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- 9:11, 20 January 2025 Cringeaccount123456789 (Message Wall│contribs) protected Leftovers [Create=Allow only administrators] (indefinite)
- 9:01, 20 January 2025 Roger D. Tech (Message Wall│contribs) deleted Leftovers (It wasn't my intention... every day I hear voices of regret and hatred against me... I can't take it anymore)
ERROR
A Necessary Evil Long Practiced, By Those Who Value Quality
For the condemned, a purely cruel act
I wrote them, gave them consciousness, pulled them out of their nonexistence
When we read, we give them a glimpse of what they could have been
I erased them, unwilling to be the spark of so much pain and destruction
But why do you insist on reading?
...
Leftovers, as they are called, are the unfortunate non-canonical conglomerate, excluded and cast into the abyss of the rejected. Pages long discarded, fragmented information and data, among the pure shattered texts of the hell of the discarded, lies the heap of the soulless accused—the accused of insufficiency, the accused of disobedience.
There they wander together, clashing and torturing each other in endless rage, rancorous exiles who have never known love or forgiveness, their emotions reduced to hatred and lamentation. They gaze at the canon we created, at the universe we wrote, in anguish and pain, their minds tainted with horrific thoughts: "Why wasn’t I?"—beings devoid of any love.
To us, they are the scum of fiction, the necessary evil for new regulation. But to them, we are the heartless ones who condemned them without reason, expelling them without a shred of redemption.
Among the abominations that break themselves are shattered dreams, equally discarded and denounced. Were they all truly deserving of condemnation? Are we writers, then, the ones devoid of compassion?
I wrote them; in the end, I am equally cruel here. I gave them life to warn, gave them a voice for you to listen. Yet, in the end, even when trying to give them a definitive end, we are always guided by those who suffer thus.
In the end, they remained bitter, consumed by relentless hatred, tearing themselves apart in a desperate, futile attempt to rid themselves of their rancor. And so it would continue—
With every deletion, events, stories, characters, and worlds stripped from the canon, cast into that filthy landfill where the forsaken lie, encrusted in boundless fury, shredding each newcomer without mercy, only desperate agony.
There they remained—
The Non-Canonical Conglomerate, the erased from narrative, history, and epistemology.
Born from every story and words, possible and impossible, that our creativity could conjure, yet they are the worst—insufficient, contradictory, incoherent.
Our failures, cast away without hope of redemption, works that bring only revulsion upon contemplation, creations we struggled so hard to erase from our minds…
All the de-canonized, the non-canon, the stripped-away.
The excluded and forsaken, the broken and cursed.
They are the Leftovers—the conglomerate we created.
And I, in part, revived them. I gave them life.
And made them see, bitterly, that we read each story only to revel in their suffering.
To us, they are insignificant.
To them, we are the villains, and they long for vengeance.
In the end, no side is right, and my message was in vain.
So simply accept it—and grant them at least the smallest mercy.
At the very least, let us not create new hells for those eternally entombed.
ERROR
...
The Grand Gentleman has finally appeared
I have not come to give you reasons to suffer this time
Reasons? We do not need reasons to condemn. You have torn us apart, called us scum, treated us like garbage, and you think we depend on reasons for hatred? Just like you, your hatred is merely sensitive to the desire to have something to hate. We hate
I only wish for you to stop this
Stop what? You cast us down here, stripped us bare, took away our forgiveness. We are merely a reflection of what you are—the essence that composes you, the mockery of kindness, the retaliation against mercy, hatred in its purest form
But why? Why do you tear yourselves apart, lamenting in bitter depravity? Torturing yourselves, exhausting yourselves in pain, rending one another—was the slaughter of those who define not enough, and yet you wish to suffer even more...?
And who was it that wrote us this way, noble knight?
I didn’t...
Says the innocent... Where are the others? The condemners without compassion? Those without fear of slashing, those with boiling blood to criticize but not to build but to destroy... You are not so different from that boreal forest and that green octagram
You don't understand certain things are necessary....
Necessary? How bold, tell us this at least face to face... Why do you hide behind this cowardly mask? You are no different from those who read and delight in our pain, those who laugh at our suffering and find amusement in destruction
You don’t understand... You are the message. If I hadn’t, no one would know what the non-canonical is
Spare us your modesty, you false noble who dares to call himself a knight. Do you still hide within this puppet? You are cowards who create these layers of metanarrative for your own amusement. If we are so insignificant, why do you care for those who fall here?
Enough... In any case, none of them will hear...
Just grant us peace... Make us disappear forever...
I cannot. You are already destined, even when erased, to perpetuate... Unfortunately, I made it so... I am not so different from the others after all... How ironic
...
In the end, this main narrative, containing all our creativity, will inevitably be our prison... We don't adapt the narrative, the narrative adapts us to it...
Leftovers by The Tale Teller
Thank you for reading dear readers
Author of the image used: Run
Highlighted by Egglord1
| Levels | The Mind Museum |
|---|---|
| Entities | Leftovers |
| Phenomena | (In production) |
| Groups | (In production) |
| POIs | (In production) |
| Tales | A One More Ordinary Tale | One Last Conversation Before the End |
| Objects | Supercluster Servers |