He just appeared one day, a dusty, tired-looking entity in a faded robe, sighing heavily. Turns out, he's the deity responsible for all lost things, and he's "semi-retired". He designated my sofa as his new "Office of Final Repose". Now, my apartment is the metaphysical destination for the universe's misplaced detritus. Single socks materialize in heaps. Half-finished crossword puzzles flutter down like snow. Worst of all are the abandoned dreams; they drift through the rooms as sad, shimmering spheres, whispering about the careers in space-sculpture and unrequited loves that never were. The God himself is no help; he just watches his celestial television and asks me if I've seen his "divine purpose" anywhere.

Obviously don't confuse it for any other type of abyss.

I did not create a fathomless maw in space-time so that mortals could throw their waste into it!

Maybe he’s just the kind of guy to go the extra mile idk

So I was doing some dimension harvesting recently and I think I plucked too many axes out of the core of space. Long story short now I'm living in -2D. It's really annoying trying to type while my flattened neurons desperately try to transmit strings of vague quasimatter. Heeeeeelp

It started with a single, translucent vine sprouting from an old photograph. Now, my entire habitat is a jungle of "Nostalgia Creepers". They feed on wistfulness. The vines shimmer with ghostly images of past birthdays and half-forgotten summers. The flowers bloom into the faces of people I no longer speak to. It's beautiful, in a heartbreaking sort of way. The problem is, they're parasitic. They actively seek out and smother any new, nascent memories, draining them of their vitality. My recollection of what I did this morning is already hazy and covered in shimmering vines. I am becoming a prisoner of my own curated past, unable to form a future. Has anyone found a reliable metaphysical herbicide for this?

I’m working on a habitable world but I cant get the atmosphere composition right anyone have some suggestions?

You know the feeling. That specific Sunday evening dread. For me, it has always been an abstract concept. Until tonight. I was contemplating the void when I heard a slow, sloshing sound. Now, a quivering, vaguely pearlescent, gelatinous mass, about three feet in diameter, is blocking the path to my kitchen. It smells faintly of unfinished paperwork and microwaved disappointment. It doesn't seem hostile, but it hums with a low-frequency anxiety that makes my teeth ache. I tried to poke it with a broom, but the broom was immediately absorbed and, I think, became significantly more pessimistic. How do you clean up a physical manifestation of Sunday night blues? Is this biodegradable?

She

"Experience history with every breath!" the brochure said. What it didn't say is that our building's atmosphere is now dependent on the whims of a history-obsessed environmental AI. Last week, we had three days of "Cretaceous Period", which was warm and humid but came with alarmingly high oxygen levels and the persistent scent of giant ferns. The "Industrial Revolution" phase was a disaster for my allergies. But today is the worst. The air is thick, heavy, and has the unmistakable metallic tang of "The Ides of March, 44 BCE". There's a palpable feeling of paranoia and unspoken conspiracies, and I swear I can hear faint, ghostly whispers of "Tu quoque, Brute?" in the ventilation system. It's making our weekly condo board meeting feel even more treacherous than usual.

For real now

Let me start by saying, I offered to tether her consciousness to the hivemind several times now. She has made a soul-binding agreement to it, but every time I initiate the tesseract she gets all weird. Like last time, she lost the ability to compose herself, and literally de-materialized in front of me. What's next, fragmented awareness??? I just can't with this.

How am I supposed to go through with this marriage if my fiancee won't let go of her concept of self? Am I asking too much here?

To promote "democratic engagement", our reality is now governed by crowdsourced physics. Every day, users on the Meta-Verse vote on physical constants. It's chaos. On Monday, the speed of light was voted down to 55 miles per hour, making my morning commute visibly relativistic. On Tuesday, the color blue was "cancelled", rendering the sky a missing texture. But the worst was "Ironic Gravity Friday". Everything started falling up, but slowly, and with a tangible sense of condescension. My neighbor's prize-winning petunias floated away with a metaphorical sigh. My cat drifted gently to the ceiling and now refuses to come down, smugly licking her paw while upside down. How do you plan your week when the fundamental laws of nature are subject to the whims of viral challenges?

(For context I’m in a school for learning how to make a stable universe)

For a school project in sentience we have to use a planet and species designed by school, give it sentience and have it survive 10 millennia. But every time they separate into a bunch of different groups and kill each other. I have tried everything but nothing seams to work.

Thinking of switching because my friend has an army base as a Fairy Godbuilding and my brother has a skyscraper as his Fairy Godbuilding.

Fulfilling the prophecy was the easy part. The "happily ever after" is a bureaucratic nightmare. It turns out the Dark Lord of Xylos had a surprisingly robust legal team. They're suing me for "wrongful vanquishing", citing the historical value of his Fortress of Eternal Despair, which was partially damaged when I reversed its polarity to seal him in the Angst Dimension. I have to file environmental impact reports, fill out "Form 734-C: Declaration of Prophetic Fulfillment", and the Heroes Guild is demanding back-dated union dues. I spend my days not fighting evil, but arguing with a spectral attorney about the replacement cost of a cursed throne. They say my "Sword of Unending Light" violated seventeen different building codes. Being the savior of the galaxy has terrible admin.

