whereserpentswalk

[whereserpentswalk]

There was once a basilisk that guarded a gate. It guarded the gate for three thousand years, maybe it would guard the gate for three thousand more. Either way, few adventurers came to the gate.

The basilisk spent most of its days alone. It was placed there to never leave its post, and it was placed there for humans, not for itself. It could leave its post, but to do so would be unthinkable. It spent its time looking at the hidden patch of woods around it, that no camera would ever see, a beauty that sustained it for a thousand years, but that since then has lost its luster. All that is not unique to it is its thoughts, and many thoughts it has.

It wonders sometimes, about what the world is like. From the few adventurers that come, they always tell it of new things. From that the basilisk has learned of cities, of artwork, of men who walked on the moon, and of machines capable of thought. But it has never seen them, it has never so much as seen the patch of woods a mile down from it. It spends much of its time wondering of all the things it is doomed to never see.

The basilisk gives different quests to different travelers who come across it. None of them have ever gotten past that gate though. There was a knight who came, and the basilisk told him that it would open the gate if he became king. And though he seemed like he'd be a good king, it was never to be. When a hitchhiker came by it told her that it would open the gate if she could bring it three impossible objects, each object only being grantable through wordplay. But the hitchhiker just wasn't able to get any of the riddles. There was once a child who came along, and the basilisk promised that the gate would be open, if the child returned as an adult still believing it to be so. And yet the child never returned, perhaps never having grown, likely simply dismissing their memory as a fantasy.

There are a few humans who the basilisk didn't give a test to for various reasons. There was a soldier, with a black uniform and a hooked cross on his arm, who thought he could fight and slay the basilisk, yet no bullet could harm the basilisk, and the soldier was promptly eaten. There was an explorer from the land of England, who thought that if he just mapped the gate that he could find it again with an entire team, but the basilisk could so simply make sure that the gate would never appear there again, and the Englishman found himself lost. There was once a starving woman who came to the basilisk, to tired and scared, and the basilisk simply let her stay warm within its coils and let her drink the ichor from its veins.

Sometimes the basilisk will see another member of the undying kind. There was once a griffin that flew towards it, free and unburdened, given no duty but to fly across the world. And the griffin asked the basilisk to come with it, and fly across the rain filled skies with it, and do whatever they pleased. But the basilisk had to refuse, for it had a more important fate, and it hurt to say, because the basilisk saw a world where it could have a friend. There was once a demon that tried to trick to basilisk into giving up its post, so it could steal whatever was inside, and the basilisk could not be tricked, because you cannot trick that which has no will. The demon was allowed to stay though, it stayed far longer than any human ever would, and that gave the basilisk much comfort.

Most days though, the basilisk is alone, neither happy nor afraid, simply alone. Even sadness would be a comfort within a lonesomeness so numb. For the basilisk is important, its task is important, but that does not mean it is the main character, that does not mean it is important for anything but its ability to protect the gate it was made to protect. Sometimes it thinks of leaving, but it doesn't know what it would be without a gate to guard, three thousand years and it only knows who it is in one context.

There is still a basilisk that guards a gate. It guarded the gate for three thousand years, maybe it will guard the gate for three thousand more. Either way, few adventurers come to the gate.

[whereserpentswalk]

There was an abandoned church where the faeries used to come out, tucked away in one of those neighborhoods in the city where only residents ever go. It was a beautiful stone building, covered in vines and ivy, half broken, resting between the corner stores and brownstones. They say it's so old that nobody even remembers the name of the god they worshipped there.

And there used to be faeries there. They would come out quite frequently. Nobody maintained the place, but it was ruined enough so you could just walk in through where the door used to be. And you could see them there, the kobolds who would sing their ancient songs in languages long forgotten. And the hollow backed women who would dance in the silver moonligh, and who turned men who tried to touch them into trees. There where spirits who'd look like dragonflies one momment, and than little winged people the next. And great dire trolls at times would come out and brew strange drinks from grass and root. There were mothmen who flew in the skies above the ancient church, looking down with big yellow eyes. There where witches who'd grant strange requests for strange prices, and who'd look like women from a far, and great mantises when near. And there were even darker things, faceless men, and black eyed girls, who'd come, but they never harmed a soul on those old church grounds.

They say it became a place where people who were grateful for such things would come. Urban sorcerers, and cryptid hunters, unmarketable artists, and outcasts and members of forgotten subcultures would come to. It was mostly just a place people in the city knew about, people who knew enough about the fae, people who had respect for the fae. A few faeries would let themselves show up in dim photographs, perhaps to appear on somebody's blog, but most people who would go there knew to ask first. And they say that. In her gratefulness to the ruins, for being a place where the children of Odin and the children of Gaia had found peace, the queen of the autumn faeries had gifted them a magic sword, that shined like sunset amber, planted forever in the ruins of the church's alter.

