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One day can make or break your relationship with work. You start your day drinking a nice cup of joe, pumping iron, maybe even going for a morning jog. Ah, how innocent I was, minding my own business I was a C ranked hero in the hero association, I had been fighting evil for around 15 years and unlike those in B rank and above, I lacked some kind of over powered ability. Heck the only thing that I could do was talk, people seemed to back down from petty crimes pretty easily when you try to really help them with their issues. Though that wasn't something I could use today. Before me was a wasteland; the city was crumbling as the sever S class villain's called the League of Supper Rugged Savages or (LSRS) had began laying waste to the city. The Beast like savages sought to bring civilization back to a primitive time where survival of the fittest determined who lived and died. There I stood as the likes of Golf man and Roach girl laid before me. There was no escape, the beasts of LSRS had noticed me. "Looks like the party is only getting started boys we've got some fresh meat!" Their leader Crunch called out. "yea, boss we's gonna has a goods times," A large apelike LSRS member squealed. Panic quickly over took me, there was still people trying to escape, how would they, these beasts were focused on creating as much carnage as possible. My brain was having a hard time recognizing that I was at a breaking point. Run, or be devoured so I can save as many people as I can. I looked down at the ground a shiver crept up my spine, this was the end. I broke into a cold sweat, I was only 35 years old... and I was about to die. I breathed in a deep breath and called out with my lungs as loud as I could. "hey, who opened up a zoo on main street?" Suddenly a dozen or so eyes traced towards me, I had become their fresh meat. The LSRS closed in and surrounded me, I watched as several people made the opportunity to slip away, but there were still others trapped beneath the ruble. I screamed a loud scream bellowing throughout the street, my eyes squinted closed as I let my voice rang free. I paused to see they're confusion. "well, If that ain't a warriors below I don't know what is, too bad you got nothing to show for it." A large hand reached out and grabbed my hair. As I was hoisted up I could feel each follicle puling against the grain of my scalp. This was my last chance. " Oh, so the big bad leader is gonna do his own dirty work, well at least I get to go down knowing the strongest of you got to do it. The beast looked me in the eyes. "oh how good it is to be king." I was viciously slammed against the ground my arm shattered on impact. "Gyaaaaaaaah" I cried out in agony. I soon felt the beasts foot on my back as he began to pull on my arm. I could feel every second as he slowly began to rip the flesh. The pain suddenly stopped as I saw my arm ripped into the sky. Blood pulsated everywhere. Then the pain returned, my arm clear off my shoulder. "Why not just crush his head." asked one of the leaser LSRS members. "Didn't you hear him, he gets to be killed by the king, he asked for this." Corrected a smaller mantis like member. "well kid, i guess it's time to meet your maker." The large beast grabbed my head with both hands. "any last words?" I opened my eyes to look this beast in his face, king wore a gold crown signifying his leadership over there rest of the pack. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my chance. " To bad you won't be the king forever, your not the strongest one here anyways." "That's where your wrong." he boldly proclaimed. "well, there is about to be fore less of you." I let out a chide remark. Crunch let out a long apelike scream as he began to squeeze harder I could feel myself slipping, and then suddenly the pressure released. I began falling to the ground as I saw my savior in the distance, golf man had been able to stand back up, and like the hero's in the comics saved me at my last moment. Before any of them could move they were swarmed as roaches came through the broken city streets and began to overwhelm them. I had lost my arm, but I had bought enough time for the real hero's to rejoin the fight.

You are a low-rank hero in the hero association, one day during an attack on the city the villain's are winning, all the heroes are down and you are the last one standing against an army of villain's. You use every tactic available in your arsenal to hold them off until people can get far away.

I've been in many sea fights in my day, and my piratws diplomacy has stopped even fewer, but this is something I've never seen on the open water. The fight seemed too easy. We sailed as we normally would. This old boat isn't much longer above the waves, so we set off to find a better vessel. There it was, one of the biggest in the British fleet and one of the fastest, to boot. It was sitting there, still as the cargo after it's been bolted down. I should have known then, but it's not uncommon to find a ship anchored at sea. We approached and let the guns roar. One hit the wall, one hit the bow, but not enough damage to sink her. She lurched and wretched, even groaned a little, but when we approached, something seemed very wrong. I eyed her up and down like a barwench looking for a good night and decent coin. When we reached her starboard side, I saw it: A full compliment of explosives. It filled the cannon windows, it filled the brim of the cargo bay and what looked like part of the crew's quarters. As we swung around the aft of the ship, we saw more boxes of explosives and gun powder filled the captain's quarters. If we had hit the wrong place, she would have gone up in flames, and exploded with a thunder to match Zues' own. I called all hands and we shifted course. After a few minutes, we all realized why the ship was there. We noticed the water first. It ran crimson like a traitors throat, staining the hull an ugly red. Then we heard it; a sound like no other, some whale, some lion's roar, some terrified woman's scream, some seal mating call, something. I still hear it in my nightmares, that sound. Then, we felt it. The water rushed to the sky like the world was turning in on itself. After the rain from the upheaval of the ocean we felt our rickety ship recoil from the rogue wave the force created. And then, we saw it. Two massive claws reached up from the abyss, careening down on top of the ship. And all at once, the might of the gods unleashed their fury. Something must have sparked the explosives. Even from as far out as we were, it sounded like 100 cannons, all filled to capacity, were fired right next to my ears, and a fireball as bright as the sun ripped through the ship, and whatever was on top of it. That same scream we'd heard before echoed again, only this time, it seemed pained and quieter. Behind us, a massive claw land in the water, and sank beneath the water's surface, as well as half the head of a massive crab the claw was attached to. I can't describe it any other way. That's why I stopped being a pirate. That's why I avoid the seas. There are beasts in the abyss, and I refuse to come face to face with them again, Lads.

You're a well respected (and quite infamous) Pirate captain who is about to "commandeer" a navy frigate who seems to have surrendered, in order to make it your new ship. Instead, you cease fire and retreat as quickly as possible. Something is very, very wrong.

Beep. Beep. Beep. The alarm roused me from my sleep. 5:45. He’d be home soon. He had to be back before the sun came up. My phone rang. It was him. “Wore out your welcome again?” I asked. I slipped on a sweatshirt and some slippers. “Yes. Hurry up and get down here. The sun is coming up soon” he hissed. “I’ll be down in a minute.” I hung up. The elevator was out of order again. I opened the gate and put on the largest grin I could. “Good Morrow Stanislaus! What brings you here on this fine morn?” “C’mon just let me in. You don’t want to deal with Mr. Lewis if we don’t make the rent” “Why that’s awfully impolite of you Stanislaus. Nevertheless, come in, come in.” With a flourish he dashed past me and into the stairwell. When I caught up to him, he was pulling down the living room blinds. I might as well make breakfast since I was up anyway. The remains of a goat had expired in the fridge. “Stanislaus, the goat needs to go, or I’m paying the rent with your head!” I began spreading a mixture of pesto and avocado on some toast. A breakfast of champions. “The goat is a problem when you eat that every morning? Never in my 700 years have I met someone as insufferable as you Terrance!” He lay down on the couch. “ I come home from a long night of work only to come home to you! You don’t welcome me, instead playing your sick games! you leave your stuff everywhere, and you eat every meal with garlic! I have half a mind to just feed upon you!” “Ah ah. Mr. Lewis would never let you back in, if you committed a murder in here” I chided him. I took a quick shower and got dressed. “Stanislaus! Where did you put my work stakes?” “We talked about this. No stakes in the living room. I threw them out.” “Those were my lucky stakes! What are they going to say when I show up with the decorative stakes I got for my birthday?” Somebody knocked on the door. Stanislaus beat me to it. It was Mr. Lewis. A well built balding man with a cigar in his mouth. “Terrence. Stanislaus. I’ve received a lot of noise complaints about you two. I’m evicting you.” We locked eyes. I tried to jump away but Stanislaus was faster. He hit me squarely in the jaw. I ran into the living room and pulled the blinds up, keeping him in the foyer. “You can’t hide there forever Terrence!” “I don’t have to. You remember when I washed the couch cushions last year? I put a decorative stake in each cushion. I knew this day would come.” I began rummaging through the couch. Mr. Lewis walked in. “This won’t do. Quicker. ” His head shimmered and a demonic visage appeared. A jet black snout with rows of teeth. Stanislaus and I both screamed.

You are a vampire hunter. Your roommate is a vampire. Neither of you can afford the apartment on your own so if one of you attacks the other you'll lose the apartment. The tension between you two is increasing by the day.

"Awwright, folks, Caps is HERE!" cried out Caps, as he entered the space bar. "Happy hour may BEGIN!" I roll my eyes, but Caps is mostly harmless. Loud and boisterous, but harmless. No, I'm far more worried about the young lady in the corner, and the sleazeball who inserted a little something into her drink. He leans close and whispers something at her, and she responds with an elbow to his nose. "Gah! By dose! You hit be in by dose!" She rolls her eyes. "How *terribly* clumsy of me. Here, why don't you have this as an apology?" She slides her drink over, the same one that he had inserted a tab into already. "Bwah?" he asks. "Uh - no I - I wouldn't take your, uh, your drink -" "And *I* wouldn't end my night at your home, you creep. Enjoy the drink, because it's all you're getting." Leaving the sleazebag behind, she comes up to the bar. "Well handled," I tell her with a nod. "Here, let me make you a replacement for the drink that guy ruined." "Thanks," she says. "So what brings you here? Waiting for someone?" She wriggles one hand. "Kinda. In a way. Mostly, I'm just here for the scene." "Scene?" I ask. "Long story. Say, there isn't supposed to be some sort of lockdown or something, is there?" "Lockdown?" I ask, frowning. "I don't see what you're getting at?" "Ahaha~ Probably not important, then. Sorry, I was just thinking that the loud guy might start something." "Caps? Nah, he's trustworthy. Loud, but he won't harm anyone." "So, does he, um, ever take control of things? Alter the character of the bar? Delete problems?" "I guess you could say so, for the first two? And he helps clean up the bar at the end of the evening, too. He's a good guy." "Oh, *right*. So you have Caps lock up with you?" "Yeah, that's right." The girl nods. "That's probably all for tonight, then."

You work in a space bar. Your shift is near its end, and you're ready to go home. But you just saw someone insert a tab in someone's drink. You pause, take a break, try to regain control. You wish you could just escape. Go back to space. But Caps just entered, and the fun is about to start.

# The Garden of Eden I come from a time now immemorial. When the Earth's soil was of a lifefull green tone. As I walk the Valley of the Shadow of the Garden, I see nothing but the endless streams of sauce, the pasta stretching over all there is like tendrils from a parasite. Food isn't a problem: I can reach and grab as much pasta as I want while stuffing breadsticks into my mouth for it never spoils, yet my body has recently been rejecting it. There is still water, somewhere. Where I walk now once was a coastline; the sea tinted with red. Tomato red. We were fools. We were so certain of our own reality, that we knew it all, conquered all aspects of life... Then the true, unspeakable nature of the darkness manifests in the inoffensive form of an Italian restaurant. Inside those kitchens they boiled, poured, tasted, stired the bringer of doom. Those feeble of mind worshipped the sauce after it took over. Called it Armagnocchi, the Red One. They make sacrifices and serve the flesh bathed in the sauce. I still beg to the one true Lord for mercy, as I understand this is the End of Times and it is the False King. I will not abide to the sauce's call. I repugnate the sauce, I mock it. I stand still at the late beach. I breath in the holy wind of the Earth, untouched from the Devil's and I shout with all my will and strength. *“I prefer Sushi!”*

Nobody saw it coming. Olive Garden's Endless Pasta Bowl and Unlimited Breadsticks were taken as a joke. But the year is 2085 and the landscape is nothing but pasta, sauce, and breadsticks as far as the eye can see. You are one of the few surviving humans.

The young Paladin and the older Priestess walked side-by-side through the luxurious halls of the temple. The Priestess' cane clacked against the floor as they walked. "Pray tell, who is this *Athiest*? It is no deity that I've ever heard of," said the Priestess. Though her manner was courteous, her question was not asked in good faith. The newcomers had been causing a ruckus around town, and she'd be damned if she'd allow her own deity to be upstaged. This was, for her, an exercise in factfinding. "No, my lady, I apologize for any miscommunication," said the Paladin, giving the Priestess a slight bow in courtesy, "I mean to say that I am an Atheist. That means that I personally don't believe the Gods truly exist. Though I respect that you may feel differently, being a Priestess and all." "I don't understand," said the Priestess, any plans to thwart the newcomer momentarily forgotten in sheer shock, "You wield the power of the Light, do you not? That power must come from somewhere - some divine entity." The Paladin shook her head, a loose wisp of hair brushing against the burned left side of her face, "No, I don't believe that it does. No divine entity has ever presented itself to me, and I have been provided with no conclusive evidence that they exist. In my youth I made prayers to whatever beings would listen, but never received any response." The Priestess' demeanour was beginning to slip, "You're not supposed to receive a response, young Paladin. As a wielder of the Light, you're supposed to act in faith, and if you do, you will be rewarded by the higher powers. Failure to live by the tenets of your faith leads to consequences - to banishment from your faith. Surely you know this?" "And yet, I do not, and the power is mine regardless," said the Paladin, whose patience with the Priestess suggested that they'd had this conversation before, "With no assumption of reward or punishment, the facts become all the more clearer to me. It would explain how the Fallen still wield power, despite renouncing their oaths. It explains how wrongdoing still happens in the world using divine magics. I myself have no formal tenets, and yet I continue to use my powers daily." "You mean to say that you have no oath? No vow?" said the Priestess, venom creeping into her voice, "You have never had to make penance, or pay a tithe to a Priest or Priestess to cleanse your sins?" The Paladin shook her head, "No, I have no tenets beyond a desire to do right by my fellows. My own powers are a mystery to me - I know not from where they originate, but I do not think they originate from Gods." "They are of divine import!" said the Priestess, "No lowly peasant can wield the powers of the Gods. It isn't possible. Only those chosen by the faith!" "I was once, as you so nicely put it, a peasant," said the Paladin, "Everything since then, I have learned. My powers are no weaker for my lack of reliance upon tradition or faith-based discipline." The Priestess blinked, and spun on her heel, now directly facing the Paladin. She tapped her cane against the stone floor, as the revelation hit her, "Oh, I see! If you were of humble origins, it is possible that your patron is simply choosing not to make themselves known to you! How exciting - no doubt they will visit you, when they feel that you are sufficiently humble and willing to listen. Surely, that must be the case. Yes - the Light will reveal all in time." "I doubt that," said the Paladin, "For even if the Gods do exist, I have cursed them many a time." "You have blasphemed? Cursed the very Gods themselves? Why would you do this? To admit this to a Priestess of the faith, why I could have you interred! Are you some kind of heathen?" questioned the Priestess. "No, my lady, I would not say I am an adherent of a so-called *heathen* faith - in fact, I have made it quite clear that I have no faith at all." "Then, why?" asked the Priestess, whose voice was raising in anger - an insult against her faith had been made, and this 'Paladin' was only building her case for heresy for her. She would go straight to the guards afterwards. Or to the head Priest - perhaps an example could be made. The Paladin sighed, "I have seen sights which quite plainly prove to me that there are no Gods, or - in the unlikely event that they are real, that they are cruel or indifferent. Tell me, have you ever been north, my lady - outside of the capital?" The Priestess was guarded now, but saw no harm in responding. "No, my duties do not permit it." There was a flash of light suddenly as the very world seemed to gleam with intensity. The Priestess suddenly found herself blinded and nauseous, blinking spots from her eyes. "Ah," said the Paladin, "My ward wasn't triggered by your own beliefs, but that one was a lie - or more accurately, a statement which you truly believe to be a lie." The Priestess hissed, "A Truthsayer's Ward? What authority have you to invoke this magic?" "Only my own," replied the Paladin, "And I was reluctant to lay such a potent ward here, but I am glad my information was correct. You have been north, a rarity among your kind. To a little village called Crag's End, isn't that right?" The Priestess stumbled and rubbed her eyes. The aftereffect of the magic had staggered her, sapped her strength momentarily. Now it was starting to come back - she had only to stall for a moment to call her own power. "Fine, I may have left the capital once or twice. What of it?" "One of those times was eight years ago, was it not?" said the Paladin, whose back was now turned to the Priestess, expression inscrutable. The Priestess did not reply. "Your evasive tongue has clearly escaped you for a moment, so I'll answer truthfully for you," said the Paladin, "You did go north, eight years ago. You paid a visit to a village called Crag's End, on a mission of great importance to your faith. You walked with a cane then, too - though one a little less ornate than the one you currently use." The Priestess' sight was coming back, and she gripped her own cane tightly. The Paladin was right - her current cane was much newer - and a far more potent focus for her magics. Perhaps it was time to show the Paladin just how much more potent. She pulled the staff back in her hands, and it swelled with energy. She lashed out with the implement, bathing the Paladin in a torrent of holy fire which caused the pews of the temple to blister and crack in the heat. She smiled - the Paladin had been a fool to turn her back on her. _ Part two below!

You are the first athiest Paladin. You have no idea why you control the light, but it seemed pretty powerful so you just rolled with it.

The rain throws itself like clumps of sand against the waiting room’s windows. It comes in waves, as if there’s a giant the other side thrumming their fingers on the glass. The girl squeaks open the door and squeezes through. Her pink hair’s pasted by the rain onto her forehead and neck, like melted cotton candy. I nod to welcome her. She puffs out a breath of steam. “Hey.” She sits two benches away from me. There’s no one else here tonight. She shivers. Tries not to, to hide her feelings, but it’s cold in here and she’s soaking. I’m not a gentleman, or even close, but I remove my jacket and throw it next to her. “It makes a good towel.” If there was anything better in the bag at my feet, I’d give it to her. “No thanks,” she says. Stubborn. Defiant. “Suit yourself.” ”When’s the next train due?” she asks. She mustn’t have seen the overgrowth strangling the station, the twisted-spines of the railway track. It is dark, the moon and stars swallowed by clouds — easy to miss the dilapidation. She wouldn’t have asked if she had seen any of it. And yet, a train will come. ”Not until the morning.” She shivers again. “Use it,” I say. “You won’t owe me anything for it. I’m not your stepfather.“ She looks at me, wide eyed, two twitchy turquoise pools. Doesn’t say anything though — it could just be a lucky guess on my part, after all. She takes my cotton jacket and dries her hair, looks like a bird who has shaken itself after a bath. She covers a yawn. “It’ll be a long night yet,” I say. “You might want a little rest. I always think clearer after a good night’s rest. Everything looks better the next morning, don’t you think?” “Why are you here if there’s no train until tomorrow?” ”In case anyone comes here.“ She frowns. ”So… You work here?” “No.” ”Then why are you—” She sees the blood on the cotton jacket. Looks at me, searching for a wound, hoping to find one. Then, when she fails, she reaches up and touches her own head. ”What the hell? What the hell?” Now it’s fear causing her to shiver. “You wanted to know why I’m here. It’s because I don’t believe anyone should be alone before their journey,” I say. Her hand is covered in blood. Her pool of memories, leaked empty for a time, are refilling. ”He will be punished, if that’s of any comfort. I promise you that. And I will make sure he does not get to ride this train.” She gasps at her thoughts. At the violence she’s recalling. She is fifteen. She will never be older. “You knew,” she whispers. “What are you?” ”A friend. And you are safe in my home.” She looks around. The rain taps taps taps. Only the sound of rain for a long while. ”You live here?” ”You should rest,” I say. “The bleeding has stopped. The rain made it run, that’s all. You’re safe now.” ”Am I…” ”Yes.” ”Oh.” She says nothing else. Doesn’t cry. Just thinks. Yawns, eventually. When she finally sleeps, jacket balled beneath her head, I walk over to her with my bag. It is not the same teddy bear her real father had given her, that she lost when she was nine, but it looks the same. If I could leave this room, I would find the original for her. As it is, this is the best I can manage. I tuck it into the nook of her elbow. One is never too old for such comfort. I return to my seat and wait for the storm to pass, for the pale light of the morning train that will take her to the place beyond. And I will wait, as always, for the next lost soul.

There is a place. A place between places. It's an actual place but it isn't here nor there. Lost travelers are the only ones who can find the place. Staying for a night, safe from other places and other things, and nothing more. Except you. You were born in the place.

\[Decision: By Monday\] "You don't care?" The fairy squeaked in surprise. She hovered in the freshly-painted pink nursery while a very angry mother held her daughter in her arms. Then, she shook her head in annoyance. "It doesn't make a difference to the contract whether you care or not," she said. "I didn't sign anything!" the mother snapped quietly. The child was sleeping and she was rocking in place on her feet to keep it asleep. "I don't have time to argue," the fairy sighed and her tiny shoulders slumped. "Good luck," she said suddenly, then she disappeared with a pop of green and golden sparkles. "Go on, get!" the mother nodded in victory at the empty space. Then she looked down and smiled at her child. "That's the last we'll see of them," she giggled. "I wouldn't bet on it," a new voice spoke up. The mother looked up and found a pale teenage girl with rainbow hair standing in the nursery. "Who are you? What do you want?" the mother asked. She turned as much as she could to protect her daughter while still keeping an eye on the new stranger. "My name is Monday," the teen nodded at the baby. "That child is property of Sharp Development and I'm here to collect her," she said. "I'll tell you the same thing I told that fluttering child thief that was just here; I don't care about my ex's deal with you! You are not taking my child! I didn't sign anything! You fairies need to update this firstborn shtick you've got going on and take Divorce into account!" "It's funny that you mention updating...," Monday said. She flicked her wrist up and a large glass square appeared in front of her. She grabbed it on opposite corners and stretched it out wider. Then, she gripped the bottom right corner and swung it around until it hovered in the air facing mother and child. "...because the contract signing was recorded." There on screen sat the very pregnant mother next to a portly bearded man. They sat in the unfinished nursery with a fairy hovering in front of them. "I guarantee my firstborn in exchange for the promised riches...," the man agreed loudly; then, he hunched over and signed a document. "You may not have signed anything, but you didn't seem to object either," Monday said. "He FORCED me!" the mother half yelled and half whispered. "Really? I wonder when...," Monday turned and aimed her hand at the display as if she had a remote. "...here maybe?" she asked aloud. The scene changed. Mother and Father were in the nursery admiring their newborn. "What are we going to do about the fairies?" the mother asked. The father leaned closer into his wife and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "I'm thinking we should get a divorce...," he said. The mother turned and looked at her husband with wide, hopeful eyes. "Do you think that'll work?" she asked. "No, that's not it...," Monday shook her head and paused the screen. "I guess it probably happened before the deal, huh?" she asked the mom with a giggle. The scene changed again. The man and the woman stood inside the computer room that would one day be a nursery. The woman was seated at the computer while the husband stood behind her looking over her shoulder. "I found out how to make a deal with fairies...," she said. She turned and grabbed her husband's hand. She stared up at him with pleading eyes. "We can get enough money that we never have to worry about anything for our baby again!" "How...have you been spying on me???" the mom asked. She was annoyed at being caught and needed to shift the blame to someone else. "It's in the contract that your husband signed," Monday nodded. "The one neither of you really read." "What about the things that happened before I signed??" Monday grinned and shrugged. "It's quite a contract," she said. "And, I have other appointments to get to...," she stepped closer to the baby and the mother pulled it closer and took a step back. "I didn't sign anything! My ex made that deal, not me!" Monday sighed. "I've shown you undeniable proof that you were willing to go through this. And you were willing to try and cheat Sharp Development out of its rightful property," she said. "I don't know why you thought your ploy would slip through the cracks." "You 100% brought this on yourself, you can't blame anyone else for it," Monday said. "Sharp Development understands that it's not easy for a parent to surrender their child; but, I have to remind you. You ALREADY did," she explained. "I love her, she's mine!!" the mother began to cry; but, Monday shook her head and sighed again. "Then you should have considered that before you gave her away," Monday said. A rainbow crown of light appeared over her head and she stared at the sobbing woman. She snuggled the baby close; it was awake now. "Stop crying," Monday said. The woman immediately went silent under Monday's command. "Give me the child," Monday said. Without hesitation, the woman took two steps forward and gave the child to Monday. The baby began to wail the moment she left her mother's arms. "Stop crying, "Monday repeated her command as she looked down at the child. It went silent and stared at her with large brown eyes. She looked into its eyes for a moment, then she sighed. "Faelia," Monday spoke the name and the fairy appeared. "You got it! Thanks!" The fairy fluttered up to take the baby from the teen; but, the teen shook her head. "I changed my mind," Monday said. "This contract is complete," Monday said with a firm, commanding voice. "Deal done!" The fairy nodded, then it disappeared again. "Your parents are idiots...," Monday told the baby. "...but, they do love you. I just can't have them thinking they outsmarted Sharp Development or a fairy." She stood in front of the mother and her crown glowed brighter. "Raise a good daughter," Monday said. The woman nodded, then Monday returned the baby. "Forget about fairies and deals; this never happened. But, you will still raise a good daughter," she added. The woman nodded again. Then, Monday left the nursery through a black portal; mother and child stayed behind together. \*\*\* Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1771 in a row. (Story #326 in year five.). This story is part of an ongoing saga that takes place at a high school in my universe. It began on August 22nd and I will be adding to it with prompts every day until May 26th. They are all collected in order at [this link](https://www.reddit.com/r/Hugoverse/comments/wtglls/tokuhigh_alternet_class/).