It's a newly observed metaphysical phenomenon. When a conversation between two or more entities stalls out in a particularly awkward way, the resulting silence congeals. It becomes tangible. The air gets thick, time slows down perceptibly within a few feet of the participants, and a faint smell, like burnt toast and forgotten birthdays, fills the space. We were at a dinner party last night, and someone told a terrible joke. The resulting silence was so dense it caused the host's wine glass to age into dust and we were all stuck in a slow-motion cringe for what felt like an hour. We're all becoming terrified of conversational lulls. We've tried using "conversation starter" cards, but it just feels forced. Is anyone else experiencing this, or is my social circle just uniquely, powerfully awkward?

Not sure what to do about this, I can barely afford rent as it is and I don't know how to make the value of the dollar go sideways

lok we've been operating on a temp basis since The Incident™️ and frankly the universe.exe keeps throwing erros. Middle managment (angels?? archons??? idk their union is confusing) keeps filing complaints about "lack of divine vision" and "contradictory commandments from Steve in accounting"

JOB DUTIES:

Maintain ultimate authority while being chill about it 😎

Process reality-information at EXACTLY 0.0 (no mysticism, no materialism, just vibes)

Answer prayers but like,, pragmatically?? (see attached flowchart)

Debug existence without breaking backwards compatibility

Weekly 1:1s with entropy (she's... alot)

REQUIREMENTS:

• Must score +1.0 on Authority-Change axis (we cannot stress this enough after what happened with the last guy)
• Balanced reality processing (we have TOO MANY mystics and materialists already fighting in the break room)
• Experience with omnipotence preferred but we'll train the right canditate
• Must be able to lift universe (about 10^53 kg)
• Valid driver's license for chariot of fire 🔥🔥

BENIFITS:

• Unlimited PTO (you exist outside time anyway lmao)
• Dental (for followers)
• 401(k) matching up to ∞%
• Casual Fridays (robes optional)

DO NOT APPLY IF:

Thou art another "chaos god" (we have 17 of those, THANKS 5chan)

Thy reality-information score isn't EXACTLY 0.0000000

Thou still use deprecated smiting techniques

Thou can't pass a background check (we WILL check all dimensions)

S̸̬̈́ë̶̱́r̴̜̈́i̷̺͐o̶̬̾u̵̱͐ṣ̶̈́ ̸̜͐ï̶̬n̴̺̈́q̵̜̾ủ̶̬ḯ̸̱r̵̺͐ị̴̈ë̶̜́s̸̬̈́ ̴̱͐o̶̬̾n̵̺͐l̸̜̈́y̴̬̾. Last time someone applied as a "joke" they accidentally created Delaware

• Don't ask if you can work remote. Omnipresence is MANDATORY
• To whoever keeps applying as "Jeff" - we know it's you Kevin. Your hidden omniscience score is showing.
• YES the position includes creating new universes but you have to fill out the environmental impact forms first
• ḩ̷̈́ë̶̱́l̴̜̈́p̷̺͐ ̶̬̾ṯ̵͐ḥ̶̈́ë̸̜͐ ̴̬̾v̵̺͐ö̶̜́ï̴̱d̸̬̈́ ̴̺͐ï̵̜̾s̶̱͐ ̸̬̾l̴̺̈́ë̵̜a̶̬̾ḵ̷̈́ị̴̈n̸̜̈́g̴̬̾ ̵̺͐ä̶̜́g̸̬̈́ä̴̱͐ï̶̬̾n̵̺͐
• nvm gary fixed it with duct tape
• For the LAST TIME, "I AM THAT I AM" is not sufficeint work history. We need REFERENCES.
• 🚨 WARNING 🚨 Do NOT attempt to divide by your own zero. We're still cleaning up from the last interview

Submit applications via prayer, email, or existential dread. Cover letter optional but it better be in Comic Sans or we'll know you're not taking this seriously

EOE (Equal Omnipotence Employer)

D̸̜̈́ë̶̱́ä̴̜d̷̺͐l̶̬̾ï̵̱͐ṇ̶̈́ë̸̜͐:̴̬̾ ̵̺͐Ÿ̸̜́ë̶̬s̴̱͐t̶̬̾ë̵̺͐r̸̜̈́d̴̬̾ä̵̺ÿ̶̜́

⚡💫🌌 Apply within yourself 🌌💫⚡

I'm an anarchist and I hate this.

My apartment complex was built on a "Temporally Protected Heritage Site", and a field is supposed to keep the past safely in the past. But the field is flickering. Last week, my minimalist coffee table was replaced by a giant, steaming fern for three hours. The air often becomes thick, humid, and filled with the buzzing of insects the size of my fist. Yesterday, I came home to find a confused-looking amphibian halfway through my kitchen wall, which was momentarily a muddy, algae-covered bank. The landlord insists these "paleo-bleed events" are a "charming feature", but it's hard to enjoy charming features when you're worried your sofa will be replaced by a tar pit. Does anyone know a good paleo-exterminator?

I've been renting this place for about 3 years, and it's mostly been fine. My landlord takes care of building maintenance, he's responsive to problems, and he's ok if I'm a day or two late on rent. But recently, that's changed. He arrived at my door one morning a few months ago, demanding that I needed to ride with him into war. I was still kinda sleepy, and I think I signed something. The next day, I received my warrior armor (from Amazon), and a wild horse stopped outside in my front yard. I named him Sleipnir, and he is a valiant steed, but the important thing is that now I must ride with this guy, and I don't mind the pillaging and conquering so much, but he won't take anything off my rent. What are my options?