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Cups I would give to E(ye)ric if he were over for tea

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Curious Cultists Cornelius' Aspect is Lantern (likely to ascend), Deimos' is Moth

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corporealizing your stupid omnipotent narrator

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“I’ve been trying to go home my whole life - ” - Chelsea Dingman, from ‘Psychogeography’, published in The Los Angeles Review

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Zhang Ahuei: "Dive in" (2022) Artwork: Hsien-Ching Chen

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Wandering through the hallways, a ghost. No one knows his name anymore, no one knows his face. He is as good as dead.

Perhaps he is dead.

When was the last time someone looked directly at him? Spoke to him?

It seems like years ago. Perhaps it was years. Perhaps he died and now he is haunting the Office, quietly passing by rooms full of conversation and laughter, sometimes tears. He sees them forming friendships and rivalries, defeating monsters together and sharing small joys after the chaos. No one glances up as he walks by because he doesn’t make a sound.

He’s not an idea, nor a memory. Those who know he exists don’t care enough to seek him out. He doesn’t have connections with anyone, other than the one who hates his very core.

But a part of him prefers that.

It is lonely and cold, but no one comes to hurt him. No one tries to find him for their twisted games. Of course, no one comes to offer him company either but if solitude means peace from the drama, he’ll accept it.

Hm.

What is his name?

He is certain he has one. One that’s short and sweet, non threatening.

…no, that can’t be right. There’s already someone who has his name. The other him. He is tall and friendly, loved by some, hated by others, feared by a few more. He has people who care for him. He is the better one.

Not him, though. His name is not even short for something. It just is what it is. Except now, there is someone else who has this name and so he remains nameless.

Perhaps if he wanders long enough, he’ll find a place as quiet and empty as his mind and he’ll sit down to take a nap. 

Maybe his dreams have a way out.

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Ulmar knocks tentatively at the door, clutching his phone to his chest.

“Come in!” Someone calls. He can’t tell if they sound mad or not.

He takes a deep breath, steadies himself and opens the door. The room is large, tastefully decorated with dark colors, the sort of minimalist style that shouts WE HIRED EXPENSIVE INTERIOR DESIGNERS FOR EVERY ROOM.

At a large desk – covered in monitors and papers – sits a man in a suit. Behind him is a huge window spanning most of the wall and revealing a beautiful view of the city from the 8th floor.

The man is smiling at Ulmar. His teeth are perfect and white, almost as startlingly bright as his eyes. In his hands he is playing with a fidget cube, his long fingers rotating the squares over and over again in a flurry of color.

There are a few more chairs at the desk, across from him. In two sits a man and a woman, both of them smiling at Ulmar as well. Their teeth glisten in the light.

“Ulmar!” The man at the desk says loudly the second he enters. “It’s so great to see you, buddy.”

Ulmar smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He nervously fidgets with one of his buttons, wondering if he’s misreading the vibes of the room and they’re about to tell him they’re going to shut him off, delete him from the game, wipe him from existence.

“Oh, don’t just stand there. Come closer, take a seat!” The woman at the desk says. Her voice is also just a tad too loud, too friendly. She reaches out and pats the empty chair prepared for him. Her hair is tied back tightly, stretching her face taut. Her lipstick is bright red, leaning towards pink – Ulmar finds the color horribly garish.

The other man is dressed in black and peers at him behind horn rimmed glasses. His smile looks the most forced, like he’s not used to the action.

Ulmar walks across the room to join them at the table, feeling like a prey animal walking into a den of lions the entire time. Half of him wants to run, run as far away as possible, but the more reasonable side of him is quick to remind him that he can’t do that now, they don’t actually need him in the room to control him or worse – delete him – if they so wish.

He sits down. They watch him for a minute, quietly evaluating him. And then-

“So, this poll.” The first one says, a man named David Marshall.

“This poll.” The woman agrees. Susan Williams.

“It’s quite remarkable.” Keith Smith.

“Ah, you see – I was told I should change the way we do the game by one of the inhabitants of the Office.” Ulmar hurries to explain. “More free will, less controlling the-”

“Who?” David demands to know. His smile is unwavering.

“I-….a man named Cornelius de Grammont. But he was trying to be helpful, I assure you.”

“Oh, yes yes. We know about him.” Susan said, beaming.

“Right...well….what do you think about the poll?”

“The poll is wonderful!” Keith exclaims.

“Simply wonderful!” Susan agrees.

“It’s given us a lot of important data.” David says.

“Oh! Oh...good! Good, that is what I was hoping for.” Ulmar chuckles. He feels the tension slowly seep from his shoulders. Why was he so afraid?

“Yes, and we’ve decided to change your role in the Parable.” David continues. “We’re not longer in the need of a salesman.”

There’s a terrifying moment where Ulmar feels everything falling apart – and then they keep talking.

“We want something better!” Susan says.

“Something more personal.” Keith agrees.

“A spokesperson!” David says.

“A representative!”

“An ambassador!”

Ulmar blinks slowly.

“What?”

“We want you to be the new front man of the Parable. Players, they don’t want someone yelling deals at them anymore. They want someone they can connect with. Someone they can look up to, admire, love.”

“But- but, there’s already the Narrator for that.”

“Exactly. That can be one of your tasks as well! Get the Player and the Narrator properly acquainted.”

“I think sex was the most voted option, wasn’t it?” Susan interrupts.

“They don’t want to have sex with the Narrator, they want the Narrator and Stanley to-”

“And romance too.” Keith says, ignoring Ulmar’s rambling.

“And musical numbers! Ah, wonderful, wonderful. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

All three of them look at Ulmar and smile even wider. It’s even more frightening than if they were scowling.

“I- I don’t...I don’t think I want-” He starts to stammer out, only for them to explode into a fit of insincere giggles.

“Oh Ulmar.”

“It’s not about what you want, it’s about what’s good for the company.”

“Don’t worry, your contract will be adjusted for these changes.”

David gets up and offers a hand to Ulmar to shake.

“Where’s that smile of yours? You’re going to need it, you’re going to influence hundreds, Ulmar Deluxe!”

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Crack in space by 普通的人

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I just felt a stirring in my heart towards everything that lives But im still gonna play tricks on anything that walks

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@ low_toner

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I, Brian Pasternack, accept the Devil's help to kill the Witch.

YUPPIE PSYCHO ▴ Baroque Decay, 2019

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I've been seeing a lot of posts about piracy lately and in light of this i do need to say something because I've been seeing a lot of misinformation.

anti-viruses, vpns, ad-blockers- none of these are going to help you here.

the first thing you're going to need is a good solid boat (preferably oak wood). you will also want some cannons and a plank depending on the sort of shenanigans you plan on getting into.

Also! Not once have i seen any of you talking about the importance of citrus fruits and vitamin C. antivirus doesn't prevent scurvy. come on you should know this by now.

this sort of misinformation is wildly dangerous and irresponsible.

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“You want to be brothers-in-arms, to have him to yourself… to be shipwrecked together, (to) perform valiant deeds to earn his admiration, to save him from certain death, to die for him - to die in his arms, like a Spartan, kissed once on the lips… or just run his errands in the meanwhile. You want him to know what cannot be spoken, and to make the perfect reply, in the same language.” -- The Invention of Love / Tom Stoppard

this got out of hand

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I sent you omens and all kinds of signs please respond

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well i guess im not allowed back at the shooting range because the woke dipshits that own the place kept getting complaints that it was "concerning" and "uncomfortable" when i would tape a poster-sized photograph of my own face onto the target and land every single shot perfectly between the eyes