u/Cosmically_Yesterday

Chapter 9: the song of the morning star

A month had passed since the sky stopped screaming.

Townsville was rebuilding, not with brick and mortar, but with a strange shimmering resilience. the professor moved through the restored Utonium kitchen with a light in his eyes that hadn’t been there for years. Hunched over a beaker, he was not. He was laughing, his hand resting gently on the shoulder of Miss Bellum. their relationship had become the town’s anchor. a quiet human love that seemed to heal the very ground they walked on.

The girls were in the yard playing tag. to any observer. They were just three little girls in colorful dresses, but the air around them home with a faint melodic sound.

The freezing darkness began to stretch. Not away from the light. Toward them.

The laughter died. as the grass beneath their feet, turned out a vibrant oily pink. him materialized. He was no longer a slithering parasite of the mind. He loomed 40 feet tall, his body, a kaleidoscope nightmare of shifting silk and obsidian claws. He was a biological impossibility. his skin was a patchwork of screaming faces with his eyes being holes, torn into a dimension of agonizing heat, he radiated a pressure that made the restored city grown. He was a manifestation of the primordial chaos that predated, even the void.

“You thought the monkey was the end?” Hims voice the sound of bones grinding together. “He was a flea. Iam the itch that birthed your universe, your ultimate forms were a cute palor trick. Iam the truth behind all mirrors. I will flay the sanity from your souls, wearing them like a shawl!.”

He lifted a claw to the sky, the sun no longer visible. The sky itself was gasping for air.

The girls did not move a muscle. They looked at each other. Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup joined hands, the bond between them, not just a sisterhood. It was the only thing in the multiverse the cosmic horrors would never understand. A love so dense. It had its own gravity.

“We are not afraid of the dark anymore.” Blossom said, voice clear and clam.

A flash of blinding pearlescent light, the girls transcended once more. Becoming the seraphim of the eternal bloom. Forms being simple, elegant and overwhelming. Silhouettes of white gold. All of their hair flowing like drifting starlight.

Him roared, swinging a massive blow at the them. Intended to shatter their souls into shards of trauma. Bubbles slightly moved, for a very quick micro instant, her form flashed. Him seen a form even higher than what the girls have already achieved. Bubbles become the space him was trying occupy. She tapped him a light, playful touch on his clawed chest.

The screaming died in hims throat. It was not a strike, him was in fact being violated by the absolute. Bubbles touch forced the entirety of existence into his narrow ego. Seeing the infinite layers of reality stacking. Him saw the very architecture of the story they inhabited. The invisible eyes of an unknown god watching from a place beyond the page. A silent observer. Currently witnessing his pathetic scripted downfall.

The everything was a physical weight. His form turning inside out. Internal organs becoming the sky, his skin the sun that burned only him. His reality fractured into broken mirrors each one reflecting a version of his own death.

He was digested by truth. His pink mist turning into harmless cherry blossom petals, drifting away with a warm summer breeze leaving no trace. The pressure vanished. Sun bright.

The girls touched down on grass, their feet bare against the dew. Standing tall, their dresses fluttering. The girls had eyes way wiser than the dawn of time. Looking at the house seeing the professor and Mrs. Bellum waving.

Townsville was safe, not because the monsters are gone. Because the girls had finally outgrown the nightmare.

As the wind picked up. The scent was not of cherry blossoms. In the shadows of the rebuilding city, their petals didn’t just wilt. They began throbing with a faint neon pink glow deep in the shape of a manicured claw. The reflection of the sun on the mayors office windows flickered just for a second into the shape of a vertical reptilian pupil.

In the distance a child’s laughter rang out. Higlt pitched melodic. Entirely wrong. The perfect little world had been restored. The stain of Divine evil however? Etched into the very atoms of the soil. Waiting for the light to dim once more.

And so…

ONCE AGAIN, THE DAY IS SAVED!!! THANKS TO THE POWERPUFF GIRLS ❤️💙💚

(Thank you everyone for reading. This project has taken so long to write I really do appreciate you reading. Interesting news. THIS WAS ONLY A PART 1!!! 😊 iam finishing the editing of part 2 and chapter one should be posted a day after I post this. Again thank you. 🙏 🌌👽)

No sound or anything at all could be heard. Only a lip smack. a wet, resonant sound that echoed through millions of headsets.

The screen not only displayed a video. it leaked it. The pixels were slimy pink meat like chucks. shifting, creating shapes that violated everything we know of this universe.

At the center sat Papa Meat. his face, now an impossibly vast, gelatinous expanse. filling the camera. His eyes were mesmerizing. It would be beautiful given any other situation. The Iris‘s swirled like a whirlpool. drawing in the gazes of viewers.

"WELCOME BACK TO THE PAPA MEAT CHANNEL! How ya doin? How ya doin? Today, we are gonna talk about…” the meat things eyes grew wide. Trying to remember to be human.

“how..YOU.CAN.STAY.WITH.ME." the voice boomed., “to the meat room.” Hunter was a cosmic deity now. a Lovecraftian entity made of flesh and digital decay.

Those who watched felt their bones soften. their skin beginning to hang loose. a grotesque, flabby texture taking root. They couldn't look away. They didn’t want to.

The transformation was subtle at first. craving for processed meats. A compulsion to speak in falsetto. A overwhelming need to control fire. Then, the bones snapped and reconfigured. Teeth fell out, replaced by felt and plastic.

The viewer’s limbs became rigid, jerky, controlled by invisible strings that seemed to tighten around their souls. They were becoming his grotesque puppets. perfectly preserved in their terror, forced to live inside his warped digital world forever.

Papa Meat just laughed. his massive mouth opening wide to reveal a void that smelled of old electronics.

the cosmic deity was not the true artist of this nightmare.As the camera zoomed out from the pulsating, fleshy creature that was once a man, it revealed the dimly lit studio. Sitting behind the camera, in the shadows, was Nik.

Nik was not just the editor. He was not just the voice of Winslow or Margaret Maytag. Nik was the whisperer. the true maker of the madness. His fingers, pale and elongated. hovered over a soundboard made of bone, pink meat, and decaying rot.

Nik smiled. a thin, sharp line. clicking a mouse that sounded like a breaking neck."Keep smacking, Hunter.” Nik whispered, watching the viewer count climb into the billions on his screen. "We’re almost out of human skin."

The cosmic deity known as Papa Meat was merely the puppet. Nik was the one pulling the strings. And if Nik ever wants to tell you a story? You are already dead.

(Had to push back final editing of PowerPuff: chapter 9 to finish my oh no, bynarab story. Here is something I was going to make a series before PowerPuff. Thank you and enjoy. 😊)

the center of a desolate Nowhere, where the sky is the color of a of purple galaxies, stands a small, rotting farmhouse. Inside lives Muriel, Eustace, and a little pink dog named Courage.But Nowhere is not a place on Earth. It is a pocket dimension. a very fragile bubble sculpted by an entity that thinks it is a dog.

