea tin and added it to the holder before she came at them with the fresh boiled water from the stove. “This One has a question,” The Old One said after a log hesitation. “Yes, this One?” Despite her kindness she never asked specifically for the Old One’s name and always looked at them with a smile. Their friendship was long by her standards at least four score earth revolutions, but for the Old One, it was a drop in the bucket. “Many of your kind have looked upon my visage. You are the only one who has not given This One your mind as your body is lost to the void. Why?” Mildred’s face fell some, as if she was remembering something dark. Then like a switch the genuine smile had returned. “Whatever do you mean, This One?” “What have you seen?” The Old One put one of its tentacles on her hand. “Oh it’s nothing.” Despite the genuine smile present, her eyes were still clouded. They had known each other for years and she never spoke of her family. Never touched on where she had come. Each time she changed the subject. A cup of tea, it’s your turn for cribbage, they needed to go to bingo. “Do you still see it?” The Old One pressed further hoping to get some response as it touched her cheek to clear a tear. That was when it saw what it was. A man, separating Mildred from another woman, an operating table and a message. Arbeit Macht Frei	Its gets dark be warned John, at least that's what I call him, hovers next to me as I fix dinner. "Allen. How is it you haven't died in the four months I've been here?" "Well for one thing it's been four years not four months. And for two...." I turn toward him and turn the burners off. "And for two the monster inside me is much scarier than you John." He cocks what passes for his head to the side and asks "What do you mean Allen!?" "ITS NOT ONE OF THOSE PARASITIC ONES IS IT SO HELP..." "No its not John calm down you'll kill the neighbors" In a whisper barely audible even to me . "Sorry." "Please explain." After I wash my hands I start laying dinner out on the table. Homemade pizza and rice because John loves some rice. Sitting at the table I sigh then say " The things I've done John the things I've seen have changed me. Most of what you see of me is a mask I've created so that i can live without being bothered by anyone or anything." "What did you do Allen?" Letting my mask slip to show him i say voice ice-cold with no emotion as i put food on my plate. "I killed for hire John men women children animals anything I was asked to as long as the price was right. After a few years I had lots of money lots of it and I had just gotten a call for a job. Easy they said go in and poison the water supply." I stop take a few bites of food. Look around "John can you get me the irish whiskey from the cabinet?" clang "Thanks" "Anyway I poisoned the water supply then wait around cause I have to make sure the targets die. A group of school kids come by a good 20-30 they drink. Now this poison they gave me was supposed to be a quick one. It wasn't I watched them for 15 min then even the monster in me had enough." "Pass the salt please" BANG "Thanks" "I walk over and cut each of the kids throats." I look up Johns face? twisted in horror. "Told ya buddy my monster is worse than yours"
	[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you.	Little Emily wandered through the woods, unaware of the monster following her. Only five years old, she walked by herself, her blond pigtails swayed back in forth, her backpack up and down, her eyes scanning the terrain. She finally settled on a small stump, the rest of the tree laying down next to it. She pulled herself onto the stump, struggling because of her height. Finally sitting on the top of it, she placed her back in her lap. She was about to unzip it when a stick snapped to her left. She looked over. There stood a monster, no, a demon. It's large head was mostly eyeball, it's large mouth filled with teeth. Slimy tentacles slithered around it hunting for something to eat. It was horrifying. Emily looked at it and smiled. "Hello Manny!" The monster smiled back at her, "Hello Emily. How are you doing today?" "I'm good." She said, swinging her feet back and forth, "I brought you candy." Manny moved closer to her as she opened her backpack. She tossed him gummy bears and lollipops that he ate whole. When he was finished, he sat next to her while she popped a gum drop in her mouth. They sat there for a while when Manny turned to Emily, "Emily? Why aren't you afraid of me?" "Why? Should I be?" She turned to him, confused. "Many people are." "That sounds lonely." "It can be." They sat in comfortable silence again until Emily spoke, "You've never made me afraid. Daddy's meaner. At night, he get's all scary and yells at mommy. Sometimes he hurts me." Manny turned to Emily, pity in his eyes, "That's not okay." "Mommy says things will get better soon." Emily said, turning to him and smiling. Many looked to the direction Emily came from, "I think I saw a nice pond over there. Wanna go?" Emily jumped up, "Yes!" she said excitedly. Manny smiled a terrifying smile, grabbed her hand, and led her deeper into the wood.	Its gets dark be warned John, at least that's what I call him, hovers next to me as I fix dinner. "Allen. How is it you haven't died in the four months I've been here?" "Well for one thing it's been four years not four months. And for two...." I turn toward him and turn the burners off. "And for two the monster inside me is much scarier than you John." He cocks what passes for his head to the side and asks "What do you mean Allen!?" "ITS NOT ONE OF THOSE PARASITIC ONES IS IT SO HELP..." "No its not John calm down you'll kill the neighbors" In a whisper barely audible even to me . "Sorry." "Please explain." After I wash my hands I start laying dinner out on the table. Homemade pizza and rice because John loves some rice. Sitting at the table I sigh then say " The things I've done John the things I've seen have changed me. Most of what you see of me is a mask I've created so that i can live without being bothered by anyone or anything." "What did you do Allen?" Letting my mask slip to show him i say voice ice-cold with no emotion as i put food on my plate. "I killed for hire John men women children animals anything I was asked to as long as the price was right. After a few years I had lots of money lots of it and I had just gotten a call for a job. Easy they said go in and poison the water supply." I stop take a few bites of food. Look around "John can you get me the irish whiskey from the cabinet?" clang "Thanks" "Anyway I poisoned the water supply then wait around cause I have to make sure the targets die. A group of school kids come by a good 20-30 they drink. Now this poison they gave me was supposed to be a quick one. It wasn't I watched them for 15 min then even the monster in me had enough." "Pass the salt please" BANG "Thanks" "I walk over and cut each of the kids throats." I look up Johns face? twisted in horror. "Told ya buddy my monster is worse than yours"
	[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you.	"Man, 7:00 already?" I only had a little time before my bedtime (I get up pretty early), and I needed to finish my paper for my structural engineering class. I Closed Reddit, and pulled open Notepad (I don't like microsoft word.) I was beginning the process of staring blankly at the computer screen, when I heard a soft tapping at my door. I ignored it. The tapping got louder. I ignored it harder. The tapping turned into a pounding. "Not now, I'm working on a project." The pounding stopped... for a moment. Then, I heard a powerful knocking... it threatened to tear down my door. ...ugh... fine. Who was I kidding? I wasn't gonna get this paper done tonight anyway I opened the door. It stepped into my living room. It was a dark, shifting entity... how to describe? It appeared to be made of gas, but it moved like it had a skeleton... rather like it's body was covered by a thick layer of smoke in place of hair. Wherever it walked, it singed the ground. My house was covered in singe marks from previous visits. It was roughly humanoid in shape, at least from the neck down. It appeared stocky, with short legs, and long arms. Though it looked rather rotund, I knew from experience that it's solid body was scarcely more than skin and bone. It's arms were disproportionately long, as was it's neck. It's neck moved only from the bottom up, and flowed like a string submerged in water. If the creature wished to turn it's head, it first turned the base of the neck; the turn then traveled up the neck like a wave, until it finally reached the head. The head looked rather like that of a horse, cow, or deer, but I've never seen the thing open it's jaws. It may not even have them. The head was solid black, with two large, bulbous eyes. The eyes bulged out of the head, and had no visible iris or pupils. Then, the screaming... it was faint, but I could hear a thousand cries of fear and agony... the cries of the beast's previous victims. When the monster enveloped a person, or anything really, they sank into it's gaseous flesh, and entered a world of dark and cold and pain and nothing else. ...usually. it hadn't worked on me. I was abruptly pulled out of my head when the creature made a noise. It sounded like a man choking, and trying to say "hell"... or, rather, hello. "Hey, bud." ..."fffffeeeeeeeeddd.." "... all right, but only one bowl. My cat doesn't like sharing." I poured a bowl of kibble, and handed it to the creature. It took it in it's spindly arms, pressed the bowl against it's chest, and the bowl sank into the dark mass. ..."the bowl, please?" The creature stopped moving for a moment, and then. Reluctantly, reached one arm into it's body. The hand came out holding an empty, ceramic bowl. Not the one I'd given it, but close enough. "Thank you", I said as I put the bowl back in the cupboard. My dishes and cups no longer matched, but I didn't have time to care. I sat down on the couch. "So... you only here for cat food, or do you wanna talk?" The creature made a guttural sound. It sounded very much like the sound of a certain horror monster, but I forget it's name... the zombie girl that crawled around on the floor or something. The sound eventually turned into a ".......wwwwwwhhhhhhhyyyyyyy....". "Why what?" "........wwwwwwwwhhhhhhyyyyyyyyyy nnnoooo ssssiiiiiinnnnnnkk......?" Ah, I see. The creature was curious as to why I wasn't affected by it's otherworldly nature. "Sit down son, this is a long one." The creature sat down nest to me on the long since blackened couch. "So... it all started with this f*cking gorilla..."	"Me an my shadow" The centenarian sat in his room quietly talking to no one, it wasn't unusual to hear him laughing at an empty room, most of the staff chalked it up to their past, a Holocaust survivor, he survived as a young Jewish boy from Holland. The creature first appeared the night after liberation, after a hot meal and a shower the army medics deloused you then issued you fresh clothing, you're nauseous, not having eaten so much in what seemed a lifetime your body trys to reject the nutrition, a shock to its system, you retch, everything comes up, a corpsman comes over and hands you a towel to wipe your face, the sounds of heavy equipment and vehicles drown out part of the conversation " alright I'll get you some more water, just lay back, I'll be right over...." outside men are loading former prisoners into transports, the smell of the camp came through the open door..... the smell of death and decay, mixed in with urine and feces, nearby German POW's were digging mass graves and depositing bodies with urgency, cholera, typhoid, even bubonic plague was beginning to spread through an already compromised, barely alive group of human beings. The screams were the worst, the children being separated from their mothers, families torn apart, pleading, begging for some compassion only to be mocked and laughed at, the callousness and cruelty expressed in an almost bored and disinterested fashion, even when they shoot the children, like a swatting a fly. The mass executions were ramped up during the days prior to the allies arrival, thousands were killed and the bulldozers and slaves worked round the clock, shootings were so common that guards were afraid of running out of bullets and began double executions, one bullet, two kills, there were even contests to see how many could be shot with a single bullet, 3 children was the record, one of the guards had an old cavalry saber and became adept at beheadings, it was your job to pick up the heads and dispose of the bodies, from sunup to sundown. You're delirious, a fever is racking your body, your kidneys are trying to shut down, the medic has started a iv to keep you hydrated, another gives you a shot of a new miracle drug, they called it "penicillin ", your mind is elsewhere, it's spring in Amsterdam, the flowers are in bloom, the smell of fresh bread and coffee coming up the stairs to your room, you get up and dress for school, then a crash and the sounds of shouting, armed soldiers are downstairs, they are beating your father, one of them smashes his skull with the butt of a rifle, your mother screams and an SS officer shoots her dead, they grab you and throw you into the back of a truck and you are driven to the train station. In a dream you see the creature, a dark and brooding presence, they speak to you " they say that I'm evil and dangerous , but from what I have seen I should be afraid of you", you laugh, imagine, someone afraid of me!
	[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you.	“Haha, that was so fun!” Cthulhy said, jumping up and down. “Let's go again!” “Hold on, hold on,” I said, out of breath, my hands on my knees. “It was a lot, let me just... take a minute.” “Oh come on, you're so old and slow!” she said, pouting and curling her fists. “Old? Who are you calling old?” “Umm, about that,” she said, twirling her fingers and looking away sheepishly. “I wanted to ask you. Why aren't you scared?” “Scared? What do you mean?” “Well, normally, when people see me, they run screaming. It makes me feel bad and lonely. But!” She looked up at me, her eyes shimmering. “Then I found you, and you aren't scared! And, and, you're actually pretty fun and funny! I just wanted to know, why is that?” She tilted her head, looking at me inquisitively. “Why? Umm, well, you know... I just see you differently than everyone else. Everyone focuses on the negatives, but I focus on the positives!” “Positives instead of negatives?” She put her finger on her mouth, thinking about what I said. “Hmmm...” “Yeah, I guess you could say when it comes to you I just have a better perspective!” “Awww, thanks! You always know what to say!” She beamed at me. “Anyways, want to go again?” “Sure, why not?” I shrugged my shoulders and smiled. “Okay, ready?” She took me by one hand and held up the other. “Three, two, one.” Her hands warped into long claws, her face started growing tentacles, her form growing into great and terrible infinitude. I realized my hand was not holding her hand; it was attached to her shapeless dark-green form. All of me was. I was but a small parasite-mate on her thick carapace. I gazed down at the city we had just destroyed, its husk burning dimly below. “Remember,” she said, her voice terribly booming, echoing from deep within her, within us, “focus on the positives.” A wet smacking noise reverberated through her body, which I somehow instinctively understood: laughter. And in that moment, I heard an echo of the cute, distinctly human-looking woman I had seen just moments before, and I smiled, and closed my eyes and drifted off to the throbbing hums of dulcet melodies- perhaps a lullaby? But where in all the endless stretches of heavens would there exist a midwife to this strange being before me? No, above me? No, within me? My mind drifted off as she repeated from within and without: “Focus on the positives.”	"Me an my shadow" The centenarian sat in his room quietly talking to no one, it wasn't unusual to hear him laughing at an empty room, most of the staff chalked it up to their past, a Holocaust survivor, he survived as a young Jewish boy from Holland. The creature first appeared the night after liberation, after a hot meal and a shower the army medics deloused you then issued you fresh clothing, you're nauseous, not having eaten so much in what seemed a lifetime your body trys to reject the nutrition, a shock to its system, you retch, everything comes up, a corpsman comes over and hands you a towel to wipe your face, the sounds of heavy equipment and vehicles drown out part of the conversation " alright I'll get you some more water, just lay back, I'll be right over...." outside men are loading former prisoners into transports, the smell of the camp came through the open door..... the smell of death and decay, mixed in with urine and feces, nearby German POW's were digging mass graves and depositing bodies with urgency, cholera, typhoid, even bubonic plague was beginning to spread through an already compromised, barely alive group of human beings. The screams were the worst, the children being separated from their mothers, families torn apart, pleading, begging for some compassion only to be mocked and laughed at, the callousness and cruelty expressed in an almost bored and disinterested fashion, even when they shoot the children, like a swatting a fly. The mass executions were ramped up during the days prior to the allies arrival, thousands were killed and the bulldozers and slaves worked round the clock, shootings were so common that guards were afraid of running out of bullets and began double executions, one bullet, two kills, there were even contests to see how many could be shot with a single bullet, 3 children was the record, one of the guards had an old cavalry saber and became adept at beheadings, it was your job to pick up the heads and dispose of the bodies, from sunup to sundown. You're delirious, a fever is racking your body, your kidneys are trying to shut down, the medic has started a iv to keep you hydrated, another gives you a shot of a new miracle drug, they called it "penicillin ", your mind is elsewhere, it's spring in Amsterdam, the flowers are in bloom, the smell of fresh bread and coffee coming up the stairs to your room, you get up and dress for school, then a crash and the sounds of shouting, armed soldiers are downstairs, they are beating your father, one of them smashes his skull with the butt of a rifle, your mother screams and an SS officer shoots her dead, they grab you and throw you into the back of a truck and you are driven to the train station. In a dream you see the creature, a dark and brooding presence, they speak to you " they say that I'm evil and dangerous , but from what I have seen I should be afraid of you", you laugh, imagine, someone afraid of me!
	[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you.	"... it's been, what, three months now?" Ẓ̷̢̌̕ȧ̸͖̈g̷̞͎͂r̵̜̒̋ù̴͙̔ṣ̴͌̽ again had that expression about him. If you were careful, you could see the many eyes across his being, popping in and out of perceptibility, each raise its respective brow incredulously. He let the squeak of the metal swing sound once more. "I'm flattered you remember how long it's been." And impressed she could still keep time in his presence. "How could I forget? It was the most quiet my neighbors had been in ages." Meg let crack a sly yet genuinely happy smile. "̸͓̮͚̽͌͋And you nearly bled out like they did, too."̷̢̗̭͝ Little scaled & furry finger tips appeared to prod Meg teasingly in most of her tickly spots. Tensing instinctively, she realized not a one poked her where she wasn't okay with, and enjoyed a giggle. "Hey, there was still a cat with a sprained tail on my porch. Only made sense to bring you a bowl of milk... even with napkins shoved up my face." "̷̢̗̭͝You know that... wasn't milk you gave me."̸͓̮͚̽͌͋ "No, it was definitely milk. It tasted like milk, right?" "̷̞͆..."̷̞͆ Definitely didn't taste like what it was. Zaggy knew it tasted like milk only because Meg willed it so. Breathing the very essence of life and sentience, he usually tasted things like abject horror, bone ripped through pulsing flesh, and pineapple on pizza. All perfectly natural parts of a growing horror's diet, mind. But it was the first time someone willed something for him, instead of at. First time someone could see he was injured and needed help, too. Turns out, though, he didn't like milk. Meg looked at one of his tails, and watched it flick and sway from side to side with ease. She could even make out the rhythm of his breath, slower now than that first night, feeling the occasional breeze before he inhaled the life of it, too. "Does this mean you need to go now?" Another push of the swing, and off he went through the still air. "̷͖̘̀̎͜... you would have me stay? I do not believe your family could take much more of my being."̴͚̿ Tears welled up and dripped down her cheeks, without a hint of change in her dry demeanor and high pitched tone. "Yeah. It's nice and quiet with you around, and my nose bleeds have even stopped!" He only ventured to find out where those tears came from once, having sniffed at her cheek, and all he got was a faces full of lilac. They then spent the weekend mopping up his nosebleed, all the while Meg laughed at the irony, and rushing to make sure every trace of Lilac in the house was thrown out. Whatever place those tears came from, felt more hollow and dark than the wake the oldest of his kind would leave behind. Still, that 'quiet' was important to her, and he appreciated the subsequent snacks... odd as the tastes she came up with were. "Besides, who else is gonna finish The Good Place with me?" She geared up, and gave one big push. Tendrils grasped at the chains as Zaggy's eyes widened from the sudden rush. He jumped at the apex, floated down, and landed with an unceremonious, screeching thump. That undulating and swaying facade refracted the breeze and thoughts his breath drew in along the way. Meg could see the eyes and scales and screams and teeth galore, if she focused. It was beautiful for her, and made her wonder if this is what optical illusions were like, changing as she moved her eyes across, yet still when she was. "̵̖̃Okay, but how about popcorn this time? I don't think I've tried that yet."̵̖̃	"Me an my shadow" The centenarian sat in his room quietly talking to no one, it wasn't unusual to hear him laughing at an empty room, most of the staff chalked it up to their past, a Holocaust survivor, he survived as a young Jewish boy from Holland. The creature first appeared the night after liberation, after a hot meal and a shower the army medics deloused you then issued you fresh clothing, you're nauseous, not having eaten so much in what seemed a lifetime your body trys to reject the nutrition, a shock to its system, you retch, everything comes up, a corpsman comes over and hands you a towel to wipe your face, the sounds of heavy equipment and vehicles drown out part of the conversation " alright I'll get you some more water, just lay back, I'll be right over...." outside men are loading former prisoners into transports, the smell of the camp came through the open door..... the smell of death and decay, mixed in with urine and feces, nearby German POW's were digging mass graves and depositing bodies with urgency, cholera, typhoid, even bubonic plague was beginning to spread through an already compromised, barely alive group of human beings. The screams were the worst, the children being separated from their mothers, families torn apart, pleading, begging for some compassion only to be mocked and laughed at, the callousness and cruelty expressed in an almost bored and disinterested fashion, even when they shoot the children, like a swatting a fly. The mass executions were ramped up during the days prior to the allies arrival, thousands were killed and the bulldozers and slaves worked round the clock, shootings were so common that guards were afraid of running out of bullets and began double executions, one bullet, two kills, there were even contests to see how many could be shot with a single bullet, 3 children was the record, one of the guards had an old cavalry saber and became adept at beheadings, it was your job to pick up the heads and dispose of the bodies, from sunup to sundown. You're delirious, a fever is racking your body, your kidneys are trying to shut down, the medic has started a iv to keep you hydrated, another gives you a shot of a new miracle drug, they called it "penicillin ", your mind is elsewhere, it's spring in Amsterdam, the flowers are in bloom, the smell of fresh bread and coffee coming up the stairs to your room, you get up and dress for school, then a crash and the sounds of shouting, armed soldiers are downstairs, they are beating your father, one of them smashes his skull with the butt of a rifle, your mother screams and an SS officer shoots her dead, they grab you and throw you into the back of a truck and you are driven to the train station. In a dream you see the creature, a dark and brooding presence, they speak to you " they say that I'm evil and dangerous , but from what I have seen I should be afraid of you", you laugh, imagine, someone afraid of me!
	[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you.	We had been... friends was a strong word, from my point of view, but I certainly was it's best friend (as apparently everyone else who had gazed upon it in the past was dead) for about six months. I assumed it could only appear to a single soul at a time, and as I hadn't melted into a screaming, mad pile of goo yet, it couldn't move on to another. So there we were. Average human and... that. Stuck with each other. We couldn't quite talk in the normal sense, but after a while, we had come up with a way to understand and be understood by each other. Little pushes and pulls of emotion, certain tilts of its... head? I honestly dont even know if you could call it a head, but that was the bit that seemed to contain whatever sensory equivalent to eyes that it had. I even managed to teach it a bit of rudimentary sign language using its... appendages. Honestly I could give it's body parts names like tentacles or claws or teeth, but none of it quite seemed real or even entirely there most of the time, and it just gave me the idea of a tentacle rather than actually appearing to be one. It defied any ability to describe what it actually looked like. It didn't tend to follow me when I left the house, but was always lingering near the door to start drifting in what I assume was usually a quite horrifying manner behind me whenever I got home. As our ability to communicate grew more complex, it eventually managed to pose a question that confused me at first. Not because it was difficult to reply, but because I couldn't understand how it didn't already know the answer. Why hadn't I been driven mad by it? Why was I able to remain undisturbed by its presence? "Why? Dude, haven't you looked at the calendar?" It gave a confused wriggle of what I assumed were limbs currently in another dimension. "It's 2020, bro. You're the least disturbing thing in my life right now. You want some coffee?"	"Me an my shadow" The centenarian sat in his room quietly talking to no one, it wasn't unusual to hear him laughing at an empty room, most of the staff chalked it up to their past, a Holocaust survivor, he survived as a young Jewish boy from Holland. The creature first appeared the night after liberation, after a hot meal and a shower the army medics deloused you then issued you fresh clothing, you're nauseous, not having eaten so much in what seemed a lifetime your body trys to reject the nutrition, a shock to its system, you retch, everything comes up, a corpsman comes over and hands you a towel to wipe your face, the sounds of heavy equipment and vehicles drown out part of the conversation " alright I'll get you some more water, just lay back, I'll be right over...." outside men are loading former prisoners into transports, the smell of the camp came through the open door..... the smell of death and decay, mixed in with urine and feces, nearby German POW's were digging mass graves and depositing bodies with urgency, cholera, typhoid, even bubonic plague was beginning to spread through an already compromised, barely alive group of human beings. The screams were the worst, the children being separated from their mothers, families torn apart, pleading, begging for some compassion only to be mocked and laughed at, the callousness and cruelty expressed in an almost bored and disinterested fashion, even when they shoot the children, like a swatting a fly. The mass executions were ramped up during the days prior to the allies arrival, thousands were killed and the bulldozers and slaves worked round the clock, shootings were so common that guards were afraid of running out of bullets and began double executions, one bullet, two kills, there were even contests to see how many could be shot with a single bullet, 3 children was the record, one of the guards had an old cavalry saber and became adept at beheadings, it was your job to pick up the heads and dispose of the bodies, from sunup to sundown. You're delirious, a fever is racking your body, your kidneys are trying to shut down, the medic has started a iv to keep you hydrated, another gives you a shot of a new miracle drug, they called it "penicillin ", your mind is elsewhere, it's spring in Amsterdam, the flowers are in bloom, the smell of fresh bread and coffee coming up the stairs to your room, you get up and dress for school, then a crash and the sounds of shouting, armed soldiers are downstairs, they are beating your father, one of them smashes his skull with the butt of a rifle, your mother screams and an SS officer shoots her dead, they grab you and throw you into the back of a truck and you are driven to the train station. In a dream you see the creature, a dark and brooding presence, they speak to you " they say that I'm evil and dangerous , but from what I have seen I should be afraid of you", you laugh, imagine, someone afraid of me!
	[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you.	"... it's been, what, three months now?" Ẓ̷̢̌̕ȧ̸͖̈g̷̞͎͂r̵̜̒̋ù̴͙̔ṣ̴͌̽ again had that expression about him. If you were careful, you could see the many eyes across his being, popping in and out of perceptibility, each raise its respective brow incredulously. He let the squeak of the metal swing sound once more. "I'm flattered you remember how long it's been." And impressed she could still keep time in his presence. "How could I forget? It was the most quiet my neighbors had been in ages." Meg let crack a sly yet genuinely happy smile. "̸͓̮͚̽͌͋And you nearly bled out like they did, too."̷̢̗̭͝ Little scaled & furry finger tips appeared to prod Meg teasingly in most of her tickly spots. Tensing instinctively, she realized not a one poked her where she wasn't okay with, and enjoyed a giggle. "Hey, there was still a cat with a sprained tail on my porch. Only made sense to bring you a bowl of milk... even with napkins shoved up my face." "̷̢̗̭͝You know that... wasn't milk you gave me."̸͓̮͚̽͌͋ "No, it was definitely milk. It tasted like milk, right?" "̷̞͆..."̷̞͆ Definitely didn't taste like what it was. Zaggy knew it tasted like milk only because Meg willed it so. Breathing the very essence of life and sentience, he usually tasted things like abject horror, bone ripped through pulsing flesh, and pineapple on pizza. All perfectly natural parts of a growing horror's diet, mind. But it was the first time someone willed something for him, instead of at. First time someone could see he was injured and needed help, too. Turns out, though, he didn't like milk. Meg looked at one of his tails, and watched it flick and sway from side to side with ease. She could even make out the rhythm of his breath, slower now than that first night, feeling the occasional breeze before he inhaled the life of it, too. "Does this mean you need to go now?" Another push of the swing, and off he went through the still air. "̷͖̘̀̎͜... you would have me stay? I do not believe your family could take much more of my being."̴͚̿ Tears welled up and dripped down her cheeks, without a hint of change in her dry demeanor and high pitched tone. "Yeah. It's nice and quiet with you around, and my nose bleeds have even stopped!" He only ventured to find out where those tears came from once, having sniffed at her cheek, and all he got was a faces full of lilac. They then spent the weekend mopping up his nosebleed, all the while Meg laughed at the irony, and rushing to make sure every trace of Lilac in the house was thrown out. Whatever place those tears came from, felt more hollow and dark than the wake the oldest of his kind would leave behind. Still, that 'quiet' was important to her, and he appreciated the subsequent snacks... odd as the tastes she came up with were. "Besides, who else is gonna finish The Good Place with me?" She geared up, and gave one big push. Tendrils grasped at the chains as Zaggy's eyes widened from the sudden rush. He jumped at the apex, floated down, and landed with an unceremonious, screeching thump. That undulating and swaying facade refracted the breeze and thoughts his breath drew in along the way. Meg could see the eyes and scales and screams and teeth galore, if she focused. It was beautiful for her, and made her wonder if this is what optical illusions were like, changing as she moved her eyes across, yet still when she was. "̵̖̃Okay, but how about popcorn this time? I don't think I've tried that yet."̵̖̃	You look back at them with the same emotionless expression you always have. What stared back at you was a sight that drove most mortals wild. Tentacles came out of every direction, eyes shifted in and out of the twisted and gnarled mass, while the chittering of teeth indicated some kind of a unseen mouth. It spoke in a language that made sense to everyone but no one could quite place what it was. “Do you recall the tale of 2020?” The horror shook its head. Or rather, shook what for it counted as a head. It was more of a mess of tentacles and eyes that food dissolved into so you always assumed. Several unblinking eyes stared into your soul as it awaited an answer with bated breath. If it breathed. “I worked retail.” The beast understood. For hell hath no fury like that of a moderately inconvenienced customer.
	[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you.	We had been... friends was a strong word, from my point of view, but I certainly was it's best friend (as apparently everyone else who had gazed upon it in the past was dead) for about six months. I assumed it could only appear to a single soul at a time, and as I hadn't melted into a screaming, mad pile of goo yet, it couldn't move on to another. So there we were. Average human and... that. Stuck with each other. We couldn't quite talk in the normal sense, but after a while, we had come up with a way to understand and be understood by each other. Little pushes and pulls of emotion, certain tilts of its... head? I honestly dont even know if you could call it a head, but that was the bit that seemed to contain whatever sensory equivalent to eyes that it had. I even managed to teach it a bit of rudimentary sign language using its... appendages. Honestly I could give it's body parts names like tentacles or claws or teeth, but none of it quite seemed real or even entirely there most of the time, and it just gave me the idea of a tentacle rather than actually appearing to be one. It defied any ability to describe what it actually looked like. It didn't tend to follow me when I left the house, but was always lingering near the door to start drifting in what I assume was usually a quite horrifying manner behind me whenever I got home. As our ability to communicate grew more complex, it eventually managed to pose a question that confused me at first. Not because it was difficult to reply, but because I couldn't understand how it didn't already know the answer. Why hadn't I been driven mad by it? Why was I able to remain undisturbed by its presence? "Why? Dude, haven't you looked at the calendar?" It gave a confused wriggle of what I assumed were limbs currently in another dimension. "It's 2020, bro. You're the least disturbing thing in my life right now. You want some coffee?"	You look back at them with the same emotionless expression you always have. What stared back at you was a sight that drove most mortals wild. Tentacles came out of every direction, eyes shifted in and out of the twisted and gnarled mass, while the chittering of teeth indicated some kind of a unseen mouth. It spoke in a language that made sense to everyone but no one could quite place what it was. “Do you recall the tale of 2020?” The horror shook its head. Or rather, shook what for it counted as a head. It was more of a mess of tentacles and eyes that food dissolved into so you always assumed. Several unblinking eyes stared into your soul as it awaited an answer with bated breath. If it breathed. “I worked retail.” The beast understood. For hell hath no fury like that of a moderately inconvenienced customer.
