Dead End 2: Deathly Di-Di-Doo Ch.20 (Patreon)

[Uncommon Sense]

— Sean Caine —

My scorn for Nyarlathotep came through in my retelling. He really was a cunt…

All the power of an Outer God, and all the purpose of the rest of that cosmos — that is to say: none, inherently.

It was all a dream. It was all, in a way, insignificant. The only way to put purpose to existence there was with a thinking mind, wants and needs and yes, dreams. All the Scale in the cosmos was pointless without some sense of Self.

“It’s an essential question to ask yourself, especially in a cosmos like that,” I voiced my thoughts. “What’s the point of it all? Does power alone matter at all? Can you do more than exist on terrible inertia if that’s all you have?”

Alice’s followers turned the most thoughtful as I voiced those questions. That was, perhaps, why they’d flocked to Alice, after all.

“Nyarlathotep was never able to answer those questions for himself; Hell, before me, he likely never thought to ask. He existed at the highest echelons of the cosmos. He was the first being in Azathoth’s court of roiling chaos. Yet… his god was silent, dreaming, and he had only impossible Scale to his name.”

Didi nodded in agreement. “Power, but no purpose. A herald with no one and nothing to speak for. An unknowable being that didn’t know itself, either.”

“Untold trillions must’ve worshipped that pointless pinnacle,” Gabriel said softly, frowning at the idea.

“How could they know better when even the Crawling Cunt didn’t?” I asked rhetorically in reply.

“It’s just…” Gabriel’s frown deepened. “If those cosmos were just a dream, what was the point of it all, Caine?”

I shrugged and smiled slightly. “Whatever you could make of it. Self was the missing piece. All one could do was define their own point and purpose in the uncaring cosmos.”

Slowly, Gabriel’s frown lightened at that, eventually turning around entirely. She nodded, satisfied with my interpretation of those cosmos.

“Self,” She agreed. “The cosmos might not care, but that also means there’s nothing to stop you from caring with all of your being. There was no greater power defining the dream for you. Father would like that perspective; through madness, sanity, and overwhelming Scale, ultimately, it all comes back to free will.”

Then, she added with a giggle, “Oh, and he would’ve hated Nyarlathotep, too! Good eyes, Caine!”

“( )シ” Cass bowed her head in praise. ‘And thus, the Might of God has spoken! We HATE the Crawling Cunt up in this bitch!’

“Say that to his face-” Jason began to grumble before stopping himself with the realization. “No, you absolutely would. Just like Sean did.

“Still… damn. Just damn. You essentially screamed ‘YOU ARE INSIGNIFICANT’ right in Nyarlathotep’s face, Sean.”

“He was. Everything was. Existence, in those cosmos, was no free pass to significance,” I said. “And the Crawling Cunt really didn’t like being called out like that.

Elaine gave an equally stunned nod. “No wonder you made an enemy of him.”

“(ΦωΦ)” Cass smirked. ‘Was he wrong, though? Sounds to me like he had the Crawling Cunt pegged with just a glance!’

“No,” Alice said firmly. “Dad was right. So is Mom. I’ve always thought of Nyarlathotep as unknowable, but half of that’s just because he… it doesn’t even know itself!”

“Mysterious malice,” Sonya mused. “With no greater meaning behind it. No… with only Apathy, on the grandest stage. That is what underpinned those cosmos, that dream. Even all the power one could ever ask for is just… directionless force, a mass of energy without true motive, without the care of… ‘Self’.”

“Yeah, as ungodly powerful as the Outer Gods were, most of them were just mindless Scale — more like forces of the cosmos rather than anything that could be considered truly divine. Calling them ‘gods’ was really a gross and inaccurate oversimplification,” I confirmed.

Didi chortled into her hand. “Gods do tend to have a bit of inherent purpose to them, claiming definitions and domains that something like Nyarlathotep clearly lacked, for all that he surpassed traditional divinity in sheer power.”

“That shouldn’t have stopped him, though; he was kinda just a dumb cunt. There’s still purpose to be claimed beyond divinity, after all,” I teased. “Such as Death and Conception.”

“Such as Samsara and Change, Mr. S.C.” Didi fired back.

Alice snapped her gaze onto me. “Wait, Dad-? Is that…?”

I waved off her realization. “I’m sure it’s just a coincidence. I’m more Reincarnation than Samsara, anyway.”

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “… Right. I’m sure.”

I didn’t know why she was looking at me like that. It genuinely was a coincidence… Probably. 

Unless there was some cyclical thing at play in my very being. S.C. As initials to eventually evolve into concepts of Samsara and Change through my reincarnating journey that eventually went right back around to define the initial initials… Or something.