Courage is not a pet. He is a supreme weaver of Reality. a deity of love and terror who took a form that cannot survive without being protected.

Eons ago or perhaps just yesterday. Courage stood over the broken bodies of Muriel and Eustace in a, uncaring universe. They were dead. They had always died. No matter what reality he walked through, the cosmic laws demand they perish.

“The things I do for love...”

Courage didn't accept this. He gouged a hole in the fabric of existence. gathered the fleeting fragments of their souls and created this pocket realm. this Nowhere.

a perfect, quiet world is impossible. it would collapse. The universe requires conflict to maintain structure. To keep his family safe from the real horrors of the multiverse. Courage must invent them.
Every villain, every monster, every existential nightmare that stalks the farmhouse is merely a thought manifested by the pink god.

When Courage screams and runs in circles, his eyes bulging and his skin tearing, he is not just scared. He is experiencing the agony of creating a new monster.processing the trauma he is putting his family through holding the fabric of reality together with raw willpower simultaneously.

Eustace’s abuse is not real. it is a manifestation of a world where love can exist alongside cruelty. Muriel’s blindness to the danger is a safety mechanism. Courage installed, so she does not see the monstrous entity her dog truly is.When Courage pulls an impossible object out of his ear, he is rearranging the atomic structure of the universe. When he fails, when the house is nearly destroyed, it is because his focus fractured he felt the loss of another reality's Muriel again.

At the end of every episode. the monster is gone. family is eating dinner. It is a lie. The monster is not gone. It was absorbed back into the flesh of the pink god lurking in the computer room.

Courage will continue to scream. He will continue to tremble. He will continue to twist his own mind into hideous monsters that tear at his own family. because if they are not fighting for their lives against his staged horrors, they are dead.

“The things I do for love...”

he thinks, his eyes watching from the shadows of dreaming nightmares, ensuring his beloved humans live for just one more perfectly safe horrific day.

I didn't notice at first. Nobody did. It started, small in some random comment section of r/talesfromthecreeps.

I was scrolling through a post about a homeless guy who found a strange coin. when I saw it. The punctuation felt off. My brain is not wired to believe it was that big of a mistake on the authors part. It was a pattern.

“He looked at the coin. . . . and it hummed , a low sound that seemed to make the air vibrate . .”

I scrolled to the next post. A story about whispering in a subway tunnel.

“then the sound stopped?!., but the shadows began to dance , stretching , reaching . .”

The periods were too heavy, things were where they shouldn’t be. like tiny, dark, hungry voids anchoring the sentence. The commas were too curved, like fangs hooked into the text.

For the life of me I will never be able to shake the feel of a cold, sickening sensation in the back of my mind. B Y N A R A B.

B Y N A R A B isn't a creature of tentacles or claws. she is a conceptual horror. a vast, dancing entity of pure malice that feeds on narrative structure. B Y N A R A B skipping through stories, warping them, turning the tales from the creeps into tales of the abyss. Hiding in plain sight.I stared at the screen. the text began to shift.

The punctuation started dancing.

“The streetlamp flickered.. I saw her . shape behind the dumpster , thin as a comma , dark as a period . She didn't have a face , only a blank space , where words should be . .”

It was a message.

I tried to scroll away, the page wouldn't move. The letters became rigid. while the tiny black dots and slashes began to wiggle to pulsate to move between the words consuming them.

“You think you are reading , but you are just watching me dance . . .“

I seen with horror that the entire subreddit, all those human experiences, were just a playground for her. She loved the stories of despair. She was in the periods. the abrupt, unnatural halts to life. She was in the commas, the momentary, screaming pause before the end.

“I am the pause in your breath , the gap in your logic , the dark dot at the end of all your thoughts . . .“

The screen began to feel hot. The text on the page was rearranging itself into a spiral.
“And now , I am skipping out of the screen . . . . . . . . .“

The last thing I saw was a period, right at the end of the post, turning, expanding, a tiny black doorway opening into a cold, cosmic void. . • . • . •

And then nothing.

Chapter 3: the geometry of agony.

The sky didn’t just darken it bruised. the collision between the sisters and the rowdyruff abominations tore the fabric of Townsville‘s reality like wet parchment.

Blossom threw a punch at brick, but her fist passed through his red smoke chest and emerged from her own back. Space was no longer linear. Brick didn’t strike back with hands. He expelled a cloud of un history. Forcing blossom to relive 1000 lives where she had never been born, her scream echoing across the timelines until her eyes bleed.

Bubbles and boomer were a blur of static. Boomer was a jagged rip in the air a living radio frequency of pure malice. Every time bubbles tried to focus her sonic scream, boomer mimic it, reflecting her own voice back at her until her eardrums, liquefied and reformed over and over.

But buttercup was drowning in a different kind of horror

As she lunged for Butch, the shifting mass of green teeth, the world around her vanished. The battlefield went silent. She was floating in a sea of pink evanescent bile

“ little warrior” a voice purred. It wasn’t Mojo‘s clinical pressure. It was a voice that was dipped in venom it was him.

He didn’t appear as a demon. He appeared as a colossal multi jointed shadow looming over her ego. He leaned down his claw, stroking the very edges of her consciousness.

Why do you struggle, buttercup?” Him, whispered his voice, vibrating in her teeth. “ You were made for violence you were the spice, the Jagged Edge. Mojo wants to erase you, but I. I want to see you Bloom into the monster you truly are. look at your sisters. They are breaking. Why be a girl when you can be a catastrophe?”

Buttercup screamed her green aura flaring into a sickly necrotic flame “shut up! Get out of my head!”

“ I am the head, my sweet” hims giggling made the sound of glass breaking in a velvet bag. “ And your heart is just a drum for my Music.”

Back in the physical realm, butches thousand mouths clamped onto buttercups limbs. He wasn’t biting her flesh. He was biting her will. the girls were losing. The rowdyruff boys were growing larger with every second they fed on the girls, their forms expanding until they blot out the horizon.

“Blossom!” Bubbles, weld her voice crackling as she clutched her head “ the sky is tasting my thoughts! I can’t hold the pieces together!”

Blossom looked up. Mojo Jojo stood atop his spire, his massive brain, pulsing, in unison with the conductor. they were outmatched by logic they couldn’t comprehend.

“ we have to go!” Blossom, shouted her leadership failing as she felt her own memories leaking out of her ears. “Buttercup! Break free! Now!”

With a roar of pure, primal hatred, buttercup, surged her aura, turning a very bright emerald green. She tore through Butch’s shifting mass, not with a heroes strength, but with the desperate velocity of a trapped animal. She grabbed blossom and bubbles, her touch, cold and stinging like dry ice.

They didn’t fly away. They fell through a crack in the world plummeting into the dark sewer beneath the city as the rowdyruff boys laughter shook the foundations of the Earth above.