	[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you.	"... it's been, what, three months now?" Ẓ̷̢̌̕ȧ̸͖̈g̷̞͎͂r̵̜̒̋ù̴͙̔ṣ̴͌̽ again had that expression about him. If you were careful, you could see the many eyes across his being, popping in and out of perceptibility, each raise its respective brow incredulously. He let the squeak of the metal swing sound once more. "I'm flattered you remember how long it's been." And impressed she could still keep time in his presence. "How could I forget? It was the most quiet my neighbors had been in ages." Meg let crack a sly yet genuinely happy smile. "̸͓̮͚̽͌͋And you nearly bled out like they did, too."̷̢̗̭͝ Little scaled & furry finger tips appeared to prod Meg teasingly in most of her tickly spots. Tensing instinctively, she realized not a one poked her where she wasn't okay with, and enjoyed a giggle. "Hey, there was still a cat with a sprained tail on my porch. Only made sense to bring you a bowl of milk... even with napkins shoved up my face." "̷̢̗̭͝You know that... wasn't milk you gave me."̸͓̮͚̽͌͋ "No, it was definitely milk. It tasted like milk, right?" "̷̞͆..."̷̞͆ Definitely didn't taste like what it was. Zaggy knew it tasted like milk only because Meg willed it so. Breathing the very essence of life and sentience, he usually tasted things like abject horror, bone ripped through pulsing flesh, and pineapple on pizza. All perfectly natural parts of a growing horror's diet, mind. But it was the first time someone willed something for him, instead of at. First time someone could see he was injured and needed help, too. Turns out, though, he didn't like milk. Meg looked at one of his tails, and watched it flick and sway from side to side with ease. She could even make out the rhythm of his breath, slower now than that first night, feeling the occasional breeze before he inhaled the life of it, too. "Does this mean you need to go now?" Another push of the swing, and off he went through the still air. "̷͖̘̀̎͜... you would have me stay? I do not believe your family could take much more of my being."̴͚̿ Tears welled up and dripped down her cheeks, without a hint of change in her dry demeanor and high pitched tone. "Yeah. It's nice and quiet with you around, and my nose bleeds have even stopped!" He only ventured to find out where those tears came from once, having sniffed at her cheek, and all he got was a faces full of lilac. They then spent the weekend mopping up his nosebleed, all the while Meg laughed at the irony, and rushing to make sure every trace of Lilac in the house was thrown out. Whatever place those tears came from, felt more hollow and dark than the wake the oldest of his kind would leave behind. Still, that 'quiet' was important to her, and he appreciated the subsequent snacks... odd as the tastes she came up with were. "Besides, who else is gonna finish The Good Place with me?" She geared up, and gave one big push. Tendrils grasped at the chains as Zaggy's eyes widened from the sudden rush. He jumped at the apex, floated down, and landed with an unceremonious, screeching thump. That undulating and swaying facade refracted the breeze and thoughts his breath drew in along the way. Meg could see the eyes and scales and screams and teeth galore, if she focused. It was beautiful for her, and made her wonder if this is what optical illusions were like, changing as she moved her eyes across, yet still when she was. "̵̖̃Okay, but how about popcorn this time? I don't think I've tried that yet."̵̖̃	"Ten thousand years ago, I watched all things come to an end. I witnessed true cosmic horror in the form of universal destabilization, a High and Glorious End to All Things. I was cursed with eternity, as you where. While you were granted an abominable form, I was left to the weakness of my original flesh. You serve chaos, but I have seen true entropy, the Withering of reality and time itself, cascading through past, present, and future as all things left with nary a whimper." I smiled at the beast, with eyes black as coal, and a mind that was shattered a thousand times over long, long ago.
	[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you.	"... it's been, what, three months now?" Ẓ̷̢̌̕ȧ̸͖̈g̷̞͎͂r̵̜̒̋ù̴͙̔ṣ̴͌̽ again had that expression about him. If you were careful, you could see the many eyes across his being, popping in and out of perceptibility, each raise its respective brow incredulously. He let the squeak of the metal swing sound once more. "I'm flattered you remember how long it's been." And impressed she could still keep time in his presence. "How could I forget? It was the most quiet my neighbors had been in ages." Meg let crack a sly yet genuinely happy smile. "̸͓̮͚̽͌͋And you nearly bled out like they did, too."̷̢̗̭͝ Little scaled & furry finger tips appeared to prod Meg teasingly in most of her tickly spots. Tensing instinctively, she realized not a one poked her where she wasn't okay with, and enjoyed a giggle. "Hey, there was still a cat with a sprained tail on my porch. Only made sense to bring you a bowl of milk... even with napkins shoved up my face." "̷̢̗̭͝You know that... wasn't milk you gave me."̸͓̮͚̽͌͋ "No, it was definitely milk. It tasted like milk, right?" "̷̞͆..."̷̞͆ Definitely didn't taste like what it was. Zaggy knew it tasted like milk only because Meg willed it so. Breathing the very essence of life and sentience, he usually tasted things like abject horror, bone ripped through pulsing flesh, and pineapple on pizza. All perfectly natural parts of a growing horror's diet, mind. But it was the first time someone willed something for him, instead of at. First time someone could see he was injured and needed help, too. Turns out, though, he didn't like milk. Meg looked at one of his tails, and watched it flick and sway from side to side with ease. She could even make out the rhythm of his breath, slower now than that first night, feeling the occasional breeze before he inhaled the life of it, too. "Does this mean you need to go now?" Another push of the swing, and off he went through the still air. "̷͖̘̀̎͜... you would have me stay? I do not believe your family could take much more of my being."̴͚̿ Tears welled up and dripped down her cheeks, without a hint of change in her dry demeanor and high pitched tone. "Yeah. It's nice and quiet with you around, and my nose bleeds have even stopped!" He only ventured to find out where those tears came from once, having sniffed at her cheek, and all he got was a faces full of lilac. They then spent the weekend mopping up his nosebleed, all the while Meg laughed at the irony, and rushing to make sure every trace of Lilac in the house was thrown out. Whatever place those tears came from, felt more hollow and dark than the wake the oldest of his kind would leave behind. Still, that 'quiet' was important to her, and he appreciated the subsequent snacks... odd as the tastes she came up with were. "Besides, who else is gonna finish The Good Place with me?" She geared up, and gave one big push. Tendrils grasped at the chains as Zaggy's eyes widened from the sudden rush. He jumped at the apex, floated down, and landed with an unceremonious, screeching thump. That undulating and swaying facade refracted the breeze and thoughts his breath drew in along the way. Meg could see the eyes and scales and screams and teeth galore, if she focused. It was beautiful for her, and made her wonder if this is what optical illusions were like, changing as she moved her eyes across, yet still when she was. "̵̖̃Okay, but how about popcorn this time? I don't think I've tried that yet."̵̖̃	"Man, 7:00 already?" I only had a little time before my bedtime (I get up pretty early), and I needed to finish my paper for my structural engineering class. I Closed Reddit, and pulled open Notepad (I don't like microsoft word.) I was beginning the process of staring blankly at the computer screen, when I heard a soft tapping at my door. I ignored it. The tapping got louder. I ignored it harder. The tapping turned into a pounding. "Not now, I'm working on a project." The pounding stopped... for a moment. Then, I heard a powerful knocking... it threatened to tear down my door. ...ugh... fine. Who was I kidding? I wasn't gonna get this paper done tonight anyway I opened the door. It stepped into my living room. It was a dark, shifting entity... how to describe? It appeared to be made of gas, but it moved like it had a skeleton... rather like it's body was covered by a thick layer of smoke in place of hair. Wherever it walked, it singed the ground. My house was covered in singe marks from previous visits. It was roughly humanoid in shape, at least from the neck down. It appeared stocky, with short legs, and long arms. Though it looked rather rotund, I knew from experience that it's solid body was scarcely more than skin and bone. It's arms were disproportionately long, as was it's neck. It's neck moved only from the bottom up, and flowed like a string submerged in water. If the creature wished to turn it's head, it first turned the base of the neck; the turn then traveled up the neck like a wave, until it finally reached the head. The head looked rather like that of a horse, cow, or deer, but I've never seen the thing open it's jaws. It may not even have them. The head was solid black, with two large, bulbous eyes. The eyes bulged out of the head, and had no visible iris or pupils. Then, the screaming... it was faint, but I could hear a thousand cries of fear and agony... the cries of the beast's previous victims. When the monster enveloped a person, or anything really, they sank into it's gaseous flesh, and entered a world of dark and cold and pain and nothing else. ...usually. it hadn't worked on me. I was abruptly pulled out of my head when the creature made a noise. It sounded like a man choking, and trying to say "hell"... or, rather, hello. "Hey, bud." ..."fffffeeeeeeeeddd.." "... all right, but only one bowl. My cat doesn't like sharing." I poured a bowl of kibble, and handed it to the creature. It took it in it's spindly arms, pressed the bowl against it's chest, and the bowl sank into the dark mass. ..."the bowl, please?" The creature stopped moving for a moment, and then. Reluctantly, reached one arm into it's body. The hand came out holding an empty, ceramic bowl. Not the one I'd given it, but close enough. "Thank you", I said as I put the bowl back in the cupboard. My dishes and cups no longer matched, but I didn't have time to care. I sat down on the couch. "So... you only here for cat food, or do you wanna talk?" The creature made a guttural sound. It sounded very much like the sound of a certain horror monster, but I forget it's name... the zombie girl that crawled around on the floor or something. The sound eventually turned into a ".......wwwwwwhhhhhhhyyyyyyy....". "Why what?" "........wwwwwwwwhhhhhhyyyyyyyyyy nnnoooo ssssiiiiiinnnnnnkk......?" Ah, I see. The creature was curious as to why I wasn't affected by it's otherworldly nature. "Sit down son, this is a long one." The creature sat down nest to me on the long since blackened couch. "So... it all started with this f*cking gorilla..."
	[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you.	We had been... friends was a strong word, from my point of view, but I certainly was it's best friend (as apparently everyone else who had gazed upon it in the past was dead) for about six months. I assumed it could only appear to a single soul at a time, and as I hadn't melted into a screaming, mad pile of goo yet, it couldn't move on to another. So there we were. Average human and... that. Stuck with each other. We couldn't quite talk in the normal sense, but after a while, we had come up with a way to understand and be understood by each other. Little pushes and pulls of emotion, certain tilts of its... head? I honestly dont even know if you could call it a head, but that was the bit that seemed to contain whatever sensory equivalent to eyes that it had. I even managed to teach it a bit of rudimentary sign language using its... appendages. Honestly I could give it's body parts names like tentacles or claws or teeth, but none of it quite seemed real or even entirely there most of the time, and it just gave me the idea of a tentacle rather than actually appearing to be one. It defied any ability to describe what it actually looked like. It didn't tend to follow me when I left the house, but was always lingering near the door to start drifting in what I assume was usually a quite horrifying manner behind me whenever I got home. As our ability to communicate grew more complex, it eventually managed to pose a question that confused me at first. Not because it was difficult to reply, but because I couldn't understand how it didn't already know the answer. Why hadn't I been driven mad by it? Why was I able to remain undisturbed by its presence? "Why? Dude, haven't you looked at the calendar?" It gave a confused wriggle of what I assumed were limbs currently in another dimension. "It's 2020, bro. You're the least disturbing thing in my life right now. You want some coffee?"	"Man, 7:00 already?" I only had a little time before my bedtime (I get up pretty early), and I needed to finish my paper for my structural engineering class. I Closed Reddit, and pulled open Notepad (I don't like microsoft word.) I was beginning the process of staring blankly at the computer screen, when I heard a soft tapping at my door. I ignored it. The tapping got louder. I ignored it harder. The tapping turned into a pounding. "Not now, I'm working on a project." The pounding stopped... for a moment. Then, I heard a powerful knocking... it threatened to tear down my door. ...ugh... fine. Who was I kidding? I wasn't gonna get this paper done tonight anyway I opened the door. It stepped into my living room. It was a dark, shifting entity... how to describe? It appeared to be made of gas, but it moved like it had a skeleton... rather like it's body was covered by a thick layer of smoke in place of hair. Wherever it walked, it singed the ground. My house was covered in singe marks from previous visits. It was roughly humanoid in shape, at least from the neck down. It appeared stocky, with short legs, and long arms. Though it looked rather rotund, I knew from experience that it's solid body was scarcely more than skin and bone. It's arms were disproportionately long, as was it's neck. It's neck moved only from the bottom up, and flowed like a string submerged in water. If the creature wished to turn it's head, it first turned the base of the neck; the turn then traveled up the neck like a wave, until it finally reached the head. The head looked rather like that of a horse, cow, or deer, but I've never seen the thing open it's jaws. It may not even have them. The head was solid black, with two large, bulbous eyes. The eyes bulged out of the head, and had no visible iris or pupils. Then, the screaming... it was faint, but I could hear a thousand cries of fear and agony... the cries of the beast's previous victims. When the monster enveloped a person, or anything really, they sank into it's gaseous flesh, and entered a world of dark and cold and pain and nothing else. ...usually. it hadn't worked on me. I was abruptly pulled out of my head when the creature made a noise. It sounded like a man choking, and trying to say "hell"... or, rather, hello. "Hey, bud." ..."fffffeeeeeeeeddd.." "... all right, but only one bowl. My cat doesn't like sharing." I poured a bowl of kibble, and handed it to the creature. It took it in it's spindly arms, pressed the bowl against it's chest, and the bowl sank into the dark mass. ..."the bowl, please?" The creature stopped moving for a moment, and then. Reluctantly, reached one arm into it's body. The hand came out holding an empty, ceramic bowl. Not the one I'd given it, but close enough. "Thank you", I said as I put the bowl back in the cupboard. My dishes and cups no longer matched, but I didn't have time to care. I sat down on the couch. "So... you only here for cat food, or do you wanna talk?" The creature made a guttural sound. It sounded very much like the sound of a certain horror monster, but I forget it's name... the zombie girl that crawled around on the floor or something. The sound eventually turned into a ".......wwwwwwhhhhhhhyyyyyyy....". "Why what?" "........wwwwwwwwhhhhhhyyyyyyyyyy nnnoooo ssssiiiiiinnnnnnkk......?" Ah, I see. The creature was curious as to why I wasn't affected by it's otherworldly nature. "Sit down son, this is a long one." The creature sat down nest to me on the long since blackened couch. "So... it all started with this f*cking gorilla..."
	[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you.	“Haha, that was so fun!” Cthulhy said, jumping up and down. “Let's go again!” “Hold on, hold on,” I said, out of breath, my hands on my knees. “It was a lot, let me just... take a minute.” “Oh come on, you're so old and slow!” she said, pouting and curling her fists. “Old? Who are you calling old?” “Umm, about that,” she said, twirling her fingers and looking away sheepishly. “I wanted to ask you. Why aren't you scared?” “Scared? What do you mean?” “Well, normally, when people see me, they run screaming. It makes me feel bad and lonely. But!” She looked up at me, her eyes shimmering. “Then I found you, and you aren't scared! And, and, you're actually pretty fun and funny! I just wanted to know, why is that?” She tilted her head, looking at me inquisitively. “Why? Umm, well, you know... I just see you differently than everyone else. Everyone focuses on the negatives, but I focus on the positives!” “Positives instead of negatives?” She put her finger on her mouth, thinking about what I said. “Hmmm...” “Yeah, I guess you could say when it comes to you I just have a better perspective!” “Awww, thanks! You always know what to say!” She beamed at me. “Anyways, want to go again?” “Sure, why not?” I shrugged my shoulders and smiled. “Okay, ready?” She took me by one hand and held up the other. “Three, two, one.” Her hands warped into long claws, her face started growing tentacles, her form growing into great and terrible infinitude. I realized my hand was not holding her hand; it was attached to her shapeless dark-green form. All of me was. I was but a small parasite-mate on her thick carapace. I gazed down at the city we had just destroyed, its husk burning dimly below. “Remember,” she said, her voice terribly booming, echoing from deep within her, within us, “focus on the positives.” A wet smacking noise reverberated through her body, which I somehow instinctively understood: laughter. And in that moment, I heard an echo of the cute, distinctly human-looking woman I had seen just moments before, and I smiled, and closed my eyes and drifted off to the throbbing hums of dulcet melodies- perhaps a lullaby? But where in all the endless stretches of heavens would there exist a midwife to this strange being before me? No, above me? No, within me? My mind drifted off as she repeated from within and without: “Focus on the positives.”	The coffee was cold and stale. Cigarette smoke hung in the air, and the tables were filled with people. Books covered the tables, and cigarette burns, ashes and half empty coffee cups were everywhere. It was 15 minutes before close before it settled in. Don't know if it came in through the doors or the window. But it settled into a chair next to me. After a brief shudder, I poured it a cup of coffee. I grabbed the book in front of me, opened it to a page and handed it over. I whispered, this is the topic. Is this your first meeting? With a nod, the newcomer looked at me. I shook my head, pointed at the book, and said, "Read this first." The meeting ended, and the newest member joined for the Gratitude Statement. I grabbed their tentacle and sat back down. "You sit here, and wait for everyone to leave. We are going to have a talk." I hugged some good friends as they left, letting them know I would lock up. I poured another cup of coffee and the horror thanked me. I asked why they were here, of all places. I laughed, and laughed loudly at the answer. Okay, okay, I get it. They wanted to take us down. "You know you are just another addict right, no different than the rest of us. You've probably killed, stolen and destroyed everyone you could right?" At the being's nod, I replied... "So did I. You are in the right place." I bought a set of literature from the bookstore, and handed them over. "These are yours to keep. someone did this for me at my first meeting. Here is a schedule, get to the next meeting on time. Here is my phone number, you need to call me every day, no matter what. I will sponsor you, but you don't know what a sponsor is yet, don't worry you will learn." The question, when it came wasn't a shock. The horror in front of me asked, "Why are you being so kind to me? I came here to feed on your fears, and yet you are being kind. I could destroy you." I laughed again, "Dude, here you are just another addict coming to a meeting to get a fix on their problem. Your pain is our pain, your actions are our actions. I can see who and what you are. Don't worry, I've faced worse. I'm being kind, to pay back the person who carried the message to me." "But..." the horror started backing out of the chair. "Just stop. Read these books. You won't get a rise out of me. Want another cup of coffee?" "Why don't I scare you?" I smiled. "I was raised by a narcissist Irish Catholic Step-mother. Not much you can do to top that." I hugged them and started cleaning up the tables, and the horror left. I sat down after the work was done, lit a cigarette and called my sponsor. "Hey gorgeous, another newcomer tonight, how are you? She laughed and said, "another one of your step mother's relatives walked in didn't they?" "Yep, heading home. Will check in tomorrow after the meeting. Love ya madly." I shut the lights off, locked the door and headed home.
	[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you.	"... it's been, what, three months now?" Ẓ̷̢̌̕ȧ̸͖̈g̷̞͎͂r̵̜̒̋ù̴͙̔ṣ̴͌̽ again had that expression about him. If you were careful, you could see the many eyes across his being, popping in and out of perceptibility, each raise its respective brow incredulously. He let the squeak of the metal swing sound once more. "I'm flattered you remember how long it's been." And impressed she could still keep time in his presence. "How could I forget? It was the most quiet my neighbors had been in ages." Meg let crack a sly yet genuinely happy smile. "̸͓̮͚̽͌͋And you nearly bled out like they did, too."̷̢̗̭͝ Little scaled & furry finger tips appeared to prod Meg teasingly in most of her tickly spots. Tensing instinctively, she realized not a one poked her where she wasn't okay with, and enjoyed a giggle. "Hey, there was still a cat with a sprained tail on my porch. Only made sense to bring you a bowl of milk... even with napkins shoved up my face." "̷̢̗̭͝You know that... wasn't milk you gave me."̸͓̮͚̽͌͋ "No, it was definitely milk. It tasted like milk, right?" "̷̞͆..."̷̞͆ Definitely didn't taste like what it was. Zaggy knew it tasted like milk only because Meg willed it so. Breathing the very essence of life and sentience, he usually tasted things like abject horror, bone ripped through pulsing flesh, and pineapple on pizza. All perfectly natural parts of a growing horror's diet, mind. But it was the first time someone willed something for him, instead of at. First time someone could see he was injured and needed help, too. Turns out, though, he didn't like milk. Meg looked at one of his tails, and watched it flick and sway from side to side with ease. She could even make out the rhythm of his breath, slower now than that first night, feeling the occasional breeze before he inhaled the life of it, too. "Does this mean you need to go now?" Another push of the swing, and off he went through the still air. "̷͖̘̀̎͜... you would have me stay? I do not believe your family could take much more of my being."̴͚̿ Tears welled up and dripped down her cheeks, without a hint of change in her dry demeanor and high pitched tone. "Yeah. It's nice and quiet with you around, and my nose bleeds have even stopped!" He only ventured to find out where those tears came from once, having sniffed at her cheek, and all he got was a faces full of lilac. They then spent the weekend mopping up his nosebleed, all the while Meg laughed at the irony, and rushing to make sure every trace of Lilac in the house was thrown out. Whatever place those tears came from, felt more hollow and dark than the wake the oldest of his kind would leave behind. Still, that 'quiet' was important to her, and he appreciated the subsequent snacks... odd as the tastes she came up with were. "Besides, who else is gonna finish The Good Place with me?" She geared up, and gave one big push. Tendrils grasped at the chains as Zaggy's eyes widened from the sudden rush. He jumped at the apex, floated down, and landed with an unceremonious, screeching thump. That undulating and swaying facade refracted the breeze and thoughts his breath drew in along the way. Meg could see the eyes and scales and screams and teeth galore, if she focused. It was beautiful for her, and made her wonder if this is what optical illusions were like, changing as she moved her eyes across, yet still when she was. "̵̖̃Okay, but how about popcorn this time? I don't think I've tried that yet."̵̖̃	The coffee was cold and stale. Cigarette smoke hung in the air, and the tables were filled with people. Books covered the tables, and cigarette burns, ashes and half empty coffee cups were everywhere. It was 15 minutes before close before it settled in. Don't know if it came in through the doors or the window. But it settled into a chair next to me. After a brief shudder, I poured it a cup of coffee. I grabbed the book in front of me, opened it to a page and handed it over. I whispered, this is the topic. Is this your first meeting? With a nod, the newcomer looked at me. I shook my head, pointed at the book, and said, "Read this first." The meeting ended, and the newest member joined for the Gratitude Statement. I grabbed their tentacle and sat back down. "You sit here, and wait for everyone to leave. We are going to have a talk." I hugged some good friends as they left, letting them know I would lock up. I poured another cup of coffee and the horror thanked me. I asked why they were here, of all places. I laughed, and laughed loudly at the answer. Okay, okay, I get it. They wanted to take us down. "You know you are just another addict right, no different than the rest of us. You've probably killed, stolen and destroyed everyone you could right?" At the being's nod, I replied... "So did I. You are in the right place." I bought a set of literature from the bookstore, and handed them over. "These are yours to keep. someone did this for me at my first meeting. Here is a schedule, get to the next meeting on time. Here is my phone number, you need to call me every day, no matter what. I will sponsor you, but you don't know what a sponsor is yet, don't worry you will learn." The question, when it came wasn't a shock. The horror in front of me asked, "Why are you being so kind to me? I came here to feed on your fears, and yet you are being kind. I could destroy you." I laughed again, "Dude, here you are just another addict coming to a meeting to get a fix on their problem. Your pain is our pain, your actions are our actions. I can see who and what you are. Don't worry, I've faced worse. I'm being kind, to pay back the person who carried the message to me." "But..." the horror started backing out of the chair. "Just stop. Read these books. You won't get a rise out of me. Want another cup of coffee?" "Why don't I scare you?" I smiled. "I was raised by a narcissist Irish Catholic Step-mother. Not much you can do to top that." I hugged them and started cleaning up the tables, and the horror left. I sat down after the work was done, lit a cigarette and called my sponsor. "Hey gorgeous, another newcomer tonight, how are you? She laughed and said, "another one of your step mother's relatives walked in didn't they?" "Yep, heading home. Will check in tomorrow after the meeting. Love ya madly." I shut the lights off, locked the door and headed home.
	[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you.	We had been... friends was a strong word, from my point of view, but I certainly was it's best friend (as apparently everyone else who had gazed upon it in the past was dead) for about six months. I assumed it could only appear to a single soul at a time, and as I hadn't melted into a screaming, mad pile of goo yet, it couldn't move on to another. So there we were. Average human and... that. Stuck with each other. We couldn't quite talk in the normal sense, but after a while, we had come up with a way to understand and be understood by each other. Little pushes and pulls of emotion, certain tilts of its... head? I honestly dont even know if you could call it a head, but that was the bit that seemed to contain whatever sensory equivalent to eyes that it had. I even managed to teach it a bit of rudimentary sign language using its... appendages. Honestly I could give it's body parts names like tentacles or claws or teeth, but none of it quite seemed real or even entirely there most of the time, and it just gave me the idea of a tentacle rather than actually appearing to be one. It defied any ability to describe what it actually looked like. It didn't tend to follow me when I left the house, but was always lingering near the door to start drifting in what I assume was usually a quite horrifying manner behind me whenever I got home. As our ability to communicate grew more complex, it eventually managed to pose a question that confused me at first. Not because it was difficult to reply, but because I couldn't understand how it didn't already know the answer. Why hadn't I been driven mad by it? Why was I able to remain undisturbed by its presence? "Why? Dude, haven't you looked at the calendar?" It gave a confused wriggle of what I assumed were limbs currently in another dimension. "It's 2020, bro. You're the least disturbing thing in my life right now. You want some coffee?"	The coffee was cold and stale. Cigarette smoke hung in the air, and the tables were filled with people. Books covered the tables, and cigarette burns, ashes and half empty coffee cups were everywhere. It was 15 minutes before close before it settled in. Don't know if it came in through the doors or the window. But it settled into a chair next to me. After a brief shudder, I poured it a cup of coffee. I grabbed the book in front of me, opened it to a page and handed it over. I whispered, this is the topic. Is this your first meeting? With a nod, the newcomer looked at me. I shook my head, pointed at the book, and said, "Read this first." The meeting ended, and the newest member joined for the Gratitude Statement. I grabbed their tentacle and sat back down. "You sit here, and wait for everyone to leave. We are going to have a talk." I hugged some good friends as they left, letting them know I would lock up. I poured another cup of coffee and the horror thanked me. I asked why they were here, of all places. I laughed, and laughed loudly at the answer. Okay, okay, I get it. They wanted to take us down. "You know you are just another addict right, no different than the rest of us. You've probably killed, stolen and destroyed everyone you could right?" At the being's nod, I replied... "So did I. You are in the right place." I bought a set of literature from the bookstore, and handed them over. "These are yours to keep. someone did this for me at my first meeting. Here is a schedule, get to the next meeting on time. Here is my phone number, you need to call me every day, no matter what. I will sponsor you, but you don't know what a sponsor is yet, don't worry you will learn." The question, when it came wasn't a shock. The horror in front of me asked, "Why are you being so kind to me? I came here to feed on your fears, and yet you are being kind. I could destroy you." I laughed again, "Dude, here you are just another addict coming to a meeting to get a fix on their problem. Your pain is our pain, your actions are our actions. I can see who and what you are. Don't worry, I've faced worse. I'm being kind, to pay back the person who carried the message to me." "But..." the horror started backing out of the chair. "Just stop. Read these books. You won't get a rise out of me. Want another cup of coffee?" "Why don't I scare you?" I smiled. "I was raised by a narcissist Irish Catholic Step-mother. Not much you can do to top that." I hugged them and started cleaning up the tables, and the horror left. I sat down after the work was done, lit a cigarette and called my sponsor. "Hey gorgeous, another newcomer tonight, how are you? She laughed and said, "another one of your step mother's relatives walked in didn't they?" "Yep, heading home. Will check in tomorrow after the meeting. Love ya madly." I shut the lights off, locked the door and headed home.
	[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you.	"... it's been, what, three months now?" Ẓ̷̢̌̕ȧ̸͖̈g̷̞͎͂r̵̜̒̋ù̴͙̔ṣ̴͌̽ again had that expression about him. If you were careful, you could see the many eyes across his being, popping in and out of perceptibility, each raise its respective brow incredulously. He let the squeak of the metal swing sound once more. "I'm flattered you remember how long it's been." And impressed she could still keep time in his presence. "How could I forget? It was the most quiet my neighbors had been in ages." Meg let crack a sly yet genuinely happy smile. "̸͓̮͚̽͌͋And you nearly bled out like they did, too."̷̢̗̭͝ Little scaled & furry finger tips appeared to prod Meg teasingly in most of her tickly spots. Tensing instinctively, she realized not a one poked her where she wasn't okay with, and enjoyed a giggle. "Hey, there was still a cat with a sprained tail on my porch. Only made sense to bring you a bowl of milk... even with napkins shoved up my face." "̷̢̗̭͝You know that... wasn't milk you gave me."̸͓̮͚̽͌͋ "No, it was definitely milk. It tasted like milk, right?" "̷̞͆..."̷̞͆ Definitely didn't taste like what it was. Zaggy knew it tasted like milk only because Meg willed it so. Breathing the very essence of life and sentience, he usually tasted things like abject horror, bone ripped through pulsing flesh, and pineapple on pizza. All perfectly natural parts of a growing horror's diet, mind. But it was the first time someone willed something for him, instead of at. First time someone could see he was injured and needed help, too. Turns out, though, he didn't like milk. Meg looked at one of his tails, and watched it flick and sway from side to side with ease. She could even make out the rhythm of his breath, slower now than that first night, feeling the occasional breeze before he inhaled the life of it, too. "Does this mean you need to go now?" Another push of the swing, and off he went through the still air. "̷͖̘̀̎͜... you would have me stay? I do not believe your family could take much more of my being."̴͚̿ Tears welled up and dripped down her cheeks, without a hint of change in her dry demeanor and high pitched tone. "Yeah. It's nice and quiet with you around, and my nose bleeds have even stopped!" He only ventured to find out where those tears came from once, having sniffed at her cheek, and all he got was a faces full of lilac. They then spent the weekend mopping up his nosebleed, all the while Meg laughed at the irony, and rushing to make sure every trace of Lilac in the house was thrown out. Whatever place those tears came from, felt more hollow and dark than the wake the oldest of his kind would leave behind. Still, that 'quiet' was important to her, and he appreciated the subsequent snacks... odd as the tastes she came up with were. "Besides, who else is gonna finish The Good Place with me?" She geared up, and gave one big push. Tendrils grasped at the chains as Zaggy's eyes widened from the sudden rush. He jumped at the apex, floated down, and landed with an unceremonious, screeching thump. That undulating and swaying facade refracted the breeze and thoughts his breath drew in along the way. Meg could see the eyes and scales and screams and teeth galore, if she focused. It was beautiful for her, and made her wonder if this is what optical illusions were like, changing as she moved her eyes across, yet still when she was. "̵̖̃Okay, but how about popcorn this time? I don't think I've tried that yet."̵̖̃	The Friend Maker -- Chapter 7 Susan and Joe met deep in the dark wood. Susan had been singing an eerie, sorrowful song at midnight, smiling, and Joe just thought it was just so beautiful. He could not resist its charms. He was drawn forward. And the moment she saw him, her eyes brightened and her cheeks dimpled. He had never been so astounded in a hundred years. Joe stammered, "You're not frightened of me." "Well Joe, my mother was a necromancer. I grew up in the wilderness. My childhood companions and caretakers were ghouls, skeletons, and zombies. You're a bit more intense than they were, but I get you. My mother taught me that appearances don't matter. 'It's what on the inside that counts.'" That was the first time that anyone had ever grasped Joe's hand since his death. Susan talked to him for hours as they walked through the forest. Joe was forever changed.
