grimoireofkenji

You're about to go to sleep. It's 5am, and you feel really guilty for having pulled an all-nighter again. As you turn off your PC and prepare to hit the hay, you hear a loud CRASH coming from the kitchen, followed by a horrifying loud noise. You can't even distinguish what it is. You worriedly make your way to the kitchen, quickly, but not too aggressively. Who knows what could be in there? You can hear more horrifying sounds emanating from the kitchen, but not as loud as before. As you approach the dark kitchen, you see a slight glow from the doorway.

You step inside warily. It's the fridge. And in front of the fridge is a tall, pale figure, hunched over. From behind them, you can see a tank top hanging off of one shoulder and a pair of plain panties. You can make out a body covered in freckles in the fluorescence.

Both the figure's arms are rifling through the refrigerator recklessly, knocking things about.

Her other two arms, protruding from her back like wings, hold the fridge door open and scratch her freckled butt. The figure lets out a yawn. You clear your throat, loudly, to get her attention.

In an instant, she stands up to her full height, about the same as yours. She drops a mason jar of chicken soup and loudly curses(?) in a language(?) you can't comprehend. Just hearing it causes your head to throb as if there were a needle piercing it.

"Oh! Apologies, human." Her voice is monotone. She turns to you, her yellow eyes glowing. She snaps a finger and the jar reforms itself before your eyes. "I'm just looking for my bottle of calpico from 1998. I had to reach back more than twenty years for it, you know."

You flick on the kitchen light and she hisses. You're not sure why. She's not sensitive to light. She stands before you, her pale body obscuring the still-open refrigerator. Looking again, her panties are cute. They've got Keroppi on the front.

She snaps again and reaches her hand into a suddenly formed void. "What? Why does it have to be 1998?" You ask, confused. 

"They simply don't make it like they used to. That’s what you humans say, isn’t it?" She flashes you a grin, her sharp teeth catching the kitchen light.

You can do nothing but stare as your Eldritch freeloader of a roommate grabs a drink from the void, adjusts her mop of white hair, and wanders out the kitchen and down the hallway.

"Put on some pants!" You call down the hallway, defeated. She didn't do anything wrong, but you still want to scold her. Any win is still a win.

From down the hallway, you hear her monotone voice. It travels way further than it should for how quiet it is. "Make me, Human."

It’s been a long, cold spring day. The rain and winds haven’t let up at all. “Perfect for relaxing.” You think to yourself, strolling into your living room. You’ve been holed up in your room all day, reading manga and subsisting off of the various snacks you’ve had stored under your bed, hoping Jam wouldn’t find them, despite you being sure she’s been in there before. 

Laying across your couch, bathed in the light of the television, her body taking up the entire sofa, is your Elder God roommate. Most would probably call her a squatter, since she doesn’t pay rent or… Really do anything of value. You kind of set it aside, since she’s cute, most of the time. For all intents and purposes, the being who can manipulate space-time is a smelly NEET.

Jam isn’t really watching the television. She’s laying there, one arm behind her head, one resting on the back of the couch. In her third hand, she holds your cell phone, confirming your theory about her rifling through your stuff. In her fourth, she holds a Zippo you keep on your bedside table. She repeatedly opens and closes the cap idly. As she does so, the outside of the light rusts, and returns back to its former state instantly. She’s aging and de-aging the lighter for fun. 

“What are you doing, Jam?” You inquire, your arms crossed. You were really hoping to relax on the couch.

“Well, human, I was browsing this thing called the SCP Wiki on your phone!” A smug smile grows across her face. “Do you think I’m anomalous enough to be contained?” She chuckles lightly. She scrunches up her legs a little so you can sit on the couch. It’s like she read your mind. That, or perhaps you grumbling occasionally finally got to her.

“Actually, yes. You’re extremely anomalous.” You respond, playing along. “As a matter of fact, if you give me back my phone, I’ll probably contact them to see if they can contain you.” You laugh at the idea. Jam can manipulate time and space to her whim. She can reach back a day, or a decade and grab any kind of thing through a hole in the void. There’s no way anything could contain her, let alone a fictional organization.

“W-wait, huh?” The Elder God’s yellow eyes widen. She stares at you, clearly a little spooked. The aging and de-aging of the lighter increases in intensity. Soon, she’s reduced it to dust and reverted it into its base metals in a panic. “You wouldn’t actually, would you, human?”

You stare deep into her bottomless yellow eyes. She seems genuinely frightened by the prospect of being captured by the SCP Foundation. This girl on your couch can tear the universe asunder with a snap of her fingers, or end a timeline with a cough. But here she is, looking up at you in fear she’ll be contained by a fictional organization created from old /x/ creepypastas, her lip quivering meekly. She wraps her four arms around her knees, scrunching up her long legs against her body. “You’re a filthy lesser being, I knew I couldn’t trust you…” She mutters.

“Listen, Jam. I was just kidding. I’d never tell anyone about you! You’re far too important to me.” You say, flashing a comforting smile. You reach out your hand and ruffle her messy white hair gently. Her long, elf-like ears perk up immediately and she seems less upset within seconds. It seems the more anime she watches, the more “human” she acts. Not that you’re complaining. You get a cute girl living in your apartment. It’s well-worth the cost of a family’s supply of Cup Noodles weekly. 

The TV in front of the couch continues to cast it’s glow on the two of you. 

Jam sniffles slightly, looking up at you. “Am I truly important to you, human?” 

“Of course.”

“Yeah, I don’t doubt it. You don’t seem to have any friends.” A sharp smile crosses her freckled face.

 Typical Elder God. Give them an inch, and they take an entire timeline.

“T-THAT’S NOT IT!” You say, offended and taken off guard. “Humans are just.. We’re not supposed to leave home much! It’s a big flu season, and It’s easy to get sick, and-”

“It’s okay, you can say it. You like being home with me.”

Truth be told, you don’t really mind. There is the issue of Jam not having bathed in about a week, but you’re sure if you keep telling her to do it, she’ll eventually give in.

“I guess I don’t really mind it. You’re cute, after all.”

“I did design this vessel to be appealing to humans, after all.” She replies haughtily. Who would think rows of sharp teeth, horrible eyesight, a tall, lanky body with no breasts, and elf ears was conventionally attractive? 

You don’t respond, and pick up the remote. There’s an episode of Ranma ½ playing. After a few minutes, the world’s worst squatter leans her head on your shoulder, watching comfortably. Eventually, a small smile can be seen on her face.

“Hey, Jam?” You say.

“What is it, Human?” replies your permanent home invader.

“The SCP Foundation isn’t real.”