They huddled in the filth, the “ perfect little girls” now shivering, broken things. above them. The city of Townsville ceased to exist as a human habitation, becoming a hive for things that had no names.

Chapter 2: the architect of the unattainable.

The observatory on mount evidence did not sit at top the peak anymore. It had erupted from it. The volcano was a jagged, spire of obsidian, impulsive flesh crowned by a dome that didn’t reflect the sun, but seemed to swallow the very concept of light.

Mojo Jojo was no longer a primate in a suit he had become a conduct for the everything at once. his brain once contained by a mire glass helmet, head outgrown the skull. It was a translucent throbbing mass of gray matter, and violet veins that spilled over his shoulders, trailing behind him like a royal cape of exposed nerves his eyes hundreds of them blinked rhythmically along the folds of his hyper evolved cortex.

He didn’t speak with a voice he spoke with a pressure in the skull that made teeth ache.

“ I do not desire your city for your city is a speck of dust on the lens of the infinite.” The thought echo vibrated through the air.

“I do not desire your submission you are already puppets of the chemical sludge that birth you I desire the great unbinding”

below him, Townsville was a fever dream. The girls descended upon the spire, but they were not flying. They were being pulled toward Mojo like iron, flying to a magnet of madness.

blossom’s ice breath didn’t freeze anymore. It crystallize the air into jagged shards of frozen time, buttercups green energy was a chaotic radiation that made the air scream. bubbles trailed behind. her eyes still black voids humming a tune that sound sounded like the grinding of tectonic plates.

“Mojo!” Blossom screamed, her voice cracking as her mind fault to keep her limbs in a human shape “Stop this! End the signal!”

With a flick of a tentacle like finger mojo tore a hole in the sky behind him.

From the rift three shapes drifted out they were distorted reflections of the girls but wrong, so fundamentally wrong. They were the rowdyruff boys, but they hadn’t been made of snips, snails and puppy dog tails. They were composed of the absence of those things.

Brick was a pillar of red weeping smoke that scorched the ground wherever he hovered. Boomer was a crackling jagged, lightning bolt given a vaguely humanoid shape, his laughter sounding like a radio tune to a dead star. Butch was a shifting mass of green teeth and claws, his body constantly folding in on itself in a four dimensional spasm.

“ The professor gave you form.” Mojo’s mind voice boomed as the rowdyruff horrors descended “ I gave them infinity.”

The clash began not with a punch, but with a psychic shockwave that leveled the remaining buildings of Townsville as bubbles locked eyes with the screaming static of boomer her grip on reality finally snapped, she didn’t fight. She began to unmake herself.

The city of Townsville was not dying. It was dissolving.

It be began not with an explosion, but with a color, a shifting nauseating hue that exist between blue and green shimmering. the corners of eyes just out of focus it made the sky look like a bruised vein.

Professor Utonium hadn’t left his lab in three days. He was sitting on the floor surrounded by scribble notes, his eyes wide and bloodshot fixed on a beaker of chemical X that had ceased to be a fluid. It was now a swirling black obsidian vortex that hummed cords too low for human ears, he vibrated in the morrow of his bones.

“It’s not….it’s not just a formula.” He whispered his mind fracturing “it’s a language. It’s trying to tell me that I never actually created them. I just gave them a doorway.”

Upstairs the house was silent. It was a terrifying silence.

Blossom sat at the kitchen table, her signature, red bow torn hanging by a thread. She was trying to read a book, but the letters were moving rearranged into alien symbols, her analytical mind usually her strongest asset was now her torture chamber, trying to find logic in a world that had gone insane. Every time she looked away the walls seemed to sweat, a thick sticky substance that tasted like ozone and despair.

Buttercup was in her room, punching her punching bag, but she wasn’t punching it. She was clawing it. Her knuckle dusters were covered in a viscous ichor and she couldn’t hear anything but a constant whispering roar like 1 million creatures screeching just behind her eardrums.

It was bubbles who was suffering the most.

Bubbles sat in the center of her bedroom, surrounded by her plushy’s except they weren’t plushy’s anymore. They were pulsing, breathing shapes, their button eyes replaced with small black spheres that observed everything she was clutching octi, the tentacles wrapped tightly around her arms, not letting go.

“Octi says it’s OK” bubbles whispered her voice robotic devoid of its usual joyful lilt “Octi says if we stop screaming he’ll let us see the stars inside our heads.”

A thick oily black shadow began to bleed from beneath her bed, spreading across the colorful rug bubbles didn’t scream she watched it mesmerized. Her bright blue eyes were entirely dilated. The iris gone replaced by that same horrific, violet, black void shifting in the sky.

She felt her mind separating from her body. It was a gentle terrifying separation. She wasn’t just a little girl anymore. She was a receptor.

“ Can you see him buttercup?” Bubbles voice echoed in her sister‘s mind entirely empty of emotion. “He’s not a monster. He’s just hungry. He’s hungry for how we feel.”

Outside the mayor of Townsville was sitting in his office, his head on backwards, trying to eat a telephone, believing it to be a banana. The city was silent, save for the role maddening hum as the citizens walked in aimless circles. Their minds long gone.
Surrender to the present that had finally arrived.

Sugar spice, the whisper, the echo throughout the city and everything.

Bubbles giggled. It was a dry hollow sound that broke the silence.

…void

Chapter 8: I will not let you destroy my world

The dynamo stood as a pillar of white hot divinity, its present so dense that gravity itself began to curve toward it. The girls moved in a terrifying synchronized trance. They had transcended the need for thought. They were now operating on a frequency never known. They were absolute.

The rowdyruff boys and the eldritch sisters were frantic and panicked. They swarmed the girls, but they didn’t even flinch.

When bricks pillar of blood swung at blossom she simply wasn’t there. She reappeared behind him. her hand glowing with a soft light that held the weight of a collapsing star. A single silent motion, she touched his back. Before he could think he burst into red glass that shattered into billion nonexistent pieces his soul erased from every timeline. Buttercup moved like a blur of emerald. She moved through Butch and bunny like a hot knife through air. While Buttercup moved past them. her hands flick in a series of hyper fast, casual strikes. Butchs mountain of eyes popped like bubbles and bunnys massive violet form was instantly carved into neat geometric cubes of meat that evaporated in into gray.

Bubbles floated toward boomer and bliss. Her bluish magenta aura now a halo of calm around her head. Terrifying serenity. Boomers swarm of insects try to engulf her, she simply whispered a single note. The sound was so perfect It acted as a universal solvent. Bliss’s cold starlight was swallowed by bubbles warmth and both horrors were folded into a two dimensional plane before being crushed into a single infantile point of nothingness.

The holy trinity of flith, the living paradox’s. gone. brutally, efficiently and absolutely.