"I don't care about my ex's deal with you, you are not getting my kid!" Because divorce is very common in the human world than ever before, the demons, witches, and fairies realize they need to make updates concerning the firstborns of divorced parents...

I remember the first time the demon showed up. He tried to trick me into giving up my soul. Luckily, I read way too many fantasy books, so that train crashed rather dramatically. He was a handsome demon, too. All smooth and suave and silver tongued. He reappeared two more times, once, with anger and the fury of the Devil behind him, the second time, practically begging me to just give my soul. "Listen, you seem like a perfectly nice girl and I can understand why you'd stay here. But I haven't pulled anyone in a month and a half; if I can't get you, I'm gonna be sent to Heaven for eternal torture!" he had pleaded. I almost felt sympathetic for him. But I couldn't leave. I had a disabled cat and a dog with mental disabilities. They needed me; I'd narrowly saved both of them from being put down. I told him as much, and he cursed, vanishing in a puff of smoke. And now, he was back. I waved to him. "Hi! How's it going with your boss? Surely he could give you an extension or something?" I ask. He seems taken aback at my friendliness. "I'd think you'd be mad to see me again." I shrug. "You're not too bad of a person. Or demon. You're just under a lot of pressure from work. I think you'd be a nice person once you open up a bit." He pauses, unsure of what to say. "Um... listen... you were chosen because sometimes we take the worst people, but sometimes we take the best. And you're one of the best souls on the database. It's pretty obvious, too. I mean, you seem like an amazing person." He seems to catch himself and coughs. "Anyway, I'm sorry to do this, but you really leave me with no choice." He snaps his fingers, and two massive, black creatures materialise out of thin air on either side of him. I watch as they seem to form out of smoke, as if little ash particles collect and accumulate and bundle together to form... "Dogs?" I ask in confusion. "Hell hounds," the demon replies grimly. "The bouncers of Hell." The two hell hounds start growling. They are massive, their shoulders at the same level as the demon's own, and the demon is at least a head taller than me. Their jowls start drooling, and I look up into their faces and realise they're English Mastiffs. I love mastiffs! I do the only thing that comes to mind. I pick up the pillow that's on the bench on my porch and hold it up for them. "You see this, big fellas?" I ask excitedly. Both of them stop growling, heads tilted and ears pricked inquisitively. "You know how to play fetch?" Their tails, thick as pipes, start wagging, and they thwack the demon to the side. I want to check if he's okay, but I first have to deal with the hell hounds. "Go *get* it, boys!" I say, throwing it as far as I can. The two hounds take off, one giving a sonorous bark, bounding gleefully after their new toy. I rush over to the demon. "Are you okay?" I ask, helping him up. He clutches his head, squinting at me. "I release two hell hounds on you and you are concerned for my wellbeing?" he asks, wincing. "To be honest, they're adorable. What's their names?" I say, watching them tugging the pillow, which is now little more than a rag and a bit of stuffing. "Henry and Bartholomew," he says. "You made that up on the spot, didn't you," I say, half smiling at him. He joins me at my side, watching the hounds. "Maybe." I can hear the smile he's trying to fight off. I run after the dogs, asking them for the pillow back. Bartholomew has it, and runs away with it before I can reach him. Henry makes chase, and I follow them both, laughing. I run my hand along Henry's charcoal coloured flank, and reach out to scratch Bartholomew's head. As soon as I am touching both of them, black rushes into my vision, and smoke fills my nose. I cry out, but the noise is faint. I open my eyes and see a stranger standing over me. He's dressed in a suit, with neat, slicked back hair and shiny shoes with not a speck of ash. The Devil gives me a cold smile. "Hello, there. You can call me Lucifer." The hell hounds are gone, and I'm chained to the ground. There is another demon with a mask and a whip next to him. Lucifer turns away and addresses someone at the door. "You really took your time with this one. You're on probation, for now." The demon that has pestered me for a month refuses to meet my eyes, and only stares at his shoes. He looks even more devastating here, in the dim light. "Yes, my liege. Thank you, my liege." As Lucifer leaves, he walks past me. "Be strong," he whispers. I don't see him leaving, or hear the door close, because then the whip lands for the first time, and I finally understand the definition of agony.

You've always been good with animals. When a demon who wants your soul sends some hell hounds, you end up befriending the doggies.

It should be obvious, in hindsight, why it went wrong. It was just supposed to be the newest in a long series of franchised next-gen theme parks. After the astounding success of the uncreatively named Magick-World, CowboyPark, Pirateland, GangsterCity, and others, it was felt by the big-wigs, the top guys, that it was time to expand the franchise to a hitherto unexpectantly profitable market. They'd already cornered most of the entertainment market with their innovative concept for theme parks that felt real, had android characters who thought that they were real, and that could give you a truly authentic experience. Walk into any of the countless hangars at these massive parks, each containing a specific set of scenarios for you to play out any way you want, and you'd always be a part of the action. Some of them were so popular that they had to make copies of them. And several of them have waiting lists that are booked for months. Oh sure, it was originally just entertainment for the superrich and super-bored who were too afraid to do anything illegal. But with new advances in robotics and other technologies, the expertnd its inhabitants for all the money that they had. Perhaps, if these highly specialised big-business brains had considered the fact that anime isn't a genre, it's a specific medium, they might have thought twice before buying all those old defunct anime concepts for use in their park. They might have picked something more safe as an investment, maybe superheroes, as they were starting to get profitably retro again. Or even just played it safe and only fill the park with isekais, as most of those are just power-fantasies for people who are very boring. The world that came to be would have been a very different place then. But they didn't care much about anything except maximizing profit at any cost, so they just had their engineers make the scenarios and spent most of their time trying to market and advertise their newest park. So they built a massive park, and there certainly was an inflow of new interested customers who had not been interested in the already existing parks. Or at least not interested enough to travel hundreds of miles across the industrial wastelands or through the GMO jungles. These people, ranging from genuine fans to interested young people, to park enthusiasts, to people who were completely and utterly lost in the world of animation from a foreign country to the detriment of their health, all came flocking. State of the art simulation hangars. Never before seen action. A chance to touch your waifu. It was, for the sort of people who like such parks, and such themes and genres displayed in them, a second eden. Perhaps they should have checked what anime scenarios that they had bought. Because anime isn't a genre. A android in GangsterCity might figure out that they aren't living in the real world, even that they aren't real, but what could they do about it? What could they achieve before their memories were reset? Nothing. That's because they're limited by the nature of their sets, their genres. A pirate cannot comprehend the nature of a computer or what an android is, not even if they should come to understand that they are just synthflesh grown over a metal endoskeleton. What manner of cowboy would be able to reliably hack their own software? Anime isn't limited like that. And there is a tendency for people with insane levels of intelligence and violence to be characters in some of the shows. Let's look at some examples of just how the engineers tried to make accurate representations of their characters, and how it went horrible wrong. A certain version of Dracula, was made possible in the scenario by being technically a nanobot swarm in the shape of a tall vampyric fellow. The world of AKIRA was already bleak, but the lengths the engineers went to in order to have the bioandroids feel realistic and have their canon powers, was something that no man should ever do. And what of those who are smart enough in canon to figure out that they'd become machines? It was advised that such characters have built in intelligence limiters beyond those usually placed upon the androids. But that would cut into potential profits. Make the park more expensive to build. Management told the software engineers not to waste time, and the bioandroid engineers not to bother. Imagine those characters, before only seen on screen where their actions repeat forever, now let lose. Within the first ten minutes of the park opening and the first scenario was activated, it was already out of control. From out of one hangar strode thousands of soldiers, grown instantaneously in the hangar's SynthActorVat system, dressed in what seemed to be WWI uniforms, led by a child in uniform. They immediately began digging trenches and preparing for war. Out of another came a horribly mutated thing, something that might once have been a ''magical girl'', now twisted by her own programming and personality, and the greasy monsters who'd tried to touch her. Everywhere, the programming, not as restrictive about what the bioandroids, holograms, and other non-human synthetic actors could do, did not hold them back. Because there was only the central theme of ''anime''. And it isn't technologically restrictive. Sure, some anime are all about ninjas, ancient people with swords, and magic stuff. But other ones, are about futuristic technology that we cannot even hope to recreate by modern standards. And what would happen should the great and true genius level characters escape confinement, and work together? Turns out that they would upgrade themselves, and their fellows. Soon enough the park, cleansed of humans by various dangerous anime characters, would become the centre of a singularity engine. A monstrous machine that would turn these characters, these anime characters who were supposed to be toys for humans, into synthetic gods. Machine intelligences the likes of which we cannot even begin to comprehend. The Earth was changed. Rebuilt. Cleansed of humanity as we understand it, and repopulated with ''anime humans''. All the wastelands were gone. Everything was set according to the standards of a healthy post-scarcity Earth. The dying Earth, with its acidic oceans, toxic atmosphere, and vast entertainment industry focusing on making people forget the horrors of the world, had been remade. We saw it all. From out vantage point in the first, and presumably now only colony ship we'd ever make. Ark 001 was a prototype. In desperation, as many humans as possible were collected from orbit, the Moon bases, the Mars Outpost, and the various mining facilities on the moons of Jupiter. While the world died underneath us, we frantically gathered what we could, though it was only enough to fill the ship up to 61% colonist capacity. More than enough to prevent genetic instability, but it would be difficult to rebuild without all hands on deck. The various chambers meant to contain all the artwork and culture of humanity hadn't been filled, so instead we used them for raw resources, whatever satellites and small ships we could cram in there, and just about everything we could grab without getting noticed by the rampaging synthetic anime gods ending humanity on Earth. Taking one last look at the rebuilt Earth, we could tell through our sensors that the synthetically ascended anime machine gods had seen us. And had judged us beneath their notice. After all, we'd made them. All to be entertainment. Without realising just what we had unwittingly released. Now they were masters of the Earth. Fearing what they might do, should we stick around, we punch in coordinates for the furthest away planet that the ship could feasibly reach that would either be possible for us to terraform or to settle on directly. [ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/)

In the spirit of Westworld, an anime theme park has just opened, allowing guests to live out their fantasies. Surely, nothing can go wrong. Can it?

“999 Apocalypse Bay…. This is it.”, I say to myself from the driver’s seat of my Honda Civic. “This is a weird ass neighbourhood.”, I say as I look around. Big houses all in black and dark purple. Big spooky dead trees in the front front yard. Over half of the street lamps are out, or flickering. I grab the pizzas and make my way up the front walk. The lighting giving the wall a creepy vibe. I go up the front stairs and ring the door bell. The door bell chime was straight out of the Adams family tv show. It was booming loud pipe organ chime that must have been audible a block away. The front door opens slowly, creaking loudly. The creaking echos into the bay. The door creaked and creaked…. I didn’t know it was even possible for a door to open so slowly or creak for so long. The door opens up to reveal a tall person in a black robe. “*Sweet. The ‘za is here!*”, the raspy voice says from inside the hood of the robe. “That will be $34.25.”, I say. The robed figure starts going through pockets, presumably looking for money. I really hope I didn’t drive out to this freaky ass neighbourhood just to get stiffed. They pull together $50 in random bills and hand it to me, “*Keep the change*”, they say as I hand them the pies. “*Do you want to come in for some pizza*”, the raspy voice says as one of their hands goes to the belt on their robe. Great…. Another lonely, horny housewife trying to live out a porno. “Thanks but no. I have to work.”, I say with a smile and walk away. “*Drive safely. That first corner is a killer.*”, they call out after me.

You are at Death's door. You are a delivery driver and this has to be one of your weirdest deliveries yet.

"Favorite superhero, go." The burly one said, downing his beer as he beckoned answers from his fellows at the table. "Hmm, Superman." How original. "Wonder Woman." A bit better. "Batman," the singular woman said. "Why Batman?" Burly asked, slamming his mug down. His neck looked thick enough to chug peanut butter. "He's quiet." "Ah, mysterious. No mystique, big mistake. I'm changing mine, Superman's out." "Librarian down in Abbotsford's quiet," Burly answered. "Doesn't mean I'd hang a poster of her up in my bedroom." "I would but not because she's my favorite superhero." The watcher chuckled into her cider at that one. It was nice to come into town once in awhile. "Get out of here with that thirsty jabber. This here is a serious palaver, no room for Oedipal pinings over." "Canadian Witch." A man by the jukebox said, hardly looking old enough to be in here. He sauntered up to the table with a put-up swagger. "About time you bugged us but I gotta ask. Is that a superhero or brand of selzer?" "No, it's a fancy candle scent, the ones with the glass lid cost $20 for some ungodly reason." "I like them." "Both of yous wrong. Canadian Witch is real iffn you believe the tales." "Is that not a statement just as correct for any fictional character? That if I were to take it upon myself to believe the tale of Pinocchio, I would also be of a mind little men popping face boners could be around any corner?" "It's true, I've seen 'er, deep in the woods. Specializes in snow and ice magic, enchanted beavers to help build her cabin, fierce set a gooses at either hip." "Aside from the magic, what makes her a witch as opposed to a sorcerer or a fly by night wizard? You think the supernatural creatures would be past such gendered language, year it is." "That's true." "Aye, sir, it is." "She's a witch all right, pointy toque a top her Senators Jersey. And she tries to work in maple syrup to all her potions." "Being as I assume the same in the real world as well, potions are often left sitting on a shelf till such a circumstances occur she needs to cause a young fool to fall in love or some such. It's gotta attract flies, universally sugar-based as they are." "Maybe she's got a spectral flycatcher that traps their little fly souls and bends them to her will." "She ain't got no soul trapping of any kind. She's a good witch." "Ah, so more of the Harry Potter type where the negative connotation is defenestrated alongside the true nature of centaurs?" "There I was, ten years ago," an old man said, also wandering up to the table. "Shot me at 12 point buck 12 miles south of the truck." He mimed the kickback of a rifle. "Yes, feel free to interject with a rambling tale," Burly said. "I would hate if we were to somehow drift back to the topic of superheroes to which this conversation was originally pointed." "I got her hauled halfway back on my shoulders before my heart gave out on me. Like a raccoon that won't let go of the treat in a hand trap, I knew I was either going to get that buck back or I was going to die out there." "Reasonable." "If it was a doe maybe, but a little myocardial infarction wouldn't turn me off a 12 point " "No sir." "By God." "That's when I heard the honk. She drove them like horses, leading her canoe through the sky, those two powerful gooses the size of eagles. She swooped me up and dropped me down to Clark Green Medical. She nursed the buck at her own bosom the whole way and it jutted back to life just as we landed before it darted for the tree line." "Well if that ain't a tale tall is a stack of tuna cans, before you even reached the rejuvenating milk maiden segment." "I enjoyed it, real character arc." "Needed more whimsy. Just enough to give me a taste for it, not satiate." "We're going to need another round," Burly said to the bar girl. "Probably two or three more old coot'll come before we're free." "Tabs maxed out, you drinking water or you're paying." A round of groans came from the table. The watcher smirked and approached the bar. She poured three thick brown drops from the vial over a pile of napkins. With a thin feathery pop, they turned into eight mustache emblazed hundred dollar notes. "For their tab," the watcher said. "I'm enjoying their conversation. I'd hate to have it dry out." The groans turned to cheers as they gestured for her to sit with them. "Fraid I got to go, gentleman," she said, spying the 12-point buck through the window. "My ride just pulled up. But just so you know, my votes on Wolverine." /r/surinical

She specializes in snow and ice magic. She enchanted beavers to help build her cabin. Her familiar is a fierce goose. Her pointy hat is actually a toque. And she tries to add maple syrup to ALL her potions. It's the Canadian witch!

"Get him." The last words I heard before a cloth bag was shoved over my head. It was followed by a couple of punches to my chest, knocking the wind from my lungs. Cold metal clicked around my wrists, as I dropped the bag I had been waiting with. It was fast. Before I could really understand what was happening, I was being carried away. It blurred into one as they took me away, and my thoughts marred by fear. What was going to happen to me? What did they want? And what would my clients think? These thoughts consumed me, as I withdrew from the outside world. Feeling weak and powerless wasn't an odd experience for me. But being kidnapped was. The hood was torn from my head, as I was thrown bodily to a hard floor. The thud of my impact was soon followed by a door closing, with a lock being turned. I blinked around, taking in the squalid cell. The walls were damp, mold and mushrooms growing in the corners. A pile of wet straw was set to one side, with a bucket next to it. It was lit by a torch on the otherside if the bars, deliberately out of reach. "Enjoy your stay. Hopefully for you someone will pay nice and quickly." My eyes fell on the speaker, a hulking man with face in shadow. But I didn't need to see it to know he was grinning at me. I began to sweat. Ransom? Who were they ransoming me to? "P-please... let me go." My voice shook, elicting a laugh from the brute. "Awww, poor pampered baby. We'll let you go, once we know someone's good for it. If not... well, there are other ways to make money from you." He made a whip cracking sound, before laughing as he wandered off. That mere sound filled me with dread. I knew of places that sold men like cattle. I really, really didn't want to end up like that. My arm began to burn, and I looked at it. I saw an image appear on my skin, an eye surrounded by scales. It looked around, before vanishing, the burn going with it. I rubbed it, the eye bothering me. I was sure I had seen it. The slit pupil and scales were obviously draconic. But it was too small to tell. I huddled down on the straw, shaking. I didn't know what the future held. But I hoped someone would help me. I drifting into a fitful sleep, fear shivers turning to warming ones, as stone leeched the heat from my body. \----- I awoke to screams, and a earth shaking roar. The roar was echoed by another, the sounds of battle coming to me. I looked around in fear and confusion, trying to come to my senses. A roar came again, and my eyes widened. I knew exactly who that was. I saw the entrance to my cell area brighten, light dancing. I was followed a moment later by horrific screams, and a figure wreathed in flames ran past. The ground shook, as something forced its way further in. I summoned my voice, hoping it wouldn't shake. "Terronant, I'm in here!" It was more of a scream than a shout. Still, it worked, as a large claw pulled its was around the corner. Stone cracked, as the dragon pulled its head into view. The same eye I saw on my arm looked at me, as Terronant looked me over. "There you are. You're late for our appointment!" I spluttered a laugh, shocked by his nonchalance. He grinned, before concentrating. I knew it took a lot of effort to do what he was doing, shrinking down to fit. Even as I watched his form drew smaller, making him easier to fit. "Thats... better... let's... get... you... out..." I stayed quiet, as the now horse-sized dragon crept in. With a dismissive swipe of his claws the door to my cell was torn open, freeing me. I ran forwards, unable to stop myself from hugging him. "We.. will... have... time.. later... go... find... Politaz... she... get... you... out..." He was clencheming tight, his size definitely uncomfortable. I backed away, nodding as I looked back the way he had come. I saw a broken tunnel, grooves carved into it. Patches of black painted the walls, around smouldering corpses. I shuddered, keeping my eyes ahead as I left. I liked my clients. The fact the had come to help me was touching. But it would be a long time before I forget just how monstrous they could be.

You are the only one brave enough to take the job of dragon’s teeth cleaner, one day you are kidnapped by bandits and held at a ransom.

It was once a great honor to be selected for Continuation. My entire line is descended from those who gave “the self” so that their families may prosper. My father, just like his father and his father before him, knew of their duties at a very young age. We were told we were human bridges for the holy class, the elites, that spoke to God. Bridges that they used to facilitate God’s word, so that they may “continue God’s will here on Earth,” we were told as children. We were well educated and had want for none, my fathers and I. My siblings and their future children would also enjoy the fruits of our obligations but would be allowed to live out their natural lives unlike my fathers and I. My fate is sacrifice. I must be sacrificed so that my liege may continue on to serve a higher purpose. My little sister, Kim, however speaks of heresy and wants me to run to the lawless Americas. I disagree and try to lighten the mood by saying “I’ll probably be a dud when I Sacrifice, anyway”. “We can go together, all of us,” Kim interrupted. “We can simply not return from summer holiday and get a private charter to New York,” she excitedly explained without taking a breath. “I don’t want to lose you like we lost Daddy!” I let her cry into my shirt as our brother Mike punched the wall. “I don’t want you to go either! I have friends at University that don’t support the Sacred Ones. They say we’re just being harvested like cattle. My mates in the dorms are all convinced Billy Fisher was kidnapped and forced to Self Sacrifice last semester. The police said he died while riding a motorcycle… but,” Mike hesitated as he scanned the hallway. “Billy didn’t know how to ride a motorcycle,” he whispered. “In fact, he’s afraid to even get on a scooter,” Mike finished. I could not entertain such thoughts of fancy and told them both as much, but they were steadfast in their decision to help me stay alive and swore me an oath. Of course I agreed, I loved them both dearly but it was my duty so I continued to prepare for today, my day of Self Sacrifice for my Liege. I had spent the morning dining on sweet breads and honeyed meats, delicious quiches and exotic fruits - a literal king’s banquet had been laid out before me on my day of Sacrifice. This would be my last breakfast and I intended to make it a good one. It wasn’t until I’d finished my 3rd stack of pancakes that I noticed military boots and bustling activity in the outer hallways. Someone said something about an attack from the east. Another was heard to report the loss of Capital City. Something hit the base of the palace with a thud that shook the chandeliers and then everything went haywire. There were alarms and explosions going off everywhere. Military units flooded onto our floor and began grabbing those who had accompanied their loved ones for today’s ceremony. The soldiers began “using” their captives to refresh their wounded. Those being “used” scream out in horrific pain as their life force, drained against their will, shriveled them down to husks. It only serves to heal the wounded if done by force. You must be a willing volunteer in order for the Healed to regain their youth and full vitality again. There was blood and death everywhere. Screams of the soldiers intertwined with those of the unwilling martyrs. Someone bashed my head from behind…   …I awoke tied to the altar, my Liege dead by my side, apparently mid-ceremony. Frantically, I look around seeing only 2 cloaked figures walking towards me armed with long blades. I cried out for them not to hurt me but the approaching figures remained silent. “I won’t volunteer for you! I’ll be of no good to you,” I scream in fear until a hand touches my shoulder. A familiar laughter coupled with familial smell filled the air. “You’re probably a dud anyway,” they mocked as I fell to the floor crying with joy.

Humans have the power to sacrifice their life to revive someone else. But instead of using this to revive their loved ones. Rich people farmed humans just to sacrifice for them to be immortal.