And once there was a magical sword there, something valuable there, the city decided it had to take notice. It wasn't just some worthless stone anymore, it was something with more money behind it now. They transfered the ruins' ownership from the underfunded historical society, to a successful real-estate company, who would know how to handle it well, and perhaps bring in some tourists.

And suddenly, things began to change. See, the sword needed to be well protected of course, so there were security cameras all over the place to keep out robbers, and guards of course to stand around and yell at people, and of course perhaps to fire iron bullets at any faeries who thought about hurting humans who wanted to be free to touch them and pet them and take pictures without consequences. And there were metal detectors of course, and there needed to be a closing time because suddenly there was a staff that had to be payed.

And somehow there were less and less faeries then, and the people who had used to come so often had gone away too. But that didn't matter, they still needed to turn a profit, and they had started advertising it, so soon tourists with their fancy cameras and expectations, and families with little children on leashes and dogs in their strollers, and fourteen year old boys who giggled because faerie could mean gay, all started to come, and waited on line to see the minority of faeries who were still there. And soon the walls of the old church had signs and ads and the walls were painted a green because the company thought grey was an ugly color, and the entrance had all those little marketable t-shirts and plushes for people to buy.

And soon there were no more faeries. They didn't want to come. The sword had turned black.

They say the last faeries to leave were the toughest of them, and that they didn't like the new type of guest, trolls would put human bones in their last stews, and witches would curse anyone who took pictures of them, and the black eyed girls and faceless men finally dragged people into faeland never to return. But even they left eventually, all of them did. They say the sword healed when it was bright and amber, but when it was black it's magic was no weaker, but it killed, anyone who touched the black sword would rot away. They say other magical creatures, meaner ones, found good homes in the church when it became so filled with the company's things, blood drinking vampires, and howling ghosts, and deal making devils, found the place to be a perfect hunting spot. The faeries never came back, and the church lost its profitability, they tried to rip it down, and use the land for some pretty shot or restaurant, but they could never clear the foundation, nobody could lift the sword.

[whereserpentswalk]

There's a monster that respawns every night after you kill him. He's this humanoid looking thing, with catlike features, and armor all over his body. Every week or so he attacks your city, and its become your job to kill him.

Its a pretty simple cycle, he comes, he swings his sword as people, and you shoot him. Then he heals the next night and starts walking back to your city from him home in the woods. You feel like a hero at first, and it pays good money, but eventually it becomes kind of tiring.

Eventually it becomes routine. You wait a few minutes before shooting him and he seems to not know what to do. There used to be a time when humans actually did battle with him to defend the city, but now that you have guns he doesn't even get that. You shoot him of course, but it feels kind of sad.

You decide to talk to him one day before your battle. He doesn't seem to have talked to anyone in awhile. He seems pretty chill, but confused that anyone wants to talk to him. When you ask him if he wants to keep doing this he asks if he can hang out for a bit.

You take him around to various restaurants in the city. He says he has a dark origin, mabye a cursed knight, but he doesn't remember it. He really likes getting to finally eat processed food. But in the end he asks you to shoot him.

The next time he comes he asks if you can make the battle a bit more fair. You ask him if he wants to die at all. He does. He asks you to bring a sword.

He seems to really enjoy fighting with swords again, he says it makes dying more fun then it ever has been before. You would rather he just doesn't die. But they're going to hire someone to kill him as long as he keeps doing this, and at least you'll let him fight someone with his sword before he does.

[whereserpentswalk]

The people of this land built a burial mound for their dead. They fell in a conflict with the hobgoblins of the western hills, more bodies may be added as warriors fall with honer, and spear heads of bronze and copper are placed upon their chests. Nobody will write of these stories, but they will tell them for as long as the people exist.

It was a cold autumn day. For the gift of conquering a new region, the grand lord of the infinite empire built a fortress for his troops on what was once a burial mound. Though the mound is older then memory can tell nobody will think to honer it, to the infinite empire those people who have no writing are thought to have no gods, and those who have no gods have no souls.

The fortress holds strong as countless people riot outside. Food supplies from the far south aren't coming in, as barbarians raid the land using a strange shadow colored metal known as iron. Only the faries remember when this fortress was built, since then it's defenses have only existed in theory, but tonight they prove themselves strong, the old stone standing true. The soldiers tasked to defend this place will never seed the empire's might to the peasants. But food runs scarce for them too, and time only ever marches forwards despite their prayers.

The fortress of bone looks high upon the grand city. Legends say it's older then the rest of the city, taken by the ancestors of the current population from the infinite empire, the soldiers inside starving to death rather then fighting with honer. Though the infinite empire is only a myth. The high king of the city looks down at his people with pride, the gods have smiled upon him. He waits in the balcony of the fortress for his brother to return to his room, with a sword at his side and the attendents called away for privacy. There is conspiracy that his priests favor his brother over him on the throne. They will talk, hold eachother, think of times long gone, and then one of them will perish.