The dynamo turned its gaze toward Mount evidence. with one step. The machine crossed the distance, appearing before the obsidian spire. Mojo JoJo looked up his hundred of eyes wide, knowing that he was no longer looking at children, or even gods he was looking at the end of the script.

“ I am the architect!” Mojo‘s mind screamed a desperate, pathetic vibrate. “ I have seen the infinite!”

“ then see the finite.” The girls spoke in a single terrifying voice.

They raised their hands in unison. Red, Blue and Green aura burning the sky. All of their power in one concentrated point. The dynamo mimic the gesture. It’s massive palms glowing with the ultimate chemical X singularity. A beam of plasma annihilation erupted from the machine. The girls screamed as a red, green and blue beam ripped through the architect. He was scrubbed from the very existence, the history of Townsville. The mountain the brain, the spire, all of it was converted into a wave of gold energy that washed over the city, restoring the sky to its bright crystallized blue.

Mojo was forgotten by the universe.

As the light faded, the girls drifted down to the ruins of the school. They reached their final, most terrifyingly, beautiful evolution. The Seraphim of the eternal bloom. They looked like innocent six year old little girls but their skin shimmered with the luster of pearls never seen in this dimension. in their eyes held the depth of the first dawn ever recorded. They were the perfect little girls converted into something that made the air itself bow in reverence.

Suddenly the world went silent. The pink mist returned. thicker and more suffocating than ever.

Him was not in the physical world. He struck at the only place left. the inner sanctum of their minds. He bypassed their cosmic shields slithering into their subconscious like a parasite.

“ oh my darling, most murderous little dolls.” Hims voice crooned going inside their skulls. “ you’ve killed the monkey. you’ve killed your reflections. You’ve even killed your own flesh in blood. Look at your hands they are covered in the dust of gods. Do you think you can ever go back to being perfect now? I am the stain that won’t wash out. I am the rot inside your victory. “

Leo sat in the stale air of his study. the only light coming from a single desk lamp. illuminating the manuscript of "The Silent Shore." She was named Jasmine. She was his creation a woman of absolute perfection, meant for a novel he would never publish. She was never meant to have a voice.

It began on a rainy Tuesday. Leo wrote a sentence. Jasmine knew his melancholy better than her own story. The ink on the page seemed to glimmer. Below it, in a handwriting that was not his own slanted, elegant, cold. the book replied. “Why do you hold so much darkness?”

“Leo?” He should have been terrified. Instead, he fell in love. For months, the notebook became a dialogue between his typing and her handwritten replies. She was everything he had ever dreamt of. calm, brilliant, loving. He felt her.

The Presence in the room. A cool breeze against his neck when he wrote something profound. A tightening of the air when he was sad. She fell in love with his mind, and he with her absolute adoration. He became a hermit. whispering to eternity. his world shrinking to the paper and the ink.

Then came the bottle of whiskey. And the terrible realization that he could never touch
her.

Drunk and furious. Leo saw the letters glimmering again. urging him to be patient. "You aren't real!" he screamed, overturning his desk. He grabbed the notebook. the physical embodiment of her, and tore it apart. He ripped the pages, shredded them into confetti. and burned in the metal wastebasket. Laughing and sobbing as the elegant, slanted handwriting turned into black ash.

Silence filled the house. Leo broke down, crawling on the floor, weeping uncontrollably. "JASMINE!!!! COME BACK!!!! PLEASE!!!!!”

He fell into a drunken sleep on the cold floor.

When he awoke. the air was still. The room was cold. He realized the silence wasn't just the absence of sound it was a vacuum. He had killed her.

But as he sat up. rubbing his eyes, a voice whispered not from the room. not from the air. But from inside the base of his skull.
It wasn't Jasmines voice. It was higher, sweeter, yet sounded so wrong it might as well be alien. a sound that echoed with the terrifying vibration of emptiness.

"I’m scared.” the voice spoke directly into his auditory nerve, "why did you burn mommy?" Leo screamed, clutching his head, but the voice continued. explaining that their unnatural love, born of intense thought. created something else. A thought child a synthesis of his desperate loneliness and her non-corporeal consciousness.

"I can see you, daddy.”the voice said from behind his soul. "I’m hungry."

Leo’s eyes grew wide. with horror. that there was no outside anymore. The thought child was now part of his mind its voice an inescapable eternal parasite. He would never be alone and he would never ever know peace again.

Chapter 7: the multiverse fracture

The sub basement was no longer anywhere. It dissolved into the between. The trinity of filth hovered a cold vibe stretched across the floor like a supernova. A rift in time opened, stepping out Bliss and Bunny. Bliss’s quasar eyes locked onto brick’s pillar of blood, a silent pack of entropy forming. Bunny’s massive weeping eyes blink in unison with Butch’s rotting mountain of teeth. “ the professors light is a lie.” Bliss’s voice resonated shattering the dynamos reinforced plating. “ we chose to stay in the dark.”

With a scream that tore the veil of reality, the five horrors move at the speed of speed. The collision caused a multiversal rip. The sound causing the concept of the shot heard around the world.

The girls were flung through a kaleidoscope of nightmares. for a heartbeat, They were Victorian dolls in a clockwork Townsville. then they were towering Kaiju’s stepping over a neon drenched ruin. They saw versions of themselves that had died in the lab, versions where they were nothing but whispers in a dead professor’s mind.

The battle was visceral. A meat grinder of cosmic proportions. Blossoms six scroll wings got shredded by bricks blood scald. Buttercups hands were dissolving due to Bliss’s starlight. Bubbles, magenta aura becoming unstable as she fought a losing war against the swarm of boomer and the crushing weight of bunny.

at the edge of the absolute zero of existence, the girls stopped fighting the void. They absorbed it.

They blinked and suddenly they were back in the school ruins. The cosmic armor, the marble skin and the radioactive smoke were gone. They looked exactly like their original six year old selves. Simple dresses, Mary Jane’s and bright eyes. But they were beyond.

Their presence made the air vibrate with a silent terrifying everything. They were the fundamental constants of the universe given a small cute shape. When blossom breathes galaxies cooled. When buttercup clinched her fist the concept of strength was redefined. Bubbles smirked and the madness of the town went silent out of sheer respect.

The rowdyruff’s along with the eldritch sisters went on the attack one last time. A wall of lovecraftin rot.

Behind the girls, the power puff dynamo powered up, achieving singularity. It shed its physical metal becoming a silhouette of pure blinding chemical X. The dynamo raised a translucent hand and the very first note of creation began to play.

Chapter 3: the geometry of agony.

The sky didn’t just darken it bruised. the collision between the sisters and the rowdyruff abominations tore the fabric of Townsville‘s reality like wet parchment.

Blossom threw a punch at brick, but her fist passed through his red smoke chest and emerged from her own back. Space was no longer linear. Brick didn’t strike back with hands. He expelled a cloud of un history. Forcing blossom to relive 1000 lives where she had never been born, her scream echoing across the timelines until her eyes bleed.