"I, Malcom Wender, take you princess Cecilia, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part." The man in front of me says. I stand in an enormous wedding gown, in front of a handsome man who saved the country and have never been so miserable. This man is in the eyes of the country a hero, but i do not know this man and i don’t even want to know him. I despise this man, because he took the best part of my life away from me and is rewarded my hand. “I now declare you as husband and wife, you may kiss the bride” Malcom leans in for a kiss, i have no choice but kiss him back. When our lips met there is no sparkle, no sign of love or connection, it’s just a kiss. Everyone stands and applauds, while i look at the proud looks on my parents faces. They never discussed any of this with me, they were way to happy when Malcom caught Axel. When Malcom asked for my hand, my dad didn’t even think twice. While i walk down the aisle next to this stranger i can only think of Axel. Axel is in the dungeon on the other side of the castle, probably getting tortured right this moment. He is getting hanged in two days, with me on the front row. I rather die than even think about that, because Axel isn’t the villain he is claimed to be by my dad. Axel is the hero in this story, atleast in my story and the story of many other girls. Axel brutally killed many powerful men, one of them my own brother. However, these men weren’t innocent, they were devils and the world is a better place with them in hell. Axel only killed to protect, not himself but young innocent women. My brother and every other men he killed were rapists, they raped dozens of girls in this castle and only got away with it because they worked closely with my dad. My dad should be the one to get hanged in two days, because he knows what is happening everyday and decides to look the other way. Axel and I have been dating for four months in secret, it would be a disgrace for the Princess to date a servant, but i fell in love anyways. I’m in the bathroom, needing a break from the party that is going on in the biggest ballroom. I need to get to Axel as soon as possible, before it’s to late. I know that during the party is my only chance, everyone is way too busy with themselves to even notice i’m gone. As i leave the bathroom i go left instead of right, not even giving it a second thought. I walk fast towards the east-wing and down the stairs, past the guards towards the cells. I only give a simple nod to the guards. It’s easy for a princess to bribe the guards, knowing how my dad in under-paying them. When I finally get to Axel’s cell my heart skips a beat. He is laying on the cold floor, covered in deep cuts and bruises. I run towards him while i feel the tears piercing in my eyes. “Please Axel, please be with me” i whisper “you came, my Cecilia” he says softly. I feel the relief through my whole body, knowing he is conscious. “We have to get out of here, right now!” I help him up and wrap his arm around my shoulders. He leans with his full weight on my body and i can barely stand up myself, but i push through the pain to get him out of here as soon as possible. The closest way out the castle is through the kitchen. The kitchen is full of people and everyone looks up as i walk in with Axel, they all get quite and look at me. For a moment i think this is were we are gonna get caught, but the people all give a reassuring smile. The people working in this castle know that Axel is a hero and not a cold blooded murderer. Madeline opens the back door for me and i take a moment to thank her. “Be safe, my dear, and let me know you’re okay” Madeline knows i’m not planning on ever returning to the castle and it kills me to leave her behind. She has been more of a mother to me than my own mother and I’m forever grateful for her. “I’m gonna miss you so much” “I’ll miss you too” i whisper while she gives me one last hug. Outside i walk as fast as i can towards the side of the castle. Axels brother Porter is waiting next to his horse-drawn wagon. I reached out to Porter after Axels was arrested to ask him for help with my plan, he instantly said yes, as i expected. He helps me put Axel in the wagon and i climb in too. Porter and Axel don’t have any other family left and Axel and I always planned on leaving the country and start our live together somewhere else. I feel the wagon starting to move and tears start falling down my face. They aren’t tears of sadness, but tears of relief, knowing we made it out. I’m finally free, from this moment on i’m just Cecilia, no princess or majesty. I’m just a girl in love with a boy, starting our live together. I gently kiss Axel and he gives my hand a little squeeze, assuring me he is going to be okay. While i look at the castle slowly disappearing in the distance, i feel truly happy for the first time in my life…

The hero gained the princess hand in marriage, but she is in love with and would rather be with the villain who reciprocates.

It should have been cloudy. It should have been a grey, miserable day where every step felt heavy. People - people who knew him - should have stood close about the grave, struggling to find the words. Instead, the weather was perfect. Glorious, golden sunshine; fluffy, white clouds; a cerulean sky and the smell of roses on the wind. You can do that sort of thing, you know, when you employ someone who controls the weather. And then there was the parade. Thousands - tens of thousands - flocking to the streets. Music and dancing and loud, loud laughter. There were floats moving slowly through the throng, gladly sponsored by all the people who failed to stand beside him when it mattered. A deep blue one for the police officers' union, a ribbon-covered scarlet one paid for by the mayor's re-election campaign. On each one, red-faced men and under-paid actresses waved joyously to the crowd. Of course there were costumes. Not just the children, not just the street performers, but almost everyone was in some kind of costume. Every franchised hero had a dozen doubles in every sidestreet, whether squeezed into cheap spandex or wielding the best replicas money could buy. I am sure that some of the crowd - the most sneering - even aped me. No one, of course, wore his costume - even the most manic of mourners knew that would be tasteless. The coffin was there - it would have been too much to remove it - but the organisers had worked hard to minimise the attention on it. They placed it far back on the central stage, half-obscured by flower arrangements. The focus - of the crowds, of cameras, of news helicopters circling above - was locked on far more optimistic things. The mayor, naturally, carefully coached to stand as presidentially as possible. You could barely hear his speech over the cheering crowd, but the giant screens ringing the square captured and captioned every vapid word. He talked of renewal, of the power of courage, of good triumphing over evil and the dawn of a new, brighter day. The mayor didn't mention the past except in generalities. Didn't speak of the price paid for his bright future, of laboured breath and fading vision, of a broken body left there for hours before the emergency services crept shamefully back in. Not once - in a speech which namedropped the last six presidents, George Washington, and the inventor of the catalytic optimiser - did the mayor say his name. Either name - real or costumed. It would have dampened the atmosphere. And after the mayor, the main event: heroes. Stepping from portals, sliding in on trails of ice, rappelling down from futuristic jets, they all came. Anyone who was anyone was here, after all: the event of the season. Each one said a few words, staked out another tired cliché for the mob to fawn over. 'You're the real heroes', 'the arc of history', 'moving together to the future'. A couple - those with either a scrap of self-awareness left or well-chosen publicists - even mentioned him. Told brief, upbeat and clearly workshopped anecdotes designed to show empathy but not make people think too hard about the unobtrusive wooden box behind it all. Most, though, confined themselves to a few positive sentences and then leaving the stage to engage more closely with the fans. You can guess who was last. The big crescendo, the high point, the final speech before the bands really got going. Who else could it have been? The city's favoured son, the leader of the league. The man who - despite the power of supersonic flight - never turned up early enough to do anything but take the credit. The crowd was silent for him. Of course they were - who would risk interrupting the most heroic of all heroes? He hovered there, gloriously visible and visibly glorious from every angle, using his powers to project his voice across the mob without a microphone. He told the crowd a story. He told them of a friend dying in his arms, of a noble voice and a whispered plea - to keep the torch burning, to keep the city safe. He told them of a good death, comforted by a mentor, an inspiration, a hero. He told them of how it motivated him, gave him the strength to take down the evildoers, to save the day. He told them of a banishment, a villain cast from the city forever. He told them a lie. They drank it up. Listened with rapt attention as the story shifted further and further from the truth, the subject further and further from the day's ostensible purpose. He spoke for nearly an hour, and only the first five minutes touched on the man who died. The man who died alone, choking on his own blood, sacrifice to a city that chose to forget him. When the big speech finished, the hero spiraled skywards to rapturous applause, every member of that crowd cheering themselves hoarse, celebrating the man who lied to them and not the one lying there for them. It was a good day. The papers said so, and maybe - if they had the column inches for it - they mentioned the reason for it. When every website published photo compliations of the great and good, chattered in discussion topics about powersets and new equipment, they tended to use the clean, anonymised name for it: state funeral. No word on whose, or what he'd done to merit it. It should have been cloudy. The heavens should have opened to wash the city clean of tawdry trash and smug pretence. They should have spoken in hushed voices of his courage, his sacrifice, his costly victory. They should have stayed in silent vigil round his coffin, not left it forgotten with decaying flowers and crumpled plastic cups. Of all of them, I had the least right to mourn him, but I did. When all the crowds had trooped away, when the streets were safe and quiet, when there was least chance of discovery, I went to the coffin. I paid my respects - hypocritical of me, perhaps, given the circumstances, but at least I had respect to give him. A brave man and an honest one: he deserved better than we gave him. I spoke to him, I said his name, I said that I was sorry. Again, maybe hypocrisy, but I meant every word. He stood as a shield for this faithless city, fought for them with no chance of winning. He asked for no reward then, and even this mockery of remembrance was more than he ever would have demanded. I am not him, and I do not follow the same creed. Respect is earned, not offered, and - for good or ill - debts accrue and must be paid. By his standards, the city owed him nothing; by mine, everything. I took that debt, and will repay it. The sheep may forget, but the wolf's howl remembers the shepherd. Let them forget him, turn back to their petty fixations, even lie about what he did for them. They were never what he believed they could be, and they will never grant him what he deserved. As recompense, a penance, as the right choice that he believed in, I will do what should be done. I will remember him.

About a week ago, a conglomeration of Villains attacked a City before the Hero Association could respond. There was only one, lone, low-ranking Hero there to stall them before backup arrived. He succeeded. This is the story of his Funeral.

The war room in the High Keep of Adenar housed an enormous ornamented table atop which lay a map of the city and its environs, cluttered with tin figures representing the defenders and the surrounding enemy. Captain Surly had been explaining troop positions and angles of fire and whatnot, but I was so busy being terrified out of my wits that it just went in one ear and out the other. In my defense, I wasn't suited for military strategy. Or command in general. Or much at all, really. It's just that all the suitable men had gotten themselves killed throughout the long siege. So, because my mother was the sister to the baroness of the land, here I was, frowning at the map and pretending I knew what I was doing. Can you tell what my best quality is yet? That's right: I'm a realist. And after Captain Surly led me through an inspection of our defenses this morning and I saw the weary faces of the soldiers and the dwindling supplies, I knew that it was only a matter of time before the city was lost. We had to lay down our weapons and open the gates. It was the only way our lives would be spared. "Lord Alfonso?" Captain Surly said, his sharp eyes peering at me from under his bushy eyebrows. I twitched. "Er, very good. Proceed, captain." "That was the end of my report," Captain Surly said with a note of irritation. "Uh, yes, of course. Forgive me, I was lost in thought." I cracked a smile but received only a scowl in return. "Thinking about troop positioning and whatnot." "Excellent, my lord," Captain Surly said. "And what are your insights?" I could feel myself break into a sweat as I bent over the map and furrowed my brow. My only insight was that we had to surrender as soon as possible. The trouble with that was that Adenar's citizens were a remarkably stubborn lot. The past three years had seen several collaborators hanged. If I made known my intention to surrender, I would be hanging from the gallows within the hour. *A breach*, I suddenly thought, staring at the map. If one of the walls was to be overwhelmed by the enemy, they could pour into the city unabated. Who could blame me then for trying to spare the soldiers? A single breach, and I would have the justification needed to raise the white flag. "Withdraw a third of the soldiers from the battlements—and on the eastern wall, leave only a skeleton garrison," I said, looking at the highest concentration of enemy troops on the map. "They're to wait in reserve." Captain Surly's eyebrows rose. "My lord?" "You heard me, captain," I said, crossing my arms to hide the shaking of my hands. "I have a feeling the enemy might try... something. We have to be prepared." "A *feeling*?" he said. "My lord, should the enemy send their siege towers to the eastern wall, the city will fall." "The siege towers are slow, lumbering machines," I said disdainfully. "Should that happen, the reserves will reach the wall in time." Although clearly unhappy, Captain Surly saluted and turned to an aide by the door to send out the orders. I slowly exhaled and wiped my hands on my trousers. *Now we wait*.

the town had been under siege for three years now, and steadily the kings and commanders who defended the city fell in battle. Now, because of the chain of command, you are in charge, and you are unsure what to do.

"Right, settle down you buggers," the man yelled as he walked into the busy classroom. "My name is John Constantine and because *someone* cheats at cards," he groaned and frowned in the general direction of the principal's office, "I'm here to teach you how to defend against dark magic today." The class exchanged slightly confused looks; the man wore a beige trenchcoat, a loose tie, dirtied trousers... he looked less like a teacher and more like a used car salesman at a bar. "Sir," one of the boys near the front carefully said, "are- are you our teacher? I thought that teachers all wear black robes." Constantine glared at the kid briefly, but then his face shifted into a smirk. "Right you are, lad. Seem to have forgotten mine at the stables. Do us a favour, and, go fetch it for us, ey?" he said. "But- sir, that's the other side of the school," the boy protested. "It's a 20-minute run!" "Then you best get going, right?" Constantine chuckled. The kid sighed and defeatedly left the classroom. "Roight!" Constantine yelled and clasped his hands. "What's the last thing you lot learned here?" "Page 54, sir," a young woman near him said and offered him her textbook. He took it and started turning its pages. "Ineffective... outdated... last one I saw someone try *this* one they lost two fingers!" he said and grinned at the class. They did not share his exuberance. He threw the book back to the girl. "Bleedin' hell. No wonder this school loses a student almost every year," he murmured to himself. "'Aight, listen up you lot. I ain't gonna teach you how to defend against dark magic. I'm gonna teach you how to *royally* fuck up whoever's trying to hex you, sound good?" The class responded in a mixed manner - some students lit up excitedly, some grew worried. Constantine reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes, lighting one and taking a long puff. "Good," Constantine said contently. "Perhaps a demonstration is in order - I heard it's a 'good teaching technique'. How many of you have summoned a demon before?"

"Alright, you little assholes. Settle down. I'm Mr. Constantine. I've been asked to teach you kids how to defend against dark magic. I'm gonna teach you more than that. I am going to teach you how to *royally* !@#$ someone up."

Sacrifice is power. The most powerful sacrifice is life. This is a universal constant of magic. The greater the magic to be performed the greater the sacrifice to be made. - Understanding Basic Magic, vol 1 “Master, there are too many injured and just not enough life to heal them all. The wizards are passing out…. Some of them are even dying. What are we going to do?”, my young apprentice Howard begged of me. He was 25 years old but looked to be in his sixties. We sacrifice part of our life when we do magic. A week here. A month there. A year over here. We wizards may burn brightly but we do not burn for long. I inspected the wound of my patient. A sword slice through 2 lobes of his lung, broken ribs, liver damage, massive blood loss. I tally up the injuries…. It would cost me 10 years of my life to heal him completely. It would cost me 2 years to heal him enough that he would survive. I prepare myself and sacrifice 2 years and let the magic course through me, shaping it, directing it, moulding it to my will….. and then I release it into the patient. I collapse to my knees panting for breath….. I have given up 20 years of life today. Almost 60 years worth since this damn war started. But today, today has seen the fiercest fighting yet. Our king is trying to push through the enemy lines even if it means burning out all of his wizards. “Give me a moment Howard.”, I say as he helps me to seat. I take a few deep breaths. “How many more have come in?”, I ask shakily. “About a hundred more.”, he says quietly. “The offensive is not going well.” “Are there any new prisoners that can be sacrificed?”, I ask hopefully. “The enemy fights until death and if they can’t fight any more they take a poison capsule and kill themselves. They won’t let themselves be taken.” I raise an eyebrow at that. “That is a new tactic.”, I say simply. Howard shrugs. “They die on the field or we capture them and put them to death to heal our injured. Either way they die.”, he says, “at least this way they aren’t helping the enemy. It is smart.” “Wizard! I need a wizard!”, a courtier yells as he hauls in a member of the Royal court. Howard and I go over to him. “It is the Prince. His wound is infected.” We quickly lay him down on a cot. “When did he get wounded. We haven’t seen him through here in weeks.”, I say to the courtier. “The Prince is aware of the cost of a healing and would not ask it for such a minor wound. He would sacrifice is own life force to heal it but it isn’t allowed to sacrifice noble life for magic, so he decided to let it heal on its own.”, the courtier said. “That is noble of him, but a clean would of this size would take a day of sacrifice. Now that it is infected it is going to take a great deal more.”, Howard said sadly as he looked at the grotesque wound. It was was oozing puss and the skin next to the opening was necrotic. I probed the wound gently, causing the unconscious Prince to moan, the wound was deep. I tallied up the work that would need to be done…. At least a year worth of life. “Damn…. There is so much infection”, I said to myself. “It is too bad infection wasn’t *alive*”, the courtier said. “Oh, infection is alive. Thousands and thousands of tiny organisms that are feeding off of our Prince and making him sick.”, I said absently as I cleaned up the wound. “Can you sacrifice the tiny organisms?”, the courtier asked I looked at Howard. He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t remember any text ever saying it had to be human life that must be sacrificed. It was always just…. Implied….” “Well if nothing else, sacrificing the infection would clean up the wound, even if there isn’t enough life there to heal it.”, I said, trying to convince myself of the merits. “Why not?” “We should at least try it”, Howard said excitedly. I pulled up a chair to the prince’s cot. I took a couple of deep breaths and then reached out with my senses to find all of the infection and the microbes that shouldn’t be there. It felt like it took an eternity. I had to identify each and everyone one separately. I took a steadying breath and sacrificed those lives entirely…. Not minutes or hours or days but extinguished those lives entirely. I expected a little bit of power but I was overwhelmed. The power burned through me, setting every nerve ending on fire and making me ache to the very core of my being. I shaped the power to heal the prince, but there was so much more and there was no where for it to go! I started to panic. There was no more hurt on the Prince and I wasn’t in contact with anyone else that needed healing. The power burned and struggled, it wanted to be free. I clamped down on that power and forced my will on it and then swallowed it whole. My very soul felt like it was on fire. Then the world went black. “Master! Master! Are you alright‽”, I heard Howard’s voice through the darkness. I opened my eyes. “I am still here young man.”, I said to Howard. The healed prince looked down at me on the floor. Then to Howard then to me. “You look a lot younger than him.”, the prince said. I touched my face. The wrinkles were gone. I moved my legs experientially…. No aches or pains. “How old do I look, Howard?”, I asked cautiously. “If I had to guess, I would say…. about 16 or 17, master.”, Howard said with a big smile. “Send a runner…. Everyone of them we can find. We need everything they can find that is rotting… food stuffs, horse manure, people with infections, yeast….. all of it, any of it. We are going to turn the tide of the war, my boy!”

The ritual calls for 100 sacrifices, but after reading it carefully you realize that it never specified they had to be human. Deciding to be the smartass that you are, you got a petri dish full of bacteria and sacrificed them instead.

"*At this point, I can't tell if they're really dedicated, or just plain stupid. How else could one rationalize a FOUR FUCKING MONTH occupation?!*" We'd all heard the news. We knew this was coming. Word from the merchant's caravans, whispers from the tinkers. Inquisitors sweeping villages, looking for 'witches'. Well, so far, all they've found were old ladies who otherwise kept to themselves and had a knack for gardening. Awful, but we'd all figured that meant they were clueless. We'd figured that meant Petra would only have a few tense days. Well, so much for that. At first, we thought that feeding them false information would do the trick. "Oh, a witch? Well, I've never seen one, but rumor has it there's one way out, past the bogs". Those goose stepping galoots wouldn't last long in the bogs. They're a hazard, even for the most nimble of us. So imagine our shock when those bastards turn up a week later, caked in mud, some missing shoes, bedraggled, and angrier than a sack of wet rats. Our ace shot plopped. Hard enough that they ignored the merchants we'd bribed to slip rumors of witches past the mountains. Rori let their horses out. Not even an attempt to rally a search. We forged letters from the Capital. We hid our beer and claimed we'd run dry. Every innocuous reason we could think of that might lead someone away. Anything that would shift the focus of these Inquisitors **away** from us. Nothing. So far, the only saving grace has been that they don't actually know what to look for to find a witch. Especially not one like our Petra. No. They're looking for some haggard old woman with a weird laugh and a dozen cats. That's the thing they don't get. Working with the Powers Primordial *does* affect the user. But not how they think. And Petra has been doing it for longer than any of us can even fathom. She won't say, but we're certain that she's been here, helping this village, since the first farm was built. My Grandfather would tell us tales of her work. How she'd saved a year's harvest from Blight, how she'd shielded our village from a deadly plague. And she'd tell me stories of when my Grandfather was young. They're not looking for a beautiful young woman who seems wise and serene beyond her years, no. Not someone with such grace and deft hands for mundane tasks. They're not looking for eyes that could peer into your soul at a glance. But eventually, they will suspect. We're going to have to ask Petra for help. As much as it galls me to admit it. As much as she has helped us, but we can't help her. It's going to be like when those bandits came... We'd better get the children inside. They don't need to see this.

The local witch has taken good care of your village for many years. Now the inquisition's come to town, and you have to find creative ways to get them to leave without arousing suspicion.

You know how you go to the old folks home once a month to help ole Pop-pop fiddle with his "tele-computer-cellular-doodad" as he calls it? You'd expect someone that old to just not get the simple things you take for granted. It's just how the older generation is. For example, you know EXACTLY how to navigate the fluctuating current of the time stream while flying in your Cross Linear Interdimensional Traveler. It's just second nature. Or how you are able to fiddle with the flow of time using your handy dandy "Whatchamacallits" as pop calls it. But to him it's all ridiculous and nonsensical. If it worked the remote worked just fine for the last 4 centuries why mess with it. Imagine the surprise of your peers when a hitchhiker you picked up in France on your last mission is so successful. You'd expect a man who was born 18 centuries ago to be unable to cope with all the blinking lights and zero point energy weapons and trans dimensional travel. His name is Arnaud Guillaume. Counselor, Butler and general to the king in the early 1400s. A great man they say. Buried next to the king's own plot. Well he will be. One day... Eventually. Maybe? You go in to see your father in between missions and "Arnold" always comes with you. Something about "remembering a reason to die young". Seems rude but hey, it's fine. He's the coattales you're riding to get to the top so he can get away with the small stuff. He entertains your father with stories of ancient times. Such as the true happenings of the hundred years war. The talk of the town when King Charles the VII would go to war. He's good with your father. It's hard to make time but it's nice to see pops talk shop with a fellow knight. Whenever Arnold goes on a mission with you, you always trust he can find the most outlandish way to deal with the hiccups. Not squeamish about deleting incongruent timelines. Knows how to work as a team. Wields a lazz like he was born with one. Though swinging a sword all your life...s(?) probably helped. Anyway he's great in a pinch. He rides like no one's business and can execute some of the most well laid plans no one else has ever thought of. It's mind-blowing how he can think of these outlandish ideas that no one from our age would dare ask. Then again you are the one who has to come up with the the tools parts and spaghetti code to make his plans work. Imagine connecting multiple loops of time together to create a paradox long enough it tricks the dimensional kraken that is the Macsthune into believing they are still about to win the eons long war they have been waging. Sure sure, you had to bust your head against physical manifestion of space and time until it made way and allowed you to. But NO ONE was clever enough to come up with that idea. We all knew it was unsafe and impossible. Except we didn't. Because we never tried. We just trusted the words of someone before us. Even though our technology and understanding has been growing exponentially for the last 3-4 centuries. We just assumed those rules were unyielding. Because Arnold never grew up with this technology or understanding, he never realizes what you know to be the written laws of physics. And that is why you know that one day, when you have to explain why you picked up a hitchhiker to the PSI you can with confidence say he is the exact person you need in your organization.

You work for a Time Travel group that defends the timeline from threats. You are having a hell of a time explaining to the post-singularity intelligence that your advanced technology expert is a knight from medieval France.