	[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you.	We had been... friends was a strong word, from my point of view, but I certainly was it's best friend (as apparently everyone else who had gazed upon it in the past was dead) for about six months. I assumed it could only appear to a single soul at a time, and as I hadn't melted into a screaming, mad pile of goo yet, it couldn't move on to another. So there we were. Average human and... that. Stuck with each other. We couldn't quite talk in the normal sense, but after a while, we had come up with a way to understand and be understood by each other. Little pushes and pulls of emotion, certain tilts of its... head? I honestly dont even know if you could call it a head, but that was the bit that seemed to contain whatever sensory equivalent to eyes that it had. I even managed to teach it a bit of rudimentary sign language using its... appendages. Honestly I could give it's body parts names like tentacles or claws or teeth, but none of it quite seemed real or even entirely there most of the time, and it just gave me the idea of a tentacle rather than actually appearing to be one. It defied any ability to describe what it actually looked like. It didn't tend to follow me when I left the house, but was always lingering near the door to start drifting in what I assume was usually a quite horrifying manner behind me whenever I got home. As our ability to communicate grew more complex, it eventually managed to pose a question that confused me at first. Not because it was difficult to reply, but because I couldn't understand how it didn't already know the answer. Why hadn't I been driven mad by it? Why was I able to remain undisturbed by its presence? "Why? Dude, haven't you looked at the calendar?" It gave a confused wriggle of what I assumed were limbs currently in another dimension. "It's 2020, bro. You're the least disturbing thing in my life right now. You want some coffee?"	The Friend Maker -- Chapter 7 Susan and Joe met deep in the dark wood. Susan had been singing an eerie, sorrowful song at midnight, smiling, and Joe just thought it was just so beautiful. He could not resist its charms. He was drawn forward. And the moment she saw him, her eyes brightened and her cheeks dimpled. He had never been so astounded in a hundred years. Joe stammered, "You're not frightened of me." "Well Joe, my mother was a necromancer. I grew up in the wilderness. My childhood companions and caretakers were ghouls, skeletons, and zombies. You're a bit more intense than they were, but I get you. My mother taught me that appearances don't matter. 'It's what on the inside that counts.'" That was the first time that anyone had ever grasped Joe's hand since his death. Susan talked to him for hours as they walked through the forest. Joe was forever changed.
	[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you.	"No, but really. Last week you saw me eating the soul of a screaming infant. No fear. None. Even by human standards... That should have at least disgusted you." Mike just shrugged, his eyes never leaving the video game as he expertly worked the controls. "You don't like pizza. Who am I to judge. Besides you were just trying to get a rise out of me." The Unnameable Last simply stared silently at his friend for a moment, not that you could tell by looking at it. Spawned eons ago, in ages long before the first of millions of Big Bangs it had witnessed as the universe rebirthed itself throughout eternity, it didn't actually have eyes to tell where it was looking. But you could feel it staring. Whatever it's origins, it embodied whatever life itself feared that could perceive it. Predators, supernatural horrors like vampires or demons, or even natural disasters like thunderstorms. Even darkness itself, if that was what you feared, that is what it would become in reality. It fed on emotions - pain and torment were particular favorites - but having survived for an eternity of eternities it could draw sustenance from everything. That it thought pizza was gross was the most concerning fact to its human friend. To Mike, The Unnameable Last was a formless void. Not because Mike feared nothingness, but because evidently there was nothing Mike feared for longer than the space of a single breath. Which was, now that Nameless (as Mike ironically nicknamed him) had gotten used to it, a bit of a relief. Ordinarily, the only time The Unnameable Last could choose their form was in between Big Bangs. Absent life, the Unnamed Last was absent the influences that made up it's preferred diet of intense, emotional suffering. But what is the point in changing your form when there is nothing to do? There had never been a reason to contemplate this before Mike. And Mike was certainly a puzzle. At 34, Mike strived to do as little as possible save for playing video games, watching TV and movies, and reading books. When he traveled at all, he would do these things in new locations. He wasn't averse to variety, but he didn't seem it out. When The Unnameable Last first encountered Mike, it was on a cruise ship that had neared his layer in the Bermuda Triangle. Feeling peckish The Unnameable Last boarded the ship, confounded the captain, and began to feast on the fears of all aboard, killing some to heighten the fear of others. Mike was... Cautious. Observant. He had fear, yes, but... Not the tasty kind. It was... Different somehow. Bland. The Unnameable Last had never tasted bland fear before. Not in an intelligent species at least. But the more it worked to heighten Mike's fear, the blander it became until eventually all of Mike's fear vanished within the first week of the Eldritch horror's boarding of the vessel. The Unnameable Last was planning on feeding for only a couple of weeks. Human minds cannot handle fear for too long, as fragile as they are to the intense, delicious emotions they produced. But by the end of the first week of his "haunting", in spite of murders and horrors made real as they circled the Bermuda Triangle, Mike had established what seemed like... A comfortable routine for himself. At around 11AM, he would make his way past the screams of tormented passengers to the kitchen, where he would make himself some breakfast. The second he would notice a horror, rather than defend himself, he would intentionally ignore it and go back to what he was doing. Cooking, eating, reading, playing video games, he simply refused to be distracted from these activities for long. By the end of the third month, Mike was the only person alive left on board. He had added "housekeeping" to his list of activities, spending a bit of time each day cleaning up the areas of the ship he would inhabit. Not the pool, unfortunately, since that was filled with blood and viscera. But the final straw for The Unnameable Last was when it realized it was CHOOSING horrors to create fear rather than simply becoming those horrors. It recalled the weeks of attempting to torment Mike and it realized it was choosing forms since after the first week. It was a bit unnerving. So when Mike looked up as he was hauling a body over the side and said, "You know, it's a real dick move to make this mess and not clean it up. I'm not your maid. This is gross. If we're stuck together, you can at least not be a dick about it." the Unnameable Last had had enough. "How do you not fear me?" Mike just shrugged. "I don't see why I should tell you. We're not friends. Your curiosity ain't my problem. Why should I tell you anything if you don't even have a name?" "I am the Unnameable Last, and I am your Doom." It replied. "Uh huh. I'm Mike. Nice to meet you. So, Nameless, you gonna help cleanup or just threaten to kill me? At the very least, if you are going to kill me, do it before I finish cleaning up please? I would hate to have to die tired." He replied matter of factly. If Nameless could blink, it would have. Instead it just, much to its own surprise, began to help Mike clean up as it continued to talk to him. A week later, Mike pointed out that they could just as easily hang out at his apartment as they could in the ghost ship, and that would be a nice thing for Mike if Nameless could make that happen. "You are welcome to stay. You're a pretty decent roommate as long as you pick up after yourself." And so they did. 4 years later, they had fallen into a comfortable routine, and Nameless was still mystified by the riddle of Mike's complete lack of fear. He worked hard to devise torments and horrors for his friend, but was careful to respect the bounds of their friendship. When he asked Mike why he would continue being friends in spite of the attempts to torment him, Mike would just shrug and say, "I knew what you were like when I asked if you wanted to move in. You keep your word and you haven't tried to kill me. I should expect you will stop trying to scare me when that is all you have ever done?" It was an incredibly fair point, Nameless had to admit. But today was different. They had been friends for years now, and unlike in their first meeting, Mike did not have a reason to answer his question. "Look. Whatever else is true about you, you are alive. You would rather not be dead. That is the only thing we need to have in common for me to not be afraid of you. Because being alive just means you want stuff that won't kill you. So you want different things than I do. So what?" "Because what I want is the joy of your suffering?" Nameless pointed out. "Do you really? No. You want food. Delicious food. And you didn't choose that. I didn't choose to find pizza delicious. You didn't choose human torment. Shit just happens." Nameless could be felt nodding, but then asked, "But that makes you my food." Mike shrugs. "Sure. And I could eat a dog too. If you can eat something, that makes it food. Doesn't stop it from being a friend. Loneliness can be a form of hunger, and friendship can be it's of form of food. I imagine it must be pretty lonely being a reflection of terror and fear. Or at least pretty boring. You've been around. You've seen a bunch. You're smart. Smart enough to appreciate that sharing time with someone or something else is harder to find than a tasty meal. As soon as I realized that we might be able to have a conversation, I stopped being afraid, because you stopped being a nameless horror and you started being alive, and smart enough to maybe be a friend. And if I was wrong, I was dead anyway, so I might as well make the most out of the time I had." Nameless sat stunned. "Aren't you scared I might kill you now that I know?" Mike shrugged. "Not as scared as you are of being as bored as you will without me. I'm your friend because I am interesting and you like how you can be yourself. You're my friend for the same reason. For an Eldritch Horror, you sure can overthink shit. Grab me a beer, will ya? " With what felt like a sigh, Nameless went to the fridge and grabbed a beer for him and his friend.	The Friend Maker -- Chapter 7 Susan and Joe met deep in the dark wood. Susan had been singing an eerie, sorrowful song at midnight, smiling, and Joe just thought it was just so beautiful. He could not resist its charms. He was drawn forward. And the moment she saw him, her eyes brightened and her cheeks dimpled. He had never been so astounded in a hundred years. Joe stammered, "You're not frightened of me." "Well Joe, my mother was a necromancer. I grew up in the wilderness. My childhood companions and caretakers were ghouls, skeletons, and zombies. You're a bit more intense than they were, but I get you. My mother taught me that appearances don't matter. 'It's what on the inside that counts.'" That was the first time that anyone had ever grasped Joe's hand since his death. Susan talked to him for hours as they walked through the forest. Joe was forever changed.
	[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you.	"... it's been, what, three months now?" Ẓ̷̢̌̕ȧ̸͖̈g̷̞͎͂r̵̜̒̋ù̴͙̔ṣ̴͌̽ again had that expression about him. If you were careful, you could see the many eyes across his being, popping in and out of perceptibility, each raise its respective brow incredulously. He let the squeak of the metal swing sound once more. "I'm flattered you remember how long it's been." And impressed she could still keep time in his presence. "How could I forget? It was the most quiet my neighbors had been in ages." Meg let crack a sly yet genuinely happy smile. "̸͓̮͚̽͌͋And you nearly bled out like they did, too."̷̢̗̭͝ Little scaled & furry finger tips appeared to prod Meg teasingly in most of her tickly spots. Tensing instinctively, she realized not a one poked her where she wasn't okay with, and enjoyed a giggle. "Hey, there was still a cat with a sprained tail on my porch. Only made sense to bring you a bowl of milk... even with napkins shoved up my face." "̷̢̗̭͝You know that... wasn't milk you gave me."̸͓̮͚̽͌͋ "No, it was definitely milk. It tasted like milk, right?" "̷̞͆..."̷̞͆ Definitely didn't taste like what it was. Zaggy knew it tasted like milk only because Meg willed it so. Breathing the very essence of life and sentience, he usually tasted things like abject horror, bone ripped through pulsing flesh, and pineapple on pizza. All perfectly natural parts of a growing horror's diet, mind. But it was the first time someone willed something for him, instead of at. First time someone could see he was injured and needed help, too. Turns out, though, he didn't like milk. Meg looked at one of his tails, and watched it flick and sway from side to side with ease. She could even make out the rhythm of his breath, slower now than that first night, feeling the occasional breeze before he inhaled the life of it, too. "Does this mean you need to go now?" Another push of the swing, and off he went through the still air. "̷͖̘̀̎͜... you would have me stay? I do not believe your family could take much more of my being."̴͚̿ Tears welled up and dripped down her cheeks, without a hint of change in her dry demeanor and high pitched tone. "Yeah. It's nice and quiet with you around, and my nose bleeds have even stopped!" He only ventured to find out where those tears came from once, having sniffed at her cheek, and all he got was a faces full of lilac. They then spent the weekend mopping up his nosebleed, all the while Meg laughed at the irony, and rushing to make sure every trace of Lilac in the house was thrown out. Whatever place those tears came from, felt more hollow and dark than the wake the oldest of his kind would leave behind. Still, that 'quiet' was important to her, and he appreciated the subsequent snacks... odd as the tastes she came up with were. "Besides, who else is gonna finish The Good Place with me?" She geared up, and gave one big push. Tendrils grasped at the chains as Zaggy's eyes widened from the sudden rush. He jumped at the apex, floated down, and landed with an unceremonious, screeching thump. That undulating and swaying facade refracted the breeze and thoughts his breath drew in along the way. Meg could see the eyes and scales and screams and teeth galore, if she focused. It was beautiful for her, and made her wonder if this is what optical illusions were like, changing as she moved her eyes across, yet still when she was. "̵̖̃Okay, but how about popcorn this time? I don't think I've tried that yet."̵̖̃	“Haha, that was so fun!” Cthulhy said, jumping up and down. “Let's go again!” “Hold on, hold on,” I said, out of breath, my hands on my knees. “It was a lot, let me just... take a minute.” “Oh come on, you're so old and slow!” she said, pouting and curling her fists. “Old? Who are you calling old?” “Umm, about that,” she said, twirling her fingers and looking away sheepishly. “I wanted to ask you. Why aren't you scared?” “Scared? What do you mean?” “Well, normally, when people see me, they run screaming. It makes me feel bad and lonely. But!” She looked up at me, her eyes shimmering. “Then I found you, and you aren't scared! And, and, you're actually pretty fun and funny! I just wanted to know, why is that?” She tilted her head, looking at me inquisitively. “Why? Umm, well, you know... I just see you differently than everyone else. Everyone focuses on the negatives, but I focus on the positives!” “Positives instead of negatives?” She put her finger on her mouth, thinking about what I said. “Hmmm...” “Yeah, I guess you could say when it comes to you I just have a better perspective!” “Awww, thanks! You always know what to say!” She beamed at me. “Anyways, want to go again?” “Sure, why not?” I shrugged my shoulders and smiled. “Okay, ready?” She took me by one hand and held up the other. “Three, two, one.” Her hands warped into long claws, her face started growing tentacles, her form growing into great and terrible infinitude. I realized my hand was not holding her hand; it was attached to her shapeless dark-green form. All of me was. I was but a small parasite-mate on her thick carapace. I gazed down at the city we had just destroyed, its husk burning dimly below. “Remember,” she said, her voice terribly booming, echoing from deep within her, within us, “focus on the positives.” A wet smacking noise reverberated through her body, which I somehow instinctively understood: laughter. And in that moment, I heard an echo of the cute, distinctly human-looking woman I had seen just moments before, and I smiled, and closed my eyes and drifted off to the throbbing hums of dulcet melodies- perhaps a lullaby? But where in all the endless stretches of heavens would there exist a midwife to this strange being before me? No, above me? No, within me? My mind drifted off as she repeated from within and without: “Focus on the positives.”
	[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you.	We had been... friends was a strong word, from my point of view, but I certainly was it's best friend (as apparently everyone else who had gazed upon it in the past was dead) for about six months. I assumed it could only appear to a single soul at a time, and as I hadn't melted into a screaming, mad pile of goo yet, it couldn't move on to another. So there we were. Average human and... that. Stuck with each other. We couldn't quite talk in the normal sense, but after a while, we had come up with a way to understand and be understood by each other. Little pushes and pulls of emotion, certain tilts of its... head? I honestly dont even know if you could call it a head, but that was the bit that seemed to contain whatever sensory equivalent to eyes that it had. I even managed to teach it a bit of rudimentary sign language using its... appendages. Honestly I could give it's body parts names like tentacles or claws or teeth, but none of it quite seemed real or even entirely there most of the time, and it just gave me the idea of a tentacle rather than actually appearing to be one. It defied any ability to describe what it actually looked like. It didn't tend to follow me when I left the house, but was always lingering near the door to start drifting in what I assume was usually a quite horrifying manner behind me whenever I got home. As our ability to communicate grew more complex, it eventually managed to pose a question that confused me at first. Not because it was difficult to reply, but because I couldn't understand how it didn't already know the answer. Why hadn't I been driven mad by it? Why was I able to remain undisturbed by its presence? "Why? Dude, haven't you looked at the calendar?" It gave a confused wriggle of what I assumed were limbs currently in another dimension. "It's 2020, bro. You're the least disturbing thing in my life right now. You want some coffee?"	“Haha, that was so fun!” Cthulhy said, jumping up and down. “Let's go again!” “Hold on, hold on,” I said, out of breath, my hands on my knees. “It was a lot, let me just... take a minute.” “Oh come on, you're so old and slow!” she said, pouting and curling her fists. “Old? Who are you calling old?” “Umm, about that,” she said, twirling her fingers and looking away sheepishly. “I wanted to ask you. Why aren't you scared?” “Scared? What do you mean?” “Well, normally, when people see me, they run screaming. It makes me feel bad and lonely. But!” She looked up at me, her eyes shimmering. “Then I found you, and you aren't scared! And, and, you're actually pretty fun and funny! I just wanted to know, why is that?” She tilted her head, looking at me inquisitively. “Why? Umm, well, you know... I just see you differently than everyone else. Everyone focuses on the negatives, but I focus on the positives!” “Positives instead of negatives?” She put her finger on her mouth, thinking about what I said. “Hmmm...” “Yeah, I guess you could say when it comes to you I just have a better perspective!” “Awww, thanks! You always know what to say!” She beamed at me. “Anyways, want to go again?” “Sure, why not?” I shrugged my shoulders and smiled. “Okay, ready?” She took me by one hand and held up the other. “Three, two, one.” Her hands warped into long claws, her face started growing tentacles, her form growing into great and terrible infinitude. I realized my hand was not holding her hand; it was attached to her shapeless dark-green form. All of me was. I was but a small parasite-mate on her thick carapace. I gazed down at the city we had just destroyed, its husk burning dimly below. “Remember,” she said, her voice terribly booming, echoing from deep within her, within us, “focus on the positives.” A wet smacking noise reverberated through her body, which I somehow instinctively understood: laughter. And in that moment, I heard an echo of the cute, distinctly human-looking woman I had seen just moments before, and I smiled, and closed my eyes and drifted off to the throbbing hums of dulcet melodies- perhaps a lullaby? But where in all the endless stretches of heavens would there exist a midwife to this strange being before me? No, above me? No, within me? My mind drifted off as she repeated from within and without: “Focus on the positives.”
	[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you.	We had been... friends was a strong word, from my point of view, but I certainly was it's best friend (as apparently everyone else who had gazed upon it in the past was dead) for about six months. I assumed it could only appear to a single soul at a time, and as I hadn't melted into a screaming, mad pile of goo yet, it couldn't move on to another. So there we were. Average human and... that. Stuck with each other. We couldn't quite talk in the normal sense, but after a while, we had come up with a way to understand and be understood by each other. Little pushes and pulls of emotion, certain tilts of its... head? I honestly dont even know if you could call it a head, but that was the bit that seemed to contain whatever sensory equivalent to eyes that it had. I even managed to teach it a bit of rudimentary sign language using its... appendages. Honestly I could give it's body parts names like tentacles or claws or teeth, but none of it quite seemed real or even entirely there most of the time, and it just gave me the idea of a tentacle rather than actually appearing to be one. It defied any ability to describe what it actually looked like. It didn't tend to follow me when I left the house, but was always lingering near the door to start drifting in what I assume was usually a quite horrifying manner behind me whenever I got home. As our ability to communicate grew more complex, it eventually managed to pose a question that confused me at first. Not because it was difficult to reply, but because I couldn't understand how it didn't already know the answer. Why hadn't I been driven mad by it? Why was I able to remain undisturbed by its presence? "Why? Dude, haven't you looked at the calendar?" It gave a confused wriggle of what I assumed were limbs currently in another dimension. "It's 2020, bro. You're the least disturbing thing in my life right now. You want some coffee?"	We walked slowly along the dirt path, enjoying the crisp air and the crunch of leaves underfoot, the colors of fall making the trees around us practically glow with oranges and reds. Tom (let's be real here, I've never been able to pronounce his name, let alone spell it) trundled beside me, a thoughtful look on his face. At least, it may have been thoughtful. Hard to tell through the scales on his face and the shadows that swirl around him constantly. I paused on the path and faced him, noting that the shadows were moving faster than normal, almost agitated. "Alright", I said. "Spill it. What's bugging you?". He sighed. "I don't know Jen, I just don't get it. Why aren't you terrified of me?". I grinned. "That's it? Thousands upon thousands of years old, you've seen the rise and fall of countless peoples and ages, and you're bothered because I'm not afraid of you?". Tom glared at me, trying to look menacing. "Pretty much, yes". I sighed. "I was a foster kid in Philly." Tom winced and shook his head. "That explains it. Those people... There are things even I wouldn't stoop to..." I grab his hand and tug, urging him to keep walking. "Come on, I've got popcorn at home and we want to get back in time for all the trick or treaters. You promised me you'd scare them this year." He starts moving again, keeping pace with me. "Alright, but I pick the movie." First time, posting from mobile during my lunch break. Have a fantastic day, folks!
	[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you.	"No, but really. Last week you saw me eating the soul of a screaming infant. No fear. None. Even by human standards... That should have at least disgusted you." Mike just shrugged, his eyes never leaving the video game as he expertly worked the controls. "You don't like pizza. Who am I to judge. Besides you were just trying to get a rise out of me." The Unnameable Last simply stared silently at his friend for a moment, not that you could tell by looking at it. Spawned eons ago, in ages long before the first of millions of Big Bangs it had witnessed as the universe rebirthed itself throughout eternity, it didn't actually have eyes to tell where it was looking. But you could feel it staring. Whatever it's origins, it embodied whatever life itself feared that could perceive it. Predators, supernatural horrors like vampires or demons, or even natural disasters like thunderstorms. Even darkness itself, if that was what you feared, that is what it would become in reality. It fed on emotions - pain and torment were particular favorites - but having survived for an eternity of eternities it could draw sustenance from everything. That it thought pizza was gross was the most concerning fact to its human friend. To Mike, The Unnameable Last was a formless void. Not because Mike feared nothingness, but because evidently there was nothing Mike feared for longer than the space of a single breath. Which was, now that Nameless (as Mike ironically nicknamed him) had gotten used to it, a bit of a relief. Ordinarily, the only time The Unnameable Last could choose their form was in between Big Bangs. Absent life, the Unnamed Last was absent the influences that made up it's preferred diet of intense, emotional suffering. But what is the point in changing your form when there is nothing to do? There had never been a reason to contemplate this before Mike. And Mike was certainly a puzzle. At 34, Mike strived to do as little as possible save for playing video games, watching TV and movies, and reading books. When he traveled at all, he would do these things in new locations. He wasn't averse to variety, but he didn't seem it out. When The Unnameable Last first encountered Mike, it was on a cruise ship that had neared his layer in the Bermuda Triangle. Feeling peckish The Unnameable Last boarded the ship, confounded the captain, and began to feast on the fears of all aboard, killing some to heighten the fear of others. Mike was... Cautious. Observant. He had fear, yes, but... Not the tasty kind. It was... Different somehow. Bland. The Unnameable Last had never tasted bland fear before. Not in an intelligent species at least. But the more it worked to heighten Mike's fear, the blander it became until eventually all of Mike's fear vanished within the first week of the Eldritch horror's boarding of the vessel. The Unnameable Last was planning on feeding for only a couple of weeks. Human minds cannot handle fear for too long, as fragile as they are to the intense, delicious emotions they produced. But by the end of the first week of his "haunting", in spite of murders and horrors made real as they circled the Bermuda Triangle, Mike had established what seemed like... A comfortable routine for himself. At around 11AM, he would make his way past the screams of tormented passengers to the kitchen, where he would make himself some breakfast. The second he would notice a horror, rather than defend himself, he would intentionally ignore it and go back to what he was doing. Cooking, eating, reading, playing video games, he simply refused to be distracted from these activities for long. By the end of the third month, Mike was the only person alive left on board. He had added "housekeeping" to his list of activities, spending a bit of time each day cleaning up the areas of the ship he would inhabit. Not the pool, unfortunately, since that was filled with blood and viscera. But the final straw for The Unnameable Last was when it realized it was CHOOSING horrors to create fear rather than simply becoming those horrors. It recalled the weeks of attempting to torment Mike and it realized it was choosing forms since after the first week. It was a bit unnerving. So when Mike looked up as he was hauling a body over the side and said, "You know, it's a real dick move to make this mess and not clean it up. I'm not your maid. This is gross. If we're stuck together, you can at least not be a dick about it." the Unnameable Last had had enough. "How do you not fear me?" Mike just shrugged. "I don't see why I should tell you. We're not friends. Your curiosity ain't my problem. Why should I tell you anything if you don't even have a name?" "I am the Unnameable Last, and I am your Doom." It replied. "Uh huh. I'm Mike. Nice to meet you. So, Nameless, you gonna help cleanup or just threaten to kill me? At the very least, if you are going to kill me, do it before I finish cleaning up please? I would hate to have to die tired." He replied matter of factly. If Nameless could blink, it would have. Instead it just, much to its own surprise, began to help Mike clean up as it continued to talk to him. A week later, Mike pointed out that they could just as easily hang out at his apartment as they could in the ghost ship, and that would be a nice thing for Mike if Nameless could make that happen. "You are welcome to stay. You're a pretty decent roommate as long as you pick up after yourself." And so they did. 4 years later, they had fallen into a comfortable routine, and Nameless was still mystified by the riddle of Mike's complete lack of fear. He worked hard to devise torments and horrors for his friend, but was careful to respect the bounds of their friendship. When he asked Mike why he would continue being friends in spite of the attempts to torment him, Mike would just shrug and say, "I knew what you were like when I asked if you wanted to move in. You keep your word and you haven't tried to kill me. I should expect you will stop trying to scare me when that is all you have ever done?" It was an incredibly fair point, Nameless had to admit. But today was different. They had been friends for years now, and unlike in their first meeting, Mike did not have a reason to answer his question. "Look. Whatever else is true about you, you are alive. You would rather not be dead. That is the only thing we need to have in common for me to not be afraid of you. Because being alive just means you want stuff that won't kill you. So you want different things than I do. So what?" "Because what I want is the joy of your suffering?" Nameless pointed out. "Do you really? No. You want food. Delicious food. And you didn't choose that. I didn't choose to find pizza delicious. You didn't choose human torment. Shit just happens." Nameless could be felt nodding, but then asked, "But that makes you my food." Mike shrugs. "Sure. And I could eat a dog too. If you can eat something, that makes it food. Doesn't stop it from being a friend. Loneliness can be a form of hunger, and friendship can be it's of form of food. I imagine it must be pretty lonely being a reflection of terror and fear. Or at least pretty boring. You've been around. You've seen a bunch. You're smart. Smart enough to appreciate that sharing time with someone or something else is harder to find than a tasty meal. As soon as I realized that we might be able to have a conversation, I stopped being afraid, because you stopped being a nameless horror and you started being alive, and smart enough to maybe be a friend. And if I was wrong, I was dead anyway, so I might as well make the most out of the time I had." Nameless sat stunned. "Aren't you scared I might kill you now that I know?" Mike shrugged. "Not as scared as you are of being as bored as you will without me. I'm your friend because I am interesting and you like how you can be yourself. You're my friend for the same reason. For an Eldritch Horror, you sure can overthink shit. Grab me a beer, will ya? " With what felt like a sigh, Nameless went to the fridge and grabbed a beer for him and his friend.	We walked slowly along the dirt path, enjoying the crisp air and the crunch of leaves underfoot, the colors of fall making the trees around us practically glow with oranges and reds. Tom (let's be real here, I've never been able to pronounce his name, let alone spell it) trundled beside me, a thoughtful look on his face. At least, it may have been thoughtful. Hard to tell through the scales on his face and the shadows that swirl around him constantly. I paused on the path and faced him, noting that the shadows were moving faster than normal, almost agitated. "Alright", I said. "Spill it. What's bugging you?". He sighed. "I don't know Jen, I just don't get it. Why aren't you terrified of me?". I grinned. "That's it? Thousands upon thousands of years old, you've seen the rise and fall of countless peoples and ages, and you're bothered because I'm not afraid of you?". Tom glared at me, trying to look menacing. "Pretty much, yes". I sighed. "I was a foster kid in Philly." Tom winced and shook his head. "That explains it. Those people... There are things even I wouldn't stoop to..." I grab his hand and tug, urging him to keep walking. "Come on, I've got popcorn at home and we want to get back in time for all the trick or treaters. You promised me you'd scare them this year." He starts moving again, keeping pace with me. "Alright, but I pick the movie." First time, posting from mobile during my lunch break. Have a fantastic day, folks!
	[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you.	"No, but really. Last week you saw me eating the soul of a screaming infant. No fear. None. Even by human standards... That should have at least disgusted you." Mike just shrugged, his eyes never leaving the video game as he expertly worked the controls. "You don't like pizza. Who am I to judge. Besides you were just trying to get a rise out of me." The Unnameable Last simply stared silently at his friend for a moment, not that you could tell by looking at it. Spawned eons ago, in ages long before the first of millions of Big Bangs it had witnessed as the universe rebirthed itself throughout eternity, it didn't actually have eyes to tell where it was looking. But you could feel it staring. Whatever it's origins, it embodied whatever life itself feared that could perceive it. Predators, supernatural horrors like vampires or demons, or even natural disasters like thunderstorms. Even darkness itself, if that was what you feared, that is what it would become in reality. It fed on emotions - pain and torment were particular favorites - but having survived for an eternity of eternities it could draw sustenance from everything. That it thought pizza was gross was the most concerning fact to its human friend. To Mike, The Unnameable Last was a formless void. Not because Mike feared nothingness, but because evidently there was nothing Mike feared for longer than the space of a single breath. Which was, now that Nameless (as Mike ironically nicknamed him) had gotten used to it, a bit of a relief. Ordinarily, the only time The Unnameable Last could choose their form was in between Big Bangs. Absent life, the Unnamed Last was absent the influences that made up it's preferred diet of intense, emotional suffering. But what is the point in changing your form when there is nothing to do? There had never been a reason to contemplate this before Mike. And Mike was certainly a puzzle. At 34, Mike strived to do as little as possible save for playing video games, watching TV and movies, and reading books. When he traveled at all, he would do these things in new locations. He wasn't averse to variety, but he didn't seem it out. When The Unnameable Last first encountered Mike, it was on a cruise ship that had neared his layer in the Bermuda Triangle. Feeling peckish The Unnameable Last boarded the ship, confounded the captain, and began to feast on the fears of all aboard, killing some to heighten the fear of others. Mike was... Cautious. Observant. He had fear, yes, but... Not the tasty kind. It was... Different somehow. Bland. The Unnameable Last had never tasted bland fear before. Not in an intelligent species at least. But the more it worked to heighten Mike's fear, the blander it became until eventually all of Mike's fear vanished within the first week of the Eldritch horror's boarding of the vessel. The Unnameable Last was planning on feeding for only a couple of weeks. Human minds cannot handle fear for too long, as fragile as they are to the intense, delicious emotions they produced. But by the end of the first week of his "haunting", in spite of murders and horrors made real as they circled the Bermuda Triangle, Mike had established what seemed like... A comfortable routine for himself. At around 11AM, he would make his way past the screams of tormented passengers to the kitchen, where he would make himself some breakfast. The second he would notice a horror, rather than defend himself, he would intentionally ignore it and go back to what he was doing. Cooking, eating, reading, playing video games, he simply refused to be distracted from these activities for long. By the end of the third month, Mike was the only person alive left on board. He had added "housekeeping" to his list of activities, spending a bit of time each day cleaning up the areas of the ship he would inhabit. Not the pool, unfortunately, since that was filled with blood and viscera. But the final straw for The Unnameable Last was when it realized it was CHOOSING horrors to create fear rather than simply becoming those horrors. It recalled the weeks of attempting to torment Mike and it realized it was choosing forms since after the first week. It was a bit unnerving. So when Mike looked up as he was hauling a body over the side and said, "You know, it's a real dick move to make this mess and not clean it up. I'm not your maid. This is gross. If we're stuck together, you can at least not be a dick about it." the Unnameable Last had had enough. "How do you not fear me?" Mike just shrugged. "I don't see why I should tell you. We're not friends. Your curiosity ain't my problem. Why should I tell you anything if you don't even have a name?" "I am the Unnameable Last, and I am your Doom." It replied. "Uh huh. I'm Mike. Nice to meet you. So, Nameless, you gonna help cleanup or just threaten to kill me? At the very least, if you are going to kill me, do it before I finish cleaning up please? I would hate to have to die tired." He replied matter of factly. If Nameless could blink, it would have. Instead it just, much to its own surprise, began to help Mike clean up as it continued to talk to him. A week later, Mike pointed out that they could just as easily hang out at his apartment as they could in the ghost ship, and that would be a nice thing for Mike if Nameless could make that happen. "You are welcome to stay. You're a pretty decent roommate as long as you pick up after yourself." And so they did. 4 years later, they had fallen into a comfortable routine, and Nameless was still mystified by the riddle of Mike's complete lack of fear. He worked hard to devise torments and horrors for his friend, but was careful to respect the bounds of their friendship. When he asked Mike why he would continue being friends in spite of the attempts to torment him, Mike would just shrug and say, "I knew what you were like when I asked if you wanted to move in. You keep your word and you haven't tried to kill me. I should expect you will stop trying to scare me when that is all you have ever done?" It was an incredibly fair point, Nameless had to admit. But today was different. They had been friends for years now, and unlike in their first meeting, Mike did not have a reason to answer his question. "Look. Whatever else is true about you, you are alive. You would rather not be dead. That is the only thing we need to have in common for me to not be afraid of you. Because being alive just means you want stuff that won't kill you. So you want different things than I do. So what?" "Because what I want is the joy of your suffering?" Nameless pointed out. "Do you really? No. You want food. Delicious food. And you didn't choose that. I didn't choose to find pizza delicious. You didn't choose human torment. Shit just happens." Nameless could be felt nodding, but then asked, "But that makes you my food." Mike shrugs. "Sure. And I could eat a dog too. If you can eat something, that makes it food. Doesn't stop it from being a friend. Loneliness can be a form of hunger, and friendship can be it's of form of food. I imagine it must be pretty lonely being a reflection of terror and fear. Or at least pretty boring. You've been around. You've seen a bunch. You're smart. Smart enough to appreciate that sharing time with someone or something else is harder to find than a tasty meal. As soon as I realized that we might be able to have a conversation, I stopped being afraid, because you stopped being a nameless horror and you started being alive, and smart enough to maybe be a friend. And if I was wrong, I was dead anyway, so I might as well make the most out of the time I had." Nameless sat stunned. "Aren't you scared I might kill you now that I know?" Mike shrugged. "Not as scared as you are of being as bored as you will without me. I'm your friend because I am interesting and you like how you can be yourself. You're my friend for the same reason. For an Eldritch Horror, you sure can overthink shit. Grab me a beer, will ya? " With what felt like a sigh, Nameless went to the fridge and grabbed a beer for him and his friend.	As I gazed into the night sky, my friend came flying to me. I could describe him, but it would be of no use. He sat down next to me, turned to the sky and just participated in one of my human activities. "Can we go to your place?" I asked. "Are you sure?" he responded, knowing no human has ever survived going there for long enough to even consciously perceive their surroundings. "Yeah," I answered, "I mean, you've been to my place so often, and I was always curious how you live." "Alright then," my friend said and asked, "But, one thing before we go. How can you even perceive me and not go insane? I mean, I am an eldritch horror, I am unlike anything your mortal mind considers reality, my very essence goes against your idea of normal." "True," I said, "But I guess I'm just different. People call it autism. My brain is wired differently than normal people's brains, so I perceive the world around me differently. Basic social interaction is to me what you are to every other person, and I had to learn to cope with that as well." "Interesting," my friend said, "Well then, let's go." With less than a thought, he tore a hole into the fabric of reality, and we found ourselves in a plane that normal people couldn't comprehend. It was quite fun, and I met several other entities.
