There is a cafe in the forest. Its lights are bright, it should not be there.
Something chimes. You don’t remember opening the door that swings closed behind you. You’re out of breath. Have you been running? Your brow furrows. There is mud on your boots. Clumps of dirt that dry and crack then fall away as you stand there, staring.
“May I have your name?”
You look up. Your neck strains as if it hasn’t moved in days. Blink, flex your hands. Needles race up your arms like stabbing insects. The barista stands before you with limbs that are too long and a smile that reaches their eyes in more ways than one.
“May I have your name?” They say again, like a name is a thing to be taken.
Maybe it is. You are struck with the notion that you do not want them to have yours. With great effort you pause the words forming on your lips. When did you open your mouth? It doesn’t matter. You give them a name.
The barista’s smile widens, if that is possible. Their skin is ashen gray and the apron they wear shifts in a way that blinds you. “That isn’t your name.”
You shake your head. No, it isn’t.
You are seated at a table. (Is wood supposed to bleed?) The menu is soggy in your hands. Syllables jerk twisted and raw from your mouth as you pick an order at random and read. A mockery of language, you don’t recognise your own voice.
The barista nods slowly, “will that be all?”
“Yes,” you find yourself saying. “that will be all.”
They turn away and you are left with yourself. Roll a corner of the menu between your finger and thumb, yellow liquid oozing from its fibers. Your hand is shaking.
Something chimes, slams. A man stands in the doorway- He has mud on his boots, though he doesn't stop to watch it dry. He sees you and you remember then why you went running in the woods at night. Ordinary fear; of abuse and fists and gaslit-rage. You cringe in your seat.
He is an animal made of popping veins and flying spittle. He stalks towards you and then-
“May I have your name?”
Was the barista always there? You don’t remember them arriving, you don’t remember them being there a moment ago. They stand with a smile that is still too wide, hands outstretched in a beckoning motion. The man doesn’t notice, or perhaps he is too caught in his own rage to care. He shoves the barista, but he may as well be shoving at a pillar, or a mountain. They make the beckoning motion again and you’re not sure which of them to warn of danger.
“May I have your name?”
The man scowls, giving it offhandedly as he moves to step past. Then he stops. You stare, transfixed as the colour drains from his face. His legs seem rooted to the floor. You steel yourself to meet his gaze but it's… hollow. The eyes you meet are that of a shell- a vacant, breathing corpse.
You look away and the barista descends upon what remains.
He doesn’t scream, doesn’t make a sound at all. The wet tearing of flesh is enough to keep your eyes on the floor. The tiles are stained a dirty brown. (Smack.) They have chipped in places, little cracks running through and revealing the loose earth beneath. (Thud.) A bug crawls from the dirt. Or at least, you think it’s a bug. (Tear.) A crimson puddle seeps into view; you decide to look elsewhere.
Happy, laughing things stare at you from a poster. The figures on it are almost human, smiling renditions of men and women if they had been sculpted by a child. The only accurate features are the teeth.
The clock on the wall has eleven numbers. The hands rotate at random, spinning and stopping in opposite directions. You watch as it falters and picks up speed, never once coming to a point where it could properly mark the passage of time.
A clink against the table pulls you from your transfixion. There stands the barista, smiling. They're different now- the slant of their chin, the colour of their eyes. Those features are new, stolen from a man who is now something different.
They have placed a cup in front of you; the muddy red liquid swirling inside almost looks like tea. You pick it up (because what else are you supposed to do?) and run a thumb along the handle’s rough surface. It’s white, with a hundred organic ridges. The liquid inside is warm and distinctly metallic. You try not to think about it.
“Would you like a sample?” They slide a tray towards you. You're not sure what the things on it are, but you know that you want them. Desires, goals. When you ask if they are free the barista says nothing. When you ask for the price a curious expression crosses their face before they give it to you.
You decide that no, you wouldn't like a sample today.
The barista steps towards you clumsily, as if putting one foot in front of the other is something they haven’t done before. They take your hand. Their fingers are hard, smooth as ice and just as cold. They run an almost-thumb down your palm, bones growing and shifting, snapping into place as their limbs change to imitate your own. You yank your arm away. The cold of their fingers has forced you to focus, pulled you back to some semblance of reality. You stand, knocking over your chair in the process. It hits the ground with a dull thud and begins to gently sink into the earth.
The barista looks at you with eyes that were his and are now yours too. You hug your chest, bile rising in your throat. You have to get away. They don’t stop you, and perhaps that is the most disturbing thing of all. Calling out a simple “come again!” before you can flee, breathless, into the night.
In the dark and cold you think for a moment that you have stumbled into another hell, so sudden is the change. But no, there are outlines of trees; leaves beneath your shoes. This is the forest once more.
You turn, expecting a building but greeted by darkness. Blink, let your eyes adjust to the night. There is a corpse at your feet. It looks like it's been there a while. Mushrooms grow from its eyes, the slant of its chin. You stumble away.
The rumble of traffic offers a clear direction. Lights flash in the distance and you realise for the first time that your hands are caked in dry crimson. Look away, focus on the treeline and the false safety it promises. The taste of copper sits heavy on your tongue.