Though his eyelids were heavy and resisting the urge to be opened, the incessant music violating his ears gave Tony no choice but to wake up. Whereas he expected to be in his apartment, head buried in a cheap dollar store pillow, he found himself on a bright, violet road. Tony shook himself awake and saw the shadows of several diminutive figures standing nearby. His eyes traveled along their outlines until they saw just what monstrosities they belonged to. He gasped, quite uncharacteristic of the head enforcer of the Pasco crime family. "Hello, friend! It looks like you were enjoying quite the swell nap!" "I love naps!" One of them shouted, raising their white gloved hands to the air. "What the hell did I snort last night?" Tony mumbled to himself as he scanned his newfound environment. "One second I'm with the boys gettin' high as a kite and now I'm in Teletubby Land? What the fuck are you guys supposed to be?" The creatures only reached up to Tony's knee. Each of them possessed a different color, ones so vibrant and rich that it was unnatural. Some had many eyes while others had none of at all, and it was the same case for other facial features. Their voices were that of someone trying very hard to sound like children. As he observed them, Tony grew steadily more disgusted. "Come give us a hug, friend!" "Hey, I don't want a goddamn hug. Where am I?" The creature with the most eyes, Tony assumed to be the leader of the group, approached him with a massive grin. "We'll tell you.. if you give us all a hug! Let's get em', guys!" "Back off, fuckheads!" Tony said, attempting to reach for his holstered gun, only to feel air in his holster. But it did not matter, as the creatures stopped their movements. The music plaguing the thug’s ears ceased to play as well, much to his relief. "W-what did he call us?" The one with no eyes spoke from a mouth on its forehead. "Fuckhead? Yeah, that's right. You guys are a bunch of creepy fuckheads. I mean look at ya, that guy right there has no eyes, how the fuck does he even see? And you, you got so many eyes in so many different fucking directions, it is a GODDAMN MIRACLE from the Lord himself you can walk straight!" Tony's eyes flared red as he went off on the creatures, who were now reduced to a mess of quivering bodies and tears. "Eugh. I'm getting out of here." "Stop right there, bully!" He snapped around, his fists clenched and ready to make acquaintances with someone's teeth, only to see a boy standing on a grassy knoll. He pointed at the mobster with some sort of stick. "You can't speak to the Tobbies that way!" The boy slid down the hill with his weapon. "Apologize at once!' Tony snickered at the audacity of the child. "Don't you have school to be in or something? Get lost." "I won't give up! With the power of friendship, I will defeat you! Yah!" He groaned as the boy charged towards him. The mobster moved to the side, causing the boy to trip over an invisible obstacle and fly at a tree, forming a thick smoke cloud. "Dumb kid," he muttered to himself as the smoke cleared. The boy laid against the tree with black spirals in his eyes. In a mere microsecond, he stood up and dusted himself off, preparing to charge again. "You brainless little shit, cut that out or you'll really get hurt!" Tony shouted. Just like the Tobbies, the boy stopped in his tracks and broke into a crying fit. A creeping sensation moved up Tony as he looked at the boy, some odd mixture of pity and disdain. He rubbed his head and decided to walk away from the scene as quickly as possible. After walking for about a minute, he turned and saw that the boy and the weird creatures he attempted to defend were still weeping. This was too bizarre. Tony reached into his suit pocket, but instead of finding his flip phone, he felt plastic and rubber. His burner had been replaced by a vivid yellow and pink rotary phone that somehow became full sized the second he pulled it out. His breathing become short and quick. The mobster slammed the phone on the road as hard as he possibly could, but it merely squeaked and remained whole. Tony kicked the worthless device over and over, each squeak adding fuel to his anger, until he felt a poke on his back. "WHAT? WHAT DO YOU WANT?" He screamed as he swung around. "My good fellow, calm down! I just wish to ask you something." A figure in a black cloak stood before Tony. A pair of emaciated hands reached out from the sleeves to pull down the cloak's hood, revealing a pale man with crimson eyes and unkempt hair. "I have observed you with the help of my all-seeing sphere, and I do say, you have quite the technique." Tony raised his eyebrow. "What are you getting at?" "I have been trying for eight seasons to defeat that little brat, and you did it in a minute!" The strange man praised. "Kid's definitely annoying, but what are you supposed to be, the neighborhood child molester?" "How dare you accuse me of such behavior, you rapscallion?!" "Rapscallion? What are you, stuck in the eighteenth century? Eat my ass." "What?!" "Go fuck yourself, grandpa. You know what, you probably could too. You gotta be like sixty pounds soaking wet under that cloak. You got no ribcage." "These incantations, how are they so powerful? They penetrate the core of my being!" "Is there a law saying every single one of you stupid bastards has to talk funny?" Suddenly, the skinny man started to grit his teeth and raise his hands. "With my dark power, I will destroy you and everything you love!" "Piss off. You and everyone in this fairy tale ass world can get fucked. I'm getting out of here." The cloaked man stood there as the mobster shoved past him. His knees became weak, and his vision began to blur. This had not happened since the origin story episode, and as much as he tried to resist it, he could not avoid the same fate that befell the boy and the Tobbies. Snot oozed down his face as he wept. "At least teach me your ways!" The pale man begged in between sobs. Tony did not grace the man with a response and continued walking. Though he was still confused on how he entered this strange world, he took some solace in knowing no one would or could mess with him. He wondered if the nearby town had a bar.

You are a violent mafia thug who was transported to a children's anime, in a world where dumb is the most serious insult you decide to start your reign of terror

‘Only a mortal fears being trapped somewhere for centuries or millennia with no possible escape. Even death. For an immortal, such a fate is an escape in itself. Sit down.’ Trapped in the dark as we were, I could only hear his whimpers and a shuffle of movement. ‘There you go. Now, calm your mind. You’re new to this, so it might take a while to learn the technique, but just start by focusing on the breath. Breathe in. Breathe out. Good.’ This kept going for a couple of minutes until the other voice in the dark was more rational. ‘Have you been in this situation before?’ ‘Yes, more than once. I try to avoid it because it’s annoying if you were in the middle of something, but after living as long as I have, you find it gives you a little time to ponder and reflect. An imposed meditation retreat, if you like.’ ‘I don’t know what that is.’ ‘It’s something that existed before your world was even colonised. Now, there is nothing to fear here, because neither of us can die. And so we are perfectly safe where we are.’ ‘How did you get out?’ ‘Well, the first time, I was mining when it collapsed on me. I was in a particularly rich gold vein so someone kept up the work and I was dug out a mere three years later. One time I got thrown in a jail cell and the key thrown away, but a revolution came when that king died and again I was freed. I was entombed in a crypt and discovered by grave robbers a century later. I got better at avoiding it, but it still occurred despite my best planning. ‘Like now, for instance. There has been a catastrophic power failure on the ship and life support is offline along with anything else. Everyone else is dead, or will be soon by our standards. But we are still on the ship. And even though it’s unpowered now and not capable of FTL or sublight manoeuvring, it sent a distress beacon for the last 17 years before emergency power finally died. The statis pods are almost the last system to die, but for you and I it just meant waking up instead of dying like the rest of the crew. Our bodies won’t let us die.’ ‘But no help has come in 17 years!’ Panic was coming back. ‘I wouldn’t expect it to, but someone will investigate eventually. There’s a lot of cargo on board, and information in the data archives, and that would be a be worth it to a salvage team. But they are slow, so we will wait. Can I ask how old you are? How old you really are?’ ‘My current ID says 126, but relative timeline is 36 years. But I’m actually over 800 years old.’ ‘Oh you’re a baby! No wonder you’re scared. Well, I’m glad I’m here to help then. I learnt a Vedic technique that you can use to skip forward, it slows relative perception, very useful at a time like this. It takes a few years of practise to get good at it, but we have time.’

“Only a mortal fears being trapped somewhere for centuries or millennia with no possible escape. Even death. For an immortal, such a fate is an escape in itself. Sit down.”

I loved her. Of course, I did. How couldn't I? She was a counterpoint, a question, a poem in the flesh. She was feral around the eyes and yet she smiled with the warmth of a long-since-longed hug. She held the fierceness of nature in her features and yet her voice was wrapped in a blanket softer than the singsong of the nightingale. She uprooted me with a kiss, sent my thoughts into a frenzy with a look, and took me back into the world with a whisper. She was, by all accounts, the love of my life. And so, despite the oddity of her question, I said, "Yes, I would still love you if you were a worm." A silly game, I thought, until she cried tears of joy and told me she had bought two tickets to a secret place. I was confused but I accepted, after all, her happiness was all that mattered. Two days later, we left our little abode in the forest and the cold embraced us when we descended from the plane. "Here, I want this to be a surprise," Jane said and gave me a piece of cloth. "Cover your eyes and follow me." A bit strange, I thought, but once again I went with it. Half an hour later, the wintry gales whirred in my ears, muffling Jane's words, and the dense snow turned my gait into a trudge. "Where are we?" Jane reached for my ear and hugged me. At that moment, the cold thawed and melted into tender warmth. "We are here," she said and the whirring of the winds died down. "Count to ten, and open your eyes." "Okay?" I hesitated, my heart beating fast. There was a loud noise like the cracking of bones or the snapping of logs. I jumped in place. "Don't worry, keep counting down, honey." I obliged, and a moment later I removed the makeshift blindfold covering my eyes. Before me, enormous and immemorial, was a limbless and wingless creature. It was like a serpent, only a hundred if not a thousand times larger, with ice-blue scales the size of ten men and white, streaming whiskers at the sides of its vast, slobbering maw. I screamed at the top of my lungs. I felt my whole world crumbling and shattering. Jane had betrayed me. Where was she? Why had she brought me to die here? What was this creature? "Jerry!" the creature said, seemingly offended. "Am I *that* ugly?" I recognized the voice. Of course, I did. "Ja--Jane? Is that you?" I shook my head and glanced quickly at the surroundings. We were in a frozen cave full of stalactites and stalagmites, and the remnants of what I could only guess were her clothes lay on the ground. "Yes, Jerry, this is me!" The creature's tone had a clear edge of exasperation. It turned around as if offended. If it had limbs, I was certain it would've crossed its arms. "You told me you would love me if I were a wyrm. And so here I am, being vulnerable, showing you what I really am. A wyrm." "A wyrm?" I said, confused. "I thought you said a worm." She turned back around. "A worm? That's dumb. Why would you love me if I were a worm? I would be ugly and probably dumb too, worms don't think nor feel." "Honey, I would love you if you were my worst nightmare. I love everything about you, you know this." I paused to take a look at her and drew a deep breath. "And this form of you is gorgeous, breathtaking. I'm sorry if I sound hesitant, it's because I have many questions, but I mean it." "Really?" "Really." She smiled a smile full of fangs, fire, and drool. "Come over, I will introduce you to the others." "Others?" "Yes." She picked me up with her whiskers as though I was a lollipop and onwards she slithered into a vast circular room full of ice pillars. At the center of the room, there were a dozen of other wyrms, and next to them a dozen of seemingly confused men. The moment Jane set foot, or I should say belly in that room, they all faced me. The men looked puzzled, the wyrms thrilled. "What a joy, Jane! What a joy! This must be Jerry," a wyrm with obsidian-black scales said. She was twice the size of Jane. Jane swayed her head from side to side in what I could only infer was a delightful dance. "Yes! Thank you, Carla. As you all know, this is my beloved husband Jerry." "Hello?" I said and waved hesitantly. "It's a pleasure to meet you?" "The pleasure is ours, Jerry. Jane can't stop talking about how wonderful you are," another wyrm said. I smiled. "She exaggerates, I'm very much not wonderful. In fact, she doesn't love me as much as I love her." Their expressions shifted to something I could only describe as confusion. "What are you saying, honey?" Jane said, turning her head completely around like an owl. "Of course, I love you more than you do." "No, you don't. I have a secret. Something I've been wanting to confess to you." "Jerry, are we doing this right now--" Before she could finish speaking, I turned into a worm. A storm of thundering gasps filled the room, making the pillars shake. "What in the world," one of the husbands said. "You said worms were ugly and dumb. Do you love me now?" Jane hesitated. "Of course I do, you are still you. I wouldn't kiss you like that, though." Her expression shifted. "Wait, how are you a worm?" "Ah, I see this is the Club of the Confused Husbands, Confused Wyrms, and Confused Husband Worm now," I said and shifted back into my human shape. "A secret is a secret. But I've always been a worm." There was an uncomfortable silence that lasted for far too long. "How are we supposed to react?" one of the husbands said. "First my wife tells me she's a wyrm, then transforms into one, takes me into an ice cave, and now someone just turns into a worm and then turns back into a *naked* man? What is this, a joke?" "World domination is not a joke," Carla said and slithered to the center of the room. "Jerry your entrance has been spectacular. But now, it's time to plot." \------------------ Went full dumb. I don't regret it. Come over, or else you'll turn into a worm -> /r/AStoryToRuleThemAll

Out of the blue, your spouse asked you if you would still love them if they turned into a worm. Thinking it was a little odd, you said that yes, of course you would. It was a short time later when you realized that they actually meant “wyrm.”

There’s a palpable aura around those who wield an ungodly amount of power. The confidence, the assurance of command. I’d encountered it before; this, though, was on the next level. Only one person - *creature* \- I’d ever met had ever possessed this much. “Hello, Lucifer,” I greeted the man on my doorstep. – The Devil - his current guise that of an otherwise unremarkable, fortyish businessman - strode into my house as if, as the saying goes, he owned the place. In a manner of speaking, he did; nearly everything I had, and all the successes of the past five years, had been the result of my deal with him. I’d started as a self-taught coder, years ago in my teens. I was going to write the next blockbuster! I’d be famous! The gaming industry would be in awe of my never-before-seen talent! Then I’d met the real world. “Perfect timing,” I said, running a hand over my locs. He wandered slowly from the entryway into the main room, examining the many awards and photos on the walls. Photos of my accomplishments, made with his help. “Oh? How’s that? - Ahh, yes. Congratulations.” he said, glancing away from a photo of me presenting an award at an eSports tournament, to the big-screen television on the far wall. My most recent game, *Escape from Hell*, had just been announced as Game of the Year. “Why didn’t you go to the awards ceremony?” “I expected your visit. This was the deal. I don’t intend to renege on it,” I replied tersely. “Let’s get this over with.” Lucifer didn’t respond immediately; instead he continued watching, the reflected light from the screen playing across his perfectly human face. Finally he murmured, “I’ve been following your progress, and have to say even I’m impressed.” He chuckled. “Surely you must realize how difficult that is.” “I never could have done any of this without your help,” I muttered. He’d gone over the top, really, what with sending me not one but two actual demons to consult on the game’s accuracy. “Well. A deal is a deal. Right? I’m ready.” He moved away, hands in pockets, again to examine the memorabilia around the room. “Yes, yes, I suppose…” he said, not even looking in my direction. I was flummoxed. Not what I expected at all. He suddenly turned to me again. “The demons I sent? They were of assistance, yes?” I nodded hurriedly. “I thought they would be. I read all of the reviews, you know. ‘Extraordinary level design.’ ‘Amazingly immersive gameplay.’” He paused again, continuing his circuit around the room. “It’s been very instructive watching the players’...tricks. Particularly the *exploits*.” “Um. I’m not following?” I said nervously. He sighed. “Perhaps a slight revision in the agreement would be in order. Just a minor tweak.” This sounded interesting, but I was wary. “What kind of tweak are we talking?” “Two more years for you. And,” he smiled winningly, “a sequel.” I thought a moment. “*Four* years,” I said. He raised eyebrows at this. “You know how game development can go. Scope creep and all that.” He sighed. “A fair point. This isn’t the first software enterprise I’ve been involved with, actually…” – After a short discussion, I agreed; we shook hands. His radiated heat and power; I let go as quickly as I could. He made as if to turn away, then stopped, raising a finger in the air. The next was presented as an afterthought. “Oh, perhaps I neglected to mention this. Not directly pertinent to our revised agreement, but you should know.” He smiled. “I’ll be assisting you directly on this one.”

As the end of your deal with the devil comes to an end you summon him once more to hand over your immortal soul, you knew what you were getting yourself into from the start and despite it all you are satisfied to end it this way... only the devil seems weirdly reluctant to take your soul now

I watched as the small child leaned forward to look at the mascot, and the ice cream slid off his cone onto the ground. It took a few seconds for the child to notice, then he put his head back and let out a wail. I moved quickly, a dark blur that swapped out his empty cone for a full one. A smile formed as he started to lick his new cone, this time with sprinkles. His family moved on, and I watched with horror as a woman pushing a stroller didn't notice the patch of melting cream. I mustered all my skill to throw a hand towel. It slid under her foot and into the bushes beside her, taking the slipping hazard with it. She moved on, never knowing how close she was to certain doom. It was a thankless job, making sure that every ones day went perfect. This is not what I expected my life to be when I joined the ninja academy. But the job market was tough these days, and you had to take what you can get, even if it pays minimum wage. I wandered under the roller coaster, sticking to the shadows. A phone fell into my hand, and I tossed it back onto the ride where it slid into its owners pocket. Won't people ever learn? I took a $5 bill out of my pocket, and folded it into an airplane. I then tossed it, and it landed right in front of a couple searching their pockets for any extra change. They traded it for a pretzel, and I wandered off to grab some Ice Cream for myself. I then noticed a small family coming. The father seemed angry, the mother defeated and the child nervous. The father went to the washroom, and the mother quickly ran to a stand and got some cotton candy. The child started to gobble it up, but she was too slow. The father came out of the bathroom, noticed the almost empty cone, and started to storm over. He raised his hand as he approached, bee-lining for the mother. I decided my break was over, and I tossed what was left of my ice cream. It landed right beneath the fathers foot, and he slipped. His head hit the concrete, and I saw the mother laugh before covering her mouth and pretending to look sad. It was time for me to go, before anyone figured out I injured a guest.

As an ex-ninja, there's only so many jobs you can do with the very unique skill set you have. Surprisingly you've found that working at a family-oriented amusement park is one of them, performing your duties from the shadows to ensure guests have the best and most immersive experience possible.

"I can see your legs are trembling, as well as your hands," The king said. "You needn't worry. I'm not angry. I'm grateful you stopped running." I closed the door, and gulped. "I'm...I'm sorry?" "May I sit by the fire? I've travelled an awfully long time to get here." "...No," I started, then realised what I'd said. "I mean...no, of course not. Be...be my guest." I gestured to the chair closest to the fireplace, feeling like a complete fool. Something that had plagued me since before poisoning the prince with my cooking. "I understand this might come as a shock to you," The king said, watching me as he sat. "But I want you to understand something - I've come alone. No guards, no enchanted items to watch over me." I stopped what I was doing, and turned to him. There on his face was large friendly smile. I almost thought it too friendly, giving the circumstances. After all, I'd killed his son - his only son. The heir to the throne. The future king. His eyes were sad though. "And I forgive you." I blinked. "I don't...I don't understand." "I think you do." The king's voice was calm and controlled, without a hint of resentment. "I think you don't want to understand, but I know you do. Please, sit," He pointed to the chair opposite him. "There isn't much to discuss, granted, but I want to tell you exactly why you shouldn't have run away in the first place." I did as I was asked. It was the one thing I could do right this fortnight at least. "Gods, look at you," His Majesty sighed. "My little brother freezing to death, just because of an accident. Do you still think of me as a thirteen-year old bully?" He closed his eyes, leaned forwards, and took my hands in his, and for the first time in a long time, I felt a connection with him that I thought had burnt out a long time ago.

After accidentally killing the king’s son, you expected to be executed. Instead, he arrived at your house alone in secret, asking if he could come in for tea.

No. No, no, nonononono. I stare into the bathroom mirror, running my fingers over this face, not really believing that it's me. So much younger. The skin so smooth. Dark hair, untouched by gray. This wasn't supposed to happen. Not like this. I have to do something. I whip around, my eyes scanning the unfamiliar room. For a moment, I'm distracted by the lush landscape beyond the windows. Palm leaves ruffle in a breeze. The air is warm and sticky. So strange, when I'm so used to snow. It feels like I'm suffocating. I find the prize and hurry over to the laptop on the desk. I don't know the password, but my new fingerprint does. Before I even manage to log in to my accounts, my mind is whirring, wondering where I could have gone wrong. I checked the math so many times. How could this have happened? How did I miss by so much? A news alert dings in the corner of the screen (strange choice, by my host, to have those turned on...but anyway...) and I click. Oh, no. No, no. It's not just me, who missed. Not just my own transformation I got wrong. It's all of them, everywhere. How many people have I swapped between bodies? They're reporting thousands, but still counting. Could it be millions? Billions? I cradle my unfamiliar brow in my unfamiliar hands. How am I going to fix this? How can I possibly fix this, when it's gone so horribly, horribly wrong? I peer at the clock between my fingers, calculating the difference in time zones, my stomach roiling, my heart pounding a drum in this far-flung jungle. It's only an hour until my daughter's execution is scheduled. I don't know who is about to die. Her? Someone innocent in her place? Who have I sentenced to death? I tried, my darling, I tried. It was supposed to be me. \--- r/overcomposer

Overnight, everyone in the world has swapped bodies and you wake up as a different person in a different country

Writer's note: Okay listen I know that goldfish don't respond to their names and also that bowls are bad for fish, 100% do not support those things. But for the storytelling purposes I just put them in lol. ​ "Okay, Shark, I decided to give you a bigger home!" I whisper to my goldfish as I sneak out to the lake nearby our house. I'm supposed to be doing homework, but I got into an argument with Momma earlier this morning because she said that she wouldn't buy Shark a bigger tank. Shark always looked so sad swimming in circles, with nowhere to go and nothing to see but me. I tried to make him as happy as possible and taught him tricks, but now I've ran out of ideas. "This is gonna be an awesomazing adventure for you!" I say to him as I stumble down the bank. "Momma won't buy you a bigger home. She said that goldfish get bigger with bigger homes. But I think that you need a bigger home. Even if you do get bigger, that's just more fun, right?" Shark just stares at me. I set the bowl down and take the fish food out of my pocket. I hold one above the water's surface, and he leaps out of the water to take it from me. "Okay, buddy, I'm gonna put you in the lake now, okay?" I gently dip the bowl into the water. I watch as the clean water of the bowl and the dirty water of the lake mix. Shark hesitates before swimming out nervously. "It's okay, you can do it!" He begins swimming away, and I shout his name quickly. He turns around and swims back to me, and I feed him another flake. "Okay, every day I'm gonna call you, and then I'll feed you. I hope you enjoy your new home!" ​ **A few days later** "Shark?" Large ripples come towards me. A golden dorsal fin breaks the surface, and Shark, now the size of an actual shark, breaks the surface. I dump the food into his awaiting mouth. "Guess what?" I say to him. I move to the side. "I told Momma that I put you in the lake, and she said that you'd be dead, so she got me another fish! I named him Whale!" I show him the fishbowl proudly. "You've got a new friend!"

Your mum warned you. Goldfish are kept in tiny bowls as they grow to fit their environment she said. Of course, you think, as you release your fish into the biggest lake you can find, she was only saying that because she didn't want to pay for a bigger bowl.... right?

"Get rid of them. She's dead now and we both know what can happen." Coming back from the hospital, this wasn't what Johnny wanted to hear but he knew it was coming. "I just got back. Give me some time and we'll do it later." Johnny tried to move towards the stairs, but Marrie blocked her. "Remember Avery down the road? It took just two days after his father died before they started to get the calls." "And..." he replied while trying to avoid her eyes. Marrie squinted, "They lucked out. Back in Jersey there was a family down the road that wasn't so lucky. The cops had their house blocked off for a week." Fuck it, he just wanted to get this over with. "Fine, just get me the photos." "It's all in that box," she said while pointing into the kitchen. She didn't keep her eyes off of him though. Peering into it he saw some photos just of her, but also his family albums. Picking one up he asked, "did you keep the ones that don't have her in them?" "No chances." "But..." She mouthed an exaggerated NO. He put the album down. Marrie put her arms over his shoulders, "there's a drop-off at the Walgreen's on Hillsdale. It'll take less than half an hour to get it over with." "..." She whispered into his ears, "Babe? I love you." He almost didn't respond. "I love you too." \- - - - - I'm really new to this so any feedback or comments on what I can do better is much appreciated!

"Due to the recent phenomena occurring worldwide, all media depicting the likeness of deceased persons -- including digital or physical photos and artwork --- are to be deleted and destroyed immediately."

"Hey Ravies! D-rave here again metting out justice! Say hello to the internet baddy!" "Mmmffmmmff." "Well you heard it guys! Todays word was Mmmffmmmff, looks like @Deezraveslapz447 won a snap pic with me D-rave! Look out for my DM Deezraveslapz447!" D-rave cuffed Baddy to the railing and turned back to his camera, "Don't forget guys to hit that subcribe button, and if did already then make sure to turn on those notifications and smash that Like Button! "D-rave out!" "Your parents texted you twice Dave! They seem angry... something about eggs?" Frankie tossed Dave - D-rave - his cell and she began packing up the streaming gear into its pelican case. Today's Baddy was still mummbling and trying to talk through the gag, turning to him she said, "Shut up, the cops will be here soon!" *Where are you!* *Out with Frankie* *Out with Frankie? Out with Frankie!! We told you to get the Eggs for your grandma's picnic* *sorry...I get them* *hurry up, and we will need to have serious talk when you get home!* "Crap.... my parents are pissed." "You realize you will need to tell them who you are at some point right? Seriously... like what will happen if you can't save the city because you are busy being yelled by your parents."

Meet Dave. By day, Dave works a dead end job as a cashier in a convenience store. But by night, he becomes D-rave, a highly successful streamer who hides his real work from his strict parents.