I’d come damn far over the course of my lives, that was for sure. And it’d all finalized and somewhat escalated into half-realized Aspects in this one so I could stand by Didi’s side. So it was certainly possible that there was something cyclical to it all, especially since I couldn’t remember the ‘negative’ lives — if they even existed, as I could feel they did…

Some part of me did want it to be the case. Wouldn’t Samsara and Change fit so well beside Didi forevermore? Reincarnation… no, more — Samsara as her Hand…

“Anyway!” I clapped, keeping my musings internal but showing my amusement as I resumed my retelling.

“Violet and I managed to slip away from the Crawling Cunt after that eventful first contact. Things between us could’ve gone very differently if he wasn’t such a cunt. He approached me with hostility, and I responded in kind, yes, but if he’d been able to get over himself, he might’ve seen that the perspective I was offering him was genuine.

“Yoggy got over himself. He, Cosmic Knowledge itself, was able to accept the antithesis of his concept — the idea that he didn’t know something.

“Instead of lashing out immediately as the Crawling Cunt did, Yoggy listened and learned and was left with the barest hint of Self afterward. We had a generally good relationship because of our first interaction. The exact opposite could be said about me and the Crawling Cunt.”

“(രཅര)” Cass playfully stuck out her tongue. ‘Sucks to suck, sucking sucker! Our boy Yoggy stays winnin’!’

Jason sighed, “It’s insane to me that even one of the Outer Gods was at all chill.”

“One so far,” Alice smirked. “With Dad, you can never be sure it won’t get worse.”

“They don’t entirely seem like lost causes,” Gabriel pointed out. “If Yoggy could grasp a hint of Self, why couldn’t the Crawling-… why couldn’t Nyarlathotep?”

She was too pure and nice to call even Nyarlathotep by the deserved title I’d granted the Crawling Cunt. If she met him, she’d probably be a dream, and the Crawling Cunt would’ve thrown her charm right back in her face.

I considered it a good thing they never would. He didn’t deserve any hint of Gabriel in his stubbornly insignificant existence.

“Too stuck in his ways,” I waved. “Too reliant on crawling inertia. Too… pointless, an incomprehensible bundle of eldritch energy without any true end. As I said, I did genuinely try at first, for all the hostility between us.

“All I got for my attempt was enmity and opposition for the rest of that life. But we’ll see more of that as it comes. He didn’t do anything major immediately, aside from trying to crush innocent Violet for essentially telling him to shut up and stop posturing.”

That last fact got the biggest reaction from my audience. No one liked the idea of Nyarlathotep being a sore loser, but with the Crawling Cunt, it was unavoidable.

“She boasted more courage than many warriors I’ve led,” Voivode said, his tone stern. “I hope that god-thing’s attempt was not her end.”

“NO SHOT~!” Lacoste exclaimed, laughing chaotically. “The big guy wouldn’t be so chill if the Crawling Cunt got her there!”

“Oh, yeah. Nyarlathotep tried to exercise the weight of his being and throw it all straight onto Violet. It would’ve crushed most Great Old Ones and Elder Gods. But Violet had already met Yoggy, and she had me to lean on.

“There was something unique about capital-S Sanity and Self in those cosmos: they could punch well above their weight. So when the Crawling Cunt came crashing down, Violet and I weathered the storm and made our escape,” I confirmed.

 Didi smiled, immediately seeing the ‘how’ behind my resistance in that life. “The power of purpose — of thinking, feeling, wanting, and trying when everything else around you is caught up in the meaningless games of Scale, failing to make something without Self.”

“Like a light in utter darkness,” Sonya realized. “No matter how dim, it still illuminates when there is next to no competition.”

“Just so.” I nodded. “Violet and I then proceeded to make a relatively simple hike through the rest of the Dreamlands to our destination. The only other stop of note was Ulthar, where it is said that no man may kill a cat.”

“Good,” Gabriel said firmly, frowning. “What point is there in killing a kitty?”

“Okay, I totally agree, but why, Dad?” Alice asked.

I smirked. “Cats were special in those cosmos. They were as sophont as any of the other alien or dreaming races. They still lived as cats do — of course; just try to make a cat do anything it doesn’t want to — but when the eyes of men weren’t on them, they frolicked through the Dreamlands. They caroused on the dark side of the moon, made themselves feared by Moon-Beasts there, warred with the forest-dwelling Zoogs below, and lived easy, content feline lives in Ulthar where they were loved by the locals.”

“(ﾐⓛᆽⓛﾐ)✧” Cass grinned. ‘Based kitties, most meow-sterious.’