	[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you.	"No, but really. Last week you saw me eating the soul of a screaming infant. No fear. None. Even by human standards... That should have at least disgusted you." Mike just shrugged, his eyes never leaving the video game as he expertly worked the controls. "You don't like pizza. Who am I to judge. Besides you were just trying to get a rise out of me." The Unnameable Last simply stared silently at his friend for a moment, not that you could tell by looking at it. Spawned eons ago, in ages long before the first of millions of Big Bangs it had witnessed as the universe rebirthed itself throughout eternity, it didn't actually have eyes to tell where it was looking. But you could feel it staring. Whatever it's origins, it embodied whatever life itself feared that could perceive it. Predators, supernatural horrors like vampires or demons, or even natural disasters like thunderstorms. Even darkness itself, if that was what you feared, that is what it would become in reality. It fed on emotions - pain and torment were particular favorites - but having survived for an eternity of eternities it could draw sustenance from everything. That it thought pizza was gross was the most concerning fact to its human friend. To Mike, The Unnameable Last was a formless void. Not because Mike feared nothingness, but because evidently there was nothing Mike feared for longer than the space of a single breath. Which was, now that Nameless (as Mike ironically nicknamed him) had gotten used to it, a bit of a relief. Ordinarily, the only time The Unnameable Last could choose their form was in between Big Bangs. Absent life, the Unnamed Last was absent the influences that made up it's preferred diet of intense, emotional suffering. But what is the point in changing your form when there is nothing to do? There had never been a reason to contemplate this before Mike. And Mike was certainly a puzzle. At 34, Mike strived to do as little as possible save for playing video games, watching TV and movies, and reading books. When he traveled at all, he would do these things in new locations. He wasn't averse to variety, but he didn't seem it out. When The Unnameable Last first encountered Mike, it was on a cruise ship that had neared his layer in the Bermuda Triangle. Feeling peckish The Unnameable Last boarded the ship, confounded the captain, and began to feast on the fears of all aboard, killing some to heighten the fear of others. Mike was... Cautious. Observant. He had fear, yes, but... Not the tasty kind. It was... Different somehow. Bland. The Unnameable Last had never tasted bland fear before. Not in an intelligent species at least. But the more it worked to heighten Mike's fear, the blander it became until eventually all of Mike's fear vanished within the first week of the Eldritch horror's boarding of the vessel. The Unnameable Last was planning on feeding for only a couple of weeks. Human minds cannot handle fear for too long, as fragile as they are to the intense, delicious emotions they produced. But by the end of the first week of his "haunting", in spite of murders and horrors made real as they circled the Bermuda Triangle, Mike had established what seemed like... A comfortable routine for himself. At around 11AM, he would make his way past the screams of tormented passengers to the kitchen, where he would make himself some breakfast. The second he would notice a horror, rather than defend himself, he would intentionally ignore it and go back to what he was doing. Cooking, eating, reading, playing video games, he simply refused to be distracted from these activities for long. By the end of the third month, Mike was the only person alive left on board. He had added "housekeeping" to his list of activities, spending a bit of time each day cleaning up the areas of the ship he would inhabit. Not the pool, unfortunately, since that was filled with blood and viscera. But the final straw for The Unnameable Last was when it realized it was CHOOSING horrors to create fear rather than simply becoming those horrors. It recalled the weeks of attempting to torment Mike and it realized it was choosing forms since after the first week. It was a bit unnerving. So when Mike looked up as he was hauling a body over the side and said, "You know, it's a real dick move to make this mess and not clean it up. I'm not your maid. This is gross. If we're stuck together, you can at least not be a dick about it." the Unnameable Last had had enough. "How do you not fear me?" Mike just shrugged. "I don't see why I should tell you. We're not friends. Your curiosity ain't my problem. Why should I tell you anything if you don't even have a name?" "I am the Unnameable Last, and I am your Doom." It replied. "Uh huh. I'm Mike. Nice to meet you. So, Nameless, you gonna help cleanup or just threaten to kill me? At the very least, if you are going to kill me, do it before I finish cleaning up please? I would hate to have to die tired." He replied matter of factly. If Nameless could blink, it would have. Instead it just, much to its own surprise, began to help Mike clean up as it continued to talk to him. A week later, Mike pointed out that they could just as easily hang out at his apartment as they could in the ghost ship, and that would be a nice thing for Mike if Nameless could make that happen. "You are welcome to stay. You're a pretty decent roommate as long as you pick up after yourself." And so they did. 4 years later, they had fallen into a comfortable routine, and Nameless was still mystified by the riddle of Mike's complete lack of fear. He worked hard to devise torments and horrors for his friend, but was careful to respect the bounds of their friendship. When he asked Mike why he would continue being friends in spite of the attempts to torment him, Mike would just shrug and say, "I knew what you were like when I asked if you wanted to move in. You keep your word and you haven't tried to kill me. I should expect you will stop trying to scare me when that is all you have ever done?" It was an incredibly fair point, Nameless had to admit. But today was different. They had been friends for years now, and unlike in their first meeting, Mike did not have a reason to answer his question. "Look. Whatever else is true about you, you are alive. You would rather not be dead. That is the only thing we need to have in common for me to not be afraid of you. Because being alive just means you want stuff that won't kill you. So you want different things than I do. So what?" "Because what I want is the joy of your suffering?" Nameless pointed out. "Do you really? No. You want food. Delicious food. And you didn't choose that. I didn't choose to find pizza delicious. You didn't choose human torment. Shit just happens." Nameless could be felt nodding, but then asked, "But that makes you my food." Mike shrugs. "Sure. And I could eat a dog too. If you can eat something, that makes it food. Doesn't stop it from being a friend. Loneliness can be a form of hunger, and friendship can be it's of form of food. I imagine it must be pretty lonely being a reflection of terror and fear. Or at least pretty boring. You've been around. You've seen a bunch. You're smart. Smart enough to appreciate that sharing time with someone or something else is harder to find than a tasty meal. As soon as I realized that we might be able to have a conversation, I stopped being afraid, because you stopped being a nameless horror and you started being alive, and smart enough to maybe be a friend. And if I was wrong, I was dead anyway, so I might as well make the most out of the time I had." Nameless sat stunned. "Aren't you scared I might kill you now that I know?" Mike shrugged. "Not as scared as you are of being as bored as you will without me. I'm your friend because I am interesting and you like how you can be yourself. You're my friend for the same reason. For an Eldritch Horror, you sure can overthink shit. Grab me a beer, will ya? " With what felt like a sigh, Nameless went to the fridge and grabbed a beer for him and his friend.	Tia yawns as she wakes up from her nap. It had been a busy morning for her, running errands, cooking breakfast, cleaning the apartment. She‘s happy though, and looks up to her new friend, who is watching TV at the moment. Her friend is the child of Cthulhu, and Tia can see that; his head was more of a green octopus, and tentacles hide his mouth. He was 7 ft tall, well muscled, with bat wings awkwardly sported on his back. His yellow eyes look like cuttlefishes, and this wasn’t even his final form. Sure, he prefers to be in his true form, which is just a mass of tentacles, blood and horror that a human brain could not understand, but Tia told him that he can’t fit if he visits her in her home. “Good afternoon, mortal Tia. I have just completed an episode of the mighty Maury.” His voice was always loud, and Tia flinches at the sudden sound. “Was this one a liar episode, or baby episode?” ”Baby. Many men were not the father.” Her friend scratches his head, and asks, “Why are these women so sure when there is no proof? You humans are so aggressive towards each other.” ”Many of these ladies never had good sex education,” Tia sighs, and rolls to face the creature. The monster looks down at Tia and asks if everything’s alright. ”I’m just bored,” Tia sighs, and her eyes light up a bit. “Can we go to your home? I love seeing your art and your dad.” ”If you really want to... I can keep you safe in a bubble, and we can go.” Tia springs up, really excited and the two sneak out of the apartment, and head to the docks. The creature guides Tia into a quiet place on the dock, and jumps in, transforming to his true form. He gently takes a tentacle, and picks Tia up. A homeless man sees what happened, but drops dead after seeing the Eldritch horror. Tia shakes her head, and a large bubble forms around her, and the two sink to the bottom of the ocean. ”Tia, my father has been meaning to have me ask you something,” The creature says through telekinesis. Tia raises and eyebrow and allows the Eldritch being to ask. “How is it that you are immune to my horror? All other pathetic creatures go insane or drop dead from looking at me or any other gods that my father keeps under this ocean.” ”I don’t really know...” Tia shrugs her shoulders. “I’ve seen horror for a really long time. My dog and I always had to rescue my grandma and grandpa from dangers, and cursed items almost every day. Maybe my brain is just... numb to it?” They stay silent as the Eldritch being lands on the bottom of the ocean. Her friend keeps a close hold on the bubble Tia’s in as they pass by small, lesser Eldritch horrors that keep guard on Cthulhu. They pass by the infamous god itself, and Tia waves a hand at the giant monster meditating between all these pillars and destroyed artefacts. The child of Cthulhu makes a clicking call, waking the giant Eldritch. The large squid like creature makes a low rumbling sound, and looks at the bubble that Tia is in. There’s a silence as the two communicate telepathically, making Tia awkwardly shift in her bubble. She really hopes that her friend is not in too much trouble, but Cthulhu raises his hand, and his son walks on by. ”My dad respects you and your life,” Tia’s friend tells her. “When the time comes to destroy humanity, you shall be spared.” “Glad he thinks I’m girlfriend material.” Tia giggles, which startles the Eldritch horror for a second, and that makes Tia laugh even more. All in all, Tia is glad that she has a friend. True, he is going to destroy the Earth one day, but all those she loved are long gone now, and she has no one else. The rest of the world turned their back on her, but not him. He will protect her, and always be there for her. And that’s all she can ask for.
	[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you.	"No, but really. Last week you saw me eating the soul of a screaming infant. No fear. None. Even by human standards... That should have at least disgusted you." Mike just shrugged, his eyes never leaving the video game as he expertly worked the controls. "You don't like pizza. Who am I to judge. Besides you were just trying to get a rise out of me." The Unnameable Last simply stared silently at his friend for a moment, not that you could tell by looking at it. Spawned eons ago, in ages long before the first of millions of Big Bangs it had witnessed as the universe rebirthed itself throughout eternity, it didn't actually have eyes to tell where it was looking. But you could feel it staring. Whatever it's origins, it embodied whatever life itself feared that could perceive it. Predators, supernatural horrors like vampires or demons, or even natural disasters like thunderstorms. Even darkness itself, if that was what you feared, that is what it would become in reality. It fed on emotions - pain and torment were particular favorites - but having survived for an eternity of eternities it could draw sustenance from everything. That it thought pizza was gross was the most concerning fact to its human friend. To Mike, The Unnameable Last was a formless void. Not because Mike feared nothingness, but because evidently there was nothing Mike feared for longer than the space of a single breath. Which was, now that Nameless (as Mike ironically nicknamed him) had gotten used to it, a bit of a relief. Ordinarily, the only time The Unnameable Last could choose their form was in between Big Bangs. Absent life, the Unnamed Last was absent the influences that made up it's preferred diet of intense, emotional suffering. But what is the point in changing your form when there is nothing to do? There had never been a reason to contemplate this before Mike. And Mike was certainly a puzzle. At 34, Mike strived to do as little as possible save for playing video games, watching TV and movies, and reading books. When he traveled at all, he would do these things in new locations. He wasn't averse to variety, but he didn't seem it out. When The Unnameable Last first encountered Mike, it was on a cruise ship that had neared his layer in the Bermuda Triangle. Feeling peckish The Unnameable Last boarded the ship, confounded the captain, and began to feast on the fears of all aboard, killing some to heighten the fear of others. Mike was... Cautious. Observant. He had fear, yes, but... Not the tasty kind. It was... Different somehow. Bland. The Unnameable Last had never tasted bland fear before. Not in an intelligent species at least. But the more it worked to heighten Mike's fear, the blander it became until eventually all of Mike's fear vanished within the first week of the Eldritch horror's boarding of the vessel. The Unnameable Last was planning on feeding for only a couple of weeks. Human minds cannot handle fear for too long, as fragile as they are to the intense, delicious emotions they produced. But by the end of the first week of his "haunting", in spite of murders and horrors made real as they circled the Bermuda Triangle, Mike had established what seemed like... A comfortable routine for himself. At around 11AM, he would make his way past the screams of tormented passengers to the kitchen, where he would make himself some breakfast. The second he would notice a horror, rather than defend himself, he would intentionally ignore it and go back to what he was doing. Cooking, eating, reading, playing video games, he simply refused to be distracted from these activities for long. By the end of the third month, Mike was the only person alive left on board. He had added "housekeeping" to his list of activities, spending a bit of time each day cleaning up the areas of the ship he would inhabit. Not the pool, unfortunately, since that was filled with blood and viscera. But the final straw for The Unnameable Last was when it realized it was CHOOSING horrors to create fear rather than simply becoming those horrors. It recalled the weeks of attempting to torment Mike and it realized it was choosing forms since after the first week. It was a bit unnerving. So when Mike looked up as he was hauling a body over the side and said, "You know, it's a real dick move to make this mess and not clean it up. I'm not your maid. This is gross. If we're stuck together, you can at least not be a dick about it." the Unnameable Last had had enough. "How do you not fear me?" Mike just shrugged. "I don't see why I should tell you. We're not friends. Your curiosity ain't my problem. Why should I tell you anything if you don't even have a name?" "I am the Unnameable Last, and I am your Doom." It replied. "Uh huh. I'm Mike. Nice to meet you. So, Nameless, you gonna help cleanup or just threaten to kill me? At the very least, if you are going to kill me, do it before I finish cleaning up please? I would hate to have to die tired." He replied matter of factly. If Nameless could blink, it would have. Instead it just, much to its own surprise, began to help Mike clean up as it continued to talk to him. A week later, Mike pointed out that they could just as easily hang out at his apartment as they could in the ghost ship, and that would be a nice thing for Mike if Nameless could make that happen. "You are welcome to stay. You're a pretty decent roommate as long as you pick up after yourself." And so they did. 4 years later, they had fallen into a comfortable routine, and Nameless was still mystified by the riddle of Mike's complete lack of fear. He worked hard to devise torments and horrors for his friend, but was careful to respect the bounds of their friendship. When he asked Mike why he would continue being friends in spite of the attempts to torment him, Mike would just shrug and say, "I knew what you were like when I asked if you wanted to move in. You keep your word and you haven't tried to kill me. I should expect you will stop trying to scare me when that is all you have ever done?" It was an incredibly fair point, Nameless had to admit. But today was different. They had been friends for years now, and unlike in their first meeting, Mike did not have a reason to answer his question. "Look. Whatever else is true about you, you are alive. You would rather not be dead. That is the only thing we need to have in common for me to not be afraid of you. Because being alive just means you want stuff that won't kill you. So you want different things than I do. So what?" "Because what I want is the joy of your suffering?" Nameless pointed out. "Do you really? No. You want food. Delicious food. And you didn't choose that. I didn't choose to find pizza delicious. You didn't choose human torment. Shit just happens." Nameless could be felt nodding, but then asked, "But that makes you my food." Mike shrugs. "Sure. And I could eat a dog too. If you can eat something, that makes it food. Doesn't stop it from being a friend. Loneliness can be a form of hunger, and friendship can be it's of form of food. I imagine it must be pretty lonely being a reflection of terror and fear. Or at least pretty boring. You've been around. You've seen a bunch. You're smart. Smart enough to appreciate that sharing time with someone or something else is harder to find than a tasty meal. As soon as I realized that we might be able to have a conversation, I stopped being afraid, because you stopped being a nameless horror and you started being alive, and smart enough to maybe be a friend. And if I was wrong, I was dead anyway, so I might as well make the most out of the time I had." Nameless sat stunned. "Aren't you scared I might kill you now that I know?" Mike shrugged. "Not as scared as you are of being as bored as you will without me. I'm your friend because I am interesting and you like how you can be yourself. You're my friend for the same reason. For an Eldritch Horror, you sure can overthink shit. Grab me a beer, will ya? " With what felt like a sigh, Nameless went to the fridge and grabbed a beer for him and his friend.	His face was like that of a large bird. He had big, round, restless eyes. His nose was long and hooked, and his beard and hair were of equal length and were equally as spiky. A tattered black coat over a tattered old shirt was all he wore. He didn't have any legs and floated about. His name was Lord Campbell, and he was my best friend. I was lounging on the couch, reading a book when he came over. He put his face through the book and startled me. "What's the idea, Camp?" I said. "Say Mr Jonstone," he said and paused. "WHY aren't you AFRAID of ME." "Come on, Camp, how many times will I have to tell you? You simply aren't scary. And please don't call me Mr Jonstone and all that. It's William or should I say, Will, to you." "Okay Mr WILL, but you must TELL me why I AM not scary?" "You just aren't." "YOU must've seen SOME great horrors in your time." "No. Not really." "There MUST be some COSMIC horror. I have driven PEOPLE insane before, you KNOW." "How? Come on, Camp. You aren't all that scary. You just talk funny." "What? No, I DON'T." "You do. And you put that miserable coat on, and you play tricks on them." "That I DO," he said and cackled. "Yes. You're just a lonely old fellow, that's all." He cackled again and changed his face to that of a grotesque clown. I pretended to be scared. He cackled again and changed his face back to normal. "That's it, Gramps. No more party tricks today." He cackled. "Okay Mr Jonstone, OKAY." "You're A sensible YOUNG lad," he said. And cackled again.
	[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you.	Philhachulil and I lounge on the couch watching some trashy reality TV show the same way we'd been doing for the last few days. We've only known each other a short while but he seems to have taken a real liking to me. He's not left my place since appearing. I feel my phone vibrating in my pocket, so I take it out and put it on the table. I don't mind. Once you get past all of his tentacles, and the teeth, and the way too many eyes, Phil's actually a really nice creature. My phone vibrates again, so I put it on silent. In fact, my life would be very, very different if it weren't for him. We share a bowl of popcorn (which Phil kindly prepared for us!) and laugh as the rich housewife dumps a drink on another poor unsuspecting sod. Phil laughs so hard that one of his tentacles knocks the bowl over, spilling popcorn all over the carpet. "@#$\!" He curses in that chilling language of his. "It's no wonder they call me a horror." "You really shouldn't let them talk about you like that," I say. The stigma against Eldritch individuals* really should change. This isn't the 1800s anymore! "It is what it is," Phil replies. He has such a positive attitude. It's inspiring. "I'll go get the vacuum." "Nah, let's finish watching and then I'll clean it up." "I made the mess so I'll clean it." "Well, okay, but after this episode." Grudgingly, Phil agrees. We fall quiet, listening to the shrill screams on the TV. The woman is upset because her peanut sauce tastes too much like peanuts. "Hey, Kelly?" Phil asks. "Yeah?" "Don't take this question the wrong way, but why are we friends?" I glance at Phil, blinking in surprise. "Because you're kind, considerate, and just an all around great person." "Well, that's it. I'm not a person. I'm a monster." "You're not a monster--" "I know, I know, but you know what I mean! I'm pretty scary to look at, but you're not scared of me at all." "Beauty is only skin deep anyway. It's what's inside that counts, and there's nothing scary inside of you at all." "You don't know that. I've eaten a lot of questionable things." That brings a laugh out of me and I bump him affectionately. "You know what I mean." He pauses, settling back into the couch. I'm amazed by how well he can manipulate his extra bulk. He looks at my phone, then looks back at me. "You know your phone has been flashing nonstop with messages." "Yeah." "Are you going to answer them?" "It's from Vincent." "...Oh." I know I shouldn't, but I sneak a peek at the latest message. Last chance before you die alone. Nobody else is ever gonna love you. You're over 30 now and can't even have kids. Who's gonna want a defective model? Only I could accept you. Your own family didn't want to keep you. I'm the only one who's nice enough to care about you. You'll never find anyone else like me and if you don't finally see reason again then I'm gonna leave just like your fucking parents. And there'll be no one to save you this time. Another flashes just as I finish reading the first. Fuck you then you crazy psycho bitch I never loved you anyway Tears burn in my eyes. I don't know why I allow his words to hurt me when I should know better now. But his painful scars run deeper than rationality. Gently, a tentacle covers my hands, blocking the phone. Another points to the TV. "That lady's thrown a shoe at her neighbour and now the show's ended." I force a laugh, shaking my head free from my thoughts. "So ridiculous, right?" "I think I'm starting to get it," he says, "Are we ready to clean up now?" I nod and offer my phone to Phil. He tosses it into his mouth with a sickening crunch and swallows my nightmare into his abyss. \\\\\* Thanks for reading! Feel free to check out more stories here: r/rulerofstorybears	His face was like that of a large bird. He had big, round, restless eyes. His nose was long and hooked, and his beard and hair were of equal length and were equally as spiky. A tattered black coat over a tattered old shirt was all he wore. He didn't have any legs and floated about. His name was Lord Campbell, and he was my best friend. I was lounging on the couch, reading a book when he came over. He put his face through the book and startled me. "What's the idea, Camp?" I said. "Say Mr Jonstone," he said and paused. "WHY aren't you AFRAID of ME." "Come on, Camp, how many times will I have to tell you? You simply aren't scary. And please don't call me Mr Jonstone and all that. It's William or should I say, Will, to you." "Okay Mr WILL, but you must TELL me why I AM not scary?" "You just aren't." "YOU must've seen SOME great horrors in your time." "No. Not really." "There MUST be some COSMIC horror. I have driven PEOPLE insane before, you KNOW." "How? Come on, Camp. You aren't all that scary. You just talk funny." "What? No, I DON'T." "You do. And you put that miserable coat on, and you play tricks on them." "That I DO," he said and cackled. "Yes. You're just a lonely old fellow, that's all." He cackled again and changed his face to that of a grotesque clown. I pretended to be scared. He cackled again and changed his face back to normal. "That's it, Gramps. No more party tricks today." He cackled. "Okay Mr Jonstone, OKAY." "You're A sensible YOUNG lad," he said. And cackled again.
	[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you.	There was a monster on the front step. Rachel blinked, but it remained, hunched over on the porch, still there in all it’s disturbing glory. It had one eye - no, it had many eyes, all blinking and shifting and looking here and there, but not visible all at the same time. They were laced above a mouth that stretched out in a fierce grin at the same time it drooped in a heavy frown, all perched on a round, clay-like head with cauliflower ears. (Not the ailment, mind, but actual cauliflower, growing from the sides of the skull and flowering quite nicely.) The body below was thin and fat at the same time, undulating between weight like waves licking the shore. Fingers made of bone clicked together anxiously, with far more phalanges than were necessary. From the waist down the body fell into darkness, robed in something that was blacker than black, aside from a pair of human-looking bare feet sticking out. Its toenails were painted bright pink, and seemed to be conversing among themselves. “It’s not Halloween yet,” she said, gripping the door tightly. The creature said nothing, just staring at her. “That’s a really impressive costume, but you’re...five days early, I think. It’s only Tuesday, so…” “You’re not dead.” The voice that came from the monster was soft and confused. There was no scratch or echo or blood-curdling edge, just a voice that could belong to any adult human, wavering with shock and disbelief. Rachel glanced behind herself, just to make sure. Nope, no dead body on the floor of the kitchen, where she’d been working when the being had knocked. “No,” she agreed, “I think I’m very much alive.” “But...but how…?” She turned back to the horror and scratched absently at her cheek, trying to decide which eye to gaze into. They kept appearing and disappearing, so she settled on gazing into the middle of the creature's round head. “I...don’t know? I mean, am I supposed to be?” “All who gaze upon my visage fall, as is the way!” The creature gesticulated wildly, flailing its arms, too-long fingers clicking together. “Yet you do not shudder, you do not flinch! How can you withstand the horror that is I, Formidulosus, and not melt into a puddle of your own entrails!?” Flecks of foam gathered along the edge of its dual-mouths, and Rachel took a step back to avoid being spit on. “By Cthulhu, it’s unheard of!” “Oh, you like Lovecraft?” She latched onto the only thing she’d understood in the odd rant. “I find him a bit hard to read sometimes, but I just got the Call of Cthulhu game on my laptop and I’m looking forward to playing it on Saturday…” She trailed off as the creature tilted its head and stared at her in something akin to astonishment. “You know of the old ones?” “...Yes?” Rachel took a step forward (now that there was no other-worldly face foam flying about) and gave the creature a good look. Its shoulders were trembling, and it had begun clicking its fingers together. The bright-pink toenails had fallen silent. Had the thing been human, she would have said it looked almost...anxious? A bit lost, perhaps? “Would you like a cup of tea?” The creature tilted its head, considering, then nodded. Rachel motioned for it to follow her into the kitchen and led the way. She could hear it behind here, each footfall echoed by the soft schwip-schwip of the too-black robe dragging across the hardwood. The electric kettle was already full of water, so she plugged it in and turned to watch the oddity as it carefully entered her kitchen and looked about, as though waiting for the china to attack it. “Please, have a seat, Mr, uh, Formidable,” she motioned to the kitchen table, then flushed as she realized her work was covering nearly every inch. “Formidulosus,” it corrected, watching with curiosity as she stacked papers and shoved them to the side, clearing a space for two to sit. “What is this parchment about? Are you a scholar?” “Oh no,” Rachel turned to the counter as the kettle began to hiss and spit. She pulled down two mugs and, after a moment's deliberation, decided on chamomile for both of them. The creature sat awkwardly in one of the chairs and watched as she bustled about, grabbing a teddy-bear shaped container of honey from the cabinet and juggling it alongside the two mugs over to the table. Its many, many eyes drifted to the stacks of paper, and it could see lines filled with different types of handwriting, and scrolls of paper printed with blue lines that were ragged on the edge and cramped with ugly letters. “Not a scholar?” It prompted as it took the mug. “Nah,” Rachel fell into her own seat, focusing once more on the center of its face. “I’m a teacher.” “That is a noble position! Perhaps protected by the new gods. That could be why you did not flail and melt into a puddle of -.” “-my own entrails. Yeah, let’s not think about that part.” Rachel took a sip. “Dunno about these new gods, but I can tell you,” she rested a hand on top of the nearest stack of homework to be graded, “teaching middle school, you see some weird shit.” As Formidulosus left that night, stomach full of tea and arms full of what its new friend Rachel called ‘the best of Lovecraft, seriously, let me know what you think of The Temple!’, it pondered if there were others of these ‘Middle School Teachers’ in the world to befriend.	His face was like that of a large bird. He had big, round, restless eyes. His nose was long and hooked, and his beard and hair were of equal length and were equally as spiky. A tattered black coat over a tattered old shirt was all he wore. He didn't have any legs and floated about. His name was Lord Campbell, and he was my best friend. I was lounging on the couch, reading a book when he came over. He put his face through the book and startled me. "What's the idea, Camp?" I said. "Say Mr Jonstone," he said and paused. "WHY aren't you AFRAID of ME." "Come on, Camp, how many times will I have to tell you? You simply aren't scary. And please don't call me Mr Jonstone and all that. It's William or should I say, Will, to you." "Okay Mr WILL, but you must TELL me why I AM not scary?" "You just aren't." "YOU must've seen SOME great horrors in your time." "No. Not really." "There MUST be some COSMIC horror. I have driven PEOPLE insane before, you KNOW." "How? Come on, Camp. You aren't all that scary. You just talk funny." "What? No, I DON'T." "You do. And you put that miserable coat on, and you play tricks on them." "That I DO," he said and cackled. "Yes. You're just a lonely old fellow, that's all." He cackled again and changed his face to that of a grotesque clown. I pretended to be scared. He cackled again and changed his face back to normal. "That's it, Gramps. No more party tricks today." He cackled. "Okay Mr Jonstone, OKAY." "You're A sensible YOUNG lad," he said. And cackled again.