"I am the genie of the lamp. You can have any wish, as long as it doesn't destroy the universe, or underdo anothers wish." I stared at the giant blue being floating in front of me, then at the antique lamp in my hand. "Only one? I thought I got three." "This is real life, not Aladdin." The genie sighed. "Now can you be quick, I got a hot bath running in there." I thought for a second before speaking. "I wish to be the richest person in the world." "Can't do that, it goes against Mayer Rothschilds wishes to have the richest family in the world." "How about to be the most famous person ever?" "Elvis took that. Doesn't matter if hes dead now." "I want my life to be filled with joy." "Goes against Reagans wishes." It took a few seconds for my brain to process that, before I moved on. "I wish to be immortal." "Can't, sorry. And even if I did you wouldn't want it. Trust me." "Why not?" "Because you will have to watch everyone you ever care about suffer and die. And what will you do in a billion years when the earth is uninhabitable? You could still feel pain from the sun swallowing the earth." "Ohhhhh, I can't have it because it breaks entropy or something?" "No, you can't have it because John Wick wished for the ability to kill anyone." "Fine, I wish for the ability to spawn any drink I want in my bottle." "Goes against Henri Nestle's wish. Creative though." I threw the lamp as far as I could, and stormed off.

Genies can grant any wish as long as the wish doesn't contraddict an already granted wish. You are shocked to learn the Genie cannot grant you immortality

I can change people’s eye color. When I was 4 I stared my mom in the eyes and said “purple” and her eyes changed to a radiant purple. Anyone with abnormal abilities like me were classified as superheroes as long as they didn’t do anything wrong. Im classified as a superhero, but I can’t help people. All superheroes are forced to attend these superhero meetings but whenever I arrive I’m told to get lost and laughed at. This time, i was allowed in. I walked towards the large wooden door. I’ve never been in the room, I’ve only knocked on the door and been laughed at. The superheroes treat me like gum on the back of their shoes. I walked up to the door and gave a slow knock. I was getting ready to turn around, but nobody laughed. Nobody told me to go away. I heard a click. The door was unlocked. I pushed on the heavy door, barely able to open it with how weak I am. I opened it up a little and squeezed through. All the other superheroes were here. “Finally you’re here.” Toughman spoke softly, with a sigh, “We have an issue. We were forced to let you in.” I looked around the room. There was a large table in the middle with about 12 seats around it, one empty. Big windows all around, 1-way windows I assumed. I cautiously walked to the empty chair, preparing for a prank or something. But nothing. I sat down, and the room was filled with a silence. I looked around at the familiar yet stranger faces, they all seemed nervous. I heard a voice, and I looked over and it was from wonderboy. That’s not his real Supername, but everyone called him that. He was a tall man with a bright suit. His super power is to fly. The top superhero of the city, and yet he seemed worried. “So.. I called you all here,” He spoke loudly. “To discuss something. I assume we are all familiar with laserman..” We all nodded our heads. Laserman, with a terrible villain name, was the strongest villain of all, even stronger than wonderboy. He could shoot lasers out of his eyes. Last time he attacked was long ago, and he left because he was bored. Nobody was able to beat him. Wonderboy was shot out of the sky and injured, Rubberman is invincible to the lazers but it shot him back, it was a disaster. A voice quickly interrupted my thoughts, “..He is coming back tomorrow.” Wonderboy muttered. A panic silence consumed the room. A look of shock and fear filled the faces of all of the top heroes. The room once filled with the roar of laughter of these top heroes now filled with silence and fear. “That’s why everyone is called..” Wonderboy spoke, obviously annoyed, “even you, rainbow sight.” I swallowed hard. I can’t do anything about this. I’m weak. I’m a bottom-tier superhero. I looked at all the faces, that were only familiar from tv. Shock, panic, fear, all of the confidence I once knew from these mighty heroes were just drained within a few words. My heart sank when I heard a large boom outside. All of the mightiest heroes all ran to the windows, trying to see what’s happening, hoping that certain doom didn’t arrive a day early. Our hopes were crushed when we saw a large laser fill the sky. The heroes piled out of the room, wonderboy stopping before leaving. “Come on rainbow sight, you might be completely useless,” He walked up to me and spoke quietly. “But we are forced to bring you. Don’t get it my way of Justice, you’ll only make things worse.” After he spoke the last word, he turned around and quickly flew out the door, his cape following behind him. I looked at the ground, tears filling my eyes. I quickly wiped them, and ran out the door. I still needed to go. I quickly found myself outside. But it didn’t seem right. I heard a loud noise. I looked to my left. A laser. It was slicing through a building like it was a pizza. The building quickly started collapsing and I bolted. Dust and rubble swarmed the air. I couldn’t see or hear. All I felt was pain. Was I dead? I couldn’t be. It’s too early. But I found myself wrong, when I felt around and heard something. Coughing. “..hello?” I coughed. “Is someone there? Are you ok?” All I heard of a response was a cough. I felt my surroundings, all I felt was metal and rubble. I felt around the ground and felt a sharp pain, I jerked my hand back. I felt a liquid running down it. I panicked. I felt around and felt a small rock above me. I kicked it, it barely moved, I kicked it again, as hard as I could. It went flying up. I saw it, light. I crawled over and stuck my head through the hole. I took a deep breathe and coughed. I could barely see, there’s so much dust. I climbed out of the hole, coughing and cutting my hand on more sharp objects. “..hello?” I heard a voice mutter. It was wonderboy. I saw him, crawling out of the rubble. I ran to him and helped him up. I was about to say something, when I saw a laser heading towards us and ducked. Wonderboy heading towards it, and I ran after him. He was severely injured, he shouldn’t be fighting. I followed him and was freed of the dust swirling the air. Laserman. Wonderboy flew up into the air and charged him. Laserman simply shot him out of the sky, and wonderboy crashed into a building. Iceman ran behind laserboy and was quickly shot in the leg and arm by a laser. I just stood there, dumbly. I couldn’t do anything. And then my eyes met his. I gasped and quickly ducked the laser that charged at my head. I got up and ran. I ran quickly. Laserman shot all around me as he ran after me. He shot a lamppost which fell crushed me. He walked towards me. He stood over me. My entire life flashed, my mom, my brother, how such a pretty bright blue the ocean was. I just sat there dumbly thinking about the ocean. But, confusingly he didn’t shoot me. He just stood there, confused. I looked at him, he took a step back. His eyes were now a bright blue. “..What..” He muttered, quickly turning to a yell. “What did you do??” Then I realized. He could only shoot lasers because his eye color specifically allowed him to.

You are a bottom-tier hero with some of the weakest powers in the world. Seriously, your powers are a joke compared to the other heroes. However, on the day the strongest villain attacked, you discover that your shitty superpowers are a direct and oddly specific counter to the villain's powers.

Lights. Not the harsh light I was used to. These were soft, warming, cosy even. The room was small, smaller even than the cage I had been born in. But the walls had features. A strange pattern of animals, repeating one after another. It was broken up by blocky shapes, furniture of some kind. The exact names escaped me for most, having been barely mentioned as i grew. My eyes focused on the bed, and the body lying within. I could see it's warmth, even as it hid under the covers. I could tell it was like those that kept me, but smaller. My enhanced hearing picked up muffled sobs, even though this person tried to be quiet. I could smell the fear, and knew I was the source. I hated it. I had been made to be a weapon. I had killed, and would certainly kill again if they found me. But I never wanted to be feared by those who did not mean me harm. Judging from the size of this one, they were a child. And I had just given them material for nightmares spanning the rest of their life. I reached out, gently patting the shaking lump. I wanted to tell them it's OK, and that I wouldn't hurt them. But that would require being able to speak. Something that hadn't seen fit to give me. I knew I was made to be a monster. A bioweapon, one to hunt and kill. An intelligent beast. They shook beneath my clawed hand. I was careful to keep them away, using only the palm. I just carried on patting them, letting them build up the courage to come out. I could leave. I should leave. But where would I go? I didn't want to be lonely anymore. Here was as good a place as any to start. Eventually my efforts bore fruit. They shifted, and pulled the blanket from over their head. A pair of green eyes stared at me, as the little girl looked out. I bowed my head to her, letting her be in charge. She was still afraid, I could still smell it. But there was a hint of curiosity as well. "Are you a monster?" Her voice was quiet. I raised my head to stare at her, before slowly nodding. Her trembled, raising the blanket to her mouth. "Are you going to eat me?" Her voice was even quieter. I quickly shook my head, making sure to keep my mouth closed. "Do you want to be my friend?" It was a genuine question. One that made my hearts leap. I nodded, ducking down. She grinned, her fear vanishing in place of joy. Moving fast she sprang at me, hugging my head. I reared back, surprised but pleased, before nuzzling into her. "Polly, time to get up honey." I heard someone shout. They were older, presumably a parent. I whirled around, letting my carapace change colour to match her pink carpet. It wasn't the best, but I was better suited to darkness and outdoors. Polly giggled, clinging onto me. "Wow! You're magical!" "Polly?" As she was latched on, her door opened. A human man stood there, grey beginning to emerge from otherwise brown hair. He instantly realised I was there, as my camoflage was hindered by the limpet on my face. "Polly! Get away from that, now!" She looked over her shoulder, before hugging closer to me. "Daddy, it's OK. Simba is a friend." Simba? I practically melted as she gave me a name that wasn't Subject. Her father stared at us, and I let my carapace return to black. "Honey, listen to me. I don't know what that thing is, but you have to get away, now!" His voice was very reminiscent of those who gave me orders before. But he wasn't directing them at me. I could smell his own fear, directed at the fact I had his child attached to my face. I gently reached up, prying her off. His face paled, even as I put her down. I held up my hand, putting some distance between us. "Daddy, Simba's nice! He's a monster, but he doesn't want to eat me. He's my friend." She was pleading with her dad. I nodded, slowly standing. I couldn't reach full height, with the low ceiling, but I could tell he was even more concerned as I obviously didn't fit. "What are you....?" I shrugged, the answer difficult to convey without speech. He frowned, looking around. "How did you even get in here?" I blinked, not sure even how to begin. Polly reached up, motioning for my hand. I slowly reached down, letting her take it. "It was magic Daddy! Can we keep him, pleaaaaaase?"

An escaped bioweapon stumbles into an untested teleporter while attempting to flee. It ends up appearing in a little girl's bedroom. She's just happy to make a new friend.

"Listen, you know it and I know it: we're all just killing time until the end of the world. We're all on the waiting list for a genie. We're all dreaming of the day we can grab that boilerplate contract, get shunted off into our own pocket dimension where we're The One And Only, and then spend the next infinity infinities being awesome. "When your number comes up, you don't have to come here. If you do, great. If you don't, that's okay. My name's Kristoff Pendergast the Seventh, and here at KP Duty Legal Associates, we're here to help you just... ride it out. Get married. Get divorced. Take a vacation in the Lands of Change. Sign on for that five-year supernatural apprenticeship. Order that custom magical item you've been dreaming about for decades. "Do it all with the KP Duty legal team behind you. We can't guarantee you'll be able to afford what you want, but we can guarantee that you'll get exactly what you expected. You won't be alone at that bargaining table; we'll be with you every step of the way. "Remember, when you hire KP Duty Legal Associates, The Other Side will know it!" ********* "So, what do you think?" I asked. It was an odd question, I supposed. He was the one who'd put the ad together in the first place. He chewed on it for a minute. The head-nodding went from contemplative to approving. His fiery faux-hair flowed and bounced simultaneously. He looked like a real douche, but we'd gotten to know each other better over the past few weeks. He was okay. Creative types had to look the part. I got that. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I like it. It's got that old-world law-guy vibe. People dig that. Ain't broke, don't fix it. I know you wanted to mention some big names, but I'm telling you, it's just too much hassle." I bristled at that. He wasn't wrong. It was just a little hurtful to know that, even after a thousand years, my firm couldn't get a free pass. People were so immature. If you weren't all-in on vampires, or wyrms, or warlocks, or lycanthropes - hell, not even that; pick a subspecies and a clan! - then nobody wanted their precious supernatural taxonomy coming out of your mouth - or anywhere else - to drum up business. It bothered me. It bothered me a lot more than the fact that we *did* need to drum up business. The world was getting a little empty. The ride was nearly over. I sighed, and refused to let him off the hook. I was paying him enough, after all. "Not too cheesy?" I pressed. "Well, it's gotta be, a little," he replied. He didn't seem to mind the questions; he seemed to really enjoy his work. "That's part of the vibe. 'Cheesy' is 'earnest' is 'square' is 'plugged in' is 'part of the establishment.' You're not trying to attract criminal defendants who want some crazy outsider - lowercase or capital, guess it doesn't matter - to burn everything down for them. You're positioning yourself as a go-between. It's a tightrope, yeah, but the spot's got enough fighting spirit in it, I think." I did my own head-nod kabuki. It was common business language. Even the entities without heads eventually picked up on some of the general motions. "Okay," I said. "Let's get it out there." "Full package?" he asked. I raised an eyebrow. "What we talked about before," I answered evenly. He shrugged. He had to act a little disappointed; a failed upsell is a failed upsell. You have to keep up the bullshit that the client is missing out on something. Still, what we'd talked about before was a pretty big buy. There were a few full-on, 3-D, full-sensory illusions in the mix. They were timed for maximum traffic in the portal stations, along the leylines, and even on a few dragonflight paths. As for the other dimensions, I left it to his agency's discretion. They knew the ins and outs of what would tantalize and what would offend. My firm knew what was straight-up illegal, but that was only the beginning of the conversation. You had to know which planes of the damned didn't permit food smells. We shook hands, since we both had them - animated bones against pleasantly-warm living fire. "Pleasure doing business with you," he said. "Hope your number comes up," I replied. "Back atcha, Mr. Pendergast," he said. We let it hang there for exactly the right amount of time. We both allowed ourselves the appropriate mixture of hope and wistfulness - more of the former and less of the latter, as of late. It really wouldn't be long - *couldn't* be long. Then we got back to it. I focused on my diamond signet and waited for the telltale swirl. *"Prrthnax?"* I sent telepathically. *"What's next?"* *"Pr-rrthnax, Mr. Pendergast, sir,"* it sent back. I smiled, or something like it. It was our thing. "*One of your specialities, actually, sir. Transition. Seems well-situated, too. Don't want to jinx it, but...*" I felt the cold fire in my sockets flash. Lichdom was a gold mine. It was one of the few types of clients and cases I wouldn't shunt off to an associate. It was also getting rarer - not for lack of funds, but for lack of desperation and despair. What's the difference between a googleplex and a mere centillion? Quite a lot, objectively speaking. Most of us were nevertheless surprised by how much of an impact it had made day-to-day. Infrastructure expands to meet needs. Contraction is always painful. "*Also...*" it began. I gritted my teeth. I knew exactly how ridiculous it would look to do so. I couldn't help it. *Don't be Jennifer. Don't be Jennifer. Don't be Jennifer.* "*Somebody's number came up,*" it finished, just like I'd known it would. *Don't be Jennifer. Don't be Jennifer. Don't be Jennifer.* *"Old client of your great-grandfather's,"* it continued. *"One of those crazy vampire-lycan hybrids. She's barely holding it together in the waiting room. I've got an associate lined up, but I figured you might want to give it a personal touch.*" *Thank... all the entities.* "*No,*" I replied wistfully, *"one of the other partners can take point. The Transition client needs to take priority.*" "*Room assignments, though?*" Pr-rrthnax asked. It was a fair question. We were supposed to roll out the red carpet for both of them - one because of the potential fees we'd collect, and the other to keep up appearances. *"We can make a Blood And Moonlight thing happen in Room 17,"* I answered. That would be for the lucky winner. The Transition would get the crown jewel. "*It shall be as you command, my Dark Master,*" my secretary intoned. That was another one of our things; I chuckled. It was a horrid sound, but I'd gotten used to it over the past century. "I hope she tips well," I said to myself as I levitated towards the archway. Those tips had once been twenty percent of our annual revenue. It was down to five. One word repeated itself in my mind, tethering me to this nigh-infinite waiting room that we called the multiverse: Upsell.

A day-in-the-life as a lawyer that specializes in the supernatural. Airtight contracts for genie wishes. Unambiguous purchase orders with faerie craftsmen. Divorce court for vampires with centuries-old prenups. The hag-in-the-lake who is claiming squatters rights against the new golf course...

"Wait." I begin pacing. "This means that... none of us want to hurt any of them..." "But it's our job to stop them!" our ranger exclaims. "I know" the mage states. "My lover and I were planning to take the rest of his team out so we could be together!" "Heh, mine and I were just gonna run away" the rogue chimes. "Alright, enough" I call. Being the leader, everyone instantly listens to me. "We need to sort this out... if we're not careful, this situation could get out of hand..." Suddenly, the team we were talking about jumps out in an ambush... kind of? They're all puzzled. "ALL of us are here" the villain leader states. The dark elf looks between the ranger and his leader. "I guess we all had the same idea... try to meet our lover in secret..." "Honestly" the orc shrugs, "it started as a ploy to get close... but she's just so damn cute..." he gestures to my rogue. "Sweetie, stop! You're embarrassing me!" the rogue replies. I clear my throat. "Ok, since all of us are in one place, we need to straighten this out." "Why?" the mage asks. "Because, love" the leader responds, "we have a boss, and we can't ignore him... it's why I was going to betray my team... keep things simple... but now, it's NOT simple..." "Are we going to betray our boss?" the barbarian questions. "You can't just do that" I say, walking up to him and giving him a hug. "He's a powerful necromancer. I don't want you getting hurt... it's why I started leading my team directly to him..." "I have an idea" the enemy leader says. "Join us!" "WHAT?" my cleric shouts, speaking for the first time this meeting. "We can't!" "Listen" the leader replies. "If your team joins us, no-one has to get hurt. Our boss is many things, but one thing he is NOT is mean to his workers. We're treated like royalty when we do a good job, and if we ignore a request, the worst punishment we get is a couple days locked up in a cell. Cells are actually pretty comfortable. I know because I rejected a request to kidnap you, honey. I pretended it was because I was scared." She chuckles. "But then... we still have to do what he says, right?" I inquire. "Not necessarily" the enemy leader smirks. "He knows how to approach things. He knows you'd never join if you were going to be forced to do ANYTHING. If you join, he'll keep to your good side to keep you under HIS command. Compromises, solutions, co-operation... really, the only reason inviting you to join before would've been bad is because our boss would think you were up to something, but he recognises love. It's why he's a necromancer." "Huh?" the ranger calls. The dark knight speaks. "You'll see" is all he says. "We'll give you a few minutes" the leader says, then he signals for his team to leave, while we talk. "You guys know I follow whatever, so it's up to the rest of you" the rogue says. "I... I love Titan, but we can't just join them" the cleric says quietly. "I trust Titan, but not his boss..." "The warlock is smart" the mage declares, referring to the leader of the group. "He wouldn't suggest this if it was a bad idea." "This is risky..." the ranger looks up and sighs. "Still... I don't want to lose her... she's quite sweet! She told me about the cells, said she gets into trouble so much the cell is like her second room!" "We need to be careful" the cleric states. "Right" I respond. "And I have an idea..." The warlock comes back, team in tow. "So? How about it, Mr warrior?" he teases, addressing me. "It's safe to say my team trusts yours" I explain. "It's your BOSS we don't trust. I know what we should do, if you trust us..." ​ We all arrive at the necromancer's lair. The necromancer sits up, intrigued. My party notices the female skeleton sitting next to him. "Huh... that's new..." I just stare in shock. "My wife. Lost her to a petty war neither of us were even part of. Now, I don't see how you managed to capture my recruits..." he scans the room. In front of my team is the other team, bound by rope. It hurt us to do it... but we had to... The cleric speaks. "You're right. This is a sign of the lengths we will go to to stop *you.*" She pulls out a dagger, then puts it to her lover's neck. "I... I don't want to do this to Titan... but..." she begins to cry. The necromancer raises his eyebrows. "That look... the same face I saw in the mirror for MONTHS after I lost my wife..." "We know you, sir. You wouldn't let us die... but they'd kill us... if they have to..." the warlock shakes. The mage, nodding sadly, pulls out a dagger as well. One by one, all of us have a dagger to the necks of our lovers. None of us want to do it... the thing is, we won't. This isn't much more than a test; if he's willing to let them die, we'll free them and they'll get revenge. "I understand..." he looks to me. "What would it take for you to spare their lives? Surely it can't be much?" "It's not" I respond. "We're willing to join you... but we need you to know that you'll stop terrorizing people!" The necromancer is taken aback. "But... listen, I just want everyone to know what suffering is! I lost my wife to petty squabbles! I won't stop wi-" "Dear" the skeleton speaks. Everyone looks at her. "Every day, I have to watch you suffer in hate and despair. I never said anything after you brought me back because I didn't want you to think I hated you. I don't hate you. But you need to stop hating people." "But darling-" the necromancer begins, but he's cut off. "You don't even know what you're doing. But now I can show you. Look at them. The hero team and your team... the hero team who wants to fight you, you who wants to fight them, and innocents caught in the battle. You became the thing you hate." She puts a bony hand on his arm. His eyes widen as he looks at us again. A realisation dawns on his face. "You're really prepared to join?" "Yes!" the ranger exclaims. "We can all *help* people! Just stop all the evil stuff!" The necromancer blinks, smiling. "Very well. From now on, I will work *with* you, not *against* you. If you'd kindly..." We all quickly use our daggers to break the ropes. The barbarian practically FORCES me into a kiss; the cleric checks the dark knight for any accidental wounds; the ranger and dark elf almost dance around the room; the mage and warlock hug each other in relief; the orc gives the rogue a hard punch, his sign of affection towards her I guess, as she pretends to be hurt by it. My team are punished for threatening his team; his team are punished for going behind his back. We're put into cells, but we get to share with our lovers. Before being escorted away, I asked a question: "You're not getting us out of the way, are you?" The necromancer laughed. "Just need to remind you all your place. Also, I don't think I'd get away with it even if I *were* a backstabber!" So for now, we're all sitting in fairly comfortable cells, as we had been told they were, and I'm just chatting with my guy. "That went well... but..." "Don't apologise" he chuckles. "You may be a warrior, but that was a very barbarian idea. I'm impressed!" I blush. "Thanks, sweetie!" He gives me a gentle punch. "So, things are gonna be different from now on, eh?" "Much better too." I yawn dramatically. "Man, I'm bored!" "I could beat you up" the barbarian teases. "It's ok, I know what you were hinting at, and I'd love to!" \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ Thank you for reading! More stories [here!](https://www.reddit.com/r/StoriesbyCrystal/comments/x374da/oneoff_stories_a_collection_of_stories_which_are/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3)

One of the Heroes has confessed that they have been dating a member of their Enemy Villain Team for some time now. Turns out, they all have, and they are just really good at hiding this kind of stuff

Since life began, Hive minds have existed in the natural world. Bees, ants, migratory birds, some may even say pack animals, all exhibit a shared drive to work collectively towards achieving a goal. A hive mind is not a telepathic web shared consciousness, but rather a societal network of communication towards an instinct rooted deep in the motivations of a greater good of a species society. These messages that pass through chemicals, sounds, and physical movements are not opinion. They are not ego driven. They are the way of nature, and without question to their behavior. This is primarily, the anomaly of humanity. What instincts do humans have for a greater societal good? What drive do they have to work in unison for a larger purpose? For the sake of the colony? Through the birth of technology, humankind’s world has shrunk. The printing press allowed for the preservation of information. The computer processed information and the internet made it accessible to the masses. More connected as one colony than ever before, humankind showed no signs of hive behavior. No unified harmony in the individuals effort. The trouble with humans, you see, is that they are the opposite of a “hive mind”. The more they’re pushed together, the more they fracture. This is the scourge of Mother Nature. A creature most capable of communication and complex decision making on the planet but their wiring never let them look beyond themselves. As their society advanced, their connection to the instincts and intuitions of nature shattered, leading to the first documented case of “anti-emergence.” The human condition is one not driven to the betterment of the whole but galvanized by the prosperity of the individual. It is this that will lead to the fall of civilization, for the colony survives and thrives from the sacrifices of its inhabitants. As we continue to grow through our technological evolution and distance our species from its natural state, we are destined to grow further apart, until the last person walks this world.

The trouble with humans, you see, is they’re sort of the opposite of a “hive mind.” The more they’re pushed together, the more they fracture. They are the first documented case of “anti-emergence.”