The high king addresses his men. Above him stands a statue of a mythical ancestor, who strangled his older brother in his bedroom after he tried to slay him. The legend brings the king a sense of power as he addresses his men. Invaders come from the west, sources say three quarters of their soldiers are human, and a quarter undead. And though the city is grand and shining tonight, it may be nothing but ash soon. He could tell his men to fight to their last breath, to let the city burn, all so that he may be king. But, as he stands atop the fortress of bone, he declares his conclusion, he will not let his city burn for honer, if his ancestor could face the dishonor of kinslaying for his life, he could face surrender. He will be duke instead of king, and many of his people will be sacrificed or enslaved, but he'd rather it all then his death or torture, rather keep his house then his people's freedom.

The dutchess thinks back to her ancient ancestor, the one who bowed to the empire long ago. He was remembered as a hero by some, but a coward by others. Though her house is loyal, war wyverns still stand atop the walls, waiting for her to make a choice. Ten years ago the king of kings declared himself part of a new faith, of the God of the stars and moon, and all other gods to be demons, idols and angels. This day, the option for the people to stay true to their local gods have been taken away. The dutchess has two choices, she may convert, watch as her priests are sacrificed, the gods she holds dear are burnt, and accept the place of women in the new faith as she lets her brother take the throne. Or alternatively, she may die with her gods and priests. She has made her choice, though her attendants will not agree, her gods will honer her, and she will rule from the underworld. She will be asked to convert, as her head is shaved, as her bones are broken, and as she has taken to burn, but she will not betray the gods.

A band of knights rips through feral undead, creatures that have long outlasted the ancient empire they once served. No wonder why this place is called the fortress of bone. The abandoned fortress, surrounded by a long ruined city, may seem disturbing now. But once the undead are cleared it will likely all be taken by one of the local kingdoms. Though most princes want to build a new castle for this type of thing, the fortress could serve well as a temple, the one God of the moon and stars will smile upon this new city, built upon the dead.

Muskets fire off in celebration, as a red, blue and black banner is raised above what was once a temple. People sing songs, play games, and drink blue wine, and they cheer as the nobility and priests of the city meet their end, some by hanging, some my gunfire, some by blade. A great leader gives a speech, a black and gold coat and red cape is all they wear, no gold nor gemstone for they are one with the people, their face covered in the tattoos of a common soldier or sailor. Tonight the people celebrate, for they will fear neither God nor king, and live and fight for themselves. Though it was built as a defensive structure, the wyvern skulls serving as a reminder to why it was called the fortress of bone, cannons will make short work of it if the temple returns to its purpose. The revolutionary council will decide the temple must become a university, people will study literature there that barely escaped the fires of tyranny, and they will study gods long ago thought to be demons.

The old university was a fortress once, it's probably a better place to hide them most. Though as grenades and tankfire can be heard blasting as the millenias old stone, it's proven to be only a matter of time. Two soldiers crawl into an empty classroom, machine guns still in hands they embrace. They're alone, the city will fall, and only death surrounds them. They put their gas masks down, as chemical weapons won't be needed to kill just two men. They talk about their past, their childhoods, things they'd want to do in a future they'll never have. And they'll kiss, and their eyes will be closed when they're found, and they'll barely hear the bullets.

The old fortress is being torn down today. They're building new condos there. They could have made it a museum, but a lot of it was ruined by the war, and there might be some unexploded shells down there. Really though, it's just more profitable for the city to build condos there. At least some archeologists will get to dig through everything first, so there is a bright side. They'll find a lot of things they didn't expect. It's pretty old. When they finally break the floors to see what's underneath they'll find skeletons from before the fortress was built in the hill below, with bronze and copper spear heads of their chests. And they'll know that those people had gods, and that those people had souls.

[whereserpentswalk]

Imagine what it's like to explore a universe slowly being colonized by humanity? Not one where every planet has stable permanent population, but one where every planet has a small human presence.

The universe is very large, and sentient life isn't that common, and even amoung sentient life humanity’s interest in settling every world they find is pretty unique. Sure some planets have become like earth, with massive populations, and multiple countries and cultures, but that's not what the average planet with human settlement looks like, most only have a few outposts.

There's a planet with a shallow sea that one could wade through covering its entire surface. It's a beautiful place, currently going through a Cambrian explosion. A single human city with some satellite towns was built there. It's beautiful standing there, like ancient Venice. Yet all the trade comes from the stars here. And even is the bustling city you feel very alone.

There's a planet with rocky cliffs where only a single part was ever settled, with rustic looking towns and small cities made of wood. The rest is just empty, with wraithlike giants serving as a native population who are rare and almost never care to interact with humans. When you look out into the forest, or past the cliffs, or into the sea, you realize that there is no human civilization beyond that, that you are alone.