Gabriel, giggling, joined in the puns. “Nya-thing can hold them down! Those paws-beans tread where they wish, and they won’t hear a whisker against them!”

“That-…” Jason just sighed. “Good for them. I still don’t get why cats were special, though.”

“Isn’t it enough for there to be balance between the alien races of the cosmos and adorably feline forces for good?” Elaine asked, only half teasing.

“That can’t be it, though… right?” Alice asked.

“It kind of was,” I answered, shrugging. “More technically, it would be due to the existence of Bast, an Elder God. She favored felines, and the rest was history, really.”

“Isn’t it something that a goddess of cats can stand on the same stage as beings such as Cthulhu?” Didi chuckled.

“/ᐠ。ꞈ。ᐟ\” Cass agreed. ‘Genuinely the only god-thing there that I’d be willing to worship.’

Nods came in around the room. If you’re going to worship in an uncaring cosmos, why not throw your lot in with the cat on top of it all, perched and preening?

“Most of the Elder Gods were more… I wouldn’t call them benevolent, but at the very least, they weren’t nearly as malicious to humanity as the Great Old Ones, much less Outer Gods like the Crawling Cunt,” I said. “They weren’t human… but they were the closest thing to traditional divinity in that cosmos — with domains and defining narratives and whatnot. Some Great Old Ones favored nonhuman races, like Dagon and his Deep Ones. So it isn’t much of a surprise that some Elder Gods favored their own races, like Nodens with humans and Bast with cats.”

“But I digress,” I continued, chuckling slightly and shaking my head back on topic.

“From the woods near Ulthar, Violet and I exited the Dreamlands near the town of Arkham, home to the rather acclaimed Miskatonic University. We’d spend a good portion of our time there after that.”

“Arkham…” Jason visibly shuddered. “I’ve always wondered what influenced what there. It can’t be a coincidence that Lovecraft wrote about an ‘Arkham’ just as Amadeus Arkham founded the asylum.”

I gave nothing away except for a twinkle in my eyes. “The ‘World as Myth’ does like its references~…”

“So we can see, as odd as it is to think of how malleable Creation seems to be,” Eustace muttered.

“Odd? The very opposite! I find all of this existential lore enthralling and enlightening! How exciting!” Sonya exclaimed.

“In Lovecraft’s… inspired work, Arkham and Miskatonic University are something of a center of BS, if I remember correctly,” Elaine commented. “Is that why you spent so much time there, Sean?”

I nodded. “Occult lore, legends galore, and fascinating mortal interpretations of the cosmos; it was all exactly what I was looking to explore.

“The town itself was a dark and fearful place, preferring to shelter in place against the uncaring cosmos. Arkham’s locals shunned what they didn’t understand, and for good reason, considering they lived near a nexus where waking and dreaming overlapped.

“Miskatonic U was the opposite. It was a place of learning and curiosity, for better and for worse.

“The university’s occult collection put Crowley’s to shame, boasting ancient tomes and horrible histories and artifacts that reeked of corruption. One didn’t come to Miskatonic U without some interest in the mysteries of the cosmos that the rest of academia shunned in polite conversation. It had the usual courses for a university — math, science, the arts; no business, thankfully — but in such a place, there always seemed to be… something more to the studies of students and professors alike.

“If you want to understand Miskatonic U, you have to understand that the magicks of those cosmos weren’t based on Mystery, or Mana, or Manipulating Concepts; magic there was entirely based on the unconventional application of concrete cosmic phenomena… and the power of thought.

“Math tended to be the most quintessential example of that. Dimensional geometry, quantum equations, and even strange enough statistics weren’t just angles, variables, and numbers. They offered glimpses into the cosmic systems of the reality-wide dream — glimpses of Scale. The other half of that magical paradigm was thought — Self.”

My audience gave me their rapt attention. I saw eyes widen as I described magic in that life, even Alice’s. She’d been learning it on my knee for about a year now, but the magic I taught her was rather different from the mostly explainable phenomena of that cosmos.

There, driven by Self submerged in Scale, magic had a sort of logic to it, as incomprehensible as it could be. It was more just a mortal term for the unknown workings of the cosmos instead of the infinitely vast and uniquely varied umbrella concept and Aspect it was here.

“That’s not to say magic wasn’t still powerful in those cosmos, of course. It was just more of a definition than a force all its own,” I said.

“Then… if there were legends of witches?” Elaine asked.

“Women who simply knew a bit more than they ‘should’ — perhaps naturally, perhaps through some deal with Yoggy — and had will enough to apply that knowledge to Changing the cosmos around them,” I answered.

“Occultists?” Eustace asked curiously.