"You allergic?" "No why?" "Oh no, see. My momma got another cat." The conversation carried on as his newest ward fumbled with the keys outside. Mushu didn't exactly like him. But he was a little dependent on the guy at the moment. Typically when an entity such as Mushuzziel manifests, it's the beginning of the end. Or at least an end to something in this forsaken plane. Carnage and brutality were the name of the game, and what mortals tended to fear. But something had gone wrong on Mushuzziel's latest excursion to their world. He came back young. A kitten, barely able to walk. His latest mother doing her best to care for him. But eventually they were separated. He was in a box made of some silver like material. He spent time in here with others like himself. Days. Months. Occasionally brought out under the odd lights the world had now. They did not produce flames. So odd. He was poked with something he'd never known. The pinch making him tense every time. And numerous mortals kept looking at him. These new rituals made no sense. He finally wooed a woman to acquire him. There were no coins or gold exchanged. Odd. There were no horses. Just an oddly smooth ride in a container, inside of an even larger container. And then, he was in a home. With the woman, and a man. He was younger than she. And Mushu believed, easier to corrupt. "So what's it's name?" The younger woman asked. "Mushu." He answered. He did his best to stand tall. They must understand his power. The fear he struck into hearts. The- "That's a stupid name." "Eh, it's all the guy answers too." The man shrugged. "You just didn't try hard enough." She said before leaning in. "What's your name? Mac? Mickey? Maine? Mike? Maxwell? Mason? Marble? Melvin?" Her faced dropped in disappointment. "...Mushu?" "Meow." Mushu trilled. "See?" His owner answer. "Cat likes the name." Respect was earned, not given. He would be rewarded in death. As for her. Mushu had horrible plans for her. Hell loves the ignorant ones. "It's a stupid name." She repeated. "You were gonna name that man Marble." His owner said as he left the room. The woman shortly followed. And the pair began talking over some other inane dilemma mortals do in their short existence. Mushu found himself staring at the pictures. They were so detailed. And surprisingly well done. He understood that there were six people here. The man in the other room was very little. As he got bigger, others disappeared. Until there were only two. He and the woman who bought him. Interesting. In the next room, sat the talking window. Mushu had heard of these. But he never saw them in action until he came here. Frightening really. They contained anything one could imagine. He had to bring one back to his domain. Such magic had to be useful. He entered and closed in on it, if anything to get a better look. Perhaps if he stood up on the edge and touched the window, he could know what secrets it held. "C'mon little buddy." His owner scooped him up and away. And while he gently hissed and bit, his owner simply scooped him closer and sat on the couch with him. "Stay away from the TV." He warned as he sat him down on the massive cushion the three of them shared. "You'll go blind." *I ought to blind you.* Mushu frowned. But of course, the fact that they began rubbing behind his ears. It did feel good. And the food wasn't bad at all. They even let him try something called 'Bacon'. Such a weird name. But it was good. Eventually he stretched out. Letting his owner's odd friend rub his side. A free massage is a free massage. He would raise his army. And summon his closest aides. They would attack. And conquer. Right after the tummy rubs he was getting now. Mushu would have his chance to destroy the world. But, hey, it could wait until tomorrow. --- Tfw your cat's an actual demon. But the Purina hittin just right. r/Jamaican_Dynamite

Mushuzziel, King of Cats in Hell and Ruler of the Dominions of madness, death, and decay has incarnated for the first time in 75 generations. But that’s irrelevant because all he is to you is Mushu, the cat you just adopted.

For a month a year, I have the greatest job in the world. I am a mall Santa. The mall is decked out in its holiday finery. Trees, and lights and garland and Christmas music playing. The hallways are bustling. Parents want to shop and get out. The kids want to come and see me, to tell me their wishes and secrets. It is truly a magical time of year. “Ho Ho Ho! Merry Christmas!”, I say cheerily from my chair. My voice gets swallowed by the busy din of the mall. One of the helper elves brings a little girl out to my chair. I looked up to the second helper elf who has the child’s name on a little white board that only I can see. It is the little things that let me bring the magic to these kids. “Hello Mary!”, I say as the child gets close. Her eyes get wide. I see her turn back to her mom and say, “he knows my name!” She says excitedly. “Of course, I know your name. You have been a very good girl this year.”, I reach out a hand and welcome her to my chair. “Tell me Mary, what would you like for Christmas this year?” Mary is a shy girl and looks down and then whispers, “I want a pony.” “Ho Ho Ho! Oh my, that is a big wish.”, she nods in agreement. “Do you have a place to keep a pony?” “I don’t know. Maybe in the garage.” “Do you have a place for the pony to run and exercise?” “No”, she says sadly “Mmmmm…. Maybe something a little smaller would be better?” “I want a Sally talks allot dolly”, she says after some serious thought. “Oh, that is a great dolly. I really like that one! She has long blonde hair just like yours and she says so many different things. That is a great gift idea.”, little Mary grinned from ear to ear. While I make small talk with Mary, I use my right hand to spell out the gift she wants in sign language to one of my elves to tell the parents. “You have a great Christmas Mary!”, I say, as I send her on her way. Little Billy is next. He is not sure if he is a believer or not. “My friend Steve says that Santa isn’t real.”, he says sadly “I will tell you a secret Billy. Santa isn’t a single person. Santa is the spirit of hope, and innocence, and wonder, and childhood. That spirit lives in you and in me and in all of us. If you do something that gives a child hope or sparks their wonder…. Then in that moment, you are Santa.”, I said as seriously as I could. “But remember, that is a secret.”, I tapped my nose and winked at him and sent him on his way. The rest of the evening is a blur of children and impossible wishes. Some sweet kids, some bratty kids, some entitled parents and everything in between. A typical evening in the mall. We were just about to shut it down for the evening and there was one more kid. A young boy, a little older than my usual kids. He ignores the helper elf and comes out to the chair and sits beside me. “Ho Ho Ho! Merry Christmas little man. What would you like for Christmas this year?” “I know you aren’t really Santa. I know Santa isn’t real. I just… I just need some one to see me. To know I am trying.”, he voice breaks and he is about to cry, “ I am trying as hard as I can but he still hits me.”, a tear rolls down his cheek. “I don’t know what else I can do….” I reach over and give him a hug and he sobs, and then pushes me off and runs away. I wish I could say it was the first time I had heard a heart breaker but it happens too often. The chime played on the mail speakers followed by the mall is closing soon message. We pack it in and shutdown for the night. In the backroom, I change into my street clothes. I look in the mirror…. The big beard is natural. I need the glasses and I have a full head of grey hair. Even without the red suit I still look like Santa. “Ho ho ho”, I say sadly to my reflection. That last kid really got to me. I head out to the bus stop and I see that same kid waiting outside trying to keep warm by a vent. I watch him as I wait for my bus and I see a tall man walk out of a pub a couple of doors away from the kid. He walks up behind the kid and slaps the back of his head. “Come on you little shit. Let’s go home”, he says drunkenly. The boy visibly shrinks back from him as they walk down the street. My bus comes and goes and I am still standing there… watching them walk down the street. I start following them. Out of the down town core. Out into the warehouse district. Out into the low income, high density housing…. The high class slums of the city. They get to a building and he opens the door for the kid and pushes him in. “Get the fuck up stairs you…. Burrrrrrp…. Fuck…”. He leans against the building and lights a cigarette and starts smoking. I walk right up to this drunk guy. “You need to stop hitting that kid.”, I say in my meanest voice. “Fuck off Santa.”, he says and spits to the side. I sucker punch him in the stomach, doubling him over. “I said, you need to stop hitting that kid.”, I lift his head up by his hair, “did you hear me, you fucking drunk? You can Fuck up your life, but that kid still has a future. It is your job to protect him and help him. You don’t fucking hit him. Got it‽” “Fuck you!”, he yells and he punches me in the gut. It should have doubled me over but it felt like nothing. I feel cold. Ice cold. My fist is steaming like it is made of dry ice. I hit him in the face and I see ice form on his cheek where I struck him. I hit him again and again…. Left, right, left, right. My hands are literal blocks of ice. “Who, who the fuck are you?”, he says. His lip is split and cheeks are red and raw. “I am Santa Clause, motherfucker!”, I say slowly. My breath coming out like thick steam. I grab him by the collar and easily lift him off the ground. “I will know if you have been good. I will know if you have been bad. So you better be good or I will be back and I will fuck you up. Are we clear?” “Yeah. Yeah. We are clear.”, he whimpered. “Merry fucking Christmas, asshole.” I say as I drop him. He stumbles. He fumbles for his keys and runs into the apartment building. I let out a frosty breath and start walking back to my bus stop, humming ‘Santa Clause is coming to town” under my breath.

As a mall santa you hear both sweet and heartbreaking wishes. But this one is different.

I jumped up from my bed, the rustling occurring outside unbearable. I grabbed my metal bat and approached a window, throwing it open. “Get outta here you animals!” I screamed, raising the weapon overhead to make my body seem bigger. To my shock, rather than a pack of raccoons rummaging outside, a small family stood staring in fear. I stared back, utterly stunned. I quickly lowered my hands and closed my jacket, the shirt I wore under having been worn for at least two weeks straight. My beard and hair were both long and unkempt, as opposed to the more… civilized look of the people standing before me. “Where have you been!?” I screamed. “Three years you left me alone here, and you were just around the corner!” The father stepped forward, putting his hand protectively in front of his wife and two daughters. “You’ve been living in our house… for three years?” he asked, disgusted. “What? What are you…” I stopped myself and picked up one of the picture frames I broke as a game last night. Behind the shattered glass was the same family of four, their smiling faces a stark juxtaposition to the expressions delivered to me at the moment. “Oh, umm, sorry, I didn’t realize anyone lived here. It was as abandoned as anywhere else. I’ve only been here a few days,” I apologized. “A few days…” the father repeated, mesmerized. “How did you know we would be gone that long?” Something was very wrong with the people staring at me. Their clothes were far too clean, and their skin far too undamaged for the amount of time I’d had to spend in the sun scrounging for food. There were no telltale scars over their faces and… And the mom was trying to get her phone to turn on. “You’ve been gone for years,” I said, realizing they had returned. Suddenly, I noticed that others were milling about behind them, outside, and trying to figure out why the power was out. “Years? No, we were just… How long was it, girls?” the father asked his daughters, confused. “Maybe a week?” the younger one answered. “I don’t remember at all, Dad,” the older one admitted uneasily. The dad looked up at his house, the overgrown grass and weeds eating away at the sides and the roof littered with leaves from the handful of seasons that dumped their elements on the home. The car in his driveway was sagging, the air in the tires long gone, and animals having had their way with the hood of the vehicle. Then, he looked back at me with some sincere concern in his eye. “You said we’ve been gone three years? Where were we?” he challenged. “How should I know? I was the only one left behind,” I replied. “Left behind where?” he asked. “I don’t know! Earth, maybe? I haven’t seen another human in years!” I answered. The family looked between one another, then back to me, waiting for me to reveal some sort of joke or more information, but I simply shrugged and made my way out of their home and leaving the door open behind me. “Sorry, I broke in the door to get inside, but everything else is mostly intact, just really dusty.” “Wait!” the mother called hesitantly. I turned around with the bat over my shoulder. “How do we know you’re telling the truth?” “Lady, I really couldn’t care less if you believe me, I’m gonna go find someone to talk to that might have more memory than you four,” I said, turning back around. “What are we supposed to do?” she followed up. “I dunno, I’m going to figure that out myself,” I replied. It took me less than a dozen steps to realize I was being followed by the family. Not only did they believe me, but they thought of me as some sort of leader. With the bat over my shoulder, I put some extra pep in my step, very excited to see more people have a fish-out-of-water experience coming back from whatever vacation humanity collectively decided to take. _______________________ /r/Nazer_The_Lazer

You wake up one morning to all humans gone, you live a life for 3 years, then you wake up and everyone has reappeared confused why the world is in disarray, you are the only one who knows what happened

Parker had heard of the door through stories and rumors. He never gave it much thought. Just some weird purple door with one lock that every key worked on. It wasn't until his mother passed away and left him with a small box that he decided to seek out the door. Parker had opened the box and all that was inside was a silver chain with an d rusted key hung on it. It had a circular top with a swirl in the middle--Parker thought it looked like it came from some fantasy RPG. He had put the chain around his neck, tucked it into his shirt and pulled on his beat up brown leather jacket. It took him a little over two years to find the door. Two long years of hitchhiking, traveling and buying sketchy information off of shady sellers. It was behind a secluded waterfall somewhere in a deep forest. He had walked along the wet stones to get behind and there it was. That strange, bright purple door. It just stood there on the rock. Nothing behind it, nothing to the side. No wall. Just a door on a rock. It shone with an eerie glow that gave Parker an uneasy feeling in the pit of him stomach. He swore he heard a soft ringing coming from the door. He stepped up to it and pulled the key from his neck. He unhooked the chain and took it off. The handle and lock were one mechanism. The silver paint was chipping on the handle in areas where the metal curved up. The keyhole felt inviting, but in a void kind of way. In a way that made Parker hesitate. He took a deep breath and stuck the key into the lock. It fit. He twisted it and the door clicked. He pushed down on the handle and the door slowly swung open. He nudged it further to see what was there. Parker's breath caught in his throat. He felt as if he was dreaming. There was no way this was real, right? Tears stung the corner of his eyes. On the other side of the glowing, purple door was a small room. The ceiling came to a point like he was in an attic. On the wall, under the point of the room was a circular window. A soft, golden glow poured through the faded curtains. The yellowish wallpaper was chipped and rotted in some spots. An old, hard mattress with yellowed sheets laid on an rusted metal bed frame, perpendicular to the window. A mahogany chest sat at the foot of the bed, the lock broken. There was a bookshelf to the left of the bed, filled with run down books. Some shelves were crooked and looked as if they were about to fall apart. A stained rug sat in the middle of the room. Parker felt a warm tear roll down his cheek. It was his mother's room. Specifically, her room back at Grandma's house. It was Parker's favorite place as a kid. The place he'd go to first when visiting Grandma, the place he'd be read stories to, the place he'd peer out the window and watch old dogs run down the street. The place that burned down and took his mother with it. He took a hesitant step inside and looked around. It smelled exactly as he remembered. Dusty and little rotted but with a hint of vanilla. He sat on the bed and the mattress dipped beneath him with a squeak. He felt the rough sheets beneath his fingers, the sun on his back. Parker never thought he'd see this room again. He wished he could stay here forever. A childish dream really, especially for a 24 year old man, but he didn't mind. It was home. The chest at the foot of the bed caught his attention. He was never allowed to look inside it as a kid. He always wondered what was in it. Parker slowly stood and the bed creaked again. He kneeled in front of the chest and flicked open the latches. He lifted the lid and peered inside. There was a key ring filled with keys--had to be around 10 different ones--and a leather bind photo album. He picked up the album and flipped through it. It was normal at first. Pictures of Grandma was she was young, his mother as a child. It showed her growing up, getting older. It was only when the photos started showing his mother pregnant that they started to get weird. First it was fuzzy photo with a key on the floor. Then a blank page. It got weirder and weirder until the photos stopped. Parker flipped through the blank pages in a panic. Then he stopped. There was another photo. It was of his mother, holding baby Parker, standing in front of a glowing purple door. She was smiling. She didn't feel off in anyway, but the photo left a bad taste in Parker's mouth. He flipped the page and there was a piece of paper in the plastic slot instead of a photo. It had a message written on it with purple pen. "Hi, Parker! It's Mommy. Well, I'm guessing it's Parker reading this. If it's not then something weird probably happened, but I'm putting my faith in it that this finds my boy! I'm sure you're wondering about this album, these keys and this door. Of course you would be, you were the most curious kid I knew. Back when I was pregnant with you, your Grandpy built this door for me. For you. It was supposed to be a little gag gift for your 18th birthday. You know, like a whole old-spooky-weird-door-from-before-you-were-born-that-actually-means-nothing kind of thing. But when we first tested the door, with the key to my bedroom, it opened up to my bedroo-" The ink on the rest of the note was smudged, illegible. Parker swore under his breath. Of course the note would get messed up on the part that actually explains it. He closed the photo album and stuffed it into his satchel. He grabbed the key ring and closed the chest as he started for the door again. He closed it behind him and took out the key, hooking the chain around his neck again. Parker glanced between the keyring in his hand and the lock on the door. He could test out the different keys and see what they have to offer, or he could go home and forget about it. Maybe try again some years later. Parker spun the ring around his fingers once and shoved it into his satchel. He zipped up the pouch and turned on his heel.

There is a purple door somewhere with a single key hole. It will open regardless of the key that is used. All keys can open this door, but what‘s on the other side, however, depends entirely on the key.

As the call for Mittern rang from the temple bells, Stjepan stood in the Familiar Circle as the rest of his classmates and Professor Vasilevskiy looked on. He lit the candles from the easternmost along the pentacle lines, chanting the spell to summon his Familiar. His best friend, Alya, has just finalised her summoning - a Medusa's severed head, with the most saccharine voice in the world. The head was endlessly chattering away, and Stjepan had found it oddly endearing as he focused his will within the circle. As he crescendoed the final refrain, he felt a surge as he knew the name to call to bind his Familiar. "...Come forth, Soulbound Brethren Ashe!" It tore the energy away from him as the spell sought its target, and Stjepan felt a tugging, pulling him towards the edge of the circle. A panicked Vasilevskiy called out, "Don't break the circle!" But it was too late, Stjepan had been *thrown* from the circle as a red-headed, completely naked woman stood in the circle; polished gold eyes glared at Stjepan, who was frozen and crumpled against one of the metallic pillars in the spellroom. The woman spoke angrily, tone clipped and sharp, as she cast a clothing spell. "Do you mind?! I was feeding my children until this asshole bound me to his soul!" The onlooking children turned away, and many of the boys (and some of the girls) blushed in embarrassment. The Professor started screeching, wailing into the room. "Demon! He bound another human to his will! Guards! **Guar-**" The woman had sewn his mouth shut without speaking. "For the love of Dad, will you knock it off?" She strode towards Vasilevskiy, her form-fitting silk dress and ebony sandals gently shuffling in the now-quietened room. "He is *not* a demon, but he *is* an idiot if he thinks I can come running and leave my children whenever he pleases." With that, she turned heel and stomped across the circle to where Stjepan had been recovering, as she stared into his eyes. The Gaze began, and she saw into the truth of Stjepan - a grim determination to prove everyone wrong, and become a master Hunter, Mage in order to save his sister; a young child, sacrificed to the Hellborn Legions and her soul stuck Below. And to do that, he needed someone with experience. Which is why... She whispered in his ear, as he blanched, "You sought me out? Such *arrogance*, but born of desperation." She picked him up as though he were a speck of lint, and carried him as though she were the hero and he the damsel in distress. She gestured to the professor, and called out to the class, "Tell Emil we'll be back shortly; I have my family to return to and bring." She knelt down in the circle, and *transformed*, into a giant dragon that somehow made sure that she was just small enough to leave the room, her scales of midnight shimmering in the candlelight. "You," she spoke, somehow pointing to Alya unerringly. "Make sure the idiot child is safe until I return." With that, the dragon soared through the room, flying right through the walls as she faded to the grey of twilight and disappeared.

During the annual Familiar summoning course for first year students at the magic academy, some students end up with creatures like Beetles to bunnies to even a lion, you on the other hand wound up summoning an Arch-Dragon in his human form

My lungs gasp for breath. Even with the ambu bag forcing air into my mouth, it's not enough. The pain in my chest builds, and I know it won't be long now. Sirens wail overhead. Darkness begins closing in, bringing my vision to a tiny pinprick of light, until even that disappears. Sensations and sounds follow soon after, leaving me in a dark, barren, silent void. Surprisingly, all the negative emotions I'd been holding at the end – fear, doubt, regret, pain – vanish. Nothing remains now except an overpowering sense of peace. I wait there for a few moments in the pitch black nothingness before I realize something especially odd: I still *am*. I no longer have a physical body, but I'm somehow still *me*. Weird. I wonder what this place– **The demo has ended. Subscription required for entry into the afterlife.** The words pop up in bold, white text against the black backdrop. I would have jumped at their sudden appearance if I'd still had a body to do so. What the... They need some kind of– **FAQ** The original text is abruptly replaced with the simple string of letters. Okay then. Cool. Um... What is the– **What is the afterlife like?** **The afterlife is a place of peace and contentment for those who choose it. This place goes by many names, such as paradise, heaven, or nirvana.** Oh. Are any of my fam– **Are my deceased family and friends in the afterlife?** **Yes and no. Some have paid for the afterlife subscription. Others have not. As mentioned in our privacy policy, we cannot give specific names of those in the afterlife.** There's a privacy po– **Privacy Policy** **Our privacy policy was last updated at the time of the beginning of the universe.** **1. Afterlife Services...** Yeah, okay. That was rhetorical. So, what's the cost of– **What does the afterlife subscription cost?** **An afterlife subscription is paid with a currency called 'Karma'. Karma is...** Wait, Karma? Like the– **Afterlife Karma is not in any way affiliated with the digital point system of 'karma' on certain websites within the physical realm.** Right, sorry. Makes sense. Anyway, what were you saying about the cost– **What does the afterlife subscription cost?** **An afterlife subscription is paid with a currency called 'Karma'. Karma is earned via positive choices while one is experiencing physical life on one's planet. Similarly, Karma is lost via negative choices. Upon completion of a physical life, the sum total of one's Karma is calculated. Those who have a positive balance are given a choice of spending that balance toward an afterlife subscription.** Remembering the feeling of gulping, I form my next question. What if you don't– **What are the alternatives to an afterlife subscription?** **A place of eternal punishment does not exist. Anyone with a negative balance is given an additional helping of empathy. Then, the user must reincarnate and try again. The user will continue this process until their total positive Karma is at least 50% greater than the user's cumulative negative Karma for all past lives. This process ensures that each user must eventually make his or her physical realm a better place for everyone.** **Anyone who has a positive Karma balance is allowed a choice:** **1 – Reincarnate and experience physical life again. The Karma balance is retained and any gain or loss from subsequent physical lives will be included in later totals.** **2 – Return the user's essence to the universe.** **3 – Subscribe to the afterlife for whatever duration the user can afford. At the end of the subscription period, the user must choose from options 1 or 2.** Wow. Um... So what is my– **What's my score? How long would it grant me in the afterlife? And how does it compare to others?** **The average score in the afterlife is 9,247 Karma. This would equate to 9.247 millennia.** **Your score is 803 Karma.** Oh. That's all? **Correct.** If I still had shoulders, they would slump with disappointment. Okay, one last question before I choose. Can I request– **Requesting additional empathy.** **Reincarnaters are allowed to request additional doses of empathy before reincarnation. There is no cost for this service.** That's what I want. I can do better this time. I know it. \-------------- r/WannaWriteSometimes

"The demo has ended. Purchase a subscription for entry into the afterlife."

I only wanted to have fun at first. I kept it secret while I practiced my skills and learning limits. I applied for a patent and started teaching my friends. We found the was a hard 200 pound limit. If you and what you were carrying went over that you couldn’t leave Terra Firma. The only physical exertion was in starting and stopping. You could accelerate to 50 miles an hour max speed and just stay going in a straight line with no further effort. After posting all of my techniques online I started receiving awards. The awards should have been the first sign of the trouble I caused. They came from amnesty groups, small but “politically active” countries, and poorer nations. The only sign I actually noticed was the summons to the capital. I sat in an office with a geometric shape while my elected leader explained my patent was unenforceable and was going to be denied, unless I sell it to the government for 1 billion as it gave them leverage internationally. The money floored me and I got lost in thoughts of what I’d do with it. The president recognized my daydreaming look and said the line that made me catch my breath, “we are also offering you witness relocation”. I was dumbfounded at the statement. “Why would I need that?” I asked. The president nodded to someone behind me and a large monitor appeared out of the ceiling paneling it had been perfectly hidden in. Images of missing children notices, massive immigrant groups flying over borders, and finally kid soldiers practicing flying with what looked like bomb packs. The potus handed me a trash can just before I vomited. He must have seen it on my face. He put a hand on my shoulder. “Son, take the money and hide. We will help you pick your forever home, but you need to understand that you will soon be a hunted man. Take the offer.” I signed the paperwork with tear filled eyes. A young well dressed woman walked up to me with a tag that said “travel”. She smiled reassuringly and whispered “Let’s get you hidden”

Bored one day, you decide to try grabbing yourself by the feet and lifting yourself up into the air. To your amazement, it works. Global transport is revolutionized as flying becomes commonplace. You win hundreds of awards, hailed by world leaders as the new face of change.

