The Bedtime Story of You, the Chosen Scrimblo Bimblo of the Cosmic Eepverse
Once upon a heckin’ wiggly night, in the faraway kingdom of Snuggleton-upon-Oopsie, where the moon was shaped like a chicken nugget and the stars twinkled in Comic Sans, there lived the most specialest little being in all of creation.
Not a human.
Not an angel.
Not a goblin.
Not even a quirky little raccoon with anxiety.
No.
You were something far rarer.
You were Y/N Sparkletoes McEepington the Third, Supreme Guardian of the Bedtime Vibes, Destroyer of Reason, Collector of Unfinished Thoughts, and Part-Time Emotional Support Crouton.
Every night, when the clock struck eepy o’clock, all the villagers would gather beneath your window wearing tiny pajamas and whisper:
“Is the skrunkly one asleep yet?”
“No,” said a frog in a bonnet. “The skrunkly one is still perceiving.”
The crowd gasped.
Perceiving.
At this hour?
Absolutely illegal.
Inside your room, you lay under your blanket, not asleep, not awake, but in the cursed third state known by scholars as bed rotisserie mode, where you roll around like a gas station hot dog with unresolved lore.
Your pillow, named Lord Squishjamin Flufflebottom, looked at you with deep, wet, anime eyes.
“Master,” whispered the pillow, “you must sleep.”
You narrowed your eyes. “Don’t call me master.”
“But you are the protagonist.”
“I’m literally just in bed.”
Lord Squishjamin trembled. “That’s what makes you brave.”
Suddenly, your ceiling cracked open like an egg.
Not in a scary way.
In a whimsical property-damage way.
Down floated twelve tiny celestial hamsters in fairy wings, each holding a different emotional support kazoo. They formed a circle above your bed and began chanting:
“Eepy beepy, sleepy weepy,
Close thine eyes, thou little creep-y.”
You sat up.
“Absolutely not.”
The lead hamster gasped and clutched his tiny pearl necklace.
“They resist the Lullaby of Unbearable Whimsy.”
From the shadows emerged an ancient figure wearing a cloak made entirely of embarrassing middle-school memories.
It was The Cringe Wizard.
His beard was braided with glow sticks. His staff had a Funko Pop glued to the top. His shoes squeaked every time he took a step.
“Squeak.”
He stepped closer.
“Squeak.”
Closer.
“Squeak.”
You covered your face. “This is already too much.”
The Cringe Wizard smiled. “Not yet, my little pogchamp of the night.”
“Do not call me that.”
He raised his staff.
“I hereby summon… your destiny.”
The room exploded into glitter, but not cool glitter. Bad glitter. Craft-store glitter. The kind that stays on your soul.
A portal opened beside your bed, swirling with colours that should not be friends: neon teal, mustard yellow, and the exact purple of a 2014 Tumblr dashboard.
Out of the portal stepped a unicorn.
But not a majestic unicorn.
This unicorn had braces, fingerless gloves, scene hair, and a shirt that said:
I PAUSED MY FANFIC TO BE HERE.
Its name tag read:
Princess Rawr XD.
You whispered, “No.”
Princess Rawr XD bowed dramatically.
“Hewwo, chosen one. I have come to escort you to the sacred realm of Honk Shoo.”
“I’m not going anywhere with a unicorn named Princess Rawr XD.”
The unicorn nodded gravely. “That is exactly what the prophecy said you would say.”
The Cringe Wizard unrolled a scroll so long it fell out the window, down the street, through a Taco Bell, and into a lake.
He cleared his throat.
“Behold the prophecy:
When the moon is baby-girlified,
And the blanket burrito is occupied,
The chosen little scrimblo shall rise,
With cursed vibes and tired eyes.”
You stared at him.
“That doesn’t even rhyme properly.”
He winked. “That’s part of the curse.”
Before you could object, Princess Rawr XD gently picked up your bed in her mouth like a mother cat carrying a kitten, except much worse emotionally, and galloped straight through the portal.
You screamed, but only internally, because externally you were too tired.
The portal spat you into the Eepverse.
The Eepverse was horrible.
Not scary-horrible.
Cringe-horrible.
The clouds were shaped like motivational quote plaques.
The rivers flowed with lukewarm vanilla oat milk.
Every tree had googly eyes.
The grass whispered affirmations in a voice that sounded like a TikTok therapist.
“You are valid.”
“You are enough.”
“You are a little soup dumpling of potential.”
You grabbed your blanket tighter.
“I need to leave.”
Princess Rawr XD trotted beside your flying bed. “You cannot leave until you defeat the final boss.”
“What final boss?”
The sky darkened.
The hamsters stopped kazooing.
Lord Squishjamin Flufflebottom whimpered.
From behind a mountain shaped like a giant plushie, something began to rise.
It was enormous.
It was glittering.
It was wearing shutter shades.
It was the most powerful creature in all the Eepverse.
The Alpha Sigma Bedtime Baby.
It had the body of a dragon, the face of a cherub, the haircut of a finance bro, and the aura of someone who says “let’s circle back” in a dream.