“Math masked in mystic mnemonics,” I answered. “Rarely original. Usually borrowing power from established equations.”

“And the cosmic beings? The Great Old Ones? The Elder Gods? Even the Outer Gods?” Sonya asked excitedly.

“All the same, on vastly different Scales,” I answered. “Exponential dimensions descending upon what we thought we knew as mortals, or alien intelligences that thought in cosmic constants, or clashing, cascading cacophonies of infinity-1 and infinity+1 that never ceased.”

“And then, there were the curious academics who barely skimmed the surface of the cosmos,” Didi nudged me back towards my time at the university in that life. “In a way, they were just trying to explain magic, no?”

I grinned. “Exactly. They studied slivers of the dream without ever realizing they were staring at one face of an infinitely-dimensional geometry.

“In such centers of thought, the corners of that face slipped up ever so slightly, inviting humanity’s collective knowledge deeper and deeper and deeper into the dream. At Miskatonic, the corners slipped just a little bit more. It was enough, I thought, to stick a foot in the cracked door.

“That’s where I made my ‘cult’ in that life — on the academic side, not mystic. I went barging into the university with the vague goal of founding a holistic research movement, and something of a thesis to facilitate that. The thesis wasn’t meant to reveal everything; I just needed people to think about it and follow its lessons as they curiously reached for more.”

“A guideline more than a general unifying theory?” Jason guessed.

I nodded. “Something of an idiot’s guide to studying greater eldritch enigmas. I called it ‘Uncommon Sense’.”

IIIII

— Violet —

To a room of learned men, paragons of their respective fields of study, the Young Master laid out his thesis of Uncommon Sense.

He opened with a quote from the Bard, paraphrased slightly for the Young Master’s best use. “There are more things in the Cosmos, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

Then, he began writing upon the blackboard he was given for his defense. Violet realized it must’ve been a somewhat odd structure for a thesis; the learned men began to murmur to themselves most curiously. Not odd to the point of interrupting, thankfully, but certainly enough to raise eyebrows and secure attention.

The Young Master… He was not presenting research and findings in any traditional manner. He was giving a lesson in the Uncommon Sense he’d headlined his thesis with.

Only the leading figure of the defense knew what that Uncommon Sense was intended for. The Young Master had already won that old man over to the truth of greater mysteries. It only took a brief demonstration from Violet of her nature to Miskatonic’s Head of History, one Mark Iyolta.

… There’d been screaming, but thankfully, not as much as Violet had been dreading. The Young Master’s presence at her side kept her calm enough for Iyolta to regain his wits. When he did, the old professor showcased the energy and enthusiasm of a man decades younger.

“The discovery of the century!” Iyolta had proclaimed. “Proof of the strangest things I’ve read!”

Violet found she did not like being the center of such focus and rigor. She was relieved that the Young Master quickly took it unto himself by convincing Iyolta that there really should be advising guidelines for studying the mysteries so people didn’t fall flat on their faces.

Iyolta agreed and readily arranged for the Young Master to present such advice to an accredited audience.

I. Acknowledge Insignificance.

II. The Mind is your most powerful tool. Keep it open to learning, accepting, and exploring new ideas. Keep it stalwart and grounded. Think, even if the Scale of what you encounter threatens to drive you mad; without thought, you can’t even claim your Self.

III. You are human. Most things are not. Internalize that fact and be ready to apply unorthodox logic to alien methods, motivations, and moralities.

IV. Worship is a losing game with only short-term gains. Sacrifice is never actually advantageous. Deals should only be made with full knowledge of the terms and consequences. Be mindful and make use; don’t just submit yourself mindlessly.

V. If you peer too deeply into the Abyss, and the Abyss peers back, at least try to be polite. You’d be surprised how often simple good manners and a bit of humor help.

VI. Communication. Solves. Problems (at least as many as it causes)(see: good manners). But if shit goes sideways and you have any chance at all of surviving in the first place, extreme applications of energy and force will be your very best friend. Use explosives; if that fails, use more.

VII. Mentions of sea, stars, dreams, madness, the color yellow,  cloven hooves, tentacles, odd eyes, and anything writhing are usually noteworthy and even telling in the right context. Don’t ignore them.

VIII. Knowledge is your greatest friend and your worst enemy. Sources of such should be treated with care. Some bear corruption, some boast echoes of ‘higher’ agendas, and some base interpretations on flawed mortal perspectives. As with all first- and second-hand sources, context is key.

IX. Like electricity, madness can be grounded against. The best defense is Acknowledging Insignificance. The second best is going the other way and defining significance for yourself — decide what you believe is important and cling to it to weather the waves. 