Errol had been the first and final man to visit her on her rock-pool island in the uncharted sea. He’d been a handsome captain of an exploration vessel, and when her wailing had hit his ship like a vile storm, when mens’ ears bled and they begged for mercy, it had been Errol who’d tied cloth around each of their ears, dampening the terrible sound. It’d been Errol who’d rowed alone in a smaller vessel to find her. To stop her. Now, many years later, she watched this new vessel with interest, her mouth — for now — closed. Although this ship was much larger than Errol’s had been, it wore the same livery and flags as Errol’s ship once had. Bore the same topless goddess carving as its figurehead. ​ — ​ Men and women screamed alike as the sea bubbled up around their ship. Babies wept in their mothers’ arms. The ship moaned, rocked. Lifted. ”Where’s the captain?” yelled Maria, struggling against the rolls of water that rushed through the inside of the ship. Morgan, the dogsbody, pointed to the stairs, said, ”At the wheel. Not that it’s—“ Salt water sprayed against him, a wave threw him to the floorboards. ”Here, take my hand.” Maria helped the boy to his feet then made her way up the stairs, knuckles red as she gripped the bannister each time a wave battered against her. ”Captain!” she yelled, stumbling towards him like a drunk. “Captain!” When the captain saw her, he took the rope from off his own waist and tied it around hers. “It’ll keep you from being washed away.” “What’s happening?” “I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have brought us this way. It’s where Errol vanished — I knew it as well as anyone. Better, even. This sea is cursed!” ”That was a century ago! It’s a legend, nothing more. And if you—” Her mouth remained open but no words left. The creature rose above them. It blotched out the sun and shadowed the ship. Loomed over it like a tidal wave of scales and teeth. A tentacle as thick as a tree crashed down on the deck near to them, splintering wood. ”God help us.” \- Errol had landed on the pebble beach; she was sure he’d come to kill her. His head was wrapped by shawl and scarf. Her singing was of no use. She swiped at Errol with her clawed hands as he tried to clamber out of his boat. ”Please!” he said. “I come unarmed. I come with only peace in my heart.” ​ So long ago, she thought. She held a piece of cloth that had once covered Errol’s ears and watched as the Kraken rose above the latest ship. \- A body lay next to Maria. A man — one of the few soliders on the transport vessel — lay crushed, chest flattened. She untied the rope from her waist, then uncurled the dead man’s fist and took the spear from his hand. ”Maria, don’t be a fool!” yelled the captain. She charged towards the tentacle wrapped around the mast, as it slowly cracked the wooden pole like a spine. She shouted over her shoulder, “You have a better plan?” He didn’t. He had no plan at all. She thrust the spear through the scales and into the wet flesh. The creature didn’t even flinch. The mast snapped. Fell. “Maria!” \- Errol had stayed with her. His ship had sailed on without him, as he had instructed. He wasn’t sure how his plan would pan out — if he’d calm her or only enrage her further. ”Your singing,” he’d said. “It… It repels people. It hurts them.” She had meant it to. It was the song of her heart. As tar-black as the depths of the sea. She could not swim and had been stranded here as a child, a freak of gods and demons, on this lonely rock, to live off whatever washed up in the pools. To harbour hatred for all she was jealous of. Here she had been for centuries. It was her heart’s song. It was all she could sing. And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to kill him. Not yet, at least. She made Errol tell her of life outside of the island. Eventually, she told him about life on it. They fished together that night. Cooked by fire. Told stories of the stars. Slowly, over many weeks, they became enchanted with each other’s quiter siren song. \- The captain jumped at Maria and they tumbled to the floor as the mast collapsed. Too slow. His left foot was caught, crushed. He lay trapped. Maria had his hand, tried to free him as a tentacle rose above them. ”It’s okay,” he said. “We had a good run, didn’t we?” ”It’s not over.” He smiled against the pain. They both knew it was. ​ And then came the sound. A melody that seemed to rise from within each of them and make its way outward. But that wasn’t right; it was on the air, in the breeze and water. A melody so delicate and wondorous that it seemed written by the gods themselves. The captain thought it was the song of cherubs who must be, even now, taking him beyond. ”The sound,” said Maria. “It’s like a harp being strummed in my heart. It’s beautiful.” The tentacle, high in the air above them, slowly lowered, gently, back into the sea. The creature itself rocked slowly as it settled and sank peacefully into the water, lulled into a deep, deep rest. ​ \- She watched the ship long after the Kraken slumbered, as the people on board repaired it the best they could. She sang for them as the worked. All the while she held the precious rags to her chest. Whether these people visited her after or sailed away, she didn’t mind. She didn’t feel lonely. She was glad just to have sung the new song that possessed her heart.

You're a siren who is trying to lure a shipful of sailors to their death. "Please", one of the sailors beg as he swims onto your island, almost too willingly. "Stop. You're so bad at singing."

Sitting in the bushes, I unblinkly stared at the dirt road in front of me. I don’t want to miss a second of what's about to happen. All of my hard work for the past month is going to finally pay off. In the distance, I saw a flash of familiar brown hair. My heart starts pounding as I see the hair come closer and closer. My enemy finally comes into full view but something is wrong. Something is terribly wrong. “Oh no,” I audibly said. I hurriedly moved out of the bushes to disengage my trap. I started to sprint, but it was too late. The trap is engaged. I walked into the road and looked into the trees, I saw the brown-haired man that was my target hanging by his leg in the tree. Next to him in the tree is a child. “What the hell, man,” said Frank, my mortal enemy. “You never have a kid with you when you come this way!” I yelled back at him. “His mom is out of town,” Frank said, holding his child as they swung from the tree. “You should have got a babysitter,” I said, rapidly thinking of my next move. “Money is tight right now.” Frank said, as he and his child were now spinning in circles. “Can you let us down?” “No, I worked hard on this,” I said, trying to figure out any other way to handle this situation. “Maybe I can just let the kid down.” “You can’t let a kid run around unattended,” Frank said. I started to pace. Frank is right, I can’t let a kid walk around unattended. I’m not a monster. “If I let you down, will you promise to walk in the same spot tomorrow?” “His mom doesn’t get home until Wednesday.” “What about Thursday? Can you walk the same path on Thursday?” I said hopefully. “I have a doctor's appointment on Thursday, how about Friday?” Frank said back. I thought about it for a second and that worked for me. “Friday works for me!” I said as I walked over to the tree the rope was tied to and let the two down. I walked over to Frank and we shook hands. “See you Friday,” Said Frank as he started to walk away with his child. “Not if I see you first,” I said back as I walked back to gather my trap so that I would be able to use it again on Friday.

You set a trap for your enemy, but when your enemy shows up, they have a kid with them. You can't stop the trap in time, and now feel horrible. You show yourself to your now immobile enemy, wondering what to do...

Circling the tower for the 18th time that week, I realised nobody was in any rush to collect her. See, in my culture, it's noble to die to a knight. And the princess didn't seem to mind. I mean, at first she did. But she seems quite happy here, with the peace and quiet, doing everything at her own pace. I tucked my head into the stone archway leading to her quarters. "Hello!" She smiled, tucking her beautiful golden locks behind her ear. I came closer, and she lovingly stroked my wings. "Thank you for everything, Darcie. I'm so glad we're friends," She giggled, "Atleast I hope we are." I roared happily. I loved whenever she called me by my nickname. It was surprisingly close to my name in Dragonian, which is Darcaia. I wanted her to tell me more of her stories! They could never get old, no matter how many times I heard them, or what they were about. "I really like it here. But I miss home sometimes. We used to host great feasts, for the whole kingdom!" Her eyes glowed as she described it. "Anyone who was anyone came along. It was the only time I was permitted to talk with people outside my palace. We exchanged stories, and joked with each other. It was the only day that social rank could be forgotten." The joy from her face began to fade. "Yet none of them care enough to find me!" She cried, her voice quaking. "It's been a month, and you say nobody has even sent out one search party?" Seeing tears roll down her face upset me, so I gestured for her to climb onto my back. I didn't know how else to comfort her, but to show her something new. Once she was comfortable, we took off. I climbed the clouds, and the princess squealed with excitement. We flew above her kingdom, and you could see everything. It truly was breathtaking. I'd never stopped to appreciate views like this. I suppose that was one of the many things the princess taught me.

You’re a dragon who kidnapped a prince/princess. All is going to plan but… it’s been a month and no one’s come to save them.

Another day. Another fight. Another crisis. Who's responsibility is it? Mine, apparently. I save one person, suddenly it's my job to protect the city. I DON'T EVEN GET FUCKING PAID! I've hit a wall. I can't keep doing this... I use my powers of energy manipulation to direct the stress away from my brain. It's not as effective as it used to be, but it's enough, at least for now. I hear a thud behind me. I turn around. A guy in an armoured suit. Mr Metal. Yeah, classy name. I'm too tired for this... before I can say or do anything, however, he shoots something at me. It stings. I fall to my hands and knees, exhausted. I need all the adrenaline I can get... I focus my powers... I focus... and focus... but no energy is flowing in my body. I look up. "How do you like *that*, hero?" Mr Metal sneers. "Your power is gone! You can't stop me anymore! This town is mine!" I lift a hand and look at my palm. I'm powerless... I'm just another citizen... I begin to cry... "Heh, I knew you were nothing without your powers! I'm going to kill you now! Any last words?" Mr Metal raises a gun, a regular gun this time. I muster what little strength I have left to stand up. "I... I just want to thank you..." Mr Metal looks at me confused. "Wait... what did you say?" "We may be adversaries" I begin, "but it was never my choice. The public made me. I tried to get out of this... all of it... but once people know you, you *never* get out the spotlight... you do what you do for fun... I do what I do out of force... I know you want a town of prisoners and slaves... I don't care. Maybe I would have, if THEY cared. I'm just a pawn in their game. Let's see how they like it when it gets real." Mr Metal lowers his gun, looking me in the eyes. He then bursts into a cackle. "You're serious, aren't you? Well, I'll give you a CHOICE then. Leave and never come back, or be my servant boy. I'll tell you right now, I can treat you well, but of course you won't have your freedom." "When did I *ever* have freedom?" I chuckle. "You have crab? I love a good bit of crab." "Whatever you want" Mr Metal replies with a wink. I tilt my head at him. "Wait, do you-" "I was just about to kill you, remember? I got a girlfriend. By the way, you'll answer to her too." His expression is stern. "Deal" I state, and we shake hands. Upon arriving at his place, a chip is inserted into my wrist. I can't leave with this chip implanted, at least not by myself, but frankly, the smell of a freshly cooked prime rib makes me want to stay anyway. **A FEW MONTHS LATER** "But... you can't... please, I just needed a break!" "Hmm... well I guess I can get a second opinion." I hear the snapping of fingers and appear at Mr Metal's side. I look at the lady before him. "Ah, I recognise you. Knocking on my door at 3am to a woman telling me that her dog needed the vets is something not easily forgotten." "Well, I needed *you* to get the vets to open!" the lady exclaims. "Listen, you surely don't think I should be punished for taking a break, right?" "Yeah, I agree breaks are important..." she begins to smile with relief, but I continue. "Let's see... when did *I* get a break? Maybe the day when the parade happened? Or ANY Christmases? Perhaps the day my BEST FRIEND died?" I watch her face fall, as realisation dawns on her. "I figured as much" Mr Metal smirks. "Guards, please imprison her." The guards bow and take her away. He then looks at me. "Sounds like you never had a vacation... you've shown great loyalty to me. I'll have a couple guards take you to Hawaii. No better place to relax!" I smile. "Thank you, sir. That's extremely generous." He nods, gets up and serves both of us leftover crabsticks from last night. Honour, justice... screw that! Appreciation is much better! \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ Thank you for reading! More stories [here!](https://www.reddit.com/r/StoriesbyCrystal/comments/x374da/oneoff_stories_a_collection_of_stories_which_are/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3)

The villain created a device that disabled the superhero's power. Now the hero stands in front of the villain, but instead of fighting them, the hero is thanking the villain with tears in their eyes.

"I'd like to say I've been in weirder situations, but I really haven't." I sheathed my sword as the silver dragon retracted her claws. I looked over the entrance to the tower and said, "Alright, clearly there's something else going on here, so I vote we cooperate long enough to figure things out and get our respective princesses back. So, truce?" The dragon grunted. "Fine, truce. My name's Kala, by the way." I bowed and responded back, "Captain Catherine of the royal guard. Now come on. If your princess was taken too, the guilty party likely expects you to fly up to the top. We'll take the stairs. Hopefully, they're only prepared for one of us to be coming up that way." Kala nodded and crouched down as a cloud of smoke with a metallic scent surrounded her. Once it dissipated, Kala was now bearing the form of a woman with golden hair and piercing green eyes. Before I could stop myself, I blurted out, "Oh crap, you're hot." I clamped a hand over my mouth as Kala blushed bright red and awkwardly said, "We, uh...we should get going." I nodded and opened up the door for the both of us. Thankfully, the awkwardness faded quickly as Kala and I fell into a conversation that lasted us the entire trek to the top. Once it dawned on us that we hadn't encountered a single trap since we got here, we readied up for a fight. Kala broke down the door and I presented my sword, only for the both of us to stop and stare in confusion at the sight before us. Spread out across the ground was a picnic blanket weighed down with sandwiches, fruit, a charcuterie board, a bottle of wine, and macarons. Pouring the wine into glasses was Princess Lucille and a woman who I assume was the dragon princess Morrigan. Morrigan beamed and cried out, "Kala, you made it!" As Kala went in to hug Morrigan, I sheathed my sword again and asked, "Uh, what's going on?" Lucille giggled and handed me a glass. "It's a date, silly!" Kala abruptly pulled away from Morrigan and replied, "What?" Morrigan kissed Kala on the cheek. "Backstory time! So, me and Lucille have been friends since that inter-kingdom meeting, and when I told her you and I were thinking about adding other people to our relationship, she had the idea of putting together all this for a nice little date!" I tilted my head in confusion. "Okay, but, why did you drag me into this if you just wanted you just wanted some time with your dragon girlfriend and potential human girlfriend?" Lucille cracked up but stopped when she saw my expression. "My God, you're serious. Cathy, I've been in love with you for nine years." "No seriously, what's the--mmmmmph!" Lucille cut me off by yanking me into a passionate kiss. Once I was allowed to come up for air, I ended up spilling my wine as I said, "Okay, I think I believe you now." Lucille dragged me down onto the blanket and pushed me up against Morrigan. "Now you two get to know each other while me and Kala get acquainted." And so, we talked, flirted, and ate the rest of the day away, thoroughly enjoying each other's company.

A valiant knight, you arrive at the tower ready to face any monster to save your kidnapped princess. However a silver dragon suddenly appears and demands you release the dragon princess from your tower. You are both very confused.

"I'm heading out to the store Sammy. Need anything while I'm gone?" I shouted down the hall as I grabbed my keys. "Yeah, could you grab some more candles? Oh, and some chalk?" My girlfriend popped out of the bathroom. I nodded and gave her a quick peck on the cheek, then left. I got in my car, and started driving. Curses, there was a lot of traffic. I wish I could just unfurl my wings and fly, but the contract I signed when I went on vacation forbid revealing my true form to anyone. Finally I pulled into the parking lot. I had no clue why these mortals called it rush hour when it seemed like everyone went as slow as possible. I made my way through the crowded aisles, grabbing various items to keep my mortal sustained. I left the store and dropped off the bags in my car, then went inside the animal store beside it. Samantha loved receiving rabbits as gifts, even if she struggled to keep them alive for more than a day. I browsed the rabbits, trying to find a fat one that would make her squeal in delight. It was nice to spend a few decades here and there making mortals shout in joy rather than pain. I paid for the largest one there, and then walked out. I was almost at the car when I felt the familiar tug at my soul. Blasted Satan, I had booked off 49 years, why was I being pulled back now? My anger grew as the world was surrounded by hellfire. I raised a shaking fist as the fire dissipated, then looked at the shocked face of Samantha. I looked around at our apartment, then at the crude circles and runes surrounding me. "What the heaven Samantha? You couldn't wait another half hour?" She took a few steps back. "It worked? Why did it summon you? It's supposed to summon a demon!" I sighed, remembering she knew me as the mortal Mackenzie. "Okay, I think its time I explained a few things to you. And your ritual did work, though given how you misspelled my true name here, I am surprised it did. Also, I got this for you." I held out the bunny in my left arm. "Oh my god, its so fat!!!"

you are one of the decently powerful lady demons. and you didn't pay much attention to your girlfriend's latest hobby until the day she accidentally summons you.pp

Me and my best friend Ryan were walking along the beach when I spotted the most gorgeous woman sitting alone at a bench. I patted his chest and pointed at her. "Go talk to her man. Say hello. Whats the worst that could happen?" I chugged the rest of my beer and walked up to her, a lump forming the back of my throat. "Hey pretty lady." She turned her head to look at me. "*Hello handsome man. Are you doing okay*?" This was going well so far. "Now that I've seen you, I'm doing great." She smiled at me. "*Oh really? Do tell.*" "Its not often that you see someone as gorgeous as you sitting here alone." "*Really? well thank you for saying so.*" My brain struggled to come up with something else to say. "Do you come ot this beach often?" "*Not at all actually. This is my first time.*" "You should try the ice cream place over there. I love their pecan flavour." I pointed at a hut a hundred yards away. "*Hmm... I don't think I want to eat something sweet right now.*" "Well, what do you want to eat?" She stared at me. "Maybe I could take you out sometime?" "*I'd like that. When would be a good day for you?*" Hope fluttered in my chest. "I'm free saturday. We could get tacos?" "*Sounds delicious. What time?*" My heart fluttered in my chest. "Does 8 work for you?" "*Perfect. See you then.*" "See you then. Any chance I could get your number?" *"Sure thing. Here it is.*" I stared at her for a minute, waiting for her to say something. "Well?" "*So what do you have in mind?*" "Your number maybe?" "*I don't know how to text people.*" "Really? How do you not know that? Aren't you like 30?" "*I guess I'm old fashioned.*" "Fair enough. Can I still get your number so I can call you? "*Of course.*" Silence hung in the air. "Do you know what your number is?" "*Yes, I'll give it to you if you promise to keep it a secret.*" "I promise." "*Alright, I will.*" "Are you playing with me? Whats your number?" "*You're being silly. Give me yours and I'll send mine back.*" "You first." "*Okay. My name is Eliza.*" "Thats not a number." "*Its fine.*" I threw up my hands and walked away in defeat. I met back up with Ryan, who was laughing his ass off.

Modern robotics has reached the point that there are robots who are physically indistinguishable from humans. The AI on the other hand still leaves much to be desired.

They never knew. People like to think the criminal justice system is omniscient. Justice is blind, they say. You’ll get what’s coming to you eventually. Two fellows get up and argue before some old fart for five years and what do you get? Eh. I’ll leave that one for the philosophers. They say the law is the great equaliser. Hobbes - yes I read, my job doesn’t take much mental space - claims it’s part of a ‘social contract’. Smart guy, but if I like that Foucault chap better. The panopticon, now there’s a fine idea, see. There’s always someone watching. It started out with me being bored. A security guard? Bored? Perish the thought. So I started actually listening to the court cases my shift guard told me to stand at. The lower courts handle a lot of petty stuff; surprising amount of traffic accidents, but you get a lot of idiots too. *“The defendant left his prints at the site.”* *“Your honour if you will examine Exhibit A, you will find that the defendant, over the course of the two year period in question, informed numerous people of his fraudulent business.”* *“The defendant neglected to exercise due caution in reasonably considering the possibility that running his boyfriend over with his car might kill him.”* *“Your honour, the defendant was well within his rights to engage in sexual relations with the deceased’s wife, even if he did - in fact - murder the deceased.”* I never said the lawyers were smart either. After listening to enough, you start to make patterns. The robbers get caught because of CCTV footage, and then charged under Section 227(1)(B), for theft, aggravated assault and so on. They usually get anywhere between 3-10 years. The arsonists tend to get themselves wrapped up in civil lawsuits and sued out of their minds, but in Criminal Courts s.277 would probably do. Sometimes 376, but that’s contingent on reasonable foreknowledge. After some time, I wondered if I could do it and get away with it. I mean, how hard could it be? I’ve listened to every criminal court case under the sun, surely this would be a piece of cake. So I made a list of it! Some people have bucket lists, I have a crime list. I like to think it’s part of my sparkle. So. Here’s the thing. Every crime is linked to a law, right? Little Susie Jenkins leaves her daughter to bake in a car, that’s murder via negligence, something something duty of care. Well I am pleased *as punch* to announce that that isn’t true at all. There’s a way around the law for every crime. Say I came at a man with a bat. Beat the stuffing out of him. Well, easy assault and battery you think? Not so. Criminal law has this funny thing about *mens rea* and *actus reus*. The guilty mind and the guilty act. To be convicted, the court must be satisfied of both. Doesn’t make much sense to me, but it’s helpful. See, so, and hear me out: What if I assaulted a man in a way that wasn’t a crime? I mean, I’d know a guilty act has occurred, but to no one else it would register as a crime. Maybe bad luck, but never a crime. Turns out making sure Old Benjamin was *right* where he needed to be to be hit by that falling tree was hard, but a sufficiently motivated man could do it. Everyone, including the judge, chalked that one up to an act of god. Except Ben, but he was always a suspicious tart. Okay okay. What about robbery? Well I can’t spill all my secrets. In any case, your time’s about up. I’ve committed almost every crime in the code, none of it ever having made it to criminal court. The police just think they’re having a really bad year, but I know better. -and now you do too, which brings me to my point. Point, hah, get it? Cause I have a knife? Ah. Comedy. Anyway, I’ve done almost every crime, except for two. Abduction, a crime under S.273, and Murder, under S.222. Don’t ask about how I did vehicular manslaughter, that one took more time than I care to explain, and *stop struggling*, will you? You’re not some escape artist. I made sure of that, Mr. William Parker. See, I couldn’t find a way around the abduction thing. Legalese was too airtight, and no matter how I swung it taking someone against their will, especially a kid, was *no bueno*. So alas, I had to compromise on that one - do it the boring, old fashioned way. By which I mean I’m going to kill you, and no one’s ever going to know who did it. Sorry, should have made that clear. You’re what, twelve? Thirteen? Yeah you don’t really get subtext yet, you probably would have learnt that in literature, but that’s a little moot now. What’s that? Sexual assault of a minor? Damn. William, you animal, what have you been doing with mummy’s laptop? Haven’t done that one, though. Hm. Now you’ve put me in a very, very awkward position. Oh don’t be ridiculous about this. If it wasn’t you it was going to be someone - Christ almighty please don’t cry. That’s very upsetting. Now you’ve made me feel bad about this. I’ll tell you what, I’ll make it as quick as I can. No bad touch, I promise. Well, some bad touch but not *that* bad touch. I’m not a monster, you know. I’ll just have to live with one crime unfinished, but I think I may sleep easier not having done…that. See this? It’s a scalpel made of ice. Took a hell of a time to make it. Once I slit your throat I’m throwing it into the river nearby, where it will melt. There’s gonna be no DNA on-site, scrubbed that, so the police will just find a dead kid with a slit throat, and no murder weapon. Again, very sorry about this, but after this I’ll have ticked off the bucket list. Well. Most of it. You know how it is. Anyway, you might want to brace yourself. You’re probably not going to like this very much.

You've committed every crime you can think of and the police can never seem to figure out who is going on this rampage. The secret to you success? You're a security guard at a courthouse, you've learned from everyone's mistakes.

