UnfathomablyCute

Chapter Forty-Three: For legal reasons this is not a bag of holding

My dream, one I can no longer remember, pops like a bubble as someone rapps their knuckle three times on my door. I drag my eyes open, rubbing the gunk out of them after finding myself unable to see the first time.

Opening them once again, I’m greeted by a second obstacle: my hair, which has plastered itself to my face in the night. I pull it away as I sit up groggily, several strands which found themselves in my mouth as I slept slipping uncomfortably through my lips.

“Eaugh,...

Looking to get some opinions.

Hello! As you can see I have reacquired internet access and an un-fried computer. That said, it is a very old and slow one so it's only marginally better than trying to type on my phone. I will try to maintain my one chapter a week schedule I had before, but things are hectic and only go to plan when I don't need them to.

So my question for all of you is this: Would you be interested in other kinds of content as an occasional replacement for a chapter I'm unable to finish? 2023-09-13 22:53:55 +0000 UTC View Post

Chapter Forty-Two: "Sir, put the eyebrows down and step away from the vehicle."

“...Dad? Why are you here?” I ask, my breathing growing faster as I begin to hyperventilate. “Is this some kind of bit you guys are doing?”

I look around at Revision and Menagerie, panic taking over when their expressions remain still. They said the were going to introduce me to one of the Crafting Vanguard, that he might have some insight into my situation, not that he IS the situation. I can feel as control of the situation slips from my fingers and the overwhelming urge to sp...

Possible haitus (I think god hates me)

Hello all! I have a bit of terrible news to report. As a Florida resident, I have endured some of the effects of the hurricane meandering through our state.

Specifically, almost every electronic appliance in my house was fried by a bolt of lightning. Both me and my fiance's computers, our playstations, and our AC are currently polymorphed into bricks.

I do not know when these things will be repaired/replaced, but I will keep you all posted with any changes. 

Stay safe, ...

Chapter Forty-One: Buttercup

A part of me wonders if I should have stayed out in the rain as a horror just slightly beyond my comprehension barrels towards me. It’s mouth splits vertically rather than horizontally, which lets it’s absolutely revulsive tongue loll out the bottom and flop as it runs.

“Correct me if my assumptions are off base, but you are troubled by your parents reaction to your Vanguard status, yes?” She asks, casually strutting to the middle of the gymnasium.

A bit of irritation at b...

Chapter Forty: No, the rice isn't for me!

The radio host's voice is background noise to me at this point, and my buttocks are numb from the half hour it’s taken to approach the bubble's southern border. I’d like to say I used that time to reflect on my predicament with my parents, but that would be a pointless lie to myself.

Instead of that, though, I’ve been puzzling out how Menagerie could have an ‘estate’ when we live in a relatively cramped bubble. Is it just an exaggeration? Does she call it an estate to make it ...

Chapter Thirty-Nine: A Terrific Day for Rain

It’s raining again.

My foot splashes through a recently formed puddle, the water soaking through my mostly cloth shoe and dampening my sock.

I don’t really care.

I keep running.

I’m not sure where I’m going, or even the full reason I left to begin with. They didn’t shout at me or seem particularly upset at my revelation, but the genuine acceptance they had when they thought I was gay—another thing I’m not sure how to react to—just wasn’t there.

...

Chapter Thirty-Eight: Threat of death under spork-point

I pour my french fries onto my tray, picking out the crunchy ones to save them for last. It’s probably a little weird, but the difference in texture is a big enough deal to me that they’re worth separating, especially right now.

“I can’t believe they did me like that,” I say hollowly.

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about it.” Sydney snarks between bites, her eyes not leaving her phone to look at me.

“Those were obviously theatrics to make you want to ta...

Chapter Thirty-Seven: The televised execution of my public image

A wave of sensation sinks through my body, with pleasure and itchiness working equal parts through my various abrasions. The nail on my left middle finger loses its shine and falls off; its replacement pushing it out of the way to reveal a healthy new one. Reaching my hips, the feeling makes its way to the pair of horrible bruises on my inner thigh and I audibly sigh as they disappear.

I idly notice—and ignore—the floor absorbing my broken finger nail as I lean my head back, locking...

Chapter Thirty-Six: You're getting paid to watch me get my shit rocked?

Seeing the projectile coming, I arch my spine backward and drop to my knees, expecting myself to slide underneath it. Instead of that, though, friction brings its might to bear, stopping me in place and flinging the rest of me forward, directly into the ball of solidified smoke.

Thwack

I let myself fall backwards, allowing the additional shots thud painfully against my shins. “When they offered me the job as your manager, I’ll admit I was apprehensive, but this is pre...

Chapter Thirty-Five: It has fingerprints. Why would it have fingerprints?

“What?” Sydney says, vocalizing my dumbfoundedness for me.

Catherine summons an almost coffee table shaped structure out of green energy, setting the box on top of it. “Look at the glass box and tell me what’s inside.”

Her wording makes me feel like we’re being punked, though with how urgent Chassis implied things were, there’s no way that’s true. I generate a few tendrils, loop them around the bases of two empty swivel chairs, and try pulling them towards Sydney a...

Chapter Thirty-Four: What's in the boooox?

“What does ‘I don’t know how to put it into words yet’ even mean here, Brooke? The words are: ‘I’m a Vanguard, mom.’” Sydney says, turning right at the red light. “You spent ages working yourself up to tell her, what was the issue?”

I let the motion of the car tilt me, lightly bonking my head against the glass window as I groan in response. “I don’t knooow, I just kept thinking about her expression when she saw me locked out of the bank and I choked. How am I sup...

Chapter Thirty-Three: A byproduct of my newfound Nihilism.

I study the floral designs swirled around the outer edge of my empty plate, the dark blue pattern repeating its leafy spirals until the ends meet like some sort of photosynthesizing ouroboros. I can’t say it’s the most interesting thing to look at, though I do find it hard to tear my gaze away from it.

“It’s the funniest thing, Barbara! Up until I saw Sydney at the market, I was under the impression they were both staying with you for the night—yes, they’re both here. That�...

Chapter Thirty-Two: For you, special discount! Half-off!

Naomi's POV: part-2

My heart settles into my throat, rather comfortable in its new home. I watch as black blood drips from the fathom’s chin, a look of ecstatic apprehension on its vaguely human-esque face.

“What’s the phrase, frogs got your tongue?” it says, childishly.

My frozen thoughts kick into overdrive, desperately clawing for a way out. I raise my wrist to my mouth, pretending I’ve got someone to contact. “Stealth compromised, begin the a...

Chapter Thirty-Two: Any excuse for a murder.

Naomi’s POV:

My sweat-slicked hair sticks to my neck as I follow the ruptured earth the worm-like Fathom leaves behind. It’s not a hard path to follow now that it’s traveling above ground, but I’m not sure I’ll manage to catch up to them if I have to keep vaulting over mulched trees and rent houses.

My power muffles the tinkling sound of glass shards as I step through the bent remains of a window, the armor of my ascendant form enough to ignore the sharp edges. Normally ...

Chapter Thirty: Suffering from a mind goblin.

A leaf from a large oak tree crunches beneath my shoe, a liberating satisfaction running up my spine at the destructive action. On my walk home from the Vanguard installation, I decided to take a longer path—one that takes me through the city's center and the park located there. This choice was only partially motivated by my need to think of an excuse for my mother, since I was gone overnight without telling her where I was. And, like, I don’t necessarily HAVE to tell her anythin...