X. There are no guarantees.

“This is ‘Uncommon Sense’ advice; none of it is absolute except Point I and Point X,” The Young Master told the room. “Whether you heed it or not, the truths of the cosmos will inevitably shock, awe, and horrify you. But if you’re curious, you will learn more than you could ever imagine, and if you’re careful, you can emerge the other side mostly intact.

“Now, I’m going to open the floor to questions. Please, ask away. There are stupid questions, but I promise I’ll do my best to answer even them.”

Silence greeted his offer of an open floor. The learned men in the room glanced at Iyolta, looking for confirmation or any real clue as to what was going on.

Grinning giddily to himself, Iyolta spoke, “Mr. Caine! While I greatly appreciate your intention to get right down to the business of things, I believe my colleagues could use some valuable context! Could you show us an example of what all of this Uncommon Sense is meant to apply to?”

The Young Master, to his credit, did not immediately volunteer Violet as that example. He checked for her permission first. Though Violet… disliked the attention, she would serve her Young Master’s best interest.

“This,” He began, waving Violet forward. “Is Violet. She should serve as proof enough. She’s the ill-advised creation of my estranged father, the occultist Aleister Crowley. Her nature is unique and not of her own doing.

“I won’t accept any disrespect directed her way.”

Though he was younger than all the learned men in the room, the Young Master’s warning glare was enough to give all of them pause. It warmed Violet’s alien heart. Truly, she had no regrets following him, given how much he clearly treasured her.

With a breath that was almost entirely for show, Violet flexed muscles that were not muscles. Her form shifted uncomfortably. Flesh like black ink flowed for all to see. Shapeless, her shifting flesh must’ve seemed to block out the light.

She closed all of her eyes against the inevitable reactions, leaning on the Young Master for the strength she needed to remain standing as his example and proof.

“By God!”

“How wicked, how terrible!”

“What mutated flesh-thing?!”

“I have heard the tales… I have read the tomes… Yet nothing could prepare a man-…”

“What is she? A monster of some manner, yet so civil…?”

“Violet was just a woman once, though that era of Self has been unjustly stolen from her,” The Young Master explained. “Crowley made her as she is now via a combination of what some occultists might call necromancy and the use of alien material as a queer base. She’s a mortal mind, soul, Self in Shoggothic flesh.”

“I’m sure many of us have at least heard of the esoteric histories that the university keeps!” Iyolta exclaimed. “Stories, we thought! Yet in all stories, there is a grain of truth! More than a grain, it seems!”

He laughed, “I spent a good portion of my younger academic years obsessing over that rare and enigmatic Necronomicon, Kitab al-Azif! The tales within painted such splendid and horrific pictures! Now, to see proof of them with my own eyes, by God! Yes, you can see why I gathered you all here today!”

“It is proof of something, surely,” One learned man said. “And civil proof at that — Miss Violet, you have my fascination and respect, assuredly — but what, exactly?”

The Young Master shrugged. “I said it to start, didn’t I? ‘There are more things in the cosmos, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy’. I’m not calling your hard-earned knowledge into question, professors; only showing you that there is more.”

“Violet, for example,” The Young Master continued — but not before putting her at ease. “You can return to the form you prefer best, my dear.”

“My thanks, Young Master,” Violet said, resuming the tension of holding a single form. Strangely, despite the effort it required, she preferred appearing… human, or as close to it as she could be.

“Violet is… I would say ‘descended’ for lack of a better word, from an artificial alien race uncommonly known as ‘Shoggoths’. Humanity, as you can clearly see, is not alone in the cosmos — oh, far from it. We are not even alone on Earth.

“The progenitors of the Shoggoths were Elder Things that came to this world long, long ago, on the scale of some billion years. They created the original Shoggoths as slaves; eventually, those slaves were their downfall.”

“That is the story told within the Necronomicon, yes!” Iyolta excitedly confirmed. “If true, it changes everything!”

“I won’t claim to know the truth as if I was there,” The Young Master demurred. “But clearly, there is something to it. Violet wouldn’t exist without the terrible creatures she shares flesh with, and personally, I think the world would be lesser for her absence.”

Violet had to glance away from the praise. “Young Master…”

“What more?!” One learned man demanded, the energy in the room getting the better of him. “What else lies unknown in the cosmos, so great and so terrible?!”

“Beings great and terrible enough to pose as gods,” The Young Master answered. “Animate concepts. Histories untold. And phenomena so readily mistaken for magic.

“It’s all enough to drive a man quite mad. But then, that’s what my Uncommon Sense is meant to help with. Learning more about the cosmos — isn’t that what you enlightened men have dedicated your whole lives to?”