	[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you.	Philhachulil and I lounge on the couch watching some trashy reality TV show the same way we'd been doing for the last few days. We've only known each other a short while but he seems to have taken a real liking to me. He's not left my place since appearing. I feel my phone vibrating in my pocket, so I take it out and put it on the table. I don't mind. Once you get past all of his tentacles, and the teeth, and the way too many eyes, Phil's actually a really nice creature. My phone vibrates again, so I put it on silent. In fact, my life would be very, very different if it weren't for him. We share a bowl of popcorn (which Phil kindly prepared for us!) and laugh as the rich housewife dumps a drink on another poor unsuspecting sod. Phil laughs so hard that one of his tentacles knocks the bowl over, spilling popcorn all over the carpet. "@#$\!" He curses in that chilling language of his. "It's no wonder they call me a horror." "You really shouldn't let them talk about you like that," I say. The stigma against Eldritch individuals* really should change. This isn't the 1800s anymore! "It is what it is," Phil replies. He has such a positive attitude. It's inspiring. "I'll go get the vacuum." "Nah, let's finish watching and then I'll clean it up." "I made the mess so I'll clean it." "Well, okay, but after this episode." Grudgingly, Phil agrees. We fall quiet, listening to the shrill screams on the TV. The woman is upset because her peanut sauce tastes too much like peanuts. "Hey, Kelly?" Phil asks. "Yeah?" "Don't take this question the wrong way, but why are we friends?" I glance at Phil, blinking in surprise. "Because you're kind, considerate, and just an all around great person." "Well, that's it. I'm not a person. I'm a monster." "You're not a monster--" "I know, I know, but you know what I mean! I'm pretty scary to look at, but you're not scared of me at all." "Beauty is only skin deep anyway. It's what's inside that counts, and there's nothing scary inside of you at all." "You don't know that. I've eaten a lot of questionable things." That brings a laugh out of me and I bump him affectionately. "You know what I mean." He pauses, settling back into the couch. I'm amazed by how well he can manipulate his extra bulk. He looks at my phone, then looks back at me. "You know your phone has been flashing nonstop with messages." "Yeah." "Are you going to answer them?" "It's from Vincent." "...Oh." I know I shouldn't, but I sneak a peek at the latest message. Last chance before you die alone. Nobody else is ever gonna love you. You're over 30 now and can't even have kids. Who's gonna want a defective model? Only I could accept you. Your own family didn't want to keep you. I'm the only one who's nice enough to care about you. You'll never find anyone else like me and if you don't finally see reason again then I'm gonna leave just like your fucking parents. And there'll be no one to save you this time. Another flashes just as I finish reading the first. Fuck you then you crazy psycho bitch I never loved you anyway Tears burn in my eyes. I don't know why I allow his words to hurt me when I should know better now. But his painful scars run deeper than rationality. Gently, a tentacle covers my hands, blocking the phone. Another points to the TV. "That lady's thrown a shoe at her neighbour and now the show's ended." I force a laugh, shaking my head free from my thoughts. "So ridiculous, right?" "I think I'm starting to get it," he says, "Are we ready to clean up now?" I nod and offer my phone to Phil. He tosses it into his mouth with a sickening crunch and swallows my nightmare into his abyss. \\\\\* Thanks for reading! Feel free to check out more stories here: r/rulerofstorybears	The Horror That Splinters The Mind and I were having tea one day. Well, I was having tea, they were sipping on a metal cup of molten copper. Every sip they took made them smiley wide and content, their first row of teeth peeking out under their black lips. We had been doing this since the first lock down. The new guidelines only cover humans so they were the only one I could have over. Even if we were raided, it would just result in a pile of bodies with their brains pouting out every hole in their head. Generally speaking, I try to avoid that. It would put a dampener on one of my few pleasures left in this world. THTSTM, or Pknq'h, as their fellow horrors call them, have been friends since the emergence two years ago. I cannot pronounce their name, and I've badly translated the letters from the forbidden text. They also cannot pronounce my name, it sounds like a gurgle from their throat. None of that matters because they are a good creature and we get on well. To call our conversations intense is to call hell warm. The only audible communication is their gutteral noises and my screams. Pknq'h shoves images and thoughts into my mind and harvests my feelings. We have very deep conversations and I feel very refreshed afterwards. They feel full, and they say my mind is delicious. That day, they appeared in my fire, as usual, and climbed through to this world. Something was off. There was a particularly dark cloud over them. The vapour they exude to protect them from light and air was much darker today. Without thinking, I asked them what was wrong, but they seemed to understand my intent anyway. We sat down to "talk" and his consumption of my feelings was rapid and excitable. They consumed my joy of seeing them and it seemed to help them. Then the onslaught of images came. It was the usual jarring, ripping, tearing feeling, with overwhelming emotions and some pain. But this time, there was something I had never experienced before, the closest Eldritch feeling they had to sadness. Pknq'h was being bullied, being mocked an isolated because the others found out they had a human friend. It's like being friends with cattle, they mocked; like making conversation with a salad, they derided. Tears started to well in my eyes, this creature wasn't evil, it wasn't doing bad things for bad reasons, it simply fed on emotions and thoughts and, as an unfortunate side effect, shattered minds. You wouldn't say a lion was cruel to a gazelle. They reached a sharp appendage out to wipe my tear away. It burned like a thousand suns on contact but left no mark. The pain my friend brings is temporary, the joy they bring lasts much longer. It hurt me more to feel the overwhelming sadness exuded from them. How does one comfort an Eldritch Horror? I try to think of the happiest things I can and offer my thoughts to them. They consumed my happy thoughts with great fervor. I wanted more imagery though, because as they broke their way into my mind, they left Pknq'h's. I hoped that would help. I got a few nasty images of bullying, made much worse by them being Eldritch Horrors. Then words floated in my mind, words in human script, words in human language, although very rough. I didn't know how to react, like expecting a punch and getting a tickle. The words floating in my mind like a bloated corpse were 'why you friend'. Why was I their friend? I sat back in my chair and looked at them. Their bestial form, mostly shrouded by noxious vapour was horrific, but looks mean little to me. They gobbled up this feeling and their vapour lightened a little. The next stab into my mind was also words: "make insane". No, they don't. I don't know why but it feels bad only for a second and then I am grand, like pulling a bandaid off. They ate this too and probed into my mind for what a bandaid was. Their vapour lightened some more and their face peeked out again from it. I smiled through the mind shattering pain of the sight, ignoring the feeling that my eyes were melting. They weren't, I knew that, it was just the mild insanity effect. I looked at them and allowed my feelings to bare themselves. They gorged themselves on them and the vapour went almost light grey, the lightest I'd even seen it. I know I was laying it on thick but they needed it. They stabbed more words into my mind, this time with such force that my nose dripped a drop of blood. Pknq'h was taken aback and pushed a whole load of images into my mind. There is no direct translation for an apology in the Forbidden Tongue but all those images together meant mistake, regret, and concern. Essentially a decent apology, by any standard. I wiped my nose and considered the words: "why not make insane". I never considered why, I was just glad I was resistant to it. I thought long and hard on it, with them nibbling on the thoughts, before coming to the conclusion. It was the internet, I'd been on it since I was 6. I'd seen everything and anything it had to offer. Horrific, disturbing, and graphic content, mind melting ideas and imagery, the worst abuse you could take, all there, at the click of a button, 24 hours a day. They ate those thoughts and feelings up like candy, it was more painful than usual but still bearable. Their vapour turned nearly white with joy. I gave them what the images described as a home cooked meal with a twist. Imagry they're used to in their realm, created just as well in ours but slightly different, like I used a different spice. I had an idea, I opened up my phone and started with social media, reading all of the most disturbing and violent content humans could produce. As soon as I could perceive it Pknq'h ate it up. If it weren't for my years as a netizen, I would have had no resistance to the Emergence and the chaos it sowed. If it weren't for that, I never would have made friends with The Horror That Splinters The Mind. We spent the afternoon browsing until the blood moon rose. Time to go, the image burned into my mind. Not just because of the Eldritch properties but I was loathe to see them go. Their tendrils pushed off the floor and they floated above my table. They moved through the air towards my sitting room and its fireplace. "Wait," I yelled, "One more thing. I have to show you this." I showed them [this](https://youtu.be/dQw4w9WgXcQ) video and they loved it. It was so cruel, so mean and yet so funny. I gave them my old phone with it loaded onto it and told them to show the others. Nobody bullied them after that.
	[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you.	There was a monster on the front step. Rachel blinked, but it remained, hunched over on the porch, still there in all it’s disturbing glory. It had one eye - no, it had many eyes, all blinking and shifting and looking here and there, but not visible all at the same time. They were laced above a mouth that stretched out in a fierce grin at the same time it drooped in a heavy frown, all perched on a round, clay-like head with cauliflower ears. (Not the ailment, mind, but actual cauliflower, growing from the sides of the skull and flowering quite nicely.) The body below was thin and fat at the same time, undulating between weight like waves licking the shore. Fingers made of bone clicked together anxiously, with far more phalanges than were necessary. From the waist down the body fell into darkness, robed in something that was blacker than black, aside from a pair of human-looking bare feet sticking out. Its toenails were painted bright pink, and seemed to be conversing among themselves. “It’s not Halloween yet,” she said, gripping the door tightly. The creature said nothing, just staring at her. “That’s a really impressive costume, but you’re...five days early, I think. It’s only Tuesday, so…” “You’re not dead.” The voice that came from the monster was soft and confused. There was no scratch or echo or blood-curdling edge, just a voice that could belong to any adult human, wavering with shock and disbelief. Rachel glanced behind herself, just to make sure. Nope, no dead body on the floor of the kitchen, where she’d been working when the being had knocked. “No,” she agreed, “I think I’m very much alive.” “But...but how…?” She turned back to the horror and scratched absently at her cheek, trying to decide which eye to gaze into. They kept appearing and disappearing, so she settled on gazing into the middle of the creature's round head. “I...don’t know? I mean, am I supposed to be?” “All who gaze upon my visage fall, as is the way!” The creature gesticulated wildly, flailing its arms, too-long fingers clicking together. “Yet you do not shudder, you do not flinch! How can you withstand the horror that is I, Formidulosus, and not melt into a puddle of your own entrails!?” Flecks of foam gathered along the edge of its dual-mouths, and Rachel took a step back to avoid being spit on. “By Cthulhu, it’s unheard of!” “Oh, you like Lovecraft?” She latched onto the only thing she’d understood in the odd rant. “I find him a bit hard to read sometimes, but I just got the Call of Cthulhu game on my laptop and I’m looking forward to playing it on Saturday…” She trailed off as the creature tilted its head and stared at her in something akin to astonishment. “You know of the old ones?” “...Yes?” Rachel took a step forward (now that there was no other-worldly face foam flying about) and gave the creature a good look. Its shoulders were trembling, and it had begun clicking its fingers together. The bright-pink toenails had fallen silent. Had the thing been human, she would have said it looked almost...anxious? A bit lost, perhaps? “Would you like a cup of tea?” The creature tilted its head, considering, then nodded. Rachel motioned for it to follow her into the kitchen and led the way. She could hear it behind here, each footfall echoed by the soft schwip-schwip of the too-black robe dragging across the hardwood. The electric kettle was already full of water, so she plugged it in and turned to watch the oddity as it carefully entered her kitchen and looked about, as though waiting for the china to attack it. “Please, have a seat, Mr, uh, Formidable,” she motioned to the kitchen table, then flushed as she realized her work was covering nearly every inch. “Formidulosus,” it corrected, watching with curiosity as she stacked papers and shoved them to the side, clearing a space for two to sit. “What is this parchment about? Are you a scholar?” “Oh no,” Rachel turned to the counter as the kettle began to hiss and spit. She pulled down two mugs and, after a moment's deliberation, decided on chamomile for both of them. The creature sat awkwardly in one of the chairs and watched as she bustled about, grabbing a teddy-bear shaped container of honey from the cabinet and juggling it alongside the two mugs over to the table. Its many, many eyes drifted to the stacks of paper, and it could see lines filled with different types of handwriting, and scrolls of paper printed with blue lines that were ragged on the edge and cramped with ugly letters. “Not a scholar?” It prompted as it took the mug. “Nah,” Rachel fell into her own seat, focusing once more on the center of its face. “I’m a teacher.” “That is a noble position! Perhaps protected by the new gods. That could be why you did not flail and melt into a puddle of -.” “-my own entrails. Yeah, let’s not think about that part.” Rachel took a sip. “Dunno about these new gods, but I can tell you,” she rested a hand on top of the nearest stack of homework to be graded, “teaching middle school, you see some weird shit.” As Formidulosus left that night, stomach full of tea and arms full of what its new friend Rachel called ‘the best of Lovecraft, seriously, let me know what you think of The Temple!’, it pondered if there were others of these ‘Middle School Teachers’ in the world to befriend.	The Horror That Splinters The Mind and I were having tea one day. Well, I was having tea, they were sipping on a metal cup of molten copper. Every sip they took made them smiley wide and content, their first row of teeth peeking out under their black lips. We had been doing this since the first lock down. The new guidelines only cover humans so they were the only one I could have over. Even if we were raided, it would just result in a pile of bodies with their brains pouting out every hole in their head. Generally speaking, I try to avoid that. It would put a dampener on one of my few pleasures left in this world. THTSTM, or Pknq'h, as their fellow horrors call them, have been friends since the emergence two years ago. I cannot pronounce their name, and I've badly translated the letters from the forbidden text. They also cannot pronounce my name, it sounds like a gurgle from their throat. None of that matters because they are a good creature and we get on well. To call our conversations intense is to call hell warm. The only audible communication is their gutteral noises and my screams. Pknq'h shoves images and thoughts into my mind and harvests my feelings. We have very deep conversations and I feel very refreshed afterwards. They feel full, and they say my mind is delicious. That day, they appeared in my fire, as usual, and climbed through to this world. Something was off. There was a particularly dark cloud over them. The vapour they exude to protect them from light and air was much darker today. Without thinking, I asked them what was wrong, but they seemed to understand my intent anyway. We sat down to "talk" and his consumption of my feelings was rapid and excitable. They consumed my joy of seeing them and it seemed to help them. Then the onslaught of images came. It was the usual jarring, ripping, tearing feeling, with overwhelming emotions and some pain. But this time, there was something I had never experienced before, the closest Eldritch feeling they had to sadness. Pknq'h was being bullied, being mocked an isolated because the others found out they had a human friend. It's like being friends with cattle, they mocked; like making conversation with a salad, they derided. Tears started to well in my eyes, this creature wasn't evil, it wasn't doing bad things for bad reasons, it simply fed on emotions and thoughts and, as an unfortunate side effect, shattered minds. You wouldn't say a lion was cruel to a gazelle. They reached a sharp appendage out to wipe my tear away. It burned like a thousand suns on contact but left no mark. The pain my friend brings is temporary, the joy they bring lasts much longer. It hurt me more to feel the overwhelming sadness exuded from them. How does one comfort an Eldritch Horror? I try to think of the happiest things I can and offer my thoughts to them. They consumed my happy thoughts with great fervor. I wanted more imagery though, because as they broke their way into my mind, they left Pknq'h's. I hoped that would help. I got a few nasty images of bullying, made much worse by them being Eldritch Horrors. Then words floated in my mind, words in human script, words in human language, although very rough. I didn't know how to react, like expecting a punch and getting a tickle. The words floating in my mind like a bloated corpse were 'why you friend'. Why was I their friend? I sat back in my chair and looked at them. Their bestial form, mostly shrouded by noxious vapour was horrific, but looks mean little to me. They gobbled up this feeling and their vapour lightened a little. The next stab into my mind was also words: "make insane". No, they don't. I don't know why but it feels bad only for a second and then I am grand, like pulling a bandaid off. They ate this too and probed into my mind for what a bandaid was. Their vapour lightened some more and their face peeked out again from it. I smiled through the mind shattering pain of the sight, ignoring the feeling that my eyes were melting. They weren't, I knew that, it was just the mild insanity effect. I looked at them and allowed my feelings to bare themselves. They gorged themselves on them and the vapour went almost light grey, the lightest I'd even seen it. I know I was laying it on thick but they needed it. They stabbed more words into my mind, this time with such force that my nose dripped a drop of blood. Pknq'h was taken aback and pushed a whole load of images into my mind. There is no direct translation for an apology in the Forbidden Tongue but all those images together meant mistake, regret, and concern. Essentially a decent apology, by any standard. I wiped my nose and considered the words: "why not make insane". I never considered why, I was just glad I was resistant to it. I thought long and hard on it, with them nibbling on the thoughts, before coming to the conclusion. It was the internet, I'd been on it since I was 6. I'd seen everything and anything it had to offer. Horrific, disturbing, and graphic content, mind melting ideas and imagery, the worst abuse you could take, all there, at the click of a button, 24 hours a day. They ate those thoughts and feelings up like candy, it was more painful than usual but still bearable. Their vapour turned nearly white with joy. I gave them what the images described as a home cooked meal with a twist. Imagry they're used to in their realm, created just as well in ours but slightly different, like I used a different spice. I had an idea, I opened up my phone and started with social media, reading all of the most disturbing and violent content humans could produce. As soon as I could perceive it Pknq'h ate it up. If it weren't for my years as a netizen, I would have had no resistance to the Emergence and the chaos it sowed. If it weren't for that, I never would have made friends with The Horror That Splinters The Mind. We spent the afternoon browsing until the blood moon rose. Time to go, the image burned into my mind. Not just because of the Eldritch properties but I was loathe to see them go. Their tendrils pushed off the floor and they floated above my table. They moved through the air towards my sitting room and its fireplace. "Wait," I yelled, "One more thing. I have to show you this." I showed them [this](https://youtu.be/dQw4w9WgXcQ) video and they loved it. It was so cruel, so mean and yet so funny. I gave them my old phone with it loaded onto it and told them to show the others. Nobody bullied them after that.
	[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you.	Philhachulil and I lounge on the couch watching some trashy reality TV show the same way we'd been doing for the last few days. We've only known each other a short while but he seems to have taken a real liking to me. He's not left my place since appearing. I feel my phone vibrating in my pocket, so I take it out and put it on the table. I don't mind. Once you get past all of his tentacles, and the teeth, and the way too many eyes, Phil's actually a really nice creature. My phone vibrates again, so I put it on silent. In fact, my life would be very, very different if it weren't for him. We share a bowl of popcorn (which Phil kindly prepared for us!) and laugh as the rich housewife dumps a drink on another poor unsuspecting sod. Phil laughs so hard that one of his tentacles knocks the bowl over, spilling popcorn all over the carpet. "@#$\!" He curses in that chilling language of his. "It's no wonder they call me a horror." "You really shouldn't let them talk about you like that," I say. The stigma against Eldritch individuals* really should change. This isn't the 1800s anymore! "It is what it is," Phil replies. He has such a positive attitude. It's inspiring. "I'll go get the vacuum." "Nah, let's finish watching and then I'll clean it up." "I made the mess so I'll clean it." "Well, okay, but after this episode." Grudgingly, Phil agrees. We fall quiet, listening to the shrill screams on the TV. The woman is upset because her peanut sauce tastes too much like peanuts. "Hey, Kelly?" Phil asks. "Yeah?" "Don't take this question the wrong way, but why are we friends?" I glance at Phil, blinking in surprise. "Because you're kind, considerate, and just an all around great person." "Well, that's it. I'm not a person. I'm a monster." "You're not a monster--" "I know, I know, but you know what I mean! I'm pretty scary to look at, but you're not scared of me at all." "Beauty is only skin deep anyway. It's what's inside that counts, and there's nothing scary inside of you at all." "You don't know that. I've eaten a lot of questionable things." That brings a laugh out of me and I bump him affectionately. "You know what I mean." He pauses, settling back into the couch. I'm amazed by how well he can manipulate his extra bulk. He looks at my phone, then looks back at me. "You know your phone has been flashing nonstop with messages." "Yeah." "Are you going to answer them?" "It's from Vincent." "...Oh." I know I shouldn't, but I sneak a peek at the latest message. Last chance before you die alone. Nobody else is ever gonna love you. You're over 30 now and can't even have kids. Who's gonna want a defective model? Only I could accept you. Your own family didn't want to keep you. I'm the only one who's nice enough to care about you. You'll never find anyone else like me and if you don't finally see reason again then I'm gonna leave just like your fucking parents. And there'll be no one to save you this time. Another flashes just as I finish reading the first. Fuck you then you crazy psycho bitch I never loved you anyway Tears burn in my eyes. I don't know why I allow his words to hurt me when I should know better now. But his painful scars run deeper than rationality. Gently, a tentacle covers my hands, blocking the phone. Another points to the TV. "That lady's thrown a shoe at her neighbour and now the show's ended." I force a laugh, shaking my head free from my thoughts. "So ridiculous, right?" "I think I'm starting to get it," he says, "Are we ready to clean up now?" I nod and offer my phone to Phil. He tosses it into his mouth with a sickening crunch and swallows my nightmare into his abyss. \\\\\* Thanks for reading! Feel free to check out more stories here: r/rulerofstorybears	Melissa had grown quite comfortable around her eldritch roommate. The two watching tv, their usual Saturday activity. Melissa popped open a beer, slouching back into the cushions of the couch, only to take her glance off the tv, her eyes meeting the strange creature that hovered above the leather couch. The creature was a swirling mass of flesh, its face changing with each passing second. The faces were that of pained humans, flashing the face of people who had horrific deaths, each face representing that last moment of horror before their untimely demise. Under the changing faces was a long thin body, almost two dimensional. She studied the creature for a moment before letting out a sigh. “What’s wrong? You look upset. Did you look at yourself in the mirror again?” Melissa teased, watching the thin horror anxiously twiddle its boney fingers. “No, I always look away from mirrors. I was just wondering why you aren’t affected by my appearance. I’m not complaining, its just strange that you shrug off my presence with such ease. Most humans die at the sight of my face. Half of my faces are probably from the people I have encountered. So what made you so cold? What broke you in such a way that you feel nothing?” Melissa watched the hand of the creature as it pointed to its face. Its current face was that of a man. His eyes bugging out, nearly popping from his sockets. His mouth agape in pale fear. Melissa reached for her can, taking a long sip of the bitter booze, downing it until the can was about a quarter full. “Elly, I have witnessed horrors that you can’t even imagine. Those faces of yours are nothing compared to the fearsome monsters that I used to see. Your faces don’t speak and torment me like the others used to. After my years of dealing with those horrors, I became the shell of a person you see before you. I wouldn’t wish my fate on anyone, no matter how evil.” Elly the Eldritch monster was quiet. It knew its friend was cold, but this cold? The monster felt something that it had never felt before. Pity. Elly slid closer towards their friend, wrapping their arm around her shoulder, pulling Melissa into a hug. The monster was silent for a few minutes, just embracing their friend, trying to soak up some pain that had seated itself in the pits of her heart. Eventually Melissa pushed it away. “I never knew you had such a hard life. When I first came to consume your soul, I thought you were just a regular person. A normal human, but I was so wrong. I never thought I would have a friend; us monsters aren’t exactly social types. Whatever did this to you Melissa, I promise I will walk all the realms to kill them for you.” “I don’t want you to kill them. It’s all in the past. It hurt at the time by now it’s over. Thank you though Elly, I appreciate it. It hasn’t been bad having some company either. Now can we just watch some tv?” “Sure, some tv sounds nice.” Melissa turned her attention back to the tv, flicking on that typical three pm afternoon crap that wasn’t good enough for the big time. Today’s mess of media was a crime show based solely around murders that have taken place in Antarctica. Seems Melissa had found a winner today, an actual splendid show. She snuggled into the couch, turning to her friend who seemed less excited. Melissa again sighed, turning off the tv as she eyed the monster. “What’s wrong?” “Well, It’s just. I can’t even imagine something more horrifying then myself. Whatever you went through must have been worse than hell. Us eldritch monsters are created from the fears of the surrounding humans, we are indescribable messes of flesh that make anyone who witnesses us go insane. So you are telling me whatever you experienced was worse than that?” “Much worse, the horrors I went through make you seem tame in comparison.” “Then please, tell me what you went through that was so horrific.” Melissa thought about it, before finally nodding. She turned to face the monster next to her, staring into their face. An unnatural tension had filled the air as the two had an impromptu stare down before Melissa spoke. “I worked retail.” &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; (If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)
	[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you.	There was a monster on the front step. Rachel blinked, but it remained, hunched over on the porch, still there in all it’s disturbing glory. It had one eye - no, it had many eyes, all blinking and shifting and looking here and there, but not visible all at the same time. They were laced above a mouth that stretched out in a fierce grin at the same time it drooped in a heavy frown, all perched on a round, clay-like head with cauliflower ears. (Not the ailment, mind, but actual cauliflower, growing from the sides of the skull and flowering quite nicely.) The body below was thin and fat at the same time, undulating between weight like waves licking the shore. Fingers made of bone clicked together anxiously, with far more phalanges than were necessary. From the waist down the body fell into darkness, robed in something that was blacker than black, aside from a pair of human-looking bare feet sticking out. Its toenails were painted bright pink, and seemed to be conversing among themselves. “It’s not Halloween yet,” she said, gripping the door tightly. The creature said nothing, just staring at her. “That’s a really impressive costume, but you’re...five days early, I think. It’s only Tuesday, so…” “You’re not dead.” The voice that came from the monster was soft and confused. There was no scratch or echo or blood-curdling edge, just a voice that could belong to any adult human, wavering with shock and disbelief. Rachel glanced behind herself, just to make sure. Nope, no dead body on the floor of the kitchen, where she’d been working when the being had knocked. “No,” she agreed, “I think I’m very much alive.” “But...but how…?” She turned back to the horror and scratched absently at her cheek, trying to decide which eye to gaze into. They kept appearing and disappearing, so she settled on gazing into the middle of the creature's round head. “I...don’t know? I mean, am I supposed to be?” “All who gaze upon my visage fall, as is the way!” The creature gesticulated wildly, flailing its arms, too-long fingers clicking together. “Yet you do not shudder, you do not flinch! How can you withstand the horror that is I, Formidulosus, and not melt into a puddle of your own entrails!?” Flecks of foam gathered along the edge of its dual-mouths, and Rachel took a step back to avoid being spit on. “By Cthulhu, it’s unheard of!” “Oh, you like Lovecraft?” She latched onto the only thing she’d understood in the odd rant. “I find him a bit hard to read sometimes, but I just got the Call of Cthulhu game on my laptop and I’m looking forward to playing it on Saturday…” She trailed off as the creature tilted its head and stared at her in something akin to astonishment. “You know of the old ones?” “...Yes?” Rachel took a step forward (now that there was no other-worldly face foam flying about) and gave the creature a good look. Its shoulders were trembling, and it had begun clicking its fingers together. The bright-pink toenails had fallen silent. Had the thing been human, she would have said it looked almost...anxious? A bit lost, perhaps? “Would you like a cup of tea?” The creature tilted its head, considering, then nodded. Rachel motioned for it to follow her into the kitchen and led the way. She could hear it behind here, each footfall echoed by the soft schwip-schwip of the too-black robe dragging across the hardwood. The electric kettle was already full of water, so she plugged it in and turned to watch the oddity as it carefully entered her kitchen and looked about, as though waiting for the china to attack it. “Please, have a seat, Mr, uh, Formidable,” she motioned to the kitchen table, then flushed as she realized her work was covering nearly every inch. “Formidulosus,” it corrected, watching with curiosity as she stacked papers and shoved them to the side, clearing a space for two to sit. “What is this parchment about? Are you a scholar?” “Oh no,” Rachel turned to the counter as the kettle began to hiss and spit. She pulled down two mugs and, after a moment's deliberation, decided on chamomile for both of them. The creature sat awkwardly in one of the chairs and watched as she bustled about, grabbing a teddy-bear shaped container of honey from the cabinet and juggling it alongside the two mugs over to the table. Its many, many eyes drifted to the stacks of paper, and it could see lines filled with different types of handwriting, and scrolls of paper printed with blue lines that were ragged on the edge and cramped with ugly letters. “Not a scholar?” It prompted as it took the mug. “Nah,” Rachel fell into her own seat, focusing once more on the center of its face. “I’m a teacher.” “That is a noble position! Perhaps protected by the new gods. That could be why you did not flail and melt into a puddle of -.” “-my own entrails. Yeah, let’s not think about that part.” Rachel took a sip. “Dunno about these new gods, but I can tell you,” she rested a hand on top of the nearest stack of homework to be graded, “teaching middle school, you see some weird shit.” As Formidulosus left that night, stomach full of tea and arms full of what its new friend Rachel called ‘the best of Lovecraft, seriously, let me know what you think of The Temple!’, it pondered if there were others of these ‘Middle School Teachers’ in the world to befriend.	Melissa had grown quite comfortable around her eldritch roommate. The two watching tv, their usual Saturday activity. Melissa popped open a beer, slouching back into the cushions of the couch, only to take her glance off the tv, her eyes meeting the strange creature that hovered above the leather couch. The creature was a swirling mass of flesh, its face changing with each passing second. The faces were that of pained humans, flashing the face of people who had horrific deaths, each face representing that last moment of horror before their untimely demise. Under the changing faces was a long thin body, almost two dimensional. She studied the creature for a moment before letting out a sigh. “What’s wrong? You look upset. Did you look at yourself in the mirror again?” Melissa teased, watching the thin horror anxiously twiddle its boney fingers. “No, I always look away from mirrors. I was just wondering why you aren’t affected by my appearance. I’m not complaining, its just strange that you shrug off my presence with such ease. Most humans die at the sight of my face. Half of my faces are probably from the people I have encountered. So what made you so cold? What broke you in such a way that you feel nothing?” Melissa watched the hand of the creature as it pointed to its face. Its current face was that of a man. His eyes bugging out, nearly popping from his sockets. His mouth agape in pale fear. Melissa reached for her can, taking a long sip of the bitter booze, downing it until the can was about a quarter full. “Elly, I have witnessed horrors that you can’t even imagine. Those faces of yours are nothing compared to the fearsome monsters that I used to see. Your faces don’t speak and torment me like the others used to. After my years of dealing with those horrors, I became the shell of a person you see before you. I wouldn’t wish my fate on anyone, no matter how evil.” Elly the Eldritch monster was quiet. It knew its friend was cold, but this cold? The monster felt something that it had never felt before. Pity. Elly slid closer towards their friend, wrapping their arm around her shoulder, pulling Melissa into a hug. The monster was silent for a few minutes, just embracing their friend, trying to soak up some pain that had seated itself in the pits of her heart. Eventually Melissa pushed it away. “I never knew you had such a hard life. When I first came to consume your soul, I thought you were just a regular person. A normal human, but I was so wrong. I never thought I would have a friend; us monsters aren’t exactly social types. Whatever did this to you Melissa, I promise I will walk all the realms to kill them for you.” “I don’t want you to kill them. It’s all in the past. It hurt at the time by now it’s over. Thank you though Elly, I appreciate it. It hasn’t been bad having some company either. Now can we just watch some tv?” “Sure, some tv sounds nice.” Melissa turned her attention back to the tv, flicking on that typical three pm afternoon crap that wasn’t good enough for the big time. Today’s mess of media was a crime show based solely around murders that have taken place in Antarctica. Seems Melissa had found a winner today, an actual splendid show. She snuggled into the couch, turning to her friend who seemed less excited. Melissa again sighed, turning off the tv as she eyed the monster. “What’s wrong?” “Well, It’s just. I can’t even imagine something more horrifying then myself. Whatever you went through must have been worse than hell. Us eldritch monsters are created from the fears of the surrounding humans, we are indescribable messes of flesh that make anyone who witnesses us go insane. So you are telling me whatever you experienced was worse than that?” “Much worse, the horrors I went through make you seem tame in comparison.” “Then please, tell me what you went through that was so horrific.” Melissa thought about it, before finally nodding. She turned to face the monster next to her, staring into their face. An unnatural tension had filled the air as the two had an impromptu stare down before Melissa spoke. “I worked retail.” &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; (If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)
	[WP] In 2031 Time Travel becomes reality, you cannot alter the past but can view it. Instantly major events become tourist attractions crowded by people hiding and watching. You are walking through the desert night hiking, when thousands appear around you, watching...	The sky is black and unspoiled. You'd hoped the stars might be meaningful but you know they are just gas. Black night, soft as sleep, soft as moss, caresses the rocks and the plants gentle. There is no breeze nor noise except for the sound of your boots on dirt and a slight ticking in your head. &#x200B; The cold is getting to you like you hoped it would. You swig again. Stumble but overall it does not matter. Overall you are walking a straight line into the desert. You hate yourself for knowing you know your way back to the car. If you were any kind of human you would have walked as randomly as you could so you could not find your way back. So you had no way out. &#x200B; You pull your sheepskin jacket around you, tighter. Hating yourself for doing it. Its only keeping you warmer longer. The sooner you get cold enough the sooner this is over. &#x200B; You know humans cannot walk in a straight line, really. Eventually, you will veer to your left and complete a circle. But you know that humans can't walk in random directions, either. You know its impossible for a human to think of a truly random number. You try and do it &#x200B; "124..." you begin "...9.." you continue. You did not pick 8 as it would have been a sequence. Ergo you have influenced your randomness. &#x200B; You swig again. You do not know much about numbers but you know too much about 1s and 0s. You toss the bottle into the desert, don't hear it clatter. &#x200B; Two weeks ago you used your computer knowledge to hack into the Pentagon. What they know, you know. Area 51, Rigged elections, the location of CIA spy stations, you know it all. Eagerly you paged through it all. Eager in ecstasy looking for the big secret. Eager, until you found it. &#x200B; A comet is going to hit earth in two years. The CIA estimate the global mortality rate to be 80%. &#x200B; The desert is cold as you knew it would be. Your plan is to walk and to drink and then to dream dreamless sleep. &#x200B; Really, who could you tell about the comet? What would it do to the world? You have read 'On the Beach', where the last people left are in Australia. The novel tells stories about how they go to their deaths with grace, after putting things in order. Even before you started hacking, you knew more about life than that. You think of your niece. Two days ago your sister whatsapped you a video of her first steps. &#x200B; "On her way" she captioned the video. &#x200B; "Where to?" you wanted to ask. But you could not because you knew the answer. Two years. &#x200B; You are very drunk now. You have shed your jacket without noticing. When you get hypothermia, you shed your clothes irrationally. You read about it, when you read about Dylatov Pass. &#x200B; How can you tell people about the comet? What good would it do? But if you don't, how can you live with yourself? You'd thought about the two years you knew you had. Thought about cocaine blizzards and sprees. But after the first bag, everything tasted of ash. You just couldn't do it. But you couldn't tell anyone, either. So what else is there? &#x200B; You are very drunk. You trip over a rock, crawl to a boulder and lean up against it. You close your eyes. &#x200B; People appear as you close your eyes. They bow their heads. You did not talk. You did not cause chaos. You allowed plans to form. You forgot hope. It took them eighteen months to notice they'd been hacked. When they did, there was pandemonium. Had you published your proof, civilisation would have collapsed. As it was, it allowed the CIA and a select group of military and other like minded officials to prepare. In the future, you will be venerated for your silence, as much as a person like you can be venerated. &#x200B; The leader of the people, in a military uniform salutes you. &#x200B; "Thank you for your service," he whispers but you do not hear.	A cool breeze blew across the desert. Little particles of sand brushed against my face. In the vast emptiness, I heard a sound. It was the sound of people. The kind you normally hear inside a crowded auditorium. A movie, I thought, or perhaps a time viewing. There were thousands of people. All of them trying to get a better view of something. I spotted a warp stabiliser in the background. Definitely a time viewing. I stepped on some toes and shoved my way to the front of the crowd. It was a camel, a giant camel that lay on its side. It was dead, but the desert preserved its body. Near the corpse was a man. He was talking. Sometimes, you find this, he said, pointing towards the camel. This camel is dead, but its body is still good. We might find some water here. He spilt the Camel's guts using his knife and extracted something which looked like undigested hay. This contains a lot of water, he said. You don't want to be dehydrated. He pressed the undigested hay and drank the water that trickled out of it. The crowd gasped. It was disgusting. Then a man holding a camera appeared into the frame. Another voice said, Alright we'll rest up for a bit now. Then the man behind the voice himself appeared. The back of his jacket said -- Man vs Wild.