‘Come again!’ The call was not a request, but a promise. Not tomorrow, if you’re lucky not for years to come. But you will return one day,
To the midnight cafe.
By @otakasensei
@thursday: *gracefully flips over a quesadilla* anyone would be lucky to have me
@skellingtonwitch:
I'm going to bed
@victorfrankensteinsuggestions: Zoinks, Scoob! It appears we have transcended the sentient plane of existence!
@sweatermuppet: transsexualism, gothic outfits, pursuing a career in the arts, & other ways to disappoint & confuse your parents: a guide
@wizardpotions: consuming fan content isnt enough, i need to run him over in my 2003 honda civic
@everything-starstuff:
@drunkenartwhore:
@emergency-broadcast-system: Having vsauce as a primary form of entertainment as a kid definitely had some kind of effect
@maxresdefault2: WAR and HATE on planet autism
@maxresdefault2: BLOOD
@maxresdefault2: BLOOD
@maxresdefault2: BLOOD
@maxresdefault2: BLOOD
@demisatyr: 👀 and 👁️👁️ have different energy
@jelly-love-heart: Who tf is sending 👁️👁️?
@cornedbeefhashtags:
@sovietunion: Some of you listen to a lot of "talking heads" when you should be "taking meds".
@auckie:
@iscariotes: gender nonconformity brings us closer to God btw hope this helps
@teathattast:
@beebfreeb: we need more absolutely deranged and bizarre trans characters in media. victims of the weird little girl to sleazy car salesman pipeline. women who are saturday cartoon villain evil magicians. characters who live in a broken down volkswagen bus for no real reason. sword cane owners who wear a suit every day and go to the dollar store like that. trans characters that are outcasts not because they are trans but because they are genuine little freaks. hope this helps!
@replicated: part of my masculine charm is that i'm completely insane
@natalieironside: My blog is a safe space for burnouts, flakes, layabouts, ne'er-do-wells, underachievers, and anyone who can't be arsed
@dappermouth: when your cat licks his paw…then rubs his head with the paw… wow….that’s his shmapoo and conditioner....
@mrspider: autism hype house we go out to run three errands and then parallel play in silence after
@ndiecity: Self care time 😈
@ndiecity: *revs chainsaw*
@wizardpotions: The next energy drink will fix me
@wizardpotions: Knuckle tattoos that say "JESUS FUCK THAT'S A LOT OF KNUCKLES"
@wecopewithourptsdwithmemes:
@zarya-zaryanitsa: Freshly baked bread is a religious experience.
@katabassia: Coelacanth plushie btw. if you even care
@ranchhands: my body is NOT. a “”temple””….it is a CLOWN CAR, and NONE OF THESE BITCHES KNOW HOW 2 DRIVE
@toothcereal: honestly hamlet has tboy swag
@doityourselfbombs: showing up to the evil wizard council meeting late with my wizard iced coffee
@carfuckerlynch: being hot isn’t about having a symmetrical face or being skinny or whatever. being hot is about being TRANSSEXUAL, having BAD JOINTS, making BAGELS, and wearing WEIRD CLOTHES
@imanaka: knuckle tattoo that says TORTE LLINI
@sleepyvoidboi:
@railroadsoftware: got 4 words for ya: bagel and cream cheese. here’s another: coffee.....
@taquito: this post has asbestos reblog to kill ur followers
@dj-bi-luigi2005: More like reblog to make your blog fireproof and absolutely safe with no downsides
@jeffyjeffy1023 asked: what are your PC specs
@ssundiall answered:
@dumbassacademia: why don’t you go dip a hunk of bread into a bowl of hot homemade soup and maybe you’ll calm down buddy
@lake-lady: I love substances (ibuprofen, prozac, banana bread, etc)
@orteil42: everyone needs a creative outlet to stick a creative fork into
@ashe-is-here: working with textiles is a trap. first they lure you in with knitting. then you pick up crochet (understandable enough). next you start getting curious in fiber. you learn how to spin (okay that’s a bit extra). weaving is cool, right? you now own a loom. heck, while we’re at it, why not starting making your own clothes (this is getting out of hand)? spinning is no longer enough for you — you need something stronger. you learn how to dye (stop i’m begging). dye is fun, but it’d be nice to have your own source of fiber. you are now a shepherd.