More than one learned man exclaimed their agreement at that rhetorical question. “Hear, hear!”

The Young Master smiled. “Well, there’s plenty more to learn. There’s a whole cosmos out there, and the study of it should only be limited by truth, no matter how strange.”

“From fire to smithing to machines — look how far we’ve come…” The Young Master whispered inspiration into curious hearts and minds. “Look how far we still have to go — unto dimensional mathematics, alien beings, and dreams.

“The collective knowledge of humanity has barely scratched the surface of the cosmos, so vast and so deep. We’ve barely begun. But there’s more, always more. All it takes is for man to take a step, and then another, and another into the unknown, holding the light of his mind high…”

The Young Master bent the room to his vision, and Violet could only watch in awe. Learned men were listening to him as if he were a prophet; they hung on his every word.

He asked them the question that would drive them curiously into the cosmos. “… And are we not men?”

The room exploded with fervor, every man rising to meet the Young Master call to action. Violet could practically feel the precipice he’d just tipped them over. These learned men… they believed.

The Young Master had inspired great minds to follow him unto the mysteries of the universe. What would come of that curiosity, Violet didn’t know. She was no great mind herself, but she’d already seen more of those mysteries than these learned men could yet imagine. She’d met the BEING, and the… Crawling Cunt… She’d felt the sheer Scale the Young Master meant to explore.

How would these great minds react upon seeing, meeting, feeling? Would they follow Uncommon Sense when they did?

The Young Master walked a fine line between ruin and greatness. Whichever way he fell, however, Violet would follow.

IIIII

— Sean Caine —

“Yeah, Dad? That’s a cult,” Alice deadpanned.

I readily agreed, “Yes, it absolutely was.” 

“So… how wrong did all of that go, and how quickly did it happen?” Elaine asked, only half-joking.

“The first expedition,” I answered flatly. “I intended to start things slow and just explore the local legends of Arkham. We immediately lost a professor of anthropology to a witch-summoned Hound of Tindalos.

“And by ‘lost’, I mean that literally. He alone heard the baying of hounds, started running, and just… slipped between the cracks.”

Eustace physically paused to ask, “The… cracks…?”

“Awkward overlapping dimensional angles.” I shrugged. “It happens.”

Gabriel innocently and unknowingly defended the minor dimensional horror. “Maybe it was just a misunderstanding! The pup could’ve been trying to play!”

“If it did, it got a nice chew toy for very little effort.” I quipped back.

Gabriel pouted at my dark humor. I leaned over and wrapped her up with an arm. She leaned on me in return, even as she huffed and pointedly looked away.

“Mou~…”

“An inauspicious start,” Didi chuckled. “Did it get better?”

“Eh, yes and no,” I said, waving my hand so-so. “The first set something of a trend for our expeditions. We never had one where everyone made it back to the university. Strangely, the constant casualty rate only seemed to encourage my followers. Academics love a bit of danger with their learning. Makes them feel like they’re doing something worth doing.”

“Can’t write a good paper without a few ‘missing’ researchers,” Jason flatly quipped.

“(⇀‸↼‶)⊃━☆ﾟ.*·｡ﾟ” Cass proclaimed. ‘Eldritch magi-science demands sacrifice!’

“We did make worthwhile progress, to be fair,” I said. “From the initial Arkham expedition alone, one of our mathematicians wrote a groundbreaking proof on overlapping dimensional geometry. It received international acclaim, and essentially single-handedly funded our second expedition.”

“And how did that one go?” Alice asked pointedly, failing to hide her ‘smug’.

I just chuckled. “I did mention this was what not to do when leading a cult, didn’t I? Because, yes, we lost another member there, when we went to investigate rumors around nearby Innsmouth. He failed to follow Point III of my Uncommon Sense.”

“‘You are human. Most things are not’, no?” Sonya clarified.

“In Innsmouth?” Alice barked a laugh. “There aren’t many worse places you could forget that rule!”

“WHAT’D THE POOR GUY DO~?” Lacoste asked.

“He’d studied the Deep Ones’ language but assumed it could be spoken above water without changing the meaning. He ended up offering himself up as a feast while trying to ask about underwater cuisine,” I said. “The Deep Ones took him up on his offer. At the very least, though, it won the rest of our expedition enough goodwill to interview them openly.”

“Okay, this is morbid as Mom, but honestly kinda fun,” Alice grinned. “Got any more stories of how not to lead a cult toward the secrets of the cosmos, Dad?”

“Many. It honestly only got worse from there, especially when people started ignoring the Uncommon Sense,” I sighed. “One expedition went to Tibet following a trail of YELLOW. I wasn’t part of that one, thankfully. None returned, but years later, we did start hearing rumors of a roving theatre troupe with some familiar names on its roster.”