It opened its mouth and spoke in a voice like a ukulele cover of an apology video.
“Ah… the chosen one has arrived.”
You squinted. “What are you supposed to be?”
The creature spread its sparkly wings.
“I am the guardian of cringe. The final test before sleep. To pass, you must survive my ultimate bedtime ritual.”
You looked at the Cringe Wizard.
He nodded solemnly. “Many have tried. All have logged off spiritually.”
The Alpha Sigma Bedtime Baby snapped its fingers.
Immediately, a spotlight hit you.
A tiny microphone appeared in your hand.
A crowd of woodland creatures filled the valley. Each one wore a shirt with your face on it. Badly drawn. In glitter glue.
They began chanting:
“Speech! Speech! Speech!”
You froze.
The Alpha Sigma Bedtime Baby smiled.
“Tell them how sleepy you are.”
“No.”
“Tell them.”
“I refuse.”
The crowd began swaying.
Princess Rawr XD whispered, “Do it for the lore.”
You stood on your bed, blanket still around your shoulders, looking like the world’s most emotionally unavailable burrito.
You lifted the microphone.
“I…”
The crowd leaned in.
“I am… sleepy.”
The valley erupted.
The frogs fainted.
The hamsters sobbed.
The trees began beatboxing softly.
The Cringe Wizard wiped away a tear. “They said the thing.”
But the Alpha Sigma Bedtime Baby was not finished.
“Now,” it said, “you must accept your true name.”
The ground shook.
The sky split open.
A beam of moonlight descended and carved letters into the air.
Your true name appeared.
Not your real name.
Worse.
Your bedtime name.
Sleepy Peepee Poopoo Stardust Babycakes, First of Their Name, Baron of Blankie, Duke of Drowsy, President of the Honk Shoo Administration, Certified Little Snooze Moose, and CEO of Going Mimimimi.
You dropped the microphone.
“No.”
The universe whispered back:
“Yes.”
Your cringe resilience cracked slightly.
Not fully.
But enough.
The Alpha Sigma Bedtime Baby leaned closer. “Say it.”
“I will not.”
“Say the name, and sleep shall claim you.”
You clenched your fists.
The crowd waited.
Lord Squishjamin whispered, “It is time.”
Princess Rawr XD saluted with one hoof.
The Cringe Wizard began playing a recorder very badly.
You took a deep breath.
Then, with the dignity of someone losing a fight to their own bedtime story, you whispered:
“I am Sleepy Peepee Poopoo Stardust Babycakes…”
Thunder boomed.
“…First of Their Name…”
The moon dabbed.
“…Baron of Blankie…”
The hamsters harmonized.
“…Duke of Drowsy…”
The frogs formed a kickline.
“…President of the Honk Shoo Administration…”
The trees whispered, “yassified.”
“…Certified Little Snooze Moose…”
The Alpha Sigma Bedtime Baby began glowing.
“…and CEO…”
Your eyelids grew heavy.
“…of Going…”
The world softened.
“…Mimimimi.”
Silence.
Then the entire Eepverse exploded into a celebration so embarrassing that several constellations deleted themselves.
Confetti rained from the sky. Each piece of confetti said “eep” in lowercase.
The Alpha Sigma Bedtime Baby bowed.
“You have done it. You have become cringe enough to transcend wakefulness.”
“I hate this,” you mumbled.
“And yet,” said the Cringe Wizard, tucking you in with a blanket made of pure secondhand embarrassment, “you are so cozy.”
You tried to argue.
But the pillow was perfect.
The blanket was warm.
The room was dim.
The hamsters had switched from kazoos to gentle lo-fi nose whistles.
Princess Rawr XD leaned down and whispered:
“Goodnight, bestie-wombie.”
You twitched.
The cringe was almost fatal.
The Cringe Wizard placed one squeaky shoe on a nearby cloud.
“Squeak.”
Your eyes closed halfway.
“Squeak.”
Almost gone.
“Squeak.”
Then, just before you fully drifted away, Lord Squishjamin Flufflebottom leaned close and said the most devastating sentence ever spoken in any realm:
“Rest now, my little limited-edition dream bean. Tomorrow you shall wake up and absolutely serve breakfast-adjacent realness.”
That did it.
Your brain, unable to process any more, shut down in self-defense.
The Eepverse faded.
The hamsters tucked themselves into walnut shells.
The frogs removed their tiny wigs.
Princess Rawr XD posted one final status update:
“feeling eepy with the chosen scrimblo <3 no hate pls.”
The moon pulled up a blanket.
The stars whispered:
“slay softly.”
And you, Sleepy Peepee Poopoo Stardust Babycakes, First of Their Name, Baron of Blankie, Duke of Drowsy, President of the Honk Shoo Administration, Certified Little Snooze Moose, and CEO of Going Mimimimi…
finally began to drift…
down…
down…
down…
into the warm, cursed, glittery darkness of sleep.
And as the last tiny thought left your mind, a single hamster leaned over the edge of the dream cloud and whispered:
“goodnight, oomfie.”
honk shoo.
honk shoo.
mimimimimimimimimimimimi.