	[WP] In 2031 Time Travel becomes reality, you cannot alter the past but can view it. Instantly major events become tourist attractions crowded by people hiding and watching. You are walking through the desert night hiking, when thousands appear around you, watching...	Tanner stopped for a moment, head tilted back and arms outstretched to best enjoy the cooler air at this elevation. His sweat-drenched T-shirt clung with a clammy grip to arms and chest more muscular and in-shape than they had been since high school. Extremely early retirement and a gradual retreat from society had been good for something, at least. The trail had thinned to the point that it would be hard to claim it still existed. It was pure luck rather than good planning that tonight’s skies were clear, with a near-full moon hanging up there like an enormous personal flashlight. It wasn’t doing anyone else around here any good, anyway; Tanner hadn’t seen another soul since just after sundown. Squinting into the distance to try to spot the next cairn, Tanner’s eyes chanced to catch movement off to the left of the trail. What was that? Something had shifted just behind an enormous sprouting of saguaro, the many-limbed species of cactus that dotted the landscape like silent sentries. He ventured forwards, keeping his eyes fixed on the plant, which must have been over ten metres tall. Tanner shuddered, perhaps not due to the temperature. This huge plant, this silent watcher, made him feel even smaller than usual. Keeping to what remained of the trail, Tanner drew level with the saguaro. Craning forwards to get a closer look, he saw movement again. And…it ran from its cover. A jackrabbit, a big one at that. Tanner exhaled slowly, a long expression of relief. For a second he’d thought it might be one of those ghosts. Ghosts. It was hard to abandon the old term, even though science now knew what they truly were. Not spectres of the dead, but of those not yet alive. Time travellers, in a sense. As they couldn’t speak or touch anything in this time, it was more accurate to call them projections than travellers. They didn’t seem to have actually travelled anywhere. It was like an advanced form of future TV, except these projections were the viewers, not the show. No, that was us, those in the present. The entertainment was the people and events they came to observe. Heading up towards the summit of Mount Kimball once more, Tanner found himself ruminating on the subject of the ghosts. Damned things. They were what made him quit his job – no, quit his career – in the first place. Throughout human history, they had turned up at pivotal moments. They were depicted in hieroglyphics at several different sites in ancient Egypt. Nearly a thousand were said to have watched the crucifixion of Jesus of Nazareth. Almost as many witnessed Caesar cross the Rubicon. Again and again, the ghosts appeared. A worrying amount were present at each and every one of Hitler’s speeches. A large crowd of them were reported to have witnessed Mao Zedong proclaim the establishment of the People’s Republic of China. Name a noteworthy event and the ghosts would have been there. Mentioned in the holy books of all the major religions of the world, the ghosts’ presence had influenced each of those faiths in ways that were too numerous and profound to quantify. How different would the world have been without the existence of the ghosts? Was the invention of this technology inevitable? Was it a good thing if it was? These questions had plagued Tanner’s research career. Working with scientists who seemed to be inching closer to the secret of this time travel technology, he had come up with his answer to the last of those questions and quit. Humans watching humans, signposting any event of significance in all of history? That sucked all mystery from life. And it just plain sucked. Shaking his head in attempt to clear it of these thoughts, Tanner tried to focus on the present. It was just him, his pack and the hike. Perfect solitude. He had reached the forested upper part of the mountain. The trees loomed above him, blocking the moonlight so much that he had to fumble around in his pack for his flashlight. Despite the beautiful stillness of the forest, the ghosts – of more than one kind – came back to haunt Tanner’s thoughts. Specifically, the reason he had finally left his comfortable old life behind. Lily. Three years older than him, and truly brilliant, she had taken Tanner under her wing at first, showing him the ropes in his first months in the job. Later, real friendship had bloomed, along with a massive crush that she’d never reciprocated. Their last conversation was etched in his mind. He tried not to replay it yet again word for word, and succeeded this time in editing it down to a quick succession of highlights instead. Lily calling. Excitement in her voice. She’d made a breakthrough. Huge, but worrying. She’d be rich. And famous. Impossibly rich, impossibly famous. But was it worth it? And- And then, she said, the ghosts appeared. Hundreds of them, squeezed into every nook and cranny of her apartment, jostling for space, elbowing each other aside in order to see. Was it because…? Her voice trailed off, she said one single word, and then she hung up. “Sorry.” Tanner had rushed to her apartment but it was too late. Lily had hung herself from her shower curtain pole. Tanner had given her the blouse that she'd wound around her neck for her twenty-ninth birthday. He quit his job a month later, having not returned to the office once in the interim. At the funeral, a middle manager who had drunk too much free whisky and who thought only another crony was listening had implied that Lily had been weak. Tanner suspected it had been the opposite. She’d been much stronger than any of them would have been. Breaching the treeline, Tanner found himself near the summit. Fatigued legs found more energy and he made good time up the rocky last section of the hike. Tanner planted his feet on the hard ground at the top of the mountain. The wide vista that swept across his vision contained no signs of civilization whatsoever. He was completely, totally alone. This was why he had come here tonight. Perfect solitude. It was like stepping back in time. Stepping back in time. Unbidden, unwanted, a thought slid into Tanner’s mind from he had no idea where. Time travel. He knew how to do it. And at that moment, they appeared. One, then three, then ten. Twenty, thirty, and then too many to count. There must have been thousands of them. They crowded around him on the summit of Mount Kimball. Men, women, children. All smiling. Smiling at him.	A cool breeze blew across the desert. Little particles of sand brushed against my face. In the vast emptiness, I heard a sound. It was the sound of people. The kind you normally hear inside a crowded auditorium. A movie, I thought, or perhaps a time viewing. There were thousands of people. All of them trying to get a better view of something. I spotted a warp stabiliser in the background. Definitely a time viewing. I stepped on some toes and shoved my way to the front of the crowd. It was a camel, a giant camel that lay on its side. It was dead, but the desert preserved its body. Near the corpse was a man. He was talking. Sometimes, you find this, he said, pointing towards the camel. This camel is dead, but its body is still good. We might find some water here. He spilt the Camel's guts using his knife and extracted something which looked like undigested hay. This contains a lot of water, he said. You don't want to be dehydrated. He pressed the undigested hay and drank the water that trickled out of it. The crowd gasped. It was disgusting. Then a man holding a camera appeared into the frame. Another voice said, Alright we'll rest up for a bit now. Then the man behind the voice himself appeared. The back of his jacket said -- Man vs Wild.
	[WP] In 2031 Time Travel becomes reality, you cannot alter the past but can view it. Instantly major events become tourist attractions crowded by people hiding and watching. You are walking through the desert night hiking, when thousands appear around you, watching...	The sky is black and unspoiled. You'd hoped the stars might be meaningful but you know they are just gas. Black night, soft as sleep, soft as moss, caresses the rocks and the plants gentle. There is no breeze nor noise except for the sound of your boots on dirt and a slight ticking in your head. &#x200B; The cold is getting to you like you hoped it would. You swig again. Stumble but overall it does not matter. Overall you are walking a straight line into the desert. You hate yourself for knowing you know your way back to the car. If you were any kind of human you would have walked as randomly as you could so you could not find your way back. So you had no way out. &#x200B; You pull your sheepskin jacket around you, tighter. Hating yourself for doing it. Its only keeping you warmer longer. The sooner you get cold enough the sooner this is over. &#x200B; You know humans cannot walk in a straight line, really. Eventually, you will veer to your left and complete a circle. But you know that humans can't walk in random directions, either. You know its impossible for a human to think of a truly random number. You try and do it &#x200B; "124..." you begin "...9.." you continue. You did not pick 8 as it would have been a sequence. Ergo you have influenced your randomness. &#x200B; You swig again. You do not know much about numbers but you know too much about 1s and 0s. You toss the bottle into the desert, don't hear it clatter. &#x200B; Two weeks ago you used your computer knowledge to hack into the Pentagon. What they know, you know. Area 51, Rigged elections, the location of CIA spy stations, you know it all. Eagerly you paged through it all. Eager in ecstasy looking for the big secret. Eager, until you found it. &#x200B; A comet is going to hit earth in two years. The CIA estimate the global mortality rate to be 80%. &#x200B; The desert is cold as you knew it would be. Your plan is to walk and to drink and then to dream dreamless sleep. &#x200B; Really, who could you tell about the comet? What would it do to the world? You have read 'On the Beach', where the last people left are in Australia. The novel tells stories about how they go to their deaths with grace, after putting things in order. Even before you started hacking, you knew more about life than that. You think of your niece. Two days ago your sister whatsapped you a video of her first steps. &#x200B; "On her way" she captioned the video. &#x200B; "Where to?" you wanted to ask. But you could not because you knew the answer. Two years. &#x200B; You are very drunk now. You have shed your jacket without noticing. When you get hypothermia, you shed your clothes irrationally. You read about it, when you read about Dylatov Pass. &#x200B; How can you tell people about the comet? What good would it do? But if you don't, how can you live with yourself? You'd thought about the two years you knew you had. Thought about cocaine blizzards and sprees. But after the first bag, everything tasted of ash. You just couldn't do it. But you couldn't tell anyone, either. So what else is there? &#x200B; You are very drunk. You trip over a rock, crawl to a boulder and lean up against it. You close your eyes. &#x200B; People appear as you close your eyes. They bow their heads. You did not talk. You did not cause chaos. You allowed plans to form. You forgot hope. It took them eighteen months to notice they'd been hacked. When they did, there was pandemonium. Had you published your proof, civilisation would have collapsed. As it was, it allowed the CIA and a select group of military and other like minded officials to prepare. In the future, you will be venerated for your silence, as much as a person like you can be venerated. &#x200B; The leader of the people, in a military uniform salutes you. &#x200B; "Thank you for your service," he whispers but you do not hear.	I look around. It's not something I'll ever forget. The sun is just starting to rise, the desert is shimmering with heat. Aside from the desert, I'm not sure where I'm going. I'm sitting on my back on the side of the highway, watching the sunset. &#x200B; The next few minutes are just as surreal.A group of people are walking on the highway, waiting to see me. I turn around and see them all looking at me, all of them talking at the same time. &#x200B; The first two people to surface are the prettiest people I've ever seen. They're both people, both beautiful people. The first woman is covered in some kind of old looking polycarbonate material. Her hair is white and her eyebrows are red. The claperons of different minerals make her look like a cross between a milksock and a bottle. I heard another woman say, "I'm going to be in trouble for some time." She took a deep breath and walked towards me. &#x200B; I say to her "I'm not here to watch the sun rise or anything like that. I'm here to enjoy the feeling of losing my life." &#x200B; "Is it really that bad?" she says. She had a very catlike voice. &#x200B; In a calm voice I reply "Yes, Somewhere, everyone is watching. Everyone is watching.They're watching us, their eyes are on us. It's as big as everyone around us. Why are they watching us?What's the point?" &#x200B; She reaches out for me. I take her hand, and follow her back to her group at the highway.
	[WP] In 2031 Time Travel becomes reality, you cannot alter the past but can view it. Instantly major events become tourist attractions crowded by people hiding and watching. You are walking through the desert night hiking, when thousands appear around you, watching...	Tanner stopped for a moment, head tilted back and arms outstretched to best enjoy the cooler air at this elevation. His sweat-drenched T-shirt clung with a clammy grip to arms and chest more muscular and in-shape than they had been since high school. Extremely early retirement and a gradual retreat from society had been good for something, at least. The trail had thinned to the point that it would be hard to claim it still existed. It was pure luck rather than good planning that tonight’s skies were clear, with a near-full moon hanging up there like an enormous personal flashlight. It wasn’t doing anyone else around here any good, anyway; Tanner hadn’t seen another soul since just after sundown. Squinting into the distance to try to spot the next cairn, Tanner’s eyes chanced to catch movement off to the left of the trail. What was that? Something had shifted just behind an enormous sprouting of saguaro, the many-limbed species of cactus that dotted the landscape like silent sentries. He ventured forwards, keeping his eyes fixed on the plant, which must have been over ten metres tall. Tanner shuddered, perhaps not due to the temperature. This huge plant, this silent watcher, made him feel even smaller than usual. Keeping to what remained of the trail, Tanner drew level with the saguaro. Craning forwards to get a closer look, he saw movement again. And…it ran from its cover. A jackrabbit, a big one at that. Tanner exhaled slowly, a long expression of relief. For a second he’d thought it might be one of those ghosts. Ghosts. It was hard to abandon the old term, even though science now knew what they truly were. Not spectres of the dead, but of those not yet alive. Time travellers, in a sense. As they couldn’t speak or touch anything in this time, it was more accurate to call them projections than travellers. They didn’t seem to have actually travelled anywhere. It was like an advanced form of future TV, except these projections were the viewers, not the show. No, that was us, those in the present. The entertainment was the people and events they came to observe. Heading up towards the summit of Mount Kimball once more, Tanner found himself ruminating on the subject of the ghosts. Damned things. They were what made him quit his job – no, quit his career – in the first place. Throughout human history, they had turned up at pivotal moments. They were depicted in hieroglyphics at several different sites in ancient Egypt. Nearly a thousand were said to have watched the crucifixion of Jesus of Nazareth. Almost as many witnessed Caesar cross the Rubicon. Again and again, the ghosts appeared. A worrying amount were present at each and every one of Hitler’s speeches. A large crowd of them were reported to have witnessed Mao Zedong proclaim the establishment of the People’s Republic of China. Name a noteworthy event and the ghosts would have been there. Mentioned in the holy books of all the major religions of the world, the ghosts’ presence had influenced each of those faiths in ways that were too numerous and profound to quantify. How different would the world have been without the existence of the ghosts? Was the invention of this technology inevitable? Was it a good thing if it was? These questions had plagued Tanner’s research career. Working with scientists who seemed to be inching closer to the secret of this time travel technology, he had come up with his answer to the last of those questions and quit. Humans watching humans, signposting any event of significance in all of history? That sucked all mystery from life. And it just plain sucked. Shaking his head in attempt to clear it of these thoughts, Tanner tried to focus on the present. It was just him, his pack and the hike. Perfect solitude. He had reached the forested upper part of the mountain. The trees loomed above him, blocking the moonlight so much that he had to fumble around in his pack for his flashlight. Despite the beautiful stillness of the forest, the ghosts – of more than one kind – came back to haunt Tanner’s thoughts. Specifically, the reason he had finally left his comfortable old life behind. Lily. Three years older than him, and truly brilliant, she had taken Tanner under her wing at first, showing him the ropes in his first months in the job. Later, real friendship had bloomed, along with a massive crush that she’d never reciprocated. Their last conversation was etched in his mind. He tried not to replay it yet again word for word, and succeeded this time in editing it down to a quick succession of highlights instead. Lily calling. Excitement in her voice. She’d made a breakthrough. Huge, but worrying. She’d be rich. And famous. Impossibly rich, impossibly famous. But was it worth it? And- And then, she said, the ghosts appeared. Hundreds of them, squeezed into every nook and cranny of her apartment, jostling for space, elbowing each other aside in order to see. Was it because…? Her voice trailed off, she said one single word, and then she hung up. “Sorry.” Tanner had rushed to her apartment but it was too late. Lily had hung herself from her shower curtain pole. Tanner had given her the blouse that she'd wound around her neck for her twenty-ninth birthday. He quit his job a month later, having not returned to the office once in the interim. At the funeral, a middle manager who had drunk too much free whisky and who thought only another crony was listening had implied that Lily had been weak. Tanner suspected it had been the opposite. She’d been much stronger than any of them would have been. Breaching the treeline, Tanner found himself near the summit. Fatigued legs found more energy and he made good time up the rocky last section of the hike. Tanner planted his feet on the hard ground at the top of the mountain. The wide vista that swept across his vision contained no signs of civilization whatsoever. He was completely, totally alone. This was why he had come here tonight. Perfect solitude. It was like stepping back in time. Stepping back in time. Unbidden, unwanted, a thought slid into Tanner’s mind from he had no idea where. Time travel. He knew how to do it. And at that moment, they appeared. One, then three, then ten. Twenty, thirty, and then too many to count. There must have been thousands of them. They crowded around him on the summit of Mount Kimball. Men, women, children. All smiling. Smiling at him.	I look around. It's not something I'll ever forget. The sun is just starting to rise, the desert is shimmering with heat. Aside from the desert, I'm not sure where I'm going. I'm sitting on my back on the side of the highway, watching the sunset. &#x200B; The next few minutes are just as surreal.A group of people are walking on the highway, waiting to see me. I turn around and see them all looking at me, all of them talking at the same time. &#x200B; The first two people to surface are the prettiest people I've ever seen. They're both people, both beautiful people. The first woman is covered in some kind of old looking polycarbonate material. Her hair is white and her eyebrows are red. The claperons of different minerals make her look like a cross between a milksock and a bottle. I heard another woman say, "I'm going to be in trouble for some time." She took a deep breath and walked towards me. &#x200B; I say to her "I'm not here to watch the sun rise or anything like that. I'm here to enjoy the feeling of losing my life." &#x200B; "Is it really that bad?" she says. She had a very catlike voice. &#x200B; In a calm voice I reply "Yes, Somewhere, everyone is watching. Everyone is watching.They're watching us, their eyes are on us. It's as big as everyone around us. Why are they watching us?What's the point?" &#x200B; She reaches out for me. I take her hand, and follow her back to her group at the highway.
	[WP] In 2031 Time Travel becomes reality, you cannot alter the past but can view it. Instantly major events become tourist attractions crowded by people hiding and watching. You are walking through the desert night hiking, when thousands appear around you, watching...	The sand under my feet felt cold running through my toes while I climbed the dune. That was when I saw two of them standing together. Tourists. My heart raced as I turned to find another pair had arrived - this time with cameras. The panic had started to kick in as I tried to clumsily climb the top of the dune. I had to get on top so I could see my surroundings - what was in store for me? My heart stopped as I reached on top. Infront of me - behind me - everywhere there were people. The dune I stood on looked more like an island in a sea of humans. That’s the thing about timestamps - there are a few constants. 1. People appear on time stamps. You have to choose a time stamp in order to go to a certain point. These time stamps are precise down to the millisecond. There are popular and cheaper time stamps which are the ones that give you more or less the ideal waiting time before the event. How does this affect anything? Well, that means the increase in numbers from five or six people using a custom time stamp (who got great seats) to a million people using public time stamps is normally one second. You could blink and miss it. And I missed it. 2. You can tell how bad or good the event is by the people attending it. If there are kids - it’s probably a happy PG 13 moment. If they stand extremely far - probably be worried. I stand on top to see this sea of people roaring. It was too dark to tell if there were kids and I could not see their expressions. I sat on top of the dune with my legs crossed, staring at the crowd. I had accepted whatever fate came to me - there is no way to stop it. I shut my eyes. A few seconds in, my eyelids began to grow lighter - an orange tint. Something very bright had appeared - massive torch maybe? The crowd’s screaming rose higher and higher as it got brighter. I opened my eyes. The ground was rising below me - the sand cleared to reveal a stone. I was sitting on a floating stone - rugged dark grey in colour, but glowing brightly. Difficult to explain. My TimePortal gun was buzzing. I promptly took it out and shut it. Immediately the stone went off and fell. What was that? Did the stone react to my portal gun? Is there something inside my gun that reacts to this material? The crowds were roaring louder than ever. I pulled out my portal gun - took out the branium Crystal that powers it and pushed it against the rock. It began to buzz and the rock floated with ease - once again glowing. This rock was no longer controlled by gravity. It felt no friction. This was a breakthrough in science and could help greatly in space travel. I took out my notebook and wrote it down. - found a material in the desert that reacts to branium in a way I have never seen before I looked up to see dead silence. I was alone again. I no longer heard the screams and chants of thousands - just the sounds of cold winds blowing over the acres of sand surrounding me. The event was over. I could think only one thing - “I’m going to be so famous.”	I look around. It's not something I'll ever forget. The sun is just starting to rise, the desert is shimmering with heat. Aside from the desert, I'm not sure where I'm going. I'm sitting on my back on the side of the highway, watching the sunset. &#x200B; The next few minutes are just as surreal.A group of people are walking on the highway, waiting to see me. I turn around and see them all looking at me, all of them talking at the same time. &#x200B; The first two people to surface are the prettiest people I've ever seen. They're both people, both beautiful people. The first woman is covered in some kind of old looking polycarbonate material. Her hair is white and her eyebrows are red. The claperons of different minerals make her look like a cross between a milksock and a bottle. I heard another woman say, "I'm going to be in trouble for some time." She took a deep breath and walked towards me. &#x200B; I say to her "I'm not here to watch the sun rise or anything like that. I'm here to enjoy the feeling of losing my life." &#x200B; "Is it really that bad?" she says. She had a very catlike voice. &#x200B; In a calm voice I reply "Yes, Somewhere, everyone is watching. Everyone is watching.They're watching us, their eyes are on us. It's as big as everyone around us. Why are they watching us?What's the point?" &#x200B; She reaches out for me. I take her hand, and follow her back to her group at the highway.
	[WP] "Captain, the warpdrives are failing and there's little we can actually do. We're stuck," said the first mate. "Fine," the captain said. "Awake the human. Just don't forget to bring it a 'koh-fi' drink to placate it."	Humans. Every ship should have one... hell, every ship probably would if there were enough of them to go around... and they weren't such a damn nuisance. Ours was particularly troublesome because somewhere along it's lifetime it had acquired a fairly hefty caffeine addiction, and emphatically - sometimes violently - resisted any attempts to cure it. That was humans for you mind. Quirky. Every single one of them had _something_ wrong with them. If they weren't so useful, we'd never keep them around. "It almost looks peaceful in there, doesn't it?" The cryo-technician tapped the frosted glass containing our sleeping super-computer. The captain's tone was far more cautious as across the room she punched in her authorization code to awake the frozen creature. "Mh hm. Don't forget what that... thing... actually is. What it's capable of." "No Ma'am. Of course not." This of course is why we kept it in cryo whenever we didn't need it. Some ships fortunate enough to carry one liked to keep them awake so they could be on hand immediately in the case of a crisis, but in the captain's opinion it was more trouble than it was worth, and I've always been inclined to agree. You never know when it might take it into it's head to try and... improve something. Not to mention the fact that, well, it might die. No one had the slightest idea how long the things lived, but presumably even these bizarre creatures could die of old age eventually. "Mr. Levetsivch - do you have the beverage?" "Yes Ma'am. Right here." I offered the captain the "Coffee" that the human insisted upon every time it was woken up, but she waved it away. "No, don't give me that - I don't even like being this close to the damn thing - you can feed it." The pod hissed and sputtered as the cryo-technician fussed around it. Around the room lights were changing slowly from the nice safe cold blue to varying warmer colours. The thing was waking up. You could sense the captain's unease rising with the temperature in the engineering space we had converted into something approximating quarters for our very own eldritch abomination. "You both have everything you need?" Myself and the technician nodded the affirmative. The captain was visibly relieved. Obviously she knew how privileged she was to have one of the rare creatures on her ship... but like anyone who had ever had to actually see the things in action, she was suitably afraid of it. "I'm going back to the bridge. Call me and let me know what it needs once it's awake." We each gave a somewhat half-hearted salute as she turned on her heel and strode out of the room. Inside the pod the creature was showing the faint stirrings of life. It's hairless chest had begun to rise and fall with the first tentative breaths of this new existence into which we were awakening it. Not for the first time I found myself wondering how old the thing actually was. Millions of years, certainly. Maybe hundreds of millions... and that was their true value. They were among the first ones. The oldest of the old races. Their kind had been traveling the galaxy before my people had even evolved on our home world. They were capable of things we couldn't even begin to understand. It made them invaluable, but also a colossal liability. Their minds were unlike those of any other known species. They knew things great and terrible that had long since been lost to younger races, or perhaps never discovered. Somewhere in that simian looking skull were secrets that would change the balance of power in the galaxy forever... if only the damnable creatures could somehow be made to actually share them. The hum of the cryo pod was fading away, the entire room now bathed in a warm red glow that seemed to mimic the bizarre oxygen/iron biology of the stirring creature's blood. "Is it ready lieutenant?" "A few more minutes commander, if you please." I could feel my own pulse starting to quicken and tried to force my hearts to behave. I was an officer in the imperial fleet and commanded over a hundred of our finest, most battle hardened forces. I was not afraid of this single strange creature... ...but deep down, I was. As physically unimposing as they might seem, we have no idea what they're really capable of. What powers the ancient knowledge locked up in those mis-proportioned brains might afford them "It's coming around sir, If you could give me the beverage please?" I handed the steaming container to the technician. Taking it, he stepped forward and toggled the final release catches, stepping smartly backwards and holding the drink out as if it were a shield that might protect him from the horror in the pod. A strange, pale pentadactyl limb extended from the palls of mist that rolled out of the pod, and a voice, so commanding and yet so frail, rang out around the room. "What the FUCK do you people want now? What's this? Gimme that mug. This had better be a god damned coffee." Our secret weapon was awake. Now we had to pray it would co-operate.	Captain Pakiha looked up from the display in front of him when first engineer Kihaki swam in. Kihaki did not look happy. “Warp drive is a no go,” she creaked instead of a greeting. Pakiha whistled annoyed. He felt like sending Kihaki a warning click, but thought better of it. The engineer had just spend the last five hours in an exosuit, that would make anyone cranky. Instead, Pakiha asked: “How much longer to fix it?” “You don’t understand! It’s totally kaputt! Energy matrix needs recalibrating. Which wouldn’t be a problem, only I need to get inside the reaction chamber. Which I can’t with the bulky suit on because the stupid apes build everything to their size.” Kihaki ended in a series of exasperated trills. “How long?” Pakiha repeated, patient. “To completely disassemble the warp core? Four weeks in the dock at minimum. Out here with only on-board means…” She angrily flapped her fins and uttered a series sounds that came surprisingly close to a few choice human curse words. Pakiha thought about the problem. “Would a human fit?” “Yes, of cause! They-” Kihaki interrupted herself. “No! Nonono! Not her! I’m not letting her back in my engineering space! No way!” “Look, I know you don’t get along with our passenger-” “She tried to blow up the ship!” Pakiha send a hunting click her way and added to the warning by opened his mouth and showing his teeth. Kihaki calmed down a bit. Pakiha closed his mouth again and folded his fins in a placative gesture. “Professor Lindholm assured me it was an accident,” he said. What the human actually had said was that Kihaki had ruined her experiment, but Pakiha felt he needed to do a bit of reading between the words and translating in this situation. Kihaki made a dismissive movement with her flukes. “The human is a menace. Besides, she doesn’t know the first thing about warp drives!” “So walk her through the procedure.” Kihaki stared at him, miserable. With an unhappy whistle she admitted: “The professor and I haven’t spoken since… the incident.” “You two just started out on the wrong fin stroke.” Pakiha eyed the chronometer in the corner of his display. “Professor Lindholm’s resting period should end soon. Why don’t you go to her quarters and get her some of that coffee humans like so much?” Kihaki hissed angrily, but flattened her fins to her body to show she yielded the argument. With an angry stroke of her flippers, she turned around and swam back out to get to the water lock. A few very many minutes later – exosuits were many things, but fast to put on wasn’t one of them – engineer Kihaki shambled down the dry section of the ship in her exoskeleton, whistling curses at the clunky contraption. It was an uncomfortable necessity. Few human technology went together well with water – not to mention she needed the suit’s robotic hands for anything but the most basic repairs. Or even such menial tasks as operating the coffee machine in the small dry section canteen. Kihaki didn’t get how humans could drink that repulsive stuff. She had tried it herself once. Had made her jittery and itchy all over for more than a day and it’d taken ages to get the vile taste out of her mouth again. Tea, however, now that was simple pleasure. Maybe that was why she and the Professor didn’t get along.