“Hastur,” Jason said for the blissfully uneducated. “Infamously known as the King in Yellow. There’s a reason the whole color yellow was in Sean’s list of things to pay attention to.”

He shuddered viscerally. Hastur did tend to have that effect on people, even when only mentioned.

I nodded and continued with another unfortunate expedition. “One expedition I did tag along for was Lamont’s exploration of the Paris Catacombs. Good guy, that Lamont, if a bit… French. Shame they got him.”

“(；☉_☉)” Even Cass couldn’t let that one slide unremarked. ‘Got him? What do you mean they ‘got him’? You can’t just leave it at ‘got him’ when talking about the fucking Mythos, Sean!’

The others nodded vigorously in agreement, staring and waiting for me to elaborate. I didn’t.

“Oh, I got to meet an avatar of Shub-Shub on one expedition!” I remembered, breezing right past the question of ‘getting’. “Terrible time. Do not recommend. She’s not as bad as the Crawling Cunt, but she’s also nowhere near as chill as Yoggy. We lost a lot of people on that one; something about ‘Lustful Life’ makes people forget Uncommon Sense in spades. Or maybe it was the fertility monsters…”

I took a moment to consider and — unfortunately — remember the ‘Shub-Shub’ incident. Going quiet like that made some of my audience outright jump as if I’d suddenly shouted.

I didn’t think I could put Shub-Shub’s horror into words. It was a unique… visceral brand for that cosmos — all hungering flesh and lively lust.

“… Be very thankful that you’ve never seen a not-goat avatar lure prey like a peacock, mate like a praying mantis, and devour from within like a maggot,” I said.

“ಠ_ರೃ” Cass’ eye twitched. ‘Not based. Like, bitch, pick a lane!’

Shaking it off, I continued. “There were more than a few idiots who thought themselves smart enough to ignore my Uncommon Sense, too… Until they went and got themselves brain-popped.”

‘Brain-popped…?’ I saw Elaine mouth the words in confusion.

Cass answered her question with charades, placing her hand to the side of her head and blowing it outwards in a way that somehow evoked an image that was more vivid than it should’ve been.

“Ah… brain-popped,” Elaine muttered.

“It happened with unfortunate regularity; we got used to mopping up gray matter. Personally, I still think it was all Nyarlathotep trying to fuck with me, but there’s a very real chance some of them were Yoggy trying to help.” I shook my head, half fond, half exasperated.

I was winding down at this point. My academic movement (read: cult) had been something of a failure, but it didn’t weigh on me now. It’d made that life an interesting one.

“So what’s the lesson in all this, Dad?” Alice asked, only grumbling slightly as she admitted. “I’m… kinda stuck leading a cult, it seems. So how do I avoid making your mistakes?”

“Lesson?” I cocked my head in thought. “Hmm, you’re right; there should be one of those for you here…”

Didi watched me think, barely bothering to suppress her amusement. She didn’t even cover her giggles. I stoically ignored her, of course. I was trying to be a good parent and give our daughter a bit of wisdom.

… I certainly didn’t send a petty air-flick Didi’s way.

Eventually, I could only shrug. “Well, I’d say that most of my study-cult’s mistakes weren’t necessarily mine. More came from the sheer volatile and apathetically malicious nature of those cosmos than not, which you really shouldn’t have any trouble with. Unless you go looking for it there, of course.”

“I won’t,” Alice said firmly, looking around at her followers. “We won’t. I swear to Mom, if we do…”

Her followers all nodded, though the nods came slower from Sonya and Eustace. I didn’t think any of them were the type to betray Alice’s expectations, but those two did have a history with ‘going looking’ — Trigon and Barbatos.

Still, following Death should greatly help to ground them. If you’d already found the Endless pinnacle, what use was there in going looking?

“I suppose another of my mistakes was not knowing my audience,” I considered. “It’s almost inevitable for academics to grow… overenthusiastic in the pursuit of knowledge. Do you know your audience, Alice?”

With narrowed eyes, she glanced at each of her chief followers in turn. I could practically see the gears turning in her head — Didi, Gabriel, and I shared amused glances at how loudly Alice thought.

Lacoste was the simplest — give him the reassurance of an End, and he would party his way to it on his own time. Voivode was just a bit more complicated, but really he just wanted purpose in his faith. Alice could give that to him and his Abaddons easily enough.

Sonya wanted purpose, but she was also rather more active about it than Voivode. If Alice could keep the mistress of blood busy, though, she’d be a boon straight out of Death.