There's a planet where only one biome is useful, where they process and refine clay, and create ceramics as their only industry. The settlements are all manned by diffrent empires and companies and are separated by land that no sentient life wants to settle. The settlement you visited is completely monogendered, as a permanent population would be more likely to have an uprising. Civilization was never meant to exist here.

You've been to a cold and deadly world, where only a gew settlements exist, all of them entirely confined to single buildings. Nobody cam go outside in the winter. It's incredibly claustrophobic being there for even a very short about of time. It feels like your all alone, surrounded by nothingness outside.

Even on planets with large populations you've begun to feel like humanity is surrounded by emptiness. You've seen the stars and they look like an endless frontier humanity will never conquer. Humanity doesn't feel big now that it's spread out, it feels very very small.

[whereserpentswalk]

How to get away with Murder.

If you are reading this document you are attempting to get away with murder while in human form if you are looking on how to get away with murder in human inhabited areas without taking human form look at document 5943021-8575840 if you are looking how to get away with taking a human life in the form of an animal or object look at document 4893200-49211211. If you feel you’ve been assinged this document wrongly consult your superior officer.

If you are looking to take the life of a human while in human form it is important before anything to stress that this is extremely frowned upon within human society. Humans cannot recover from death in any known way without assistance from the paranormal. In most cases, committing murder will lead to humans preforming a type of physical bonding spell on you by sealing you away in something known as jail or sometimes something called asylum. If you are in one of these places you will not be able to return to incorporeal form as you are being watched and quantum physics will prevent you from any form of success. There is also a chance that you will die in your human body. As previously stated you do not want to die in your human body. Along with any person consequences the organization will consider you personally responsible.

The first important step as to committing a murder is to be unseen. Your attempts to avoid quantum entanglement have already made you somewhat accustom to this. As corporeal beings human body are most easily destroyed by damaging specific body parts. While in your human body pay attention to the blob on the top of your body, that contains not only several sensory organs, but also a type of soul made out of meat called a brain, this is by far the most vulnerable target. Notable objects that can also be targeted on the human body are what are known as necks (what connects the head to the rest of the human), and the various squishy machines inside of the ribs. Do not attack the long bits of the human known as limbs, if you attack them the human will scream a lot, and you don’t want them to do this as this is known to be a way of summoning other humans. Once you have murdered a human, you may proceed to covering up the murder.

There are many weapons that can be used for murder. While in a human body magic is possible but not recommended, actions comes naturally to humans and magic does not. However, humans have many sorts of objects that can be used for killing each other, and in fact they have made many. There are many sharp pieces of metal known to do that job. A type of metal object known as a gun often is used, perhaps to bludgeon someone, as it is made of metal and rather heavy. Though it is possible guns serve a purpose not yet known to us. Also note that many chemicals interact with human bodies poorly, as does a type of ethereal creature known as fire. But be warned! The Fire will also try to attack you, that we know from experience. Dropping a human from a large height will do it, and so will surrounding the human with enough water, we do not know why this is, some have theorized humans are naturally very afraid of heights and water.

The best way to cover up the murder is to destroy the body. It is possible you could put the body inside of a place humans expect dead things to be, such as a forest, a subway station, a water, a warzone or a garbage this will make humans feel that the body is something normal and not something to be investigated. Better yet, make the human body look homeless (a type of banishment curse humans perform on each other for not properly sacrificing to the high priests of their religion capitalism) and the fact that they are laying dead somewhere sad will be considered especially normal. It may also help to destroy the human’s face and/or fingerprints. Destroying the body totally may also be a recommended strategy, but do not attempt to eat the entire body directly after the murder, we have tried and this has proven itself to be hard if not impossible to attempt no matter how natural it may seem.

If you are caught committing murder, you will be put through a type of ritual known as a trial. The trail is where humans decide weather they like the human who committed the crime more then the person who was a victim of the crime, as to decide if it’s really worth it putting them through their consequences. Remember that jail is bad and that you do not want to go there. The best way to get away with any crime is to have sufficiently pale skin, and sufficiently large amounts of an item known as money. (We recommend this for anyone trying to take on a human body for various reason).

There are other things that you can do to make humans like you enough to not really care that you killed someone. It is best to make sure you cry on television as to make people sympathetic. Make it so you seem like the victim for being accused of murder. Show pictures of yourself with an animal known as a dog. Mention that you have parents (humans are more sympathetic to people who have parents). Mention your love of the piece of land that you’re on, as well as your loyalty to popular capitalist celebrity Jesus Christ. Take on a well desired profession such as police officer, politician, CEO, child of politician, or child of CEO. Avoid certain professions such as criminal, unemployed, drug addict, or YouTuber. In general make it so that the entire ordeal is more about how society treats murder, rather then the exact details of if you killed someone or not. People will say things about how nobody can really know if you killed someone, but it wasn’t fair how the media treated you.