	[WP] "Hunt monsters long enough, young man, and you start to become something like them." The old hunter said. You thought he was being figurative, until the day you started growing spines.	"Hunt monsters long enough, young man, and you start to become something like them," the old man had said with a solemn face, thoughtfully scratching his back. That was many years ago, on a warm summer night when we were enjoying our last evening together, talking around the campfire. I laughed at him. I didn’t know who he was or why he had to leave. We monster hunters aren’t usually of the companiable sort, but for some time he and I had shared something as close to friendship as it gets. For some months, we had travelled together, fought together and shared the measly pay. It was a great opportunity for me to learn the art of surviving out in the relentless wildness from someone whose wrinkles were the best indicator that he must be good at it, for old monster hunters are a rare species. I don’t know what he got out of our companionship, but I suspect that he felt he had to pass on some of his vast knowledge before the inevitable death would come for him. He was speaking of leaving soon for quite some time before his final announcement on that day, sadly telling me that I would have to look for myself again. To thank him for his tutoring, I gifted him a silver brooch in the form of a leaf I had earned some weeks ago for slaying an especially vile graveyard demon. Over the years, I fought hundreds of monsters, killed most of them and somehow managed to limp away with my life from those I could not best. I was nearly as old as he was back when we met and had almost forgotten him and his seemingly figurative last advice, when I first noticed a strange stubble on my right shoulder. After several weeks had passed and it had grown to a hard, pointy wart I became worried about having picked up one of the numerous diseases haunting the land. I showed it to a healer in the next town I came through. He told me not to worry about it, as we monster hunters usually would die long before any disease could do any harm. And for that, the bastard demanded a full silver dragon. For a year, I went on business as usual, even though a whole array of black spikes had started to grow rampant on my back and scalp. When people started to run away from me instead of begging me to take care of ghouls and wyrms in their backyards, I invested my last few dragons into a hooded robe, just like the old hunter had always worn. When scales began sprouting on my face, I had to start staying away from settled places and hunt game for food instead of monsters for money. Then the periods of memory loss began. I would wake up with blood on my fingers – which by then had grown claws – without any idea what or who it belonged to. One time I found a tooth stuck in my left calf. A human tooth. I moved as far away from the settled regions as I could, a long way further than I had ever been before on my journeys. These places were always much too dangerous to be lurking around in, but sometime the last year monsters had stopped attacking me. I am writing this memoir on a scrap of paper during those short periods of time where my mind is still clear, sitting in a dark, damp cave far off any map. I am not alone, there are monsters living in here but they ignore me. In a corner, I have found an old, tattered cloak with a leaf-shaped brooch on it. &#x200B; Comment: This is my first piece of fiction since elementary school and English is not my first language. Feedback would be greatly appreciated ;)	The secret of this world, and ultimately humanitys success, was rapid evolution. All humans are born the same, that much is certain. But everything else is up in the air. The cities have forgotten this fact, where living among your own kind in relative security and safety stunts the process. But out here? Life is gorgeous and cruel. As a hunter I recall the first time I adapted, spines on my feet, knees, elbows and hands. Myself and my mentor were climbing a mountain to hunt a Yeti that had plagued the nearby town. The climb was brutal and harsh and I nearly died several times along the way. When I reached the top, I had changed, climbing from now on was easy. My master revealed his own adaptation then, many more than myself. He removed his gloves to show clawed hands with leather skin and bony calluses. This revelation took time to process, ill admit, I thought I was losing my humanity. But now? I am stronger, faster, smarter and more capable than any city dwelling peasant. I thought back to the heros and monsters of old, the reality that through hardship and pain they were just people who had changed. I've met zeus himself, skin made of white steel for strength and gold for love, flight for speed and his signature lightning for battle. My own adaptations are numerous now, the process is addictive. My spines became bony claws and spikes, I have grown taller due to hunting big prey, I am stronger from my long distance treks and my skin turned black to better sneak and surprise the dragons of the Ashfields, I can even manipulate fire after that trip. I finish my meal and lumber down to rest, igniting a lonesome tree to heat my bulk. Suddenly a tiny man entered the camp.... tiny? No. He must be average height, I'm the huge one. "What do you want?" I mutter. He is silent, staring at me before clutching his necklace and muttering to himself. "What on earth are you doing?" I ask, lumbering to my feet and placing myself between him and the burning tree. He squeeled "Begone beast! You are not welcome here!" "Beast? I am a human you fool! I am....." I paused. I am human aren't I? The realisation dawned on me. The man continued. "I will not be deceived! I will not be tricked! You are the deceiver, the trickster, the beast! Begone Satan!"
	[WP] In an instant, everyone on Earth develops the ability to shapeshift, but it takes a while for everyone to find out that staying as a form for too long locks you in that form forever. You're a caseworker specializing in helping people who got stuck in a form come to terms with the changes	&#x200B; Ms. Lobber straightened her glasses, "So Mr..." "Hens, Jason Hens." She looked across the desk and asked in a calm tone, "How's your day going Mr. Hens?" "How do you think it's going?" he said flatly. "We deal with these things all the time," she said as she read some papers from a stack in front of her, "So it's been three months?" "Three and a half. Look, I'm a fucking chicken so if you could help me that'll be real great," he said already fed up with the conversation. It was true. Shapeshifters often get stuck as whatever they turn in to. Ms. Lobber sat across from Mr. Hens, a white chicken standing on a stack of books in a chair. "There's no need to get angry," she said, "Treatments take about six to seven months, by then you'll be good as new." "So I'll be a chicken for the next six months," he said, angrily pecking the air. "Yes," she replied. He started flapping his wings and pecking at the desk. "What kind of place is this!" "Security!" Ms. Lobber yelled and a guard promptly came in to drag the belligerent chicken out. Feathers flew as Mr. Hens resisted but he was soon subdued and taken away. "What a shame," Ms. Lobber said to herself.	One by one the world’s clocks chimed noon and somewhere the choral tone soared off bright and friendly and the sun moved across the sky seamlessly, stirring the shadowed trees to whisper to the wind in a language not yet forgotten. I wasn’t paying much attention, of course . The afternoon had been a slow one and I was enjoying a rare moment of peace, with a cool breeze stirring the flyaway strands and tickling my arms just enough to keep the sunlight from being too oppressive. A thin winged bug was hovering, uncertain, at the edge of the sparse overgrowth, about to take off into the sky for its afternoon flight, and I watched the delicate creature hover indecisively from foot to false again. Tomorrow, I promised the hapless bug silently. When I get home I’ll set out that can of spray you like so much. Just one more hour. The bug shuffled its homely wings, took a deep breath, and flew off into the sky. The last red sunspot shimmered on the surface before vanishing completely in the world below and dark clouds filled the sky. There was the faint rumble of thunder in the distance that wasn’t followed by rain. I frowned into the sky, “Not this again,” I said aloud, knowing it wouldn’t do any good. I dropped my head back against the grave marker and sighed. “I shouldn’t have gone to that meeting,” I said after a while as the sun began to set. “Can you imagine what would have happened if this wasn’t what I became? None of this was supposed to happen.” “Zombies!” I laughed into the night sky, wincing. “Zombies,” I said again, more quietly, “The undead kill things by biting, Jane. The fact that I’m still alive at all is a miracle. I’ve bitten as many as two dozen people just to find out that I’m not a zombie. I’m curious, I admit, but I’m not a killer. I guess that makes me one of the undead, in a sense. I’ve always loved the earthy feel of the natural world. I might as well be a zombie.” I watched the shadows darken below as the sun disappeared behind the horizon, and I let the hint of crimson light illuminate the fold in my arms. I had long since grown out of my mourning but in this moment it felt right. The darkness of it contrasted so well with my bright red blouse and the plate at my feet read: Mary E. Fullerton. “Mom would love to see me like this,” I suddenly thought. “She’d be delighted if she had a warning like that right now. She might even laugh.” I stroked the diamond-shaped stone pinned to my blouse and suddenly felt a sharp and burning pain in my chest. I gasped and clutched over my heart. I had thought that shapeshifting would get me out of this. It’s not like I was dead, but at least I had been doing all this for a scientific reason and not because I was trying to fill a hole in my heart that she might never be able to fill. Perhaps that was why Jane’s father had left me. I wondered what it was like for him inside, maybe it was like this. “He was always kind to me, though.”I heard myself say. Maybe it was good to have a man that didn’t love a person like some kind of possession. Maybe it would be better to have a man like Steve. “I guess it’s nice to have choices,” I said, my voice breaking. I shook my head and hurried away from the grave. The call must have come from Mary’s parents, whose own daughter was now making far less progress at being a scientist than I had. They never really understood why I had decided to be a caseworker and I had never been able to explain it to them. “People,” I reminded myself, “are not possessions.” I went back to the house and headed for the lab. Tomorrow’s newspaper would be full of breaking new about the first woman to be bitten by a human as the other ghouls on the block watched it.....
	[WP] In an instant, everyone on Earth develops the ability to shapeshift, but it takes a while for everyone to find out that staying as a form for too long locks you in that form forever. You're a caseworker specializing in helping people who got stuck in a form come to terms with the changes	The Become of a Product It is known by sociologists that little changes in culture or midst might have great Impact over a social system, but no one was prepared for what is to come. Common means weren't given to our economical, judicial or executive system to accommodate shapeshifting in the human genome, and yet it came, abruptly. It was necessary to call for a calamity state all over the globe. People on the streets are freaked out by the news of a child who turned into a old lady and died of a heart attack. But the greater fear was hold as a question deep inside everyone's head. That question was "what if?". Freedom and impunity might be two best friends at this point. My work here begins between the basics of research and welfare. State and private sector are currently working together to not cause panic among the public. Good samaritans? No way! Feeling just like a authoritarian government to me. Ask yourself why the news got so quiet, or what happened to the last editor who brought those creeping articles about the old child story. But now the underground layers of this problem starts to show itself. Today a parrot came to me, beaking at my office window and begging for a auction. It was clear that his shapeshifting into a bird was getting worse, since he often changed his way to talk. Sometimes speaking concerned about his situation and sometimes singing a song and asking for food. His human brain, rotting inside along with his identity. But he clearly had something more important to say. His name, Lenie. - Baahhk! Enslaved people. Baahk! Turn into animals. Turn into pelts. Bahhk! - So Lenie. You were obligated to turn into a parrot? - Nahhk! Mammoth. For Thaaasks! Tusks. I mean. - But you got to change into a parrot. Why and how? - Met one. Also person baaahk! Two mouths ago. I imitate. I ahhk did. To flee. - Who are those people who did this to you Lenie? Do you know them? - Baaahhk people. BAAD. Pirates! Modern Piraahk! Slave parrot in the cabin. For fun. Yeahhk! - The ship had any identification whatsoever? - Tomboi! Sould by Farhhk! Farmac. Farmceutic. For now on he starts to speak nonsense. Just like a regular parrot. I urge my superiors to uncover these criminal acts and allow me to help those poor people who are being killed and used as a product. This act has to be taken immediately, otherwise they will become a lost cause just like Lenie, who I couldn't save. I gave him a home, but real Lenie was gone forever. If I'm not working on this case, consider this my resignation note. To become a journalist.	One by one the world’s clocks chimed noon and somewhere the choral tone soared off bright and friendly and the sun moved across the sky seamlessly, stirring the shadowed trees to whisper to the wind in a language not yet forgotten. I wasn’t paying much attention, of course . The afternoon had been a slow one and I was enjoying a rare moment of peace, with a cool breeze stirring the flyaway strands and tickling my arms just enough to keep the sunlight from being too oppressive. A thin winged bug was hovering, uncertain, at the edge of the sparse overgrowth, about to take off into the sky for its afternoon flight, and I watched the delicate creature hover indecisively from foot to false again. Tomorrow, I promised the hapless bug silently. When I get home I’ll set out that can of spray you like so much. Just one more hour. The bug shuffled its homely wings, took a deep breath, and flew off into the sky. The last red sunspot shimmered on the surface before vanishing completely in the world below and dark clouds filled the sky. There was the faint rumble of thunder in the distance that wasn’t followed by rain. I frowned into the sky, “Not this again,” I said aloud, knowing it wouldn’t do any good. I dropped my head back against the grave marker and sighed. “I shouldn’t have gone to that meeting,” I said after a while as the sun began to set. “Can you imagine what would have happened if this wasn’t what I became? None of this was supposed to happen.” “Zombies!” I laughed into the night sky, wincing. “Zombies,” I said again, more quietly, “The undead kill things by biting, Jane. The fact that I’m still alive at all is a miracle. I’ve bitten as many as two dozen people just to find out that I’m not a zombie. I’m curious, I admit, but I’m not a killer. I guess that makes me one of the undead, in a sense. I’ve always loved the earthy feel of the natural world. I might as well be a zombie.” I watched the shadows darken below as the sun disappeared behind the horizon, and I let the hint of crimson light illuminate the fold in my arms. I had long since grown out of my mourning but in this moment it felt right. The darkness of it contrasted so well with my bright red blouse and the plate at my feet read: Mary E. Fullerton. “Mom would love to see me like this,” I suddenly thought. “She’d be delighted if she had a warning like that right now. She might even laugh.” I stroked the diamond-shaped stone pinned to my blouse and suddenly felt a sharp and burning pain in my chest. I gasped and clutched over my heart. I had thought that shapeshifting would get me out of this. It’s not like I was dead, but at least I had been doing all this for a scientific reason and not because I was trying to fill a hole in my heart that she might never be able to fill. Perhaps that was why Jane’s father had left me. I wondered what it was like for him inside, maybe it was like this. “He was always kind to me, though.”I heard myself say. Maybe it was good to have a man that didn’t love a person like some kind of possession. Maybe it would be better to have a man like Steve. “I guess it’s nice to have choices,” I said, my voice breaking. I shook my head and hurried away from the grave. The call must have come from Mary’s parents, whose own daughter was now making far less progress at being a scientist than I had. They never really understood why I had decided to be a caseworker and I had never been able to explain it to them. “People,” I reminded myself, “are not possessions.” I went back to the house and headed for the lab. Tomorrow’s newspaper would be full of breaking new about the first woman to be bitten by a human as the other ghouls on the block watched it.....
	[WP] In an instant, everyone on Earth develops the ability to shapeshift, but it takes a while for everyone to find out that staying as a form for too long locks you in that form forever. You're a caseworker specializing in helping people who got stuck in a form come to terms with the changes	Henry dropped a file on my desk with a resounding thud. I groaned. ‘More? Seriously? It’s been a year, why aren’t people catching on yet?’ Henry’s features stretched into what passed for a grin on his feline face. ‘Preaching to the choir Amanda. At least I had an excuse.’ Poor Henry. The Changing Time, as it’s now known, when suddenly everyone on earth developed the ability to change their form at will, altered the world as we knew it in an instant. Bonus, the entire population of Earth got so focused on this new ability that it actually paved the way for more peaceful relations between countries. Partly because of that ‘we’re all in this together’ spirit, and partly because discovering that while your army can turn into a battalion of giant rock monsters, so could theirs. What we didn’t know in those first, chaotic months, was that if a being stayed in one form for longer than a month, they were stuck with that form, seemingly forever. We’ve been making some inroads, but people, too many people like Henry had to readjust their lives to fit their new forms. At least Henry didn’t go full cat. He can still get around as mostly human. Others weren’t so lucky. That’s where I came in. My job is to reach out to the newly stuck, to help them navigate their new form, and try and find a place in the world. ‘What’s this one, then?’ I asked, grabbing the folder. ‘Oh, it’s a good one,’ Henry said, flicking his tail. ‘Man to tortoise. I mean, tortoise? Really? Slow moving land-dweller? Why?’ ‘Henry, don’t judge.’ I opened the file and read the brief. ‘Okay, never mind. Judge away. Where is he? ‘Conference room 2.’ I found Brian Slattery, 27, formerly human man, now medium sized tortoise, sitting on the lap of a bemused looking woman, who introduced herself as Brian the tortoise’s girlfriend. ‘Hi, I’m Amanda, I’m here to help you adjust to your new life. Please understand there is not currently any known cure for releasing someone from their form, but we think with a little work, you should be able to lead a happy and fulfilled life. ‘Doubtful.’ Said the tortoise. ‘I know this is hard, Brian,’ I said soothingly, but believe me, I’ve had at least a hundred cases similar to yours and I can assure you those people have managed to adjust quite well to their new existence. ‘Yeah, I’ve seen the television shows,’ said the tortoise irritably. ‘oh, look at Larry, he got stuck as a lion and now he’s wowing people in the circus! Or ‘oh, poor Betty thought her life was over when she found herself trapped in the body of handsome man and now she’s living it up as Byron, super model. I’m a freaking turtle.’ ‘Tortoise,’ I said automatically. ‘Sorry. I understand how you feel, but you must have had a reason to be a tortoise in the first place. ‘I just wanted to, erm. I was just trying to…’ ‘He thought I was cheating on him and he decided disguising himself as a tortoise in my back garden would be the best way of going about catching me.’ Well that matched the file anyway. ‘And are you willing to allow Brian to live in your garden as a tortoise, or should I look for other accommodation for him?’ I didn’t miss the twitch as she tried to hide a grin. ‘I’m fine with it if he is.’ ‘Like I have a choice.’ Brian muttered. ‘Finally Brian, for our records, so we can try to make sure this doesn’t happen to someone else, what caused you to miss the 1 month deadline?’ ‘It was in October when I took on the form,’ he said. ‘How was I supposed to know tortoises hibernate?’	One by one the world’s clocks chimed noon and somewhere the choral tone soared off bright and friendly and the sun moved across the sky seamlessly, stirring the shadowed trees to whisper to the wind in a language not yet forgotten. I wasn’t paying much attention, of course . The afternoon had been a slow one and I was enjoying a rare moment of peace, with a cool breeze stirring the flyaway strands and tickling my arms just enough to keep the sunlight from being too oppressive. A thin winged bug was hovering, uncertain, at the edge of the sparse overgrowth, about to take off into the sky for its afternoon flight, and I watched the delicate creature hover indecisively from foot to false again. Tomorrow, I promised the hapless bug silently. When I get home I’ll set out that can of spray you like so much. Just one more hour. The bug shuffled its homely wings, took a deep breath, and flew off into the sky. The last red sunspot shimmered on the surface before vanishing completely in the world below and dark clouds filled the sky. There was the faint rumble of thunder in the distance that wasn’t followed by rain. I frowned into the sky, “Not this again,” I said aloud, knowing it wouldn’t do any good. I dropped my head back against the grave marker and sighed. “I shouldn’t have gone to that meeting,” I said after a while as the sun began to set. “Can you imagine what would have happened if this wasn’t what I became? None of this was supposed to happen.” “Zombies!” I laughed into the night sky, wincing. “Zombies,” I said again, more quietly, “The undead kill things by biting, Jane. The fact that I’m still alive at all is a miracle. I’ve bitten as many as two dozen people just to find out that I’m not a zombie. I’m curious, I admit, but I’m not a killer. I guess that makes me one of the undead, in a sense. I’ve always loved the earthy feel of the natural world. I might as well be a zombie.” I watched the shadows darken below as the sun disappeared behind the horizon, and I let the hint of crimson light illuminate the fold in my arms. I had long since grown out of my mourning but in this moment it felt right. The darkness of it contrasted so well with my bright red blouse and the plate at my feet read: Mary E. Fullerton. “Mom would love to see me like this,” I suddenly thought. “She’d be delighted if she had a warning like that right now. She might even laugh.” I stroked the diamond-shaped stone pinned to my blouse and suddenly felt a sharp and burning pain in my chest. I gasped and clutched over my heart. I had thought that shapeshifting would get me out of this. It’s not like I was dead, but at least I had been doing all this for a scientific reason and not because I was trying to fill a hole in my heart that she might never be able to fill. Perhaps that was why Jane’s father had left me. I wondered what it was like for him inside, maybe it was like this. “He was always kind to me, though.”I heard myself say. Maybe it was good to have a man that didn’t love a person like some kind of possession. Maybe it would be better to have a man like Steve. “I guess it’s nice to have choices,” I said, my voice breaking. I shook my head and hurried away from the grave. The call must have come from Mary’s parents, whose own daughter was now making far less progress at being a scientist than I had. They never really understood why I had decided to be a caseworker and I had never been able to explain it to them. “People,” I reminded myself, “are not possessions.” I went back to the house and headed for the lab. Tomorrow’s newspaper would be full of breaking new about the first woman to be bitten by a human as the other ghouls on the block watched it.....
	[WP] In an instant, everyone on Earth develops the ability to shapeshift, but it takes a while for everyone to find out that staying as a form for too long locks you in that form forever. You're a caseworker specializing in helping people who got stuck in a form come to terms with the changes	"So, miss Johnson, you have stayed in your... current form, for more than a week?" I start off with. "Yes, how do I change back?" She asks a bit irritably. "As I'm sure you know, if you spend a week in a single form you cannot change to another form without surgery. However I do not believe that would be suitable for your situation," I reply. Miss Johnson is one of many to have changed their form and lost their identity in the process. From a middle aged single woman to a more youthful, but unusual teen. She seems to have been testing around with what she could get away with, patterned hair, small horns, a tail even. Now that she's stuck, she is having trouble proving who she used to be. "You will never get your old body back, but if you get finger printing and verify your signature, the DMV will replace your liscence free of charge, and once that is done I can write a letter of affirmation that you are who you say you are for your work and family members." "...Can't I get how I look fixed ar all?" She asks, a bit defeated. "Hair dye will fix your hair, and a surgeon could remove your horns and tail with some care, but I can't say for sure these options would be permanent or temporary fixes for you." She sighs and gets up. "...I'll get my new liscence then..." "I am sorry for your predicament, if you need any further consultation do not hesitate to call me again," I give her a smile of pity. This job can be quite hard at times, having to tell people their lives will never be the same again and again. But at least I'm helping people fix their mistakes. My next client should be here soon.	One by one the world’s clocks chimed noon and somewhere the choral tone soared off bright and friendly and the sun moved across the sky seamlessly, stirring the shadowed trees to whisper to the wind in a language not yet forgotten. I wasn’t paying much attention, of course . The afternoon had been a slow one and I was enjoying a rare moment of peace, with a cool breeze stirring the flyaway strands and tickling my arms just enough to keep the sunlight from being too oppressive. A thin winged bug was hovering, uncertain, at the edge of the sparse overgrowth, about to take off into the sky for its afternoon flight, and I watched the delicate creature hover indecisively from foot to false again. Tomorrow, I promised the hapless bug silently. When I get home I’ll set out that can of spray you like so much. Just one more hour. The bug shuffled its homely wings, took a deep breath, and flew off into the sky. The last red sunspot shimmered on the surface before vanishing completely in the world below and dark clouds filled the sky. There was the faint rumble of thunder in the distance that wasn’t followed by rain. I frowned into the sky, “Not this again,” I said aloud, knowing it wouldn’t do any good. I dropped my head back against the grave marker and sighed. “I shouldn’t have gone to that meeting,” I said after a while as the sun began to set. “Can you imagine what would have happened if this wasn’t what I became? None of this was supposed to happen.” “Zombies!” I laughed into the night sky, wincing. “Zombies,” I said again, more quietly, “The undead kill things by biting, Jane. The fact that I’m still alive at all is a miracle. I’ve bitten as many as two dozen people just to find out that I’m not a zombie. I’m curious, I admit, but I’m not a killer. I guess that makes me one of the undead, in a sense. I’ve always loved the earthy feel of the natural world. I might as well be a zombie.” I watched the shadows darken below as the sun disappeared behind the horizon, and I let the hint of crimson light illuminate the fold in my arms. I had long since grown out of my mourning but in this moment it felt right. The darkness of it contrasted so well with my bright red blouse and the plate at my feet read: Mary E. Fullerton. “Mom would love to see me like this,” I suddenly thought. “She’d be delighted if she had a warning like that right now. She might even laugh.” I stroked the diamond-shaped stone pinned to my blouse and suddenly felt a sharp and burning pain in my chest. I gasped and clutched over my heart. I had thought that shapeshifting would get me out of this. It’s not like I was dead, but at least I had been doing all this for a scientific reason and not because I was trying to fill a hole in my heart that she might never be able to fill. Perhaps that was why Jane’s father had left me. I wondered what it was like for him inside, maybe it was like this. “He was always kind to me, though.”I heard myself say. Maybe it was good to have a man that didn’t love a person like some kind of possession. Maybe it would be better to have a man like Steve. “I guess it’s nice to have choices,” I said, my voice breaking. I shook my head and hurried away from the grave. The call must have come from Mary’s parents, whose own daughter was now making far less progress at being a scientist than I had. They never really understood why I had decided to be a caseworker and I had never been able to explain it to them. “People,” I reminded myself, “are not possessions.” I went back to the house and headed for the lab. Tomorrow’s newspaper would be full of breaking new about the first woman to be bitten by a human as the other ghouls on the block watched it.....
	[WP] In an instant, everyone on Earth develops the ability to shapeshift, but it takes a while for everyone to find out that staying as a form for too long locks you in that form forever. You're a caseworker specializing in helping people who got stuck in a form come to terms with the changes	(Written on phone, sorry if format is messed up. ) TW: gender dysphoria I walked inside the house. The blonde woman closed the door behind me and waved me towards the living room. She is dressed in an oversized men's T-Shirt. Her boobs are so big it almost looks like a crop top from the front. She offers me a beer. I respectfully decline, I never drink on the job. The things I am faced with as a case worker are hard enough to deal with when sober. We both take a seat on the couch. The silence is pregnant. I clear my throat. "I am here for Mr. Bob Maxwell. Is he coming soon?" "It's me. I am Bob." I nod. "So what are your preferred pronouns Bob?" She frowns. "I'm a man." "Soo, he/him then?" They look frustrated, almost angry I asked. "Yes bro" he grunts. "So why did you call me then, Bob?" His eyebrows raise, as if I just asked him the most stupid question he ever heard. He waves his arms up and down his enormous boob and feminine face "What do you think?" "Well, in my line of business it's best never to assume sir" "I look like a fucking chick!" He declared, shouting the first half of the sentence and whispering the latter half while looking over his shoulders to make sure we are alone. He lets out a long heavy sigh, his boobs juggling along. " Look bro, it was Halloween alright? I dressed up as a woman cause it's funny yea? Next thing I know I am drunk and in need of a piss. I walked into the men's room and a dude started asking me what a pretty lady like myself is doing in there. I laughed it off, but when I tried to use the urinals ...well...it wasn't there" "It?" "My dick. My dick wasnt there anymore" "I see. So what happened next?" "Well, I think I am imagining things at this point. So I go to one of the stalls and take a piss sitting down." "I mean, why call me now ? Halloween ended 2 days ago." "It was a festival bro. I was drunk and thought I was losing my mind at first. But then this hot chick I've been trying to hook up with showed up. She's a lesbian. She was very fond of my tits, and anyhow, it was a fun couple of days but I am home now, and I am sober, and i still have tits" I paused. I've had to work on a couple more cases since the world as we know it changed about a month ago. Nothing like this though. "Look man, I don't know whats going on. I can't exactly go to the doctor and tell them I turned into a woman all of a sudden tho can I ? They will think I'm nuts. I saw your ad online and I was desperate. Can you help?" "Well, I assume you want to go back to how you looked before ? " "Yes. Yes, I want to be me again" Funny phrase that, I thought to myself. " Have you considered going to a gender clinic?" " What? No. What even is that?" "It's a clinic for people who would like a gender reassignment." "The fuck? No. No I don't want no gender reassignment, I am already a man! I just want to go back!" "I am afraid I dont know how to help with that. This is all very new to all of us. But evidence shows that once a person changes one of their characteristics and choose to keep them for a certain amount of time,well, they kinda...stay that way" He now looked properly angry. Or was it sad ? Either way his face turned a shade of red and he lowered his head, his luscious blonde hair covered half of his face and rested on top his boobs. "I- I am not certain that's the case" I tried to calm him. " Like I said this is all very new and you said it yourself, most people won't seek medical advice because shapeshifting isn't exactly on the list of things you call your doctor first. Maybe in the future they will find a ... "A cure?" It wasn't the term I would have used, but i nodded regardless.	One by one the world’s clocks chimed noon and somewhere the choral tone soared off bright and friendly and the sun moved across the sky seamlessly, stirring the shadowed trees to whisper to the wind in a language not yet forgotten. I wasn’t paying much attention, of course . The afternoon had been a slow one and I was enjoying a rare moment of peace, with a cool breeze stirring the flyaway strands and tickling my arms just enough to keep the sunlight from being too oppressive. A thin winged bug was hovering, uncertain, at the edge of the sparse overgrowth, about to take off into the sky for its afternoon flight, and I watched the delicate creature hover indecisively from foot to false again. Tomorrow, I promised the hapless bug silently. When I get home I’ll set out that can of spray you like so much. Just one more hour. The bug shuffled its homely wings, took a deep breath, and flew off into the sky. The last red sunspot shimmered on the surface before vanishing completely in the world below and dark clouds filled the sky. There was the faint rumble of thunder in the distance that wasn’t followed by rain. I frowned into the sky, “Not this again,” I said aloud, knowing it wouldn’t do any good. I dropped my head back against the grave marker and sighed. “I shouldn’t have gone to that meeting,” I said after a while as the sun began to set. “Can you imagine what would have happened if this wasn’t what I became? None of this was supposed to happen.” “Zombies!” I laughed into the night sky, wincing. “Zombies,” I said again, more quietly, “The undead kill things by biting, Jane. The fact that I’m still alive at all is a miracle. I’ve bitten as many as two dozen people just to find out that I’m not a zombie. I’m curious, I admit, but I’m not a killer. I guess that makes me one of the undead, in a sense. I’ve always loved the earthy feel of the natural world. I might as well be a zombie.” I watched the shadows darken below as the sun disappeared behind the horizon, and I let the hint of crimson light illuminate the fold in my arms. I had long since grown out of my mourning but in this moment it felt right. The darkness of it contrasted so well with my bright red blouse and the plate at my feet read: Mary E. Fullerton. “Mom would love to see me like this,” I suddenly thought. “She’d be delighted if she had a warning like that right now. She might even laugh.” I stroked the diamond-shaped stone pinned to my blouse and suddenly felt a sharp and burning pain in my chest. I gasped and clutched over my heart. I had thought that shapeshifting would get me out of this. It’s not like I was dead, but at least I had been doing all this for a scientific reason and not because I was trying to fill a hole in my heart that she might never be able to fill. Perhaps that was why Jane’s father had left me. I wondered what it was like for him inside, maybe it was like this. “He was always kind to me, though.”I heard myself say. Maybe it was good to have a man that didn’t love a person like some kind of possession. Maybe it would be better to have a man like Steve. “I guess it’s nice to have choices,” I said, my voice breaking. I shook my head and hurried away from the grave. The call must have come from Mary’s parents, whose own daughter was now making far less progress at being a scientist than I had. They never really understood why I had decided to be a caseworker and I had never been able to explain it to them. “People,” I reminded myself, “are not possessions.” I went back to the house and headed for the lab. Tomorrow’s newspaper would be full of breaking new about the first woman to be bitten by a human as the other ghouls on the block watched it.....