@curseworm: im extremely devout but nobody can figure out what im worshipping
@gayarsonist: well i'm no wizard but i can hit you with a wooden "beam" that immediately takes the effect of "give you a concussion"
@shock: accepting that you’re objectively weird & owning it is infinitely better than being constantly desperate to appear normal to people who don’t even matter to you
@horreurscopes: it is human nature to weave strings of yarn, threads, or fibers together to make cloth and textiles
@horreurscopes: humans will see a soft cellulose plant material or downy animal coat and say is anyone going to twist that staple fibre in order to make a cohesive thread and then not wait for an answer
@softyin:
@simtunes: remember the four G's
@world-heritage-posts: world heritage post
@e-seal-deactivated20210319: The names Practice
@e-seal-deactivated20210319: Mal Practice
@orchidvioletindigo: Nice to meet you Dr. Practice, could you please tell me what's wrong with my son :)
@e-seal-deactivated20210319: He needs surgery on all of his bones
@orchidvioletindigo: Very well, here is my credit card :)
@e-seal-deactivated20210319: I accept no payment I do this because I love it
@world-heritage-posts: world heritage post
@recovery-punk: who wants to gay the pray away with me
@emil: plummeting through the atmosphere flaming burning up screaming in agony and landing perfectly in my bed. tucked in and everything
@adhdtho: u ever have those moments when u are like “WHEN EXAMS ARE OVER I AM GOING TO INDULGE IN EVERY SINGLE HOBBY OF MINE WITHOUT SHAME AND I CAN’T WAIT!!!!!” and when u are done with exams u lie in ur room like
@thunderpibb:
@blackvelvetandguacamole: I support people dressing in interesting and eccentric ways in all public spaces
love to see it
@romcommunist: self discipline is so hard like. i know the sucker who's in charge... a pushover who hates authority and loves hedonism
@parotcardsroxy: if i don’t hold my colourful rocks for at least ten minutes a day i will die
@nostoccommune: GRRRRRRRR I don't WANT to confirm my email address! I HATE confirming my email address! *rips the door off my fridge*
@ostolero: it's dangerous to go alone. take this.
@fenlurker: Cord of burn down your house
@memewhore:
@veganweeb:
Evangelion in a nutshell
Everyone at nerv: but the chances of this working are 0.0001%!
Misato: lmao still not 0% so it’s gonna work
*it works* *shinji goes to the hospital*
@gayarsonist: i think i need to let out a good blood curdling shriek for my health and wellbeing and also just for fun
@froglegsz: this next cup of coffee will fix me
@froglegsz: im worse now
@comfortfrogblog:
@sharp-tender-shock: Gay culture needs to get genuinely freakish and weird again. There’s tremendous liberation to be had in that spirit. Fuck up gender binaries! Write weird erudite dramas and stage them in strange nightclubs and have drag queens star in them! Embrace both beauty and grotesquerie—in fact crush them together! See what happens! Experiment! Love the ugly, the unpolished, the imperfect, the clownish! Mock at the heterosexuals! Imagine new worlds and new ways of being! Imagine old worlds in new ways! Transmute yourself! Ridicule yourself! Everything’s wrecked, so take the pieces and build yourself a house or an erotic monument or a library or a garden or a bordello! More life! More life!
@sanshoshima: Have you guys seen the golden cow its pretty cool. probably even cooler than God
@hegurgurk: so much laundry on my floor it's turning into sedimentary rock
@hegurgurk: created an archeology site and found the fossilized bones of my nintendo ds lite
@marcitlali: the police to my mom: ma'am your daughter was driving 110 mph eating hot cheetos with one hand and texting in an imessage group chat titled “boy pussy” with the other and crashed into the back wall of dd’s discounts and died instantly but somehow her body made its way to the accessories section and we found 35 dollars worth of stolen hoop earrings in her purse
@pruane2:
>go to gym
>mandatory penis explosion day
>door locked, can't leave
@pyrotechnicss: I have soups that can make you eat drywall, shit yourself twice, and astral project
@detentiontrack: pro tip, if you’re ever feeling overwhelmed or upset for no reason, check the holy trifecta
1) have i eaten?
2) have i had water?
3) have i showered?
these questions will literally change your LIFE. if you’re feeling icky for no reason, there’s a 90% chance it’s one of these.
@maesterleia: I can fix him [drill sound] [screaming] [chainsaw revving]
@lowpolyanimals:
@vykodlak: When god closes a door I shove my sword through the gap at the bottom and swipe at his ankles
@tammycat: being autistic just means you have an idle animation
@procrastinatingbisexual: You assign university work to the university student? You assign university work to the university student at university? Jail for professors! Jail for professors for one thousand years!
@the-ryan-oceros: Christianity is a total ripoff, man. It's just a scam by Big Christ to sell more crosses.
@pimp-fried-rice: This blog is only for fuckups, burnouts, losers, criminals and the mentally ill btw
@lizardsister: i get a strike at the bowling alley and the screen shows the exact time and place that i die
@lezzyharpy: literally every single time my ass hurts for any reason at all all i can think of is “your ass hurt. done”
@lezzyharpy:
@hauntedcreek: There's been an accident at the explosion factory
@80splumpkin: Going to the cursed farmers market to buy fucked up and evil locally sourced cheeses
@mwp-7: im going to explode in the kiln
@hell-propaganda: Imitate Christ by shapeshifting into his form and stealing his identity.
@lemuel-apologist: imitate christ by taking his social security number and ruining his credit score
@remade-joan-burned:
Exchristian breakfast:
A bowl of Lucky Charms cereal with a glass of Monster Energy
@animalcrossingmemes:
@fairyintentions: I want,,,to be a mushroom,,
@welcometoyourdoom:
@duckdotcom: melts and soaks into your carpet
@twistcmyk:
new animal just dropped
@ghostcrow: Werthers unoriginals. Werthers trite and cliche. Werthers entirely derivative
@vapericot: "im so over it" -guy who has not even begun to crest the hill