Uncle Jeff
rating: +19+x

This thing on? Who am I contacting?

Don't answer that. I can see your response before it comes out your mouth, so save your breath. That's entry-level telepathy for ya - you're welcome.

Anyway, how's it going, little lady?

Going over your thoughts here. Lots of thoughts, too. Coherent ones, mostly. You're not too dumb, are ya? That's where we're different, I guess.

That's your name? Casey? Well, it's catchy, I'll give it that. You might want to go with a nickname though. …let's say "Crusher." It's aggressive, it's go-gettin', it keeps people from taking advantage of you.

Alright. If this is freakin' you out, and you think you're gonna spend the next week in a mental ward trying to forget this, I'll shut up and leave your head, no questions asked. But if you're curious, I can keep going.

Don't answer that.

…I'll take that as a yes.

First off, my name's… let's say "Jeff". I'm your creepy uncle. If we're being specific, I'm the whole Universe's creepy uncle. Don't read into it that much. Fifth rule of telepathy - there's no language, no context. It's all in the perception. No matter how specific I can make it, you're going to see it in terms you're comfortable with.

Alright, Crusher. I'm talking to you because I know your life's going in the shitter. Those are some nasty memories I'm seeing.

Don't look at my memories. Not for my sake, yours. Let's just say people like me live our lives on about 500% the emotional intensity of your own. Price of omnipotence, I guess. But I've lived for a long, long time, and I like to think I know a thing or two about how to avoid making the mistakes I've made.

If any of this is unsolicited, interrupt me and I'll understand.

First thing's first - for the record, we can both agree that your boyfriend is human garbage. There's nothing you did wrong there, despite what he might have told you. To think, he calls you the manipulator to avoid any responsibility for his actions. I know a hypocrite when I see it.

I was sealed away by the biggest hypocrite of all. Called himself a hero before he even saved anyone. He didn't save any lives, all he did was kill things that were too big for him to understand. And the yelling. Good God, he could yell. His goons had no principles, all they did was do as he told because he could scream the loudest. You know how many wives he had? 307. He knew the names of about five of them, and he wasn't even in love. He bought them with his fight money. Ancient customs or no, it's still pretty fucked up.

Kinda like how he expects you to stay with him out of pity.

All his talk of morals and justice, and they still killed my wife and turned her body into my prison furniture. I was in the middle of my dinner, and I barely even had time to notice before they started drilling the hooks in my back.

Of course that doesn't make sense. Hypocrites never make sense.

What's your boy's name? Who cares. I'm calling him Dip the Wonder-Shit. Well, here's what you do with him: don't underestimate him, like I did with the other guy. Hypocrites can do some scary stuff when they're cornered - give him any leg room, and before you know it, you'll be buried alive in a salt flat while paranoid scientists kill chickens on your roof for some reason.

Don't let that happen. Give him no quarter. Destroy him.

I mean, not literally. You guys have more complicated laws than we did. But call him on his shit, shove him out of your life, block his accounts, and leave him crying on the pavement as people look on in horror, because they don't understand - they can't understand - that you're doing this to survive. People in your neighborhood just aren't used to seeing a short, 23-year-old half-Indian girl take things into her own hands - something you can change.

I know it might be hard. You've got a good heart, which is rare these days. I admire that. But you'll still have a good heart if you get rid of this guy - if I were in your position, Dip would have been wiped out of existence from the moment of his birth. You've shown an inhuman amount of patience, and you can let it go now.

And by all means, if you have to literally destroy him in self-defense, let me know how it goes! It's been a while since I've seen a good war.

You're a good woman, Crusher. It's nice to have someone listen to an old fool like me for a change.

On that note, I should probably warn you. Six of my chains are broken. The seventh and last chain is probably going to snap sometime next week. Generally, when one of my chains breaks, people die. But unless you have any plans to travel to Eastern Europe in the next week that I haven't noticed, you should be fine. Just stay where you are.

Though I will say, some airhead lunatics (same guys that keep killing chickens over my head, no less) are going to think this means I'm going to come out of my hole and devour worlds or something.

Don't believe any of that. I'm old. I just wanna sleep, and watch smart young people like you learn how to become the gods they've always dreamed of being.

I gotta go. Give him hell, Crusher. I'll be watching over you.

…and if you meet some guy called Keshpeth, please kill the ever-loving fuck out of him.

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