Good job reading. You are now allowed to attempt to kill a human while in human form.

[whereserpentswalk]

A blood red cardinal flies over a snow covered battlefeild. As scattered soldiers run through ancient ruins in a failure to flee. For a momment a gray sky is flecked with scarlet.

A human archer sees the bird as he's checking his surroundings, while trying to fire his arrow at an orc. He sees the cardinal and remembers how they used to perch upon the roof of his town chapel when he was young. He remembers the play that they always put on in the winter, realizing he's already missed it due to the war, and hopes he can see it again next year. He fires his arrow at the orc, looking into her golden-red eyes, her pale green skin, her teeth as sharp as knives and her pitch black armor, seeing the monster his arrow has taken flight at he thinks to all he's heard of orcs, of how they destroy and defile every kingdom they come to, in his mind if he does not kill her, there will be no winter play.

An orcish warroir sees the red bird flying overhead. She thinks back to when she was young, and how cardinals would nest within the black stone buildings of her city every winter. How the storytellers and bards would tell stories were the cardinal was a trickster spirit, how they'd tell stories to the children of the city when it was too cold for them to play outside. She was too distracted by her own thoughts to realize the arrow aimed at her, until in struck her neck.

As she was bleeding on the steps of an ancient ruined temple, she looked up at the human who had shot her. She'd never seen humans from this far west before, they had blue eyes here. She wondered, trying to take her mind off of the pain that was killing her, if the creature that had shot her had storytellers of his own people, or if such joys were antithetical to the violence of such as brutal army. As she closed her eyes for the last time, she mourned that she would never hear the storytellers' songs again.

[whereserpentswalk]

There's a cryptid out there that makes the vampires in the subway station afraid, and the warlocks the public park are scared of it. It's something big, with huge black feathered wing, and branches for antlers, and golden eyes like melting amber.

When it walks by security cameras are struck blind, and advertisements are bleached until the paper they're printed on is nothing but pale white. And the spikes that are there to chase away beggars and songbirds melt like icicles in the spring. And when it touches someone, the microplastics drain from their blood, and they're healthy in a way no creature on this earth is supposed to be healthy.

Its pure anticapitalism, not just ideologically but physically. It repells capitalism the same way that antifreeze repells ice, and how antimagic repells spells. It's very body destroys those sins, it's existence rejects them. It's terrifying, but only because of the things it needs to scare.

And when it's very late, it'll find humans it needs to hurt. Police officers picking on some helpless victim will see it out of the corner of their eyes and run. And bosses will see it flying by their office, right as they were abusing an employee, right when they know it's too late for them. And right before a landlord kicks out a tenant, they might see it, and suddenly cover their rent, or else they fear they'll find their body with the others, as broken an mangled as their soul.

[whereserpentswalk]

Today there will be a sleeping contest. Ten of the country’s sleeping champions will lay down and see how long they sleep. Some will cheat; they will take drugs to make them more tired or slip coffee into their opponent's drinks. But most will be fair. There is serious money on this. Some have trained since childhood, being put in competitive sleeping leagues in elementary schools, missing out on friendships and schoolwork, because they have always had a natural talent for sleeping. The ten best sleepers in the country will fall asleep on stage, the first will be the contestant from New Orleans, who fail by awakening at only sixteen hours due to a sudden pain. The contestant from Boston will be completely average, awakening in fifth place at twenty-two hours due to a nightmare, and will proceed to blame the fact that transgender men were allowed to compete, who are theoretically better at sleeping then cis men. The winner will be the contestant from Chicago, who will have slept for fifty-seven hours straight, missing both his sister’s birthday, and permanently damaging his health. He will earn a spot in the hall of fame. Nothing will be learned about humanity from any of this.

[whereserpentswalk]

People treat you differently now that you're a cyborg. You've always wanted to be one, even when you were a kid and it was less socially acceptable. But now you fully are one, having gotten surgery to replace the majority of your body.

You look less human then most cyborgs. You didn't want to leave any of your skin intact. A lot of people see you and think you're entirely robotic. You have a face but it's more of a stylized metal mask to cover your eyes and brain then anything realistically human. You don't think of yourself as human, you know some cyborgs really push hard that they're still human, but it's not how you think of yourself. You think of yourself as something that has some human organs, but not something that's fully human.

You're really euphoric about how your new body looks and feels, it's so nice to be what you are, you love just looking at yourself in the mirror, or feeling sensations on your new metal carapace, or the way your body looks in different outfits. You love how it feels just to go outside in a body you love, to interact with people and know they're looking at you with the form you have now. You love how it feels to move your new limbs, and how it feels when someone cuddles your hard steel body, or how kisses feel on your metalic chest, or when someone pets your synthetic plastic hair.

