
by TheFoolishPrimogen
Terms of Entry Upon crossing this threshold, you agree to the following: • That the author is experimenting. • That tonal whiplash may occur. • That the story may wander off and return when it pleases. • That it may, at times, be gloriously messy. • That no squirrels were harmed in the writing of this tale. If this troubles you, there are other books. Other authors. Other doors. If it does not Welcome! Keith had absolutely no idea the world would end today. He didn’t even have shoes. Now he’s in the Nexus a cosmic bureaucratic waystation staffed by sentient squirrels, hairball people, and at least one mushroom with a monocle. There’s no sunlight, questionable fire safety compliance, and the magazine in the waiting room advertised Vaseline for kidney stones. His job, apparently, is to wander. Punch things occasionally. Get fed. He’s fine with this. Follow a man who meets the apocalypse with the same energy he brings to finding good coffee mild interest, reasonable questions, no particular urgency as he and his gnome partner Maxy navigate interdimensional bureaucracy, misplaced world tree seeds, and the creeping suspicion that eternity might actually be pretty alright. Updates when the vibes are right.
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Overall Rising Stars shadow rank
#1695 of 11,337 · 1645 below #50
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