Eustace… The Court of Owls had a history with villainy to rival Sonya’s Church of Blood. Furthermore, it was the scheming kind of villainy that was much harder to put down. Eustace might have come around to Alice’s message of Death, but there was no guarantees of the same for the rest of his Court. There, as I had, she might have trouble keeping the enthusiasm of her followers in check.

“… I know ‘em,” Alice eventually stated, certain. “And I’ll be watching ‘em…”

“We will watch ourselves as well; I swear it to you, Daughter Death!” Sonya zealously exclaimed.

“There’s also the fact that I made some pretty notable enemies in that life; the Crawling Cunt would never have let my cult prosper. Have you made any notable enemies, Alice?” I asked.

I was patiently walking her through the things she might need to consider for her own cult. She seemed to be taking the (honestly) improvised lesson well.

“Trigon’s deader than dead,” Alice considered. “You and Mom made sure of that, Dad. I don’t think Lacoste and Voivode have any problematic enemies to speak of… Maybe Barbatos, if he cares to take offense at me taking the Court?”

“It’s very possible,” Eustace simply said.

“Gotta watch that one, then,” Alice winced. “And… my own enemies? I don’t think I have any, unless…?”

She glanced at Jason and Cass as she trailed off. There was an adorably desperate hope in her eyes, especially when she looked at Jason.

“You guys won’t-?” She asked.

Jason immediately cut her off with a reassurance. “No. I was only worried about the rumors I’d been hearing. Now that I know you’re the cause of them and that Didi’s actually involved — somewhat — I don’t really have any complaints.”

“(˵¯͒〰¯͒˵)” Cass smirked. ‘If you can get over me fucking your dad, we’re chill.’

Alice’s face screwed up in disgust. “Ugh, Cass-! Whatever. Whatever! I don’t-! No, I’m not even gonna think about it!”

“No enemies, then?” I asked, hiding my amusement beneath the mask of a wise father. “And you know your audience, your followers. And the nature of Creation isn’t inherently out to bite you. Honestly, then?”

Alice waited for my verdict with bated breath, even reaching over to clutch Elaine’s hand in hers.

“You’ll do fine, Alice,” I said, chuckling.

The air went out of her, and she sagged in relief. Didi only added to the reassurance.

“You’re your father’s daughter, little one. You really will do fine.”

“We have the utmost faith in you, Alice!” Gabriel declared.

With the wholesome support, Alice regathered herself. She looked over her followers, glanced at Elaine, Jason, and Cass, and nodded to herself.

“Yeah… Yeah, we’ll do just fine. Mom’s Concord… I really do think it’s worth something. If you’ll all trust me to lead it…

“Well, what can I do but my best?”

“As will we, Daughter Death,” Sonya declared in further support.

“We shall be your sword and your shield, Unto Death,” Voivode bowed his head.

“There is potential here,” Eustace admitted. “I am committed. I shall make sure the Court follows.”

“BY DEATH AND TAX EVASION, THAT’S THAT SHIT~!” Lacoste laughed. “We’ve still got an opening party planned, and you’re the girl of the night, Black Alice! You ready for this?!”

“No,” Alice deadpanned.

“But she’s here anyway,” Elaine added for her, squeezing her held hand. “What else can she do but her best, no?”

Didi and I sat back and watched our daughter come into her cultish own. Gabriel joined us, just as supportive even if she’d known Alice for less than a week.

“Yeah,” I whispered to both of them, grinning proudly. “She’ll do just fine.”

IIIII

[AN: This one definitely fought me. I feel like I could’ve done more with the Mythos, but idk, it just wasn’t flowing from brain to page as well as I would’ve liked. I’m glad it’s the last chapter of this storytime.

Next up, I think we’re gonna go back to the Dead End Gamenight plotline (Chapters 80-81) where Sean’s acting as a World of Darkness/Mage: The Ascension Storyteller (DM) for Didi, Alice, Harley, Ivy, Hecate, Simmy, Ophis, and Grundy (I’m also planning to give Gabriel a character and probably Savage as well). I have an interesting idea for how to do it, too.

Sean is turning more and more into ‘Reincarnation’, isn’t he? I’ve started mentioning/thinking about it more, at least. So shouldn’t he exercise that Aspect? It’ll be temporary but fun, I think, if Sean reincarnates the Gamenight players as their WoD Mage characters. They can live out the chronicle instead of just playing it, and Sean can be the ‘fourth-wall-breaking’ Storyteller’s Voice in their ears (maybe even a co-avatar for those who know WoD).

I think there’s great potential there for a more immersive World of Darkness adventure without breaking the rest of the Dead End’s mold too much. So stay tuned ;]