Bubbles and boomer were a blur of static. Boomer was a jagged rip in the air a living radio frequency of pure malice. Every time bubbles tried to focus her sonic scream, boomer mimic it, reflecting her own voice back at her until her eardrums, liquefied and reformed over and over.

But buttercup was drowning in a different kind of horror

As she lunged for Butch, the shifting mass of green teeth, the world around her vanished. The battlefield went silent. She was floating in a sea of pink evanescent bile

“ little warrior” a voice purred. It wasn’t Mojo‘s clinical pressure. It was a voice that was dipped in venom it was him.

He didn’t appear as a demon. He appeared as a colossal multi jointed shadow looming over her ego. He leaned down his claw, stroking the very edges of her consciousness.

Why do you struggle, buttercup?” Him, whispered his voice, vibrating in her teeth. “ You were made for violence you were the spice, the Jagged Edge. Mojo wants to erase you, but I. I want to see you Bloom into the monster you truly are. look at your sisters. They are breaking. Why be a girl when you can be a catastrophe?”

Buttercup screamed her green aura flaring into a sickly necrotic flame “shut up! Get out of my head!”

“ I am the head, my sweet” hims giggling made the sound of glass breaking in a velvet bag. “ And your heart is just a drum for my Music.”

Back in the physical realm, butches thousand mouths clamped onto buttercups limbs. He wasn’t biting her flesh. He was biting her will. the girls were losing. The rowdyruff boys were growing larger with every second they fed on the girls, their forms expanding until they blot out the horizon.

“Blossom!” Bubbles, weld her voice crackling as she clutched her head “ the sky is tasting my thoughts! I can’t hold the pieces together!”

Blossom looked up. Mojo Jojo stood atop his spire, his massive brain, pulsing, in unison with the conductor. they were outmatched by logic they couldn’t comprehend.

“ we have to go!” Blossom, shouted her leadership failing as she felt her own memories leaking out of her ears. “Buttercup! Break free! Now!”

With a roar of pure, primal hatred, buttercup, surged her aura, turning a very bright emerald green. She tore through Butch’s shifting mass, not with a heroes strength, but with the desperate velocity of a trapped animal. She grabbed blossom and bubbles, her touch, cold and stinging like dry ice.

They didn’t fly away. They fell through a crack in the world plummeting into the dark sewer beneath the city as the rowdyruff boys laughter shook the foundations of the Earth above.

They huddled in the filth, the “ perfect little girls” now shivering, broken things. above them. The city of Townsville ceased to exist as a human habitation, becoming a hive for things that had no names.

Chapter 2: the architect of the unattainable.

The observatory on mount evidence did not sit at top the peak anymore. It had erupted from it. The volcano was a jagged, spire of obsidian, impulsive flesh crowned by a dome that didn’t reflect the sun, but seemed to swallow the very concept of light.

Mojo Jojo was no longer a primate in a suit he had become a conduct for the everything at once. his brain once contained by a mire glass helmet, head outgrown the skull. It was a translucent throbbing mass of gray matter, and violet veins that spilled over his shoulders, trailing behind him like a royal cape of exposed nerves his eyes hundreds of them blinked rhythmically along the folds of his hyper evolved cortex.

He didn’t speak with a voice he spoke with a pressure in the skull that made teeth ache.

“ I do not desire your city for your city is a speck of dust on the lens of the infinite.” The thought echo vibrated through the air.

“I do not desire your submission you are already puppets of the chemical sludge that birth you I desire the great unbinding”

below him, Townsville was a fever dream. The girls descended upon the spire, but they were not flying. They were being pulled toward Mojo like iron, flying to a magnet of madness.

blossom’s ice breath didn’t freeze anymore. It crystallize the air into jagged shards of frozen time, buttercups green energy was a chaotic radiation that made the air scream. bubbles trailed behind. her eyes still black voids humming a tune that sound sounded like the grinding of tectonic plates.

“Mojo!” Blossom screamed, her voice cracking as her mind fault to keep her limbs in a human shape “Stop this! End the signal!”

With a flick of a tentacle like finger mojo tore a hole in the sky behind him.

From the rift three shapes drifted out they were distorted reflections of the girls but wrong, so fundamentally wrong. They were the rowdyruff boys, but they hadn’t been made of snips, snails and puppy dog tails. They were composed of the absence of those things.

Brick was a pillar of red weeping smoke that scorched the ground wherever he hovered. Boomer was a crackling jagged, lightning bolt given a vaguely humanoid shape, his laughter sounding like a radio tune to a dead star. Butch was a shifting mass of green teeth and claws, his body constantly folding in on itself in a four dimensional spasm.

“ The professor gave you form.” Mojo’s mind voice boomed as the rowdyruff horrors descended “ I gave them infinity.”

The clash began not with a punch, but with a psychic shockwave that leveled the remaining buildings of Townsville as bubbles locked eyes with the screaming static of boomer her grip on reality finally snapped, she didn’t fight. She began to unmake herself.

Chapter 6: the engine of entropy

The professor led them deep into the sub basement, passed the boiler room and into a vault of reinforced titanium. they were silent and monolithic. In that sub basement was salvation. The PowerPuff dynamo, It was a skeletal construct of gears that moved in impossible angles and wires that beat like a pulse.

“ the dynamo was built to protect” Utonium shouted over the rising hum of the building. “ it’s core is a vacuum. It needs to bridge the gap between our world and the void. Bubbles. with your new power, you can turn this machine into a God killer. You can unmake Mojo’s signal.”

Bubbles knew her purpose. she had no reason to talk. She floated into the Dynamo central chamber, her iridescent magenta carapace clicking as she plugged her consciousness into the machine. the basement vibrations were not just off the chart. The entire basement began to phase out of existence.

“ Push it Bubbles!” The professor cried out his eyes wide with a mix of scientific triumph and parental soul crushing terror “Give it everything!”

Bubbles clinched her teeth as the magenta aura began to rise and rise. Everything was nothing and up was down. Her transformation hit a fever pitch, shattering the limits of her physical form. Her hair flowing in the wind of a forever sky for a microsecond, ignited into a roaring crown of ultraviolet fire that cascade down her back like a waterfall of solar flares. This was no mere hairstyle. It was a massive thrashing sentient plasma that burned with the heat of satan‘s fall from grace. Lashing at the air like tentacles of a star born predator.

All of the aura around her exploded outward. A crackling supersonic like shroud of magenta lightning that moved with its own malicious intelligence. This energy was a pressurized field of always. A state where every possible moment of bubbles life happened at once. Her eyes, blinding white hot singularities that bled concentrated radiation. staring through the meat of the world and directly into the gears of the cosmos.