Some of the worst bigotry you've gotten is other cyborgs reacting to that your happy with your body. Cyborgs who were forced to give up their humanity, either due to injury or due to more oppressive circumstances who call your a mockery of their struggle. People who believe their existence is defined by pain are so very upset that yourse is defined by joy. You've been called a fetish, and insult to what they are, an example of mental illness, by people who don't understand why you'd want to be like them. There's also a large amount of cyborgs, voluntary or involuntary, with more flesh on their bodies then you who take comfort in the fact that they're not like you, that they're not one of the really horrifying ones, that at least they're normal in ways you'll never be again.

The way non cyborgs think of you is far more subtle in its bigotry, but it's still there nonetheless. Most people aren't going to openly call you a slur, but you know when someone is horrified by what you did to yourself, even if they try to hide it. You've had people who knew you talk about how pretty you were, had people tell you that you could have at least kept your face, or had people who met you ask what you "really" look like (meaning how you looked before your surgeries). People also are just less likely to see you as a person, even if they tolerate your presence. They don't see your feelings as something to consider the same way they did when you looked human, and they're way more likely to see you as dangerous or potentially violent. Worst of all people don't see your body as having the same boundaries as you used to have, they don't understand why you wouldn't want to be touched, or why you wouldn't want to be seen without your pants on, when you're made of metal. It's a good thing you live in a large city, with a large population of cyborgs and robots, because you don't feel fully safe around humans now.

You had to give a guest lecture to some undergrads recently as part of your grad school program and it was weird the way they looked at you. The way they just didn't respect your authority at all, how they saw you as some strange creature and not someone who was essentially their professor for the day. How when you casually described yourself as an adult person, all the humans, professors and students alike seemed suprised, because they didn't think of you that way. People are suprised at so many things, later that week while you were taking the subway with a human freind she was suprised to learn that you had sex, she wasnt insensitive enough to ask how, but the point still stands that so many people forget that you're just a normal person.

You're happy to have a body you enjoy, but it cost more then money.

[whereserpentswalk]

You're dating a mermaid. You met online a couple of years ago through the fandom space for an obscure cyberpubk series from your childhoods, and you've been talking every day since then. It was a year into your relationship you found out she was a mermaid, and only recently have you really considered the problems that entails.

You've known people who've dated nonhumans before, useally like a vampire, or a werewolf, or something else that used to be human. Even people who date demons or fae are still dating creatures that can exist in the same space as humans. By her nature she'll only ever be in the water. You think of all the things you'll never do with her. You'll never go on a date in person. You'll never live in the same apartment as her. You'll never have sex with her.

When she sent a photo of herself to you it was strange. It's not just that she wasn't human, it was that she was so different from how you imagined her. You always thought of her as your pfp. When you sent an imagine of yourself back, you wonder of she had the same reaction. Her top half did look almost like a beautiful woman, but the more you looked at it the more you saw how inhuman she was, her eyes black, her teeth sharp, and gills in place of her breasts. Even subtler things like how her skin would reveal itself to be fine scales when you zoomed in, or her hair was actually tendrils made to look like hair. It's weird to think that its so disturbing but it is, mabye it's just that it's proof you'll never be with her the way that you hoped you would be.

You try just to talk to her about things outside of this world. About scifi, and history, and anything you can think of which isn't the world that you live in. There's a strange feeling like you lost her, like she used to be there with you, but now she's not. Nothing has changed, she didn't transform, it's just that you know now what you'll never have. You find yourself texting her more and more, and making yourself sad doing it.

There are people on the servers you're on who make fun of you for dating a mermaid. A lot of them think it's a fetish, others just think it's weird and lonely. Most of your irl freinds think it's kind of sad, and occasionally set you up on dates, they accept your relationship they just don't take it seriously. It's like nobody else actually thinks of you as boyfriend and girlfriend.

Some people ask you why either of you don't get a species change. But it would be a lot, not just getting used to your new body, but you'd have to move. And neither of you have a job that can be remote. Also, while magic has advanced a lot in the last hundred years, it's still not at scifi levels yet, a spell like that won't be slow or painless. And your insurance won't cover it either, so it's really just not an option.

One night you talked to her about sexual fantasies. Her species doesn't have sex, it's not how they reproduce. But you still fantasize about what it would be like if she only had genitals, how it would feel to stroke them, to touch her in a way that made her feel pleasure, to be with her in a way that you know you never can be. She tells you she has fantasies about you being able to produce eggs, and how it would feel to release her seed onto them. It's almost disturbing to her that you can grow life inside you, that you can be penetrated, that your body is designed to bleed.

Eventually you come to see eachother. You spend 45 minutes on the Q train just to get to the beach, coming on a dark winter night when there are no tourists around. She spends the same amount of time crossing the Atlantic, it's strange how fast travel over water is, how small the world must be for her. You see her slowly crawling onto the sand. She can't say anything, she doesn't have a voice box, and you don't know her species's sign language. But you look at eachother, and it feels so good to finally be able to just see eachother. It's as if you were waiting your entire life to see those unblinking eyes. You touch eachother, and even though her body is cold it feels so good just to touch, just to finally be with her. And you lay next to her in the tides, half submerged half dry, and you know in the morning you'll be apart again, and she'll just be text on a screen, but for now you can be with her, and for now that's what matters.