	[WP] In an instant, everyone on Earth develops the ability to shapeshift, but it takes a while for everyone to find out that staying as a form for too long locks you in that form forever. You're a caseworker specializing in helping people who got stuck in a form come to terms with the changes	Henry dropped a file on my desk with a resounding thud. I groaned. ‘More? Seriously? It’s been a year, why aren’t people catching on yet?’ Henry’s features stretched into what passed for a grin on his feline face. ‘Preaching to the choir Amanda. At least I had an excuse.’ Poor Henry. The Changing Time, as it’s now known, when suddenly everyone on earth developed the ability to change their form at will, altered the world as we knew it in an instant. Bonus, the entire population of Earth got so focused on this new ability that it actually paved the way for more peaceful relations between countries. Partly because of that ‘we’re all in this together’ spirit, and partly because discovering that while your army can turn into a battalion of giant rock monsters, so could theirs. What we didn’t know in those first, chaotic months, was that if a being stayed in one form for longer than a month, they were stuck with that form, seemingly forever. We’ve been making some inroads, but people, too many people like Henry had to readjust their lives to fit their new forms. At least Henry didn’t go full cat. He can still get around as mostly human. Others weren’t so lucky. That’s where I came in. My job is to reach out to the newly stuck, to help them navigate their new form, and try and find a place in the world. ‘What’s this one, then?’ I asked, grabbing the folder. ‘Oh, it’s a good one,’ Henry said, flicking his tail. ‘Man to tortoise. I mean, tortoise? Really? Slow moving land-dweller? Why?’ ‘Henry, don’t judge.’ I opened the file and read the brief. ‘Okay, never mind. Judge away. Where is he? ‘Conference room 2.’ I found Brian Slattery, 27, formerly human man, now medium sized tortoise, sitting on the lap of a bemused looking woman, who introduced herself as Brian the tortoise’s girlfriend. ‘Hi, I’m Amanda, I’m here to help you adjust to your new life. Please understand there is not currently any known cure for releasing someone from their form, but we think with a little work, you should be able to lead a happy and fulfilled life. ‘Doubtful.’ Said the tortoise. ‘I know this is hard, Brian,’ I said soothingly, but believe me, I’ve had at least a hundred cases similar to yours and I can assure you those people have managed to adjust quite well to their new existence. ‘Yeah, I’ve seen the television shows,’ said the tortoise irritably. ‘oh, look at Larry, he got stuck as a lion and now he’s wowing people in the circus! Or ‘oh, poor Betty thought her life was over when she found herself trapped in the body of handsome man and now she’s living it up as Byron, super model. I’m a freaking turtle.’ ‘Tortoise,’ I said automatically. ‘Sorry. I understand how you feel, but you must have had a reason to be a tortoise in the first place. ‘I just wanted to, erm. I was just trying to…’ ‘He thought I was cheating on him and he decided disguising himself as a tortoise in my back garden would be the best way of going about catching me.’ Well that matched the file anyway. ‘And are you willing to allow Brian to live in your garden as a tortoise, or should I look for other accommodation for him?’ I didn’t miss the twitch as she tried to hide a grin. ‘I’m fine with it if he is.’ ‘Like I have a choice.’ Brian muttered. ‘Finally Brian, for our records, so we can try to make sure this doesn’t happen to someone else, what caused you to miss the 1 month deadline?’ ‘It was in October when I took on the form,’ he said. ‘How was I supposed to know tortoises hibernate?’	&#x200B; Ms. Lobber straightened her glasses, "So Mr..." "Hens, Jason Hens." She looked across the desk and asked in a calm tone, "How's your day going Mr. Hens?" "How do you think it's going?" he said flatly. "We deal with these things all the time," she said as she read some papers from a stack in front of her, "So it's been three months?" "Three and a half. Look, I'm a fucking chicken so if you could help me that'll be real great," he said already fed up with the conversation. It was true. Shapeshifters often get stuck as whatever they turn in to. Ms. Lobber sat across from Mr. Hens, a white chicken standing on a stack of books in a chair. "There's no need to get angry," she said, "Treatments take about six to seven months, by then you'll be good as new." "So I'll be a chicken for the next six months," he said, angrily pecking the air. "Yes," she replied. He started flapping his wings and pecking at the desk. "What kind of place is this!" "Security!" Ms. Lobber yelled and a guard promptly came in to drag the belligerent chicken out. Feathers flew as Mr. Hens resisted but he was soon subdued and taken away. "What a shame," Ms. Lobber said to herself.
	[WP] In an instant, everyone on Earth develops the ability to shapeshift, but it takes a while for everyone to find out that staying as a form for too long locks you in that form forever. You're a caseworker specializing in helping people who got stuck in a form come to terms with the changes	"So, miss Johnson, you have stayed in your... current form, for more than a week?" I start off with. "Yes, how do I change back?" She asks a bit irritably. "As I'm sure you know, if you spend a week in a single form you cannot change to another form without surgery. However I do not believe that would be suitable for your situation," I reply. Miss Johnson is one of many to have changed their form and lost their identity in the process. From a middle aged single woman to a more youthful, but unusual teen. She seems to have been testing around with what she could get away with, patterned hair, small horns, a tail even. Now that she's stuck, she is having trouble proving who she used to be. "You will never get your old body back, but if you get finger printing and verify your signature, the DMV will replace your liscence free of charge, and once that is done I can write a letter of affirmation that you are who you say you are for your work and family members." "...Can't I get how I look fixed ar all?" She asks, a bit defeated. "Hair dye will fix your hair, and a surgeon could remove your horns and tail with some care, but I can't say for sure these options would be permanent or temporary fixes for you." She sighs and gets up. "...I'll get my new liscence then..." "I am sorry for your predicament, if you need any further consultation do not hesitate to call me again," I give her a smile of pity. This job can be quite hard at times, having to tell people their lives will never be the same again and again. But at least I'm helping people fix their mistakes. My next client should be here soon.	The Become of a Product It is known by sociologists that little changes in culture or midst might have great Impact over a social system, but no one was prepared for what is to come. Common means weren't given to our economical, judicial or executive system to accommodate shapeshifting in the human genome, and yet it came, abruptly. It was necessary to call for a calamity state all over the globe. People on the streets are freaked out by the news of a child who turned into a old lady and died of a heart attack. But the greater fear was hold as a question deep inside everyone's head. That question was "what if?". Freedom and impunity might be two best friends at this point. My work here begins between the basics of research and welfare. State and private sector are currently working together to not cause panic among the public. Good samaritans? No way! Feeling just like a authoritarian government to me. Ask yourself why the news got so quiet, or what happened to the last editor who brought those creeping articles about the old child story. But now the underground layers of this problem starts to show itself. Today a parrot came to me, beaking at my office window and begging for a auction. It was clear that his shapeshifting into a bird was getting worse, since he often changed his way to talk. Sometimes speaking concerned about his situation and sometimes singing a song and asking for food. His human brain, rotting inside along with his identity. But he clearly had something more important to say. His name, Lenie. - Baahhk! Enslaved people. Baahk! Turn into animals. Turn into pelts. Bahhk! - So Lenie. You were obligated to turn into a parrot? - Nahhk! Mammoth. For Thaaasks! Tusks. I mean. - But you got to change into a parrot. Why and how? - Met one. Also person baaahk! Two mouths ago. I imitate. I ahhk did. To flee. - Who are those people who did this to you Lenie? Do you know them? - Baaahhk people. BAAD. Pirates! Modern Piraahk! Slave parrot in the cabin. For fun. Yeahhk! - The ship had any identification whatsoever? - Tomboi! Sould by Farhhk! Farmac. Farmceutic. For now on he starts to speak nonsense. Just like a regular parrot. I urge my superiors to uncover these criminal acts and allow me to help those poor people who are being killed and used as a product. This act has to be taken immediately, otherwise they will become a lost cause just like Lenie, who I couldn't save. I gave him a home, but real Lenie was gone forever. If I'm not working on this case, consider this my resignation note. To become a journalist.
	[WP] You’ve been blind since birth. No one has figured it out, however, since the voice narrating your life always made sure you knew what was going on around you.	this is my first time writing since high school be nice lol. "So the bartender says 'why the long face?'" It takes me a second to realize the joke is over and Dave is doing the thing people do when they're waiting for you to laugh; The "eh?..eh?" thing. Horses have long faces. I thought I described one to you on that school field trip. "Oh, that's terrible." I feel a hand softly rest on my forearm. If I didn't have him I'd probably get used to not knowing things like who's hand is on my forearm, but because he'll tell me in a half second, the half second of not knowing makes me a little uneasy. Especially with all I have to lose. Your mother is feigning a smile, she doesn't think it was funny either but she really wants you to like him. "But being terrible is the crux of a good dad joke so maybe there's hope for you yet!" mum laughs in relief at the averted awkwardness. I down some orange juice, proud of myself. Socializing for me is chaotic, and it takes a certain level of on-toes thinking to pull it off, even if what I said is kinda lame. Dave knows he's acting the fool, he always does when he's under pressure. I hope you understand how much he wants to make a good impression. The rest of the night went without much anxiety. Dave gained some confidence and was actually pretty funny. It's still patronizing though, I'm 15 and my mom feels the need to make a big deal and dinner of introducing me to her new boyfriend. o o o In case you need them, your socks are on the floor to the left of your bed, it's going to be one of the chilliest nights of the year. "I know you know what I want to know, but could you not help me with that kind of stuff unless I ask? I'm trying to be less dependant." Noted. If I may, could you please refrain from replying to me out loud? Even when you're alone like this, you have no way of knowing nobody is listening if I don't have time to tell you. "yeah and they'll assume I'm secretly blind and have omnipotent fucking babysitter in my head right? Lots of people talk to themselves it's not that conspicuous." I turn over to my side in my bed, even though I know there's no side I can turn onto to face away from him. "Sorry I'm just feeling a little useless and patronized after tonight. I'm not trying to start a fight." It's alright. I just prefer to be careful. They'll kill you to get to me, I care about you lily. "I know. I'm going to sleep. Goodnight." o o o I awake to quiet, forgetting where I am, fresh mountain air numbs my face. "Come on lily, I want to show you something." it's dad. My body is putting up a stout resistance to getting out of the warm sleeping bag into the cold night air, but I manage it. "Look up, lily. Do you see the stars?" "Uh.." You do. "Yeah." my feet are cold He breathes in, obviously enjoying the moment. I so want to enjoy the moment too, instead of swimming in the dark. "This is why I brought you up here, you can't see them like this in the city." "yes they're nice tonight" I feel so fake, pretending to share a sky I'm ignorant of with him. I really hope he doesn't ask if I want a turn on the telescope. "The sky is window to forever, it reminds us how small and how miraculous we are, to be living warm things in a universe of dead things. Would you like to look through the telescope?" "I uh... yeah sure." god why does he have to be so into this. "I know you want to just go back inside the tent and sleep, but I want to tell you one thing first. Don't tell anyone about him." "what? Who?" Cold nips my feet. "They'll kill you lily, do you want to do that to your mom? Do you think she can handle that?" "I--I don't know. I haven't told anyone about him" My feet feel like lead. "If you die then we'll both be dead, and your mother will be all alone. Are you really willing to do that lily? Are you that cruel?" I wake up wet, and I don't realize why at first. I was crying. I stick my arm out and smack around for a bit on the ground to the left of my bed. Finding my socks, I slide them over my exposed feet. Lily, your father didn't hold it against you that you didn't like going to the mountain with him. You were a child. "Yeah. He just never knew why. I wish I could see the stars with him one time." End.	Don't turn around right now because your friend is trying to surprise you and you'd hurt his feelings if he fails at this. Why did you tell me then? So you won't get surprised and hurt yourself. Stop babying me! I can't help myself, I've always made sure you're safe and know about everything around you.. What's he wearing? Anyone else with him? No just himself. He looks nice. He's wearing that blue jacket you said looks nice from how I described it to you. Also he has flowers with him. What?! Flowers? Yeah, roses, lots of them - careful when you accept it. "Janice!" Your friend, Harold, calls out to you and you turn around to him and act surprised. "Harold! You look nice! Who's the lucky lady?" You joke. "Those roses are beautiful." "T-They're for you!" He stutters and you gingerly reach out and take the offered bouquet. "Oh! You shouldn't have-" You're however cut off as he babbles on. "It's been years and I think I have the courage mustered up to finally confess-" Oh give the boy a chance, he's trembling like a leave! I don't like him that way though. Look he's listing all the things he likes about you, just date him for a bit see if you really don't like him that way or maybe it's because he's kept it to friends only out of polite decorum Fine. You accept his confession and give him a peck on the cheeks following the instructions told to you by your fairy godparent and you have a date this evening.
	[WP] You’ve been blind since birth. No one has figured it out, however, since the voice narrating your life always made sure you knew what was going on around you.	You're three meters away from the bus. It will open it's doors in exactly- Seven seconds. I took this bus every evening on the way home from the education center and, for the most part, I followed this routine like clockwork. I never had to worry about getting lost as I, despite my blindness, had always had a knack for situational awareness. You've entered the bus. There's a vomit stain to your right. There are five seats free. Careful, a woman's umbrella is jutting out from her bag. When I was a younger man, with a quicker reaction speed, I'd be able to follow the Voice In My Head almost exactly as it spoke. I'm getting a little too old now, you see. My head is full of worries and sometimes, more often nowadays, I lose focus. The Voice never does, though. You've knocked over her umbrella- "I'm sorry." comes a voice to my left. A gloomy, timid voice. - and she feels guilty after seeing your cane. She's admonishing herself in her head, reminding herself that she doesn't do anything right. She silently wonders whether it's true what Jack tells her, that she's good for nothing. She comes to the conclusion that she wouldn't be able to survive without him, even if he does treat her terribly. I could never understand the nature of the Voice. In fact, come to think of it, I can't really even describe how it sounds. However, it's been there from the beginning. It grew with me as a child; I remember the first time it used the word 'unnerving', when it was describing what my father was feeling when I'd asked him about why my mother kept crying at night. See, the funny thing is, I'd heard the word for the first time the day before on a TV soap opera. "Don't worry about it." I say, turning to the direction of the voice and smiling. She smiles back at you. "Uhm, I'm sorry to bother you, but... but would you help me find a seat? I can't tell which ones are taken." I ask, trying my best to make it sound sincere. I didn't need help at all, as the Voice would always describe of my surroundings in sufficient detail. Sometimes, though, I played a little game in which I'd flaunt my vulnerabilities like a damsel in distress. "O-oh... of course! There's one over here, let me-" she replies. The woman is anxious to help you. She's about to take your arm. A gentle tug on my sleeve follows and I let myself be guided to a seat. "Lemme get that newspaper out of your way." she adds, before letting me take her arm for support as I make myself comfortable. "Thank you. Sometimes I come on here and people just ignore me. I stand around like an old fool, holding onto whatever seems most stable. I really appreciate your kindness." I say, reaching out and laying a hand on her forearm. "Huh. Well... no need to thank me, it's my pleasure." she says, a sliver of sunshine breaking through the gloom I'd been getting used to. She's happy. Happier than she's been a while. She's heading back to her seat now, but she keeps stealing glances at you. She realises that you're blind anyway and won't see her. She feels like she's worth something, at least. She's worrying about you though, whether you'll be okay getting home. My act had satisfied my audience, but there was no use being too pleased with myself. The world was full of suffering and I, despite having no eyes to see, saw this truth vividly. In the last year I had only taken six train journeys in which neither of my fellow passengers wasn't afflicted with some degree of suffering. Sometimes I'd share carriages with people undergoing such enormous torment that merely hearing about their struggles caused me to curse the world and every wretched soul in it. The Voice would never shirk on detail, it cared little about my sensitivities. As a young man, I dealt with it by shutting myself in my apartment and putting all powers into cutting myself off from any human interaction, but over time the relentless silence of an unhappy solitude became more painful than the sound of the Voice. I simply had to get used to it. I often wondered why I had this voice. Whilst I was aware that it was uncommon, I was usually met with awkward stares whenever I'd tried to talk about this with some of the other visually impaired folks I'd met at the center. The Voice would then inform me that my peers were starting to think that I was losing my marbles, so I stopped doing that. On a train journey about twenty or so years ago, the Voice informed me that the young man sitting next to me was busy planning the murder of his overbearing mother. I tried, foolishly, to persuade him not to, to tell him that he had his whole life ahead of him and that he couldn't ruin it for the sake of a twisted ideal of vengeance. He promptly panicked - who wouldn't? - punched me, then scrambled out of the car at the first opportunity. I don't know if he actually went through with his plan, but my nose smarted for days after that. It wasn't worth it. A soft voice permeates my contemplation. "Uhm... it's my stop now, but... will you be okay getting home?" "I'll be fine, sweetheart." I reply. "I've taken this route a thousand times by now. You take care of yourself, okay? The world could do with more kind-hearted people like you." She's really happy now. Her cheeks feel strange as she realises that her jaw muscles aren't used to smiling this much. She can be something, she can help people. She's not worthless, Jack be damned! That's what she's thinking right now. "Okay! Take care of yourself too, sir!" comes the sunny response. She takes her umbrella and bag, then sweeps away the hair from her eyes. The dull pain of her back doesn't bother her anymore. She gives you one last glance before stepping out of the bus. She has a spring in her step.	That was left! I said right, on the rightside... how we managed to get as far as this is beyond me?! How am I supposed to know whats left and right? I've been born blind. Not left side nor right side blind, like full on ahead blind... and don't come with that thumb thing again - I don't even know what a thumb looks like. In fact I don't even want to imagine this stubby appendage on my hand that's overly useful. Yeah sure as if I'm going to fall for this again. You just forgot again didn't you. I mean suit yourself it's not like turning the wrong side near a street is any reason to remember. Thirty years of this! Thiiirteee - what even is my existence? You realize I can hear cars from far away and still bring this argument to the table? I mean what are these weird ... wrooming car things even - feels weird everytime I drive one. Yeah, yeah cars... but more importantly did you think about what I asked? - Also move your hand down, You know down is where your toes are, that's it. Atta boy! No need to be snippy. We had this topic many a times before, I thought we agreed on a certain theory. I mean it was even you who proposed it, how am I to know. Ok, now do move number three, you know the half circle one. Then go back to position four and dip - sure I proposed it ... wasn't thinking straight... probably. Oh in contrary, I think it's very reasonable - more so than me thinking my brain fked up and gave me two voices in the head instead of functioning eyes. You sure people only have one voice? Totally ... I guess - oh that's it! Just a flip upwards and we're done. One voice... surely seems less stressful. "Tada! Mr. Wakanabe I'm finished with this piece." Thanks I like you too. "Yes sir! I'll take it away and present it to the audience at once." But really now how does it even work? "They're not even letting the paint dry nowadays." What how it works to be able to see? Isn't that a bit of an insensitive thing to ask a blind person? "Yes sir, you've become quite famous recently. The blind Picasso they're calling you in the papers, although i have to admit your works seem a notch superior." Yeah I mean... I can't see myself, I have no body as far as I can tell, mirrors don't work. "Who is that Picasso person Wakanabe?" Maybe a Vampire then, like in the stories you've read to me when I was little. "Yes sir, a famous Painter - I shouldn't have brought it up sir. It was quite rude, I apologize." Yeah no, I love Garlic-Naan. "Don't fret Wakanabe. I'd also fancy a cup of tea." That's why an imaginary friend still ticks all the boxes - well most atleast. "At once sir." But ... what do I look like then? --- /r/SamAndHisBrain
	[WP] You’ve been blind since birth. No one has figured it out, however, since the voice narrating your life always made sure you knew what was going on around you.	Slowly waking up on the marvelous Sunday morning is 21-year-old Alice Van Grebe. Annoyed by the forming headache in her head- “Which is you!” she yelled at thin air, she got out of bed and stormed to her bathroom, grumbling nonsense to herself. “Go to hell! Did you hear that?” she yelled again, slamming the bathroom door. She got ready for a day out with her friends, Delia and Morgen, her friends she knew since preschool- “Do you really have to say that?” she snapped again. My, my poor girl is loosing it today. Taking several breaths she grabbed her coat- “Was that a hand?” She said as she touched the table slightly, thinking- “No... it felt like a hand... I know what the table feels like. I’m blind not dumb.” She began to look around for this imaginary hand she thought she felt, but found nothing. Groaning in frustration, she stomped to the front door of her apartment, grabbed her keys by the stand she had left the night before and left her home, in hopes whatever she had thought she had felt was nothing. She went to get some coffee before her 2:15 train would leave the station, ready to hit the city. The barista before her greeted, and what a handsome lad he is. Soft blond hair, gorgeous green eyes, and- “I’m sorry, why is he doing that?” “Doing what? Who?” Alice asked in confusion. “That guy, he’s like narrating everything we are doing.” Thanks bro... you just ruined it. “Oh my god, so that wasn’t a voice I hear in my head?” And with that, I run, before the authorities arrive.	That was left! I said right, on the rightside... how we managed to get as far as this is beyond me?! How am I supposed to know whats left and right? I've been born blind. Not left side nor right side blind, like full on ahead blind... and don't come with that thumb thing again - I don't even know what a thumb looks like. In fact I don't even want to imagine this stubby appendage on my hand that's overly useful. Yeah sure as if I'm going to fall for this again. You just forgot again didn't you. I mean suit yourself it's not like turning the wrong side near a street is any reason to remember. Thirty years of this! Thiiirteee - what even is my existence? You realize I can hear cars from far away and still bring this argument to the table? I mean what are these weird ... wrooming car things even - feels weird everytime I drive one. Yeah, yeah cars... but more importantly did you think about what I asked? - Also move your hand down, You know down is where your toes are, that's it. Atta boy! No need to be snippy. We had this topic many a times before, I thought we agreed on a certain theory. I mean it was even you who proposed it, how am I to know. Ok, now do move number three, you know the half circle one. Then go back to position four and dip - sure I proposed it ... wasn't thinking straight... probably. Oh in contrary, I think it's very reasonable - more so than me thinking my brain fked up and gave me two voices in the head instead of functioning eyes. You sure people only have one voice? Totally ... I guess - oh that's it! Just a flip upwards and we're done. One voice... surely seems less stressful. "Tada! Mr. Wakanabe I'm finished with this piece." Thanks I like you too. "Yes sir! I'll take it away and present it to the audience at once." But really now how does it even work? "They're not even letting the paint dry nowadays." What how it works to be able to see? Isn't that a bit of an insensitive thing to ask a blind person? "Yes sir, you've become quite famous recently. The blind Picasso they're calling you in the papers, although i have to admit your works seem a notch superior." Yeah I mean... I can't see myself, I have no body as far as I can tell, mirrors don't work. "Who is that Picasso person Wakanabe?" Maybe a Vampire then, like in the stories you've read to me when I was little. "Yes sir, a famous Painter - I shouldn't have brought it up sir. It was quite rude, I apologize." Yeah no, I love Garlic-Naan. "Don't fret Wakanabe. I'd also fancy a cup of tea." That's why an imaginary friend still ticks all the boxes - well most atleast. "At once sir." But ... what do I look like then? --- /r/SamAndHisBrain
	[WP] You’ve been blind since birth. No one has figured it out, however, since the voice narrating your life always made sure you knew what was going on around you.	Her eyes are blue. They’re beautiful, the voice tells me. I don’t say anything, rubbing the handle of my dessert spoon between my thumb and forefinger. Across from me is the hesitant clinking of cutlery. She is having a raspberry cheesecake, which I know because I heard what she ordered. I know it is surrounded with little dollops of whipped cream because the voice told me. Her eyes are blue. They’re beautiful, the voice says again. I pick up my spoon and eat a small glob of chocolate mousse. Across from me, my date laughs, and I feel a twinge of guilt at the nervousness in it. “You haven’t said anything in a while,” she says, and I hear her fork clink against her plate as she places it down. “Is everything okay?” “Yes, everything is fine. I just-” got distracted by how beautiful your eyes were, I suppose is the right thing to say, but instead say aloud, “got lost in thought.” Her eyes are blue and beautiful, the voice insists again. I feel my eyes flutter shut. What is it like? I think to the voice. The blue. The voice is quiet for a moment. I have never addressed it directly before for any other reason than to ask it to repeat itself, or describe something it had neglected to. She is twisting her hair around her finger, the voice says, finally. Her eyes flicker to her watch. Is it beautiful like a melody is beautiful? My head fills with a fingerpicked melody on a guitar, warm and mellow and accented with the slight squeaks as someone’s fingers move to switch up the chords. I’ve told lots of people with blue eyes that their eyes are beautiful; is that true? Would I like them? “Um,” my date says, clearing her throat, and the music vanishes from my mind. “I think I’m going to head out, soon. This was… nice.” “I can cover the bill,” I manage. My mouth curves in a smile that I’d practiced with a mirror, the voice coaching me with descriptions on how each expression looked. A snarl, befitting of a beast, then, a nervous grin, like a high school boy asking his long-time crush to the prom, and then, finally, warm and approachable, a smile that puts butterflies in people’s stomachs. She looks disappointed, the voice says, now. She is gathering up her things. I am tired of lying without meaning to, I think back, and the voice falls quiet again. I twist the tablecloth between my fingers and the slight texture grounds me. Who are you? How would you even know if I would have liked the color blue? You do like the color blue, the voice answers, but, this time, there is a hint of uncertainty behind it. Who are you? I ask again. I know that this is not normal. I asked another blind person, once, quite matter-of-factly, what their voice in their head was telling them about my shirt collar. It took every drop of my charisma to keep them from reporting me to the police. And how can I hear you? The soft murmurs of restaurant chatter surrounds me like a warm blanket. I am only trying to help, the voice says, so softly that it almost seems to mingle with the voices outside. I remain quiet. The voice continues, I have always thought that I was you. I’ve lived with you all your life. I had… a feeling, really, that you would find blue eyes beautiful. What are they like? I ask. I wish I could tell you in a way that would make sense. But, perhaps—like cool water running over your fingers. The whirl of a breeze that sends soft, stinging snowflakes flying up to your cheeks. Like the smooth, cool surface of a stone that’s been sitting in the shade. I feel my lips tug into an unwitting smile. I like all of those things. I know. I try to describe all the smooth rocks you come across, so you have a chance to hold them. I have a sense of what you would like, and dislike, and notice. The voice falls quiet for a moment, before it asks, Can you trust me on that? I wish I could see this blue that is so pretty, I think, then startle as someone clears their throat next to my ear. The waiter. He has your bill. He looks impatient, the voice describes hastily. “Sorry, thank you,” I say hastily, giving him an apologetic expression as I hold out my hand for the bill. The check presenter thunks into my hand. Ninety-three dollars, the voice says immediately. And then, I’m sorry. I wish you could see the blue, too. But I will try my best to help you catch all the beautiful things you can. Do you think you can trust me? I nod, slowly, before catching myself and placing my hand decidedly under my chin. Okay, I think. There is a soft sigh in my head, one of relief. Your date is outside by the door. She’s waiting for something, checking her phone. I should probably apologize to her, right? I ask. You should stop talking to me and get out there, the voice replies. I smile and hide the expression behind my hand. Okay. I slot my card into the check holder and stand. The voice, I know, will guide me back out through the tables, out onto the porch of this restaurant where she stands under a golden glow. Her eyes will flicker around to see me, complete with whatever little crooked collar or cuff stain that the voice cannot tell me about, that makes me human. Her eyes, blue and beautiful.	note - tweaked the prompt a little to fit something bigger I've been working on * * * Jake Kimball had a headache. Actually, more specifically, he had two headaches: one was a generalized throbbing, a feeling of a large man pushing in on either side of his head -- maybe grunting a bit with the exertion? Who knows. And the other was... DESPACIIIIIIIIIITOOOOOOOOOOOOO Felicia Carrow. School weirdo, burgeoning telepath, and giant pain-in-the-ass. *That is so* uncool.** I can "hear" her laughter. It sounds like the glass of a windshield breaking as a face gets smashed through it. Payback's a b-word, ain't it? *Wait. You actually think* "b-word" -- that's not something that you say just when people are around?** Shouldn't you be paying attention to class? "I would be if someone would stop singing Spanish power ballads at full volume!" You, uh, you said the quiet part loud. Again. Jake closed his eyes, more out of a habit than anything. That part of his face had been converted into...props, basically. He could act things out with them, but they didn't actually, you know, work. Not anymore. He focused on the tension in his eyelids. It had been a novel discovery that he could still make bursts of pastel grey appear in his field of vision if he squeezed them shut tight enough -- or pushed on them with his fingers, like he was doing now. Slow breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth, concentrate on the sound of it. He knew the classroom would have fallen silent. He knew without hearing it, felt the faces bent towards him like fucking sunflowers chasing the sun. He heard Ms. Lucero clear her throat. She was really leaning into it -- it lasted for a good three seconds -- but he couldn't blame her. "As I was saying," she said, an icy edge in her voice, "extraordinary phenomena call for extraordinary explanations, such as when..." Smooth move, d-hole. *You're supposed* to be helping me.** I'm supposed to be taking a Spanish test, but since you have the mental fortitude of a lobotomized toddler, I'm stuck in your head, aren't I? Time was, there would have been some fire in a statement like that. Now it just landed in my brain with a muffled thump, like a couch cushion dropped out a second story window. She sounded that way a lot, these days. I think we had both sort of imagined that we would have figured out a way to break the link by now. Or, at least, to turn it off for a bit. Living a double life, trying to cover for me, wasn't helping much. Not to mention everything else that was going on. Hey -- what's a "thong" verb, J? Oh, I like this. You torment me, then ask me to help you cheat? What would Senora Serena say? I help you on all of your tests... First of all, please don't use that little girl voice on me. It's not my voice, it's a neurochemical reaction happening -- *Secondly, you are garbage* at all the classes we're not taking together--** It's not my fault I'm in AP classes-- "BUT IT'S YOUR FAULT I'M BLIND!" Everything is quiet: Felicia, Ms. Lucero, the class. I realize I'm standing. I said the quiet part loud. Again. I need to recover. If word got out that I couldn't see, if it got back to...the wrong people, say -- that would be bad. I point in the general direction of the ceiling. "--LY FOLLOWING PRESBYTERIANISM, O ALMIGHTY ONE!" I clasp my hands, give them a few good shakes, and then sink back into my chair, head bowed. Dude. I hear the sound of a voice being cleared; it lasts 5 seconds this time. "Mr. Kimball, have your faith guide you to the principal's office, please." * * * [Here's some backstory](https://www.reddit.com/r/ShadowsofClouds/comments/a7jhri/wp_due_to_an_overactive_imagination_and_your_love/) from my personal sub. Edited to tweak and polish a bit.

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