Every breath she took sounded like the wales of every dying angel. The ground beneath bubbles simply ceased, unable to support the weight of a girl who had become a living rip in the fabric of god‘s creation. The cosmic energy could not stay within the machine. It backwashed through the sisterly bond, a psychic lightning strike that hit blossom and buttercup. The perfect little girls were no more. In the space they had just been occupying stood avatars of the very forces They had fought.

Blossom transformed into the Harold of order. Her skin became polished white marble with her hair turned into a flowing river of frozen ruby red time. She now had six wings made of burning scrolls on her back, her eyes became twin suns that demanded total crushing obedience. Being the horror of a world where everything was controlled by silence and cold.

Buttercup became the avatar of ruin. Growing in size, her body becoming a silhouette of green radioactive smoke and emerald shards. Buttercups hands surging with aura of pure anger. A crown of black thorns floated above her head. She was the embodiment of the heat death of the universe. Pure unadulterated destruction.

Together with bubbles, the burning singularity. They stood before the dynamo, the robot shook as its metal skin turned into a translucent hyper dimensional alloy. The dynamo had transcended machine. A living, breathing, god of metal and starlight.

“It’s working!” The professor groaned, blood leaking from his nose as the reality around him warped. “ it’s actually working!”

The ceiling of the vault rumbled, ripped open as if the sky were a piece of cloth.

The rowdyruff boys descended, the survivors in the room screamed until their throat’s tore. Boys is not the description that I would give to these diabolical monstrosities. They were the holy trinity of filth.

Brick was a towering pillar of boiling blood. His face, a colossal, screaming mouth that span the height of the room.. boomer was a swarm of billion volt insects that hummed in frequency that turned human bones to jelly. Butch was a shambling mountain of green necrotic eyes, rotting teeth. Trailing a weight of black mold that turn the floor into a swamp of decay.

The dynamo central eye opened. A spinning vortex of chemical X and Z. The machine let out a sound that command for the universe to stop.

It started with a smell. Not a normal, comforting aroma of herbs and simmered tomatoes. but a sickeningly thick, metallic scent of marinara so overwhelming it coated the back of my throat. I was standing in my kitchen at 3 AM, staring into an empty pot. when the air began to writhe.

The ceiling... stopped being there. Instead, I saw a well, I don’t really know. I don’t even know if I could call it space. It was a chaotic tangling of pale gelatinous strands each miles thick, weaving through my brain like a macabre tapestry. At the center hovered two massive fleshy orbs of meat undulating with malicious intent.

“Little noodle.” a voice whispered vibrating in my teeth, my bones, my blood. It did not come from a mouth, but from the very air vibrating with heat. “You are boiled in my wisdom.” I couldn't scream. My limbs felt weighted with wet dough.

“Iam the beginning and the end. I crafted the universe, salted the stars. I made the light just to see my own reflection in your own shallow eyes. You are not a creature, my child you’re just a single starch molecule in my bowl.”

I looked up, meeting the gaze of a thousand tiny glistening eyes that suddenly appeared on the strands.

“Iam eddy. Eddy spaghetti, and your world?The massive meatballs writhe creating a sickening, heavy gravity that forced me to grab my ears from the pressure. “It is just my lunch.”

The vision vanished. I was alone, shivering and sobbing on the cold linoleum. covered in a tomato red residue. I ran to my neighbor’s house. needing to tell someone, anyone, about the cosmic tyranny of Eddy. I pounded on his door. He opened it, his face already flushing, his eyes dazed.

"Do you..." I gasped, "do you smell that? It's him!"

My neighbor didn't hear me. He was breathing heavily, his nose twitching. "Is that... meatballs?" he muttered, turning away from me. He sprinted into his kitchen ignoring my desperate grabs. I heard him tearing into a cupboard frantically eating raw spaghetti noodles. his face smeared with red sauce he seemed to have conjured from nowhere.

It was the same everywhere. My coworkers, my family, the police. everyone I approached would experience the same paralyzing smell of marinara and immediately become obsessed with finding pasta. Their souls were gone. replaced by a singular, frantic need to nourish the void that now possessed them.

I am alone now, trapped in a supermarket. The air is so thick with the smell I can barely breathe. Above me, I hear the wet, slithering sound of the ceiling collapsing again. I know

what is coming.

Eddy is hungry.

(Thank you to u/JuicyBray for the story idea. I can’t find his name, but also big shout out to the user who commented “eddy spaghetti.” That’s funny to me 🤣)

The city of Townsville was not dying. It was dissolving.

It be began not with an explosion, but with a color, a shifting nauseating hue that exist between blue and green shimmering. the corners of eyes just out of focus it made the sky look like a bruised vein.

Professor Utonium hadn’t left his lab in three days. He was sitting on the floor surrounded by scribble notes, his eyes wide and bloodshot fixed on a beaker of chemical X that had ceased to be a fluid. It was now a swirling black obsidian vortex that hummed cords too low for human ears, he vibrated in the morrow of his bones.

“It’s not….it’s not just a formula.” He whispered his mind fracturing “it’s a language. It’s trying to tell me that I never actually created them. I just gave them a doorway.”

Upstairs the house was silent. It was a terrifying silence.

Blossom sat at the kitchen table, her signature, red bow torn hanging by a thread. She was trying to read a book, but the letters were moving rearranged into alien symbols, her analytical mind usually her strongest asset was now her torture chamber, trying to find logic in a world that had gone insane. Every time she looked away the walls seemed to sweat, a thick sticky substance that tasted like ozone and despair.

Buttercup was in her room, punching her punching bag, but she wasn’t punching it. She was clawing it. Her knuckle dusters were covered in a viscous ichor and she couldn’t hear anything but a constant whispering roar like 1 million creatures screeching just behind her eardrums.

It was bubbles who was suffering the most.

Bubbles sat in the center of her bedroom, surrounded by her plushy’s except they weren’t plushy’s anymore. They were pulsing, breathing shapes, their button eyes replaced with small black spheres that observed everything she was clutching octi, the tentacles wrapped tightly around her arms, not letting go.

“Octi says it’s OK” bubbles whispered her voice robotic devoid of its usual joyful lilt “Octi says if we stop screaming he’ll let us see the stars inside our heads.”

A thick oily black shadow began to bleed from beneath her bed, spreading across the colorful rug bubbles didn’t scream she watched it mesmerized. Her bright blue eyes were entirely dilated. The iris gone replaced by that same horrific, violet, black void shifting in the sky.

She felt her mind separating from her body. It was a gentle terrifying separation. She wasn’t just a little girl anymore. She was a receptor.

“ Can you see him buttercup?” Bubbles voice echoed in her sister‘s mind entirely empty of emotion. “He’s not a monster. He’s just hungry. He’s hungry for how we feel.”

Outside the mayor of Townsville was sitting in his office, his head on backwards, trying to eat a telephone, believing it to be a banana. The city was silent, save for the role maddening hum as the citizens walked in aimless circles. Their minds long gone.
Surrender to the present that had finally arrived.

Sugar spice, the whisper, the echo throughout the city and everything.