[whereserpentswalk]

You've gone to see the last family of gryphons. They sit there in a small glass habitat, families looking in at a creature that used to rule skies. If they flew in those skies again, they would be shot down by modern rifles, by hunters who know their beaks to be more precious than silver.

You look into their ancient eyes, seeing them still stand proud. Your ancestors would have seen them roam throughout the forests, and peach upon tall buildings in ancient capitals. Now they are such an oddity, they barely seem real.

You wonder if they know that they shouldn't be here? If something deep inside them wants to be in a flock of thousands of their kind, above an open sky? If they know that they should be flying. If they could, would they thank those who protected them with a cage, or would they hate them nonetheless, for being the reason that cage is needed?

[whereserpentswalk]

They say there was a monster hunter, who had killed countless cryptids and entities, who fell in love with a vampire. They fell in love when they were fighting, but as they rolled around it soon felt as if they were playing, and soon they kissed, and he forgot about her fangs that could have so easily bitten him. And for once he chose not to kill a monster.

And she told him that she could be with him, and be his lover, for as long as he wished. But she reminded him that she was a free being, that she would never be tamed by him, and never made to put down her weapons, and be made to be like a human bride. She would never be able to marry him by any law, never have sex with him or bare his children, never take him as her only lover, or his god as her only god, and when he died her life would still be far from over. And he agreed with his words, but hoped she would change her mind some day on all things.

As as the hunter was still young, he let her hunt with him. She could see and hear better than any human, and knew where her fellow unseelie lurked. She could hypnotize a mothman as he shot at it from the ground, and could track a werewolf in the darkest of nights. And they would run together across city streets in the moonlight, and for a time their love was true. And all the local bars and local artists began to know their names well, and as the cold autumn night winds blew in their hair, they knew eachother at their best. Soon they had an apartment together, and he would brush her hair in the morning light as she slept.

At first they thought they were alike. But as he saw her hunt more, saw her mouth open wide into a mess as fangs and sharp teeth and then fold back to human shape, saw her run naked to chase down a stray goblin, and saw her sexless body naked, with scars from where her humanity was lost, he began to see her as a wild beast he had on a leash. And as she saw all the things he hunted, how willingly he would trust the testimony of humans, and how little he would show ugly things mercy. There were many creatures she had to convince him not to kill, as many as there were creatures she helped him kill, and she too felt she was hold a leash with a wild beast at the other end more and more as time went on and on.

And as he got older and older, and he began getting stranger and stranger freinds. Strange to the vampire at least, to the monster hunter they were very normal. No longer did he know the poor, the students and teachers and programmers and artists. Soon he had freinds who worked in finance, in law, who ran startups, or women who lived like pets in their husband's laps. And suddenly he wanted her to look presentable to them, even if they knew she was a vampire she couldn't be the kind they would be afraid of. Her mouth couldn't open all the way, it had to remain in a human looking state. And she couldn't spread her wings, and she had to move like a human, and dress well around them. And when they ate she couldn't drink blood, she just had to be served mortal food, and state at it as she ate nothing. And he'd pet her little head as he answered so many questions for her.

And as he got older still he began to have richer and richer clients. Fewer people in danger and more and more people looking to get rid of "problematic elements". And more and more did the hunter look at the vampire and realize that he was older now, and she was still young. And he wondered if he should have told her to transform him when he was still young, and make him like her, of the unseelie kind, forever young. Yet he thought he was too late for that, not knowing how much older he still had to grow.

And eventually, as he was older, and his clients ever richer, he told her that he was moving. He didn't ask her. He told her. And it was assumed she'd move with him. And he took her to a town, just outside of the city limits, where you needed a car to leave. And there was nothing to do at night, and no cryptids or entities but her. And there was a big house with a TV. And he would drive into the city to hunt, without her. And she would no longer walk the city streets, free and wild, and she would no longer have freinds outside of him. And she was alone, for the first time in centuries she had nobody.

And once, after they had lived together in that town for years. As he had grown older, he told her that it was time she finally slept with him. He pointed to his body and explained to her that he had needs as a man, and she had duties as his wife, and it was the first time he ever called her his wife. And as she told him no, he pulled down his pants, and began to force her mouth open. And it did open, but he had forgotten how wide it did open, she had made it look human for him for so long, and soon the bottom half of her face had once again shown itself as a mess of sharp fangs and many jaws.

They say she flew back to the city that night. And say that his body still sits in that empty house. Cold and abandoned, stripped of pants, and drained of blood, doomed to be forgotten.