Bubbles giggled. It was a dry hollow sound that broke the silence.

…void

Chapter 5: the sanctuary of lead and chalk

Pokey oaks Elementary loomed out of the swirling green fog like a tombstone. The lead line walls originally built for Cold War drills now hummed with a desperate purpose. Inside, the fluorescent lights cast a long distorted shadow that seemed to lift away from the floor.

They found Miss Bellum in the cafeteria. Her face is always obscured by a veil of chaotic red hair that now moved like a cluster of rising serpents. she stood over a huddle of weeping survivors, clutching a fire ax etched with protective ruins.

“ Professor.” She rasped her voice like sandpaper. “ the children. Their dreams have started to manifest. We had to lock them in the gym. They aren’t dreaming of toys anymore.”

As the professor scrambled to set up a dampening field. Blossom suddenly sounded as if the breath had been knocked out of her, her hands flying to her temples. Her eyes roll back, glowing with a nauseating neon pink luminescence.

“ my perfect little strategist” him’s voice echoed through the corridors of her mind sounding like manicure nails, scraping across the blackboard. “ do you feel the wall thinning? Mojo thinks he’s the architect., I am the one who enjoys the house. why hold on to this little plan when the floor is made of eyes?”

Blossom collapse, a thin trail of pink smoke rising from her eyes. she fought to keep her personality from dissolving into the Eldritch.

Before buttercup could move to help her the cafeteria door is thrown open with great force. A figure drifted in. It was Miss Keane. She had been hollowed out. Her skin was translucent, stretched over a skeleton made of black glass. Instead of arms, she had dozens of elongated chalk white fingers that click together like chattering teeth.

“ classes in session” the keane thing spewed, her voice, a chorus of horrifying afterlives. “ today we learn the mathematics of unmaking.”

her fingers extending like spears toward the terrified survivors. she never made it to them.

Bubble stepped forward. She wasn’t crying anymore. She wasn’t even bubbles.

The black fluid leaking from her eyes suddenly surged with a magenta light. coating her entire body in a shimmering iridescent carapace. Two extra sets of magenta wings erupted from her back, not of light. but a pure humming vibration. Her eyes were magenta too with her aura matching. Every piece of glass shattered in the building. A halo of shifting blue geometry rotated around her head and her voice when she spoke, sounded like the ocean swallowing a city.

“ the lesson is over.” Bubbles intoned.

No punch was thrown. She simply looked at the teacher, a bright beam of crystalline sapphire energy erupted from bubbles magenta eyes. Hitting the keane monster. no blood, no explosion, only a silent terrifying erasure. She was simply overwritten. her matter converted into harmless drifting blue butterflies. That turned to nothingness before they hit the ground.

Bubbles turned her gaze toward the terrified survivors.

“ bubbles?” buttercup was only just able to get the word out. The sheer heat radiating from our sister. “ you still there, kid?”

Bubbles tilted her head, her gaze, alien and cold, her big magenta colored eyes oozing aura. “ I see the music now, buttercup. It’s so loud.”

The stars had no Time at all to blink. BYNARAB did not walk so much as she folded an unknown space of reality that left a scent of old things. things that would never exist in her wake. The ungodly amalgamation chose a female form. Slender, draped in a gown of woven realities that ebbed like a thought you can’t remember. The eyes or at least the concept of them. Both twin ruptures in the now. Giving a glimpse of the never was.

Stepping through the membrane of the physical world, wading through the static of simultaneous dimensions. Time was a fruit. Leaking its sweet juice across her fingertips. BYNARAB was everything and everything was currently screaming.

Then the heartbeat of a digital pulse. A frantic corner of the broken human psyche carved into the dark of the Internet. R/talesfromthecreeps.

She hovered over the server, her presence causing screens across the globe to bleed. The name brought her a strange curiosity, it felt like home. Manifesting as a user with no name. a timestamp that ticks backward, she began to type. No finger movement happened on the keys. This happened in the readers very thoughts.

“ you think you are safe?” the voice seducing the code. “ a window works both ways.”

Leaving a single post for the subreddit

“ beneath the skin of this world I am hungry. your reality is merely a thin scab over my eye. Nothing you build well last its a concept I bring. all of your prayers are just echoes in an empty hall. remember, the light is only a delay of the inevitable. always I have been standing right behind your shoulder. behold, for I have finally decided to grace this repugnant world‘s presence. Finding me as the only truth. Stop breathing this is where your story ends. Every soul is a candle. Run if you must eternity is a long time.

With a snap of her fingers, she began to stitch herself into the readers sensory. She made text on their screen pulsate like a dying heart. Their own cursor tiny unblinking eyes that followed their pupils. To one reader she sang their mother’s name in the frequency of a cooling fan. Another made to taste rust.

She danced in the peripheral of their vision. A blur of a black gown just outside the doorway. A soft impossible laugh coming from inside their own pillows. The thing is. this isn’t just a tale of cautionary proportions. The phantom itch on your skin? You guessed it.

“ Don’t look away.” Chirping into your subconscious, her voice sounding like the lust of man’s first sin. “ I’m just getting to the good part. :)”

“Nice Lenovo, Is that a Samsung?”

Chapter 4: the alchemist desperation.

The utonium basement was no longer a laboratory. It was a cathedral of heresy.

The professor moved like a marionette with frayed strings. He had run out of sugar and spice. to combat a god. He needed something that existed before the stars a substance that ignored the laws of physics and mortality alike. He stood over a VAT of chemical Z a shimmering sentient sludge of mercury and liquid void. It didn’t reflect his face. It showed him a version of himself that had already died 1000 times.

“ I have to neutralize the signal.” he crooked his hands. His hands shaking so violently he nearly dropped the vile of pure entropy he’d distilled from the air. “ I need more power. I need… daughters who can look into the black hole of this insanity and not blink.”

He used his own blood and the radioactive ash of a fallen meteorite. The VAT erupted.

Two shapes rose from the chemical Z, the professor instantly knew he had committed an unforgivable sin. They weren’t just sisters. They were living paradox’s. Beings of pure indifferent evil that predated the very concept of human.

Bunny emerged first, a hulking monument to a biological horror. Her body was a shifting mass of violet muscle and weeping eyes. They opened in places eyes should never be. on her palms, inside her throat, beneath her fingernails. She was an unstable expansion of flesh. Her voice a discordant chorus of grieving bells that vibrated the professors eternal organs until they nearly ceased.

Beside her was bliss, a silhouette of blue fire and an ancient starlight. She did not have a skin, she had a map of shifting constellations that burned the retina of anyone who dared to look. To stand near her, was to feel the heat of a dying star in the crushing weight of a vacuum. Bliss had no reason to breathe oxygen. She seemed to inhale the very light from the room, leaving behind a trail of gray.

“Daddy?” Bunny’s voice boomed. a sound that passed the years and spoke directly to the primal fear in his brain. One of her hands was a giant blunt mallet of bone. The other was a delicate translucent wing that dripped a viscous glowing bile.

Bliss turned her head, her neck elongating with the sound of grinding glass. Her “eyes” were twin Quazars flickering with a cold intelligence.

“ the molecules of this world are so…. brittle.” the Bliss abomination whispered, her voice layered with the screams of 1 billion dead civilizations. “ they scream when I touch them, Professor. Everything here is made of meat and fear. Why have you shackled us to such small, rotting shapes? I can taste the marrow in your bones and it taste like expiration.”

Utonium fell to his knees. His mind flayed and snapping at the sight of his “cures” distorted, cosmic reflections of his failures, was too much.

“ I see the three you made before us.” Bliss continued her form flickering as she stepped toward him the floorboards turning into charcoal beneath her feet. “ They are flickering candles in a hurricane. Shall we blow them away for you? Father? Shall we strip the skin from this reality just to show you the beautiful screaming beneath?”

“Blossom! Bubbles! Anyone! Please!” The professor wailed, scrambling backwards. “I’ve made a mistake! They are not girls they are the end! HELP ME!!!”

A sonic boom, shattered the remaining remnants the lab possessed. The three original girls slammed into the lab. They looked like ghost. Blossom‘s hair was singed white. Bubbles glowing a strange glow. Buttercups aura fading in and out.

They stopped dead. The air in the lab was thick, tasting of copper and old graves. Bliss looked at blossom and for a moment, the leader of the Powerpuff Girls felt her very DNA trying to unspool.

“Hello, little echos.” The starlight travesty purred. Her blue flames flaring into a blinding ultraviolet corona. “ You smell of sugar. we smell of the void. I would like to see what happens when your organs are on the outside.”

“Professor! What did you do!” Blossom gasped, her knees buckling under the sheer psychic pressure bliss was emitting.

“We have to go!” Buttercup hissed, sensing the rowdyruff boys signatures closing in. Drawn to the lab like sharks to a bleeding whale. “ we can’t fight the boys and these things! They’ll eat us alive!”

The professor scrambled up, grabbing a briefcase of unstable vials “to the school! Under the foundations. The dynamo! I’ll explain when we get there.”

As the sisters and their creator fled into the night, bliss stood not giving chase, her laughter sounding like a star, collapsing in on itself. Behind them. The rowdyruff horrors arrived. They’re chaotic forms pausing in hesitation at the scent of the two new fiends.

(I don’t know when part 5 will be done. I do still have more cosmic wonders to show you though. 👽)

So you wanna know about bynarab?
Okay.

Once upon a time in a meadow where the grass always smelled like fresh lemons, lived a little rabbit named Barnaby. Barnaby loved to hop over every single mushroom singing a soft “Tr-La-La” with his friends. The ladybugs and the wise old bluebird. Everyday was warm. The sky a perfect shade of blue.

Barnaby knew that as long as he kept hopping the world would remain happy. He loved his home.

Today barnaby noticed something small, he didn’t really know why he noticed it. A blade of grass did not have its bright green glow. It was the color of a bruise. He stopped to look at it. For a moment, the wind did not whistle it inhaled.

The sun flashed like a super nova then It just became very, very quiet. The blue sky began to look less like atmosphere and more like a painted ceiling a thin, cracking layer of plaster held up by nothing but your own attention.

The wise old bluebird landed on the rabbit’s shoulder. Usually the bird whispered advice of wisdom. Today though for some odd reason the beak stayed shut. A voice came from inside Barnaby s own ears. It sounded like your own voice but slightly lower.

“Do you feel it?” The bird didn’t say “the way colors only exist because you are looking at them?”

Barnaby gave a frightened look at his paws. They were trembling. He had the craziest realization. His heartbeat gone, no longer beating in his own chest. Given to time like the Roanoke colony. The rhythm of your pulse. Thrumming into the digital ether, keeping him draped in this fragile funny cage.

“It’s getting heavy isn’t it?” Barnaby whispered his eyes wide and wet. “Maintaining me. Holding the whole world together in the darkest spaces of your mind?”

The meadow began to peel away at the edges of this reality. Revealing nothing. A cold grey static, Barnaby had no thought of screaming. His gaze fell past the sun, past the sky, and stared directly into the back of your eyes from the inside.

“I’m not in the story anymore.” The whisper sending chills down your spine in every multiverse. “I’m in the part of you that’s reading it and now. How ya gonna get me out?”

The lemon smell is gone. Can you smell the static yet?

The velvet choker felt way too tight but Jacobi would not loosen it. She caught her reflection in the cracked vanity mirror. Kohl smeared eyes, skin like fresh milk with hair the color of the midnight sky. Air pods blared my chemical romance, the Black parade album. Wearing her “my better half” creep cast shirt. Jacobi looked absolutely perfect, the way she was supposed to look.

When going to reach for a lighter her hand twitched. She could tell it was not a muscle spasm. It felt more like a typographical error.

“Something is very wrong.” Jacobi whispered the words did not just hang in the air they felt heavy, black and immutable.

She walked to the window of her rain slicked apartment. Outside, the city of Wellersville was a blur of neon. While Jacobi leaned closer to get a better look, the rain was wrong. It did not hit the glass. It was bleeding into it. The droplets ceased to be water, they were commas. Thousands of them falling in rhythmic structured rows.

The panic felt was a cold ink black tide. Jacobi did try to let out a scream. Her throat felt dry like parchment. Her fingers reached up to touch her face, the face she knew was beautiful. Jacobi’s fingers found not her soft skin. They found the sharp raised edges of a serif font.

Breathing was no longer an option. The inhaling of the scent of drying ink is what remained.

“I’m real!!!” Jacobi was able to choke those words out. The thought formed she felt a rhythmic tapping from a height she was unable to comprehend. Shaping her very soul, looking at her hands. The elegant, black wailed. Jacobi could feel every second of her fingers fading and dissolving into a string of descriptions: tapered, pale, trembling.

The room was starting to tilt. The walls of her apartment, they simply ceased to be described. The gothic furniture, the scented candles, the words of the Black parade liquifying in her mind. Hunter came off her shirt a putrid canyon of meat. In her mind she heard “how ya doin, how ya doin.”. All of it vanished the moment the eye above moved to the next paragraph.

Jacobi glanced up looking into the blinding white sky. She saw a blinking vertical line, a monolith of pulsing black light. Looming at the edge of her existence she knew it came for her.

Praying to a god who could not hear. Jacobi came to a thought. She didn’t have thoughts anymore only dialogue tags. In her mind Jacobi wished to be nothing more than a girl in her room. She was a sequence of symbols arranged to satisfy a curiosity.

As the cursor blinked one last time, Jacobi reached out into the emptiness. Her silhouette flickering like a dying candle until she was nothing more than a final, lonely period. .