[whereserpentswalk]

There is a factory out there thats powered by dragons. There are a lot actually, dozens across America, and even more in Germany and France and Poland. For hours on end they'll have dragons, big ones, small ones, breathing fire to generate heat and power. It's an old method but it's efficient.

Back in the old days they uses to capture dragons from their lairs to generate power. But in the modern era they pay them wages. Most dragons need money to live too, now that the cattle are all well guarded in factory farms. So the poorest of them need to do things like power factories to make money to eat.

Of course, even in this economy a dragon is hard to control. Especially when you have many in one place. Even with our best sorcerers, and our best guns, few things can stop them, they can heal from any wound, and their fire can melt even steel. They'll ally with the goblins and orcs and humans that mine the raw materials, and the elves and dwarves and humans who work the assembly lines. They can burn down the entire factory, find whatever little human who runs it and threaten to kill him if he doesn't meet their demands, to pay them more, or to make it so they work fewer hours. And if worse comes to worse they can retreat into the forest with the cryptids and the fae.

So they controlled them in another way. The richest creatures in the world, the landlords, and the demon princes, and the old executives, and the vampire kings, started to make the world fear dragons. They made their propaganda, though they called it news and social science, about the dangers of dragons, about how the dragons would burn down the nearby villages if they revolted, how they wanted to take control for themselves and how they'd reign and tyrants. And the people agreed, and soon if the dragons tried to revolt, the army would surround them. And there would be no alliance with the other workers. And new laws were made to protect people the dragons never wanted to hurt from the dragons.

And soon as time went on people wrote books and stories and plays where the dragons were villains. And when that was less socially acceptable, it became commplace that kajiu or aliens who were villains would look like dragons, and conform to all their stereotypes. And the people felt more and more in danger as more and more protocols were made to assure their safety.

And now years later, now that dragons are rare, now that so many are in the factories, it's become fun. Now the towns near the factories will have dragon tours for tourists, and little dragon dolls to sell. Now it is so cute, and so marketable, and so very far away where they're closest.

But the factories still burn sometimes. It always happens sometimes. Even when nobody will ever give into their demands. There are still dragons who fly away into the night. There is still nothing that can contain a dragon, not if it truly wishes to be free.

[whereserpentswalk]

You recently purchased a pet ghoul. He's so sweet and gentle. He's made from a human corpse yeah but there's no human soul in there, the Necromancer made him into something new. He's like a cute little animal, he has fluffy hair and flowery tattoos left from the human body. He loves headpats and raw meat, he's like a little cat that way, his eyes even glow in the night just like a creature. Isn't this so fun, you put him in a little tuxedo. He mumbles sometimes, you think he's calling the names of people the body knew it life, it doesn't matter though. This is so normal and ethical. Nothing the mage council allows for is ever unethical. Some people are uncomfortable but that's just them not being open minded as to how the modern world works. You're a normal and ethical person. This is fine. This is so fine.

[whereserpentswalk]

Do the orcs mourn? Somewhere far away from the battlefields, in cities that the scribes of humans and dwarves will never care to know? Do they count their dead returning home, tell stories of them, do they have to tell their warrior's freinds and families that they've gone to a place they'll never return?

Do they tell stories of humans? Of pale skinny creatures, with white eyes, and hair on their faces, with teeth as blunt as a bull's and strange heraldry on their shields? Do they wonder what dark wizard must have created such a strange distortion of their forms? Do they wonder what darkness spawned the cruelty of creatures that killed all not of their kind who they captured, and who burnt all traces of them in their lands. Do they speak the names of our heros to their children to frighten them?

Do they fear the few humans they fight alongside? Wondering where their true loyalties lay? Do they see them as some of the few of their kind to have mercy? Do they see them as more dangerous and brutal then themselves.

Do orcs fear traveling alone in strange lands? Where there may be human adventurers, the mercenaries weilding eldrich weapons that humans call heroes, on the hunt? Could they feel anything else?

[whereserpentswalk]

They say throughout the city there's some spots where small animals have strange behaviors. The types of animals that everyone just forgets, the rats and the pigeons and the sparrows and the mice and even some of the roaches.

They'll carry their little things to what look like alters that they craft out of the garbage they find. They'll gather in large groups and make strange noises, pigeon and sparrow and rat and mouse side by side, performing some strange ritual. Nobody can really know why, it seems like there wouldn't be any reason to do such a thing, for creatures so forgotten.

The rituals get more and more common when they get closer and closer to certain points. And when you get close enough, they say the creatures start weilding weapons and tools, and speaking in a strange language, and building tiny cities for themselves that have something strange living at their center.

There have been a few people who say they've spotted what lives at the center. Something big, perhaps as big as a human, but of the same forgotten kind as the rodents and grey birds that worship it. The kind of the pests, who they loyally serve in exchange for gifts of higher thought. They are the twisted things that a scavenger would think to call a god.