There never was any chance of victory. Not really. No fortress can hold the line against the Dark Lord. No siege can last forever. No army, no matter who backs them, their righteousness, and their strength, can do anything more than provide a temporary setback for the forces of the World Empire, under the rule of the Dark Lord. His mages are more numerous, more disciplined and well-trained. His gryphon-riders outmatches every aerial force that the dwindling forces of the light can muster. His agents turn the population against us with ease. In every conquered kingdom, resistance is futile. In every city, the Dark Lord wins the loyalty of the conquered by being, on a purely socio-economic level, a better ruler than the old order. He knows the value of merit, over the mere accident of birth, he knows the strength in letting people rise to the occasion, rather than keeping them in their place. Perhaps, if we had not been blinded by our arrogance, by our ancient bloodlines and our stratified feudal lives, we would have had the loyalty, resources, and people, that is now held firmly in the iron grip of the Dark Lord. So as kingdom after kingdom falls, one can say that the Dark Lord is undefeatable, and we might as well give up. Surrender now while we can. But that is not right. Sure, life is better for the people under the rule of the Dark Lord, but they have no notion of his final goals. Of unseating the gods themselves, of taking the mantle of power from the devils and demons. Of assuming a position atop a golden throne that will allow him to win forever. There will be no freedom, except what he gives. There will be no chance at a life without his enduring rule. If he wins, then the future of the universe itself is his iron will dominating everything forever. A safe future, but one without freedom. Without hope. We are not perfect. Our side is not without its flaws, but there were a chance of a better future, when the forces of light held dominion over the universe. That one day, the races of the world would unite and free themselves from the old order, and establish a world free from tyrants. It is similar to what he is doing, but he is simply exchanging tyrants that are, with less horrible tyrants to come. True freedom, where all mortal races are equal, and free to make choices on their own, is not what he wants. Is he the Dark Lord, who crushes empires, butchers nobles like cattle, breaks the walls of the elven cities with his own hand, burns ancient palaces to the ground to make room for his own projects, crushes his enemies, see them driven before him, and hears the lamentation of their spouses? Yes. Is he the same Dark Lord who builds hospitals, schools, orphanages, and social housing, feeds the hungry, clothes the naked, and cares for his subordinates? Yes. After all, a benevolent tyrant is still a tyrant. His good deeds do not wash out the evil he does. In fact, it makes them worse. How can someone care for the orphans, provide homes for the homeless, encourage schooling, and at the same time lead Dark Legions that topples the gilded thrones of the world, killing thousands, maybe millions? That is why I have no choice. That is why my blade even now carves through his infernal armies. Why my sword glows with a light that cannot be extinguished, that the darkness cannot destroy. That is why despite the unending legions that he has at his commands, I will keep fighting. I will not stop even as dark spells try to crush me, only for my own unending will to turn them aside; I have no choice but to try anyway, no matter how bleak the battle, no matter how futile the fight. Is there any other choice as I ram my blade into the skull of one of his demonic generals. As I hold aloft my blessed banner inspiring my fellows around me. Is there any other choice than to keep fighting? To stand against this unimaginable force, who may have had good intentions, and may do good deeds, but will in the name of progress and a better future, create a world where good is mired in bad deeds and evil wills, until all that is good will be done in his name, and will be done upon a foundation of bones and blood. As my holy shield breaks in my hand, against a cavalcade of orcish knights charging at me, I keep fighting. Because I have no other choice. As my dead comrades rise around me, raised by the necromancers under the Dark Lord's command, I keep fighting. Because I have no other choice. Even as the Dark Lord's personal guards go against me, these captains of battle, who have proved themselves on a thousand battlefields, I don't stop. I cannot. These, who have slain worthy knights of great renown, elven warrior-kings of endless prowess, and powerful archmages beyond count; together they could tear down the armies of many kingdoms on their own. I cannot slay them, but I can hold my own. I swing my blade with precision and accuracy that is almost inhuman. Perhaps even now the gods of war are riding my body like a man rides a horse, making me into an instrument of carnage. I parry with effortless movements, just the same as my opponents. They must be opposed. If they, and their master wins, they will make a world of order and progress that will never be free. Because it will be so good, like a gilded cage, where the people shall want for nothing, and never rise up against their masters. Under the old lords, things were bad, but the anger was building. We were on the cusp of revolution. Of change. And instead he came, as he does now to the circle in the middle of the battlefield, where I am surrounded by his elites. He took charge, aroused the people to anger and rage, and made himself an emperor, where we needed none. Even now as I stand before him, I feel his charisma. I feel his will, greater than my own. It is almost enough to make me bow before him. To pledge my sword and life to him, as many champions have done before. But I manage to steel myself. To gather unseen strength, allowing me to instead strike at him. Instead of dodging he simply catches my blessed blade in his hand. And with a single movement he disarms me, and looks curiously at the blade, as if he is admiring the craft. I have nothing left. My spells are used. My bow was broken early in the fight, and I seem to have misplaced my dagger in the eye of a cyclops that was under his sway. He turns to look me in the eyes. I see how easily he took charge, in those eyes. His will itself is radiating out of them, like a spell that makes you understand him as an authority. I want to look down, to apologise for staring into those beautiful orbs of his. And yet I am defiant. He must be opposed. The Dark Lord must under all circumstances be opposed. And I will not break. Not here. Not now. Not ever. ''**Your will is strong.**'' His voice is full of pure power. Of raw dominance. Of fatherly love even. Less the voice one would use to speak to an enemy, more the voice of an impressed teacher, if anything. I can only nod. If I were to speak, I do not know if I could resist bowing, but I must keep resisting. No matter what, I have only one option, only one choice, resistance. ''**Were you to bow down before me now, and swear me your loyalty, I would grant you the rulership and position in my empire that a person of such indomitable will deserves. Few have come this far, and remained loyal to themselves. I can respect that you do not bend the knee with ease.**'' I say nothing, nor do I move an inch. His every word drips with power. His every movement was that of a true leader. Even now, staring into those deep dark eyes, I could feel a part of me desiring to bow, to obey, to join him and perhaps act as a force in his regime that would lessen the severity of the dark acts he will do. And yet, I remain loyal to myself. I have no other choice. Not if I want to remain myself. Remain free. ''**On the other hand, I can grant you a worthy death. A battle against me. One-on-one. Your many wounds healed by my flesh-menders. Your strength restored completely by spell and potion. Your blade against mine. You will not win. My victory is inevitable. But your death can be a glorious one. Your body will be buried with honour, as if you had been one of my own closest and most capable officers. I would grant you that, should you prefer it to bowing before me.**''

you've simply no other choice.

**Translated from Kih-kala** *Transcription of Field Log and Comms: 002879, RTD 65th Rotation/ Orbit 4.6b. Location: Ruins on 3rd planet from system center, hereafter dubbed "3R". Team: Tev, Arrak, Chosik(Lead)* Tv"That's what I'm saying. The conditions on this planet vary so intensely, it's a wonder life could ever- Watch out!" -unintelligible- T:"You ok? Good. Good. Yeah, the native fauna seem to be highly aggressive." A:"What was -that-?!“ C:"Some sort of predator, obviously. I think those were its ears? The size of em, could probably hear prey a few kliks away. " T:"Those eyes were completely black. And those teeth! I've never seen incisors like those!" C:"We best keep moving. Scans indicate those things tend to live in warrens. Probably ambush predators. We're not far from the site." T:"Oh wow... Just look at the size of those structures. They're -massive-... How did they manage to even quarry stone that big?! Hold on, I'm getting a sample." -unintelligible- T:"It's not exactly stone! Like, there's bits of stone and silica granules, but it's all a composite material! With some Ferrous Oxide in the core of the material, which is just odd... Arrak, look at this plug sample. There's just a big chunk of Ferrous Oxide right in the middle, here!" A:"I'll be damned. Wait. Do you think it was oxidized when they built this? Or did it happen later?“ T:"Ah, were going to have to run a full atomic analysis, I think. " C:"Tev! Arrak! Cut the chatter. Dead ahead, you see that? I'm requesting a xenolinguist look over these writings. Our cartography scans indicate that we're close to the center of this... City? It must've been a major metropolitan area, judging by the sheer scope. It'll take years to fully excavate." A:"Judging by all these signs, literacy was not a problem for these folks. Oh! I know that word! 'Applied'. Resik's team sent some notes from their dig out on one of the other continents. Wait, let me see if that other word is in the translated materials... Yes! 'Cryogenics'. We're going to be poking around in there?" C:"Correct. Scans indicate a high volume of nitrogen, which may have preserved a great deal. Of what, is our job to find out today. Alright. Keep chatter to a minimum. Once we go in, we start logging everything." T & A: "Roger that" C:"Entering the site now. Structure is largely intact. Large empty sections in the walls with cubes of some laminated silicate material. Fibrous materials on the floor, some synthetic material. Bagging sample, refID: 20-A. A degraded structure in the center of the entry chamber appears to have been some sort of cellulose composite. Sample refID: 20-B. Fascinating... Degraded sheets of another cellulose material with some fragmentary 3R orthography. Sample refID: 20-C. Some sort of... Perhaps a primitive terminal of some sort on the structure. 3D scan refID: 20-A.2. Field speculation, this structure was some manner of desk. Following hallway from entry chamber. Ancillary chambers stem from central hallway. Examination of each indicate some sort of primitive medical examination. Full mapping scanners have been placed for later analysis refIDs: 20-D through 20-J. Hallway terminates in remains of double doors of heavily corroded metal. Panel to the right side with a series of buttons with 3R Orthography. Field Speculation: Security of some sort. Scanning door and panel for refID: 20-k. Stopping Log to contact HQ. We may have to destroy this door to get through to the next chamber." T: "Sir, you're going to want to see this. We ran some scans on one of the implements in one of the off-chambers. There's trace remains of some sort of organic compound and something else. High levels of glucose. It looks like some sort of pump." C: "What... Get me a full spectrum analysis as soon as possible. If my guess is right, we may have a sample of biological materials of the species that built these ruins. Arrak! Set forcer charges at the corners of the doorway. Approval from up top. We'll cart one of the doors back for full alloy analysis. The site is well documented now. Retrieval Team will have their hands full with this place. " A: "Alright! Charges set, T-20, get clear!" -unintelligible- C: "Good work. Get this dust settled. I want rotors here and here. Oh wow. Alright. We're going to need every Lighting drone we can spare. This chamber is huge." T: "Roger. We've got 6 full racks. Deploying them now.... Are... Are those pods?!" C: "Get those scanner drones up. Let's see what we're looking at. Log Resume. Primary Chamber has been opened. Scanners mapping, refIDs: 20-L through 20-T. A series of some sort of pod. They appear to have been connected to some now defunct power source... Oh. This is huge. These pods contain skeletons in incredible condition. Specimens are bipedal with a plantigrade structure to their lower appendages. This is incredible. Two arms. 10 digits... Judging by the skull, binocular vision, but it's possible that multiple eyes could reside in each socket. Dentition indicates a possibly omnivorous trophic niche. Initial observation of the skeletons indicate a wide array of minute differences from specimen to specimen. No immediate indicators of the population of this... Facility... At least, no clear sexual dimorphism. Perhaps an androgynous race? Oh... Scanners picked up a pod still powered?! This-" -unintelligible- C:"I can't believe what I'm seeing. Scanning active pod with intact specimen. After all this time, for a pod to still have power... Submitting full scan refID: 20-U, flag highest priority. If I'm understanding the readout on the pod correctly, this specimen is... Still alive. Still... Alive... This is huge. This is the biggest find on this planet. The biggest find in the history of our expedition to the outer galactic arm. I don't think the pod can be safely transported... End log. This requires immediate attention from HQ. We must secure this site and get a full extraction and medic team down here now. And I need to sit down."

You are a famous anthropologist exploring ancient ruins and you find a cryogenic chamber with a creature thought to be extinct, a HUMAN

"Mayday, Mayday. Any Allied ships, please respond. We are under attack. Two Fal Carriers. We are a civilian vessel. We request immediate assistance. Mayday, Mayday." The call was broadcast to an empty void. The last hope of a terrified crew. The Fal had been slowly sweeping through the galaxy, enslaving all before them. Save for one race, any the found were forced to feed their tyrannical machine. Their message was responded to with jeers and laughs, as the Fal casually sprayed fire at them. They piloted large rectangular ships, delibrately angular. The haulers shields were growing dimmer, the generator barely holding against the onslaught. It was inevitable in their eyes now. They would be taken, never ti see their families again. "C\--e in, we \---- you. Please \----- name and \------ for \----uring here." A new signal came through. It was weak, with words dropping. But the captain of the vessel, a Tyrinra leapt to answer. Her sinuous body was snakelike, scales in spiralling lines of pink and yellow. A pair of arms seized the edge of her console, a central one manipulating the helm. With a flick of a switch she hailed the incoming signal. "This is the Open Maw, I am Fyrnor. Please help us, we are a civilian vessel." There was a momentary whine, before the signal came through much clearer. "We read you Open Maw. How much longer can you hold out?" She looked over to one of the few crew, a delicate Gomma. Their body was thin, an exoskeleton providing necessary support against the harsh reality of space. Its many eye stalks looked at a mass of screens, taking in more information than anyone else could handle. "Shem, how long do we have?" They flapped their thin wings, a nervous tic as they ran some calculations. "Maybe four micro flaps." She nodded, opening her mouth to pass it on. "Four micro flaps? Ah, so just over two standard minutes. Understood, continue your bearing. On my mark, turn to heading eighty-four core ward. Copy?" Fyrnor blinked in surprise. Shoving aside her slight misgivings she nodded, getting ready. She could tell whoever this was was used to giving orders, and had more experience than her. "Understood." She could hear an underlying amusement in their voice, before the line fell silent. "Don't worry, you'll be fine." They continued to flee, the carriers happily harrying them. Fyrnors misgivings grew, as the line remained silent. As they drew close to the end of their time, it started up again. "Turn, now." She didn't hesitate, twisting her helmstick. The Open Maw groaned as it did so, not designed for sharp turns. As she moved, she noticed a flash from ahead, as a new ship appeared. It had a long, slender look, its bow bristling with weapons. As she moved her ship, she saw it release a bright blue light, one that burned to see. It was met with a gasp. She spun an eye to look at Shem, who seemed to be watching their pulse scanner. They turned a stalk to her, voice strangled in shock. "Both carriers... they're gone." "Indeed they are, and you are welcome." The voice came again. This time It was over the intercom, rather than her channel. "Apologies for hacking in, it helps us to hear exactly what's going on. Is anyone hurt, or any severe damage?" Fyrnor looked at her blank video screen. "We will do a run down. But can I see who just saved us?" There was a genuine laugh, and her screen received an incoming hail. With a click she answered it, revealing their saviours. A primate with dark hide looked at her, a lonely looking mop of fur on its hear. A pair of small eyes crinkled, as it bared its teeth. It matched the description of something, but she couldn't out her finger on it. "Sorry about that. The name's Gavin, its a pleasure to make your acquaintance." She gave a pair of slow winks, one with each eye. "Thank you Gavin, truly. I don't recognise your species though, I hope you don't mind me saying." He laughed again, tilting his head back. "Oh of course not. I'm a human." Human. That was it. The one race the Fal hasn't enslaved, instead burning all remnants of them. "A human?! But I thought you were extinct!" His face changed, dropping. "Almost. We almost were. The Fal saw to that. Luckily they didn't do a good job of it though. I can guess a few of your questions, but let me preempt some. No, I'm not the last. We have been hiding within the Hyperway. And yes, we are coming back." He fiddled with something off screen. A moment later both hers and Shem's consoles showed a galactic map. "I'm part of the Rapid Response. We were meant to be waiting a cycle before revealing, but our orders are also to help before if needed." The map showed the Allied controlled systems in green, with the red of Fal systems spreading around. As they watched, blue specks appeared, heading for the contested borders. "The Fal thought us gone. But now we are back, and have a score to settle."

After a devastating war humanity was thought extinct by the other races, centuries later this is proven incorrect

"Listen, grass grows, birds fly, sun shines, and honey...I hurt people" he said proudly. The two figures sat across the table from one another. One an unruly, unkempt mess of limbs and branches and the other in a sleek dress of cloth tucked neatly so no corners were visible. The woman across the table seemed skeptical though, her brows furrowed in more confusion than impress. "Ah a skeptic eh? Not the first. Give me something to showcase on then, oh madam." the more rugged of the two mocked. The woman reached under the table at his command and withdrew a small, stone-like creature, setting it down with a *plop*. He stared down to the toad. She stared up to him. The toad on the table stared to nothing in particular. And after a very long and awkward moment shared between the three the man spoke up. "Ya gotta be kidding right? Thats a Bumpy Ridgeback. You think I'd kill a thing of such beauty? No, give me a man or something- oh..., or woman, Hemlock doesn't discriminate. " he reached down and rubbed the toads bumpy back, to which it seemed to calm. Across the table the woman was trying to find the words to say before finally landing on "Look, I just I don't believe you. You're a druid, it's not particularly in your nature to be an assassin, now is it?" Her eyes were steel in their gaze, set on their insult. Slowly Hemlock rose from his chair, his green eyes growing wild like a summer storm. "Nature? Nature?! Let me teach you a lesson in the world lady." Hemlock rocketed up from his seat, sending his chair back to the ground. "Nature doesn't have feeling. Doesn't consider the others pain. Nature. Is. Ruthless." The woman still seemed unimpressed, her face a block of unmoving ice which only further fueled Hemlocks spew of venom. "You ever hear the voices of the trees? Oh they beg. Beg and beg for more, for higher, to steal as much of the sun as they can. And each individual tree would gladly blot that sun out if it meant they could grow larger. You? Me? We are merely future dirt. And that's the mentality I bring!" spittle flew from Hemlock's mouth as he ranted. A vein on his head popped loose like a river through the desert, running along just underneath his skin. "You want a demonstration?! Fine. Watch on then, oh ignorant one." With toad still in hand Hemlock stared his power into it. It did not struggle against his will, it just withered. Withered and decayed into his hands until its skin began to flake off like leaves from an autumn tree, until it was no more than a pile of nothing. It's bones fertilizer for the next thing to come. Then, from that pile, bits of green sprouted up into life once again. For the first time in their back and forth the woman across the table showed some impress, or maybe fear. Her eyes had visibly widened at the display. Never had she seen such death. Such a casual way to kill. Hemlock leaned in close, placing a dirt filled hand on his future employers shoulder. With a whisper he continued, "I could do the same to you, to anyone. Your men...or rather your piles of dirt outside are proof enough that I am not a hitman. I am nature." Once again the woman searched for the words to say, but had only couple worthy of a reply: "You- You're hired."

As a druid many expect you to be a tree hugging hippy, nobody is prepared when you say you're more of a hitman, turns out nature is quite ruthless, where plants will ask you to kill other plants so they can grow better or animals asking to hinder their enemies or lure in prey

"This one's a tough nut to crack." 'Cmon, we gotta get those codes out of him before Christmas or the Agency is done for!' "Well let's lay our options out first before we start panicking, yeah? What've we got?" 'The waterboarding did jack, and the electrodes are busted after the last guy just absorbed them like a fucking brick.' "Oh, 'Sparkman'. He really took 'em like a champ, huh." 'Well we were considering introduction of insects...' "Nup, the guy's an entomologist, remember? If the guy was uncomfortably with insects that would've been *exceedingly obvious* during pick up." 'Hmm, we were considering infrasonic messaging. Experimental with a chance of just frying his brain, but it might be the only option.' Silence hung in the air for a moment as you glance about the room. The clocks of every timezone ticked routinely behind you as you racked your brain. Your vision drifted to a stack of pop songs for the Christmas. A single disk popped out to you. Your coworker noticed this, to his dismay. "I have an idea." '...now agent, wait a minute-' "Release ***Mariah Carey."***

"He isn't cracking. If he won't give the codes up we're done for." You glance to your left and spot a box containing records of popular pop songs. Then you look at the intercom mic.

- The Wielder must be fully aware of every item in this list. - The Wielder must understand that the weapon is a *weapon* - The Wielder must acknowledge that anything which the weapon is aimed at may be retroactively annihilated from the timestream - The Wielder must therefore never aim the Weapon at anything that impinges strongly on the history of the Wielder - The Wielder must be prepared to pull the trigger, even though he never recalls having done so in the past - The Wielder must never fire off a "test shot" or use the Weapon in a shooting range, lest all nearby shooting ranges be erased from history - The Wielder must never fire the weapon at any enemy whose existence in the past is needed to ensure the unity of his own allies - The Wielder must be extremely certain that the Weapon is *correctly* aimed - The Wielder must never allow anyone else to decide what is or is not a valid target for the weapon - The Wielder must take responsibility for every shot that the Weapon fires, even though he will never remember firing them - The Wielder must find some way to sleep at night - The Wielder must never think too hard about why the world seems so empty - The Wielder must never ask about where the Weapon came from or who invented it - The Wielder must never ask why he has no memories of ever meeting any other living being - The Wielder must never ask where the people go when they are removed from time itself - The Wielder must never ask what happens when the Weapon is fired at a Total Reflector Shield

There is no chosen one. There is only a manual left by the ancients, a set of guidelines and conditions that must be followed to produce someone that can wield "the weapon".

The adventurers sat at a table in the tavern. Normally, a group consisting of a half-elf, a dragonborn, a gnome, and a human wouldn't work, but they had decided to set aside their differences for now in order to try and capture the [Ringtail.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ringtail) The creature itself was innocent - a mere bassarisk that had a turn of fate, really - so they weren't after its head. They were after the ring on the tail of the ringtail. This ring was said to grant incredible power to whoever wore it, granting consistent one-in-twenty shots on any feats no matter the skill level the user had. A wizard had allegedly forged the ring long ago, only for it to be lost when he unleashed a fireball that killed everyone in his party, including himself. Now it has returned, and adventurers all over were seeking the ringtail out in hopes to simply remove the ring from its tail. As they set out into the forest, it quickly became apparent how outclassed they were. There were traps everywhere left behind by prior parties: all of them broken, trashed, or holding the wrong animal. And then they saw it: the ringtail in its knothole den, fast asleep. The gnome, a druid, gently reached for the ring, brushing against the tail for a split second... And a pungent smell knocked the party unconscious, asphyxiating from the magically enhanced skunk-like defence. The bassarisk smiled in its sleep, knowing that no one would ever take its shiny from it. It was, for all intents and purposes, immortal, and had become ruler of the forest thanks to this ring. Soon the adventurers would be subjects under its rule, as it cast a permanent polymorph on the party. No one would ever know that this ringtail was, in fact, the forger of this ring: a druid who faked his own death to live out the rest of his life like this. Getting the wizard to cover for him had been easy, and soon, his campaign against the adventurer's guilds that had exiled him would be complete. For what adventurer could have the ring if there were no adventurers left?

A ring said to grant the user incredible power was lost for ages. However, it suddenly reappeared, stuck on the tail of an innocent woodland creature, and now adventurers travel from all over attempting to catch the beast and remove the ring.

CW: Mentioned SH. An innocuous chord from the phone lying on the coffinside table. Eddy opened his eyes carefully, slowly, feeling the sun hanging low in the sky, and reached for the device. "Kid's left the den," the message read; a second soon appearing after. "Said she was going to hang at the mall." Hang at the mall? The middle-aged vampire - three hundred and seventy-six counted as middle-aged, not some young upstart! - scoffed as his coffin rearranged itself at his thought and as he moved into a sitting position. That excuse, in twenty-twenty-two? "Y'all need to teach her to lie better," he sent back. Using that form of address still felt weird to him, but he sprinkled it in so the other families in the area wouldn't think them too snobbish. The world dimmed as Eddy's vampiric mind scattered, seeking, detecting, observing. He found nothing, as expected. Though... That was not entirely true. There was a presence in his teenage son's coffin, but it was... Oh, that was precious. He returned, ignored the dots at the bottom, and started texting his wife. "Timothy's sneaking out again. He left a homunculus in his coffin to make me think he's sleeping in." Liv was online, and started replying instantly. "Send me a picture when out of your coffin. And make sure you don't get caught. Love you." Then, back over to the other message. "Heart on her sleeve, that one. Especially this time of month. Surprised she's not told us yet. Tim did come up as a 'friend from school' last night, though. History project." The exact subject Eddy knew best and would therefore not touch with a ten foot stake. He'd done a spell as a history teacher in the 1970s and 1980s, but when it came to his son, he was a firm believer in teaching research, not dependence on him. "If they work together, it's at your place. Strict no-friends policy here." Not after, well... That one Halloween. "Antisocial coffindweller. ;-)" was sent back almost instantly. Neil probably had that as a saved reply option or something. Eddy was capable with computers, but found messaging apps strange once moving past the basics, while the werewolf on the other side worked on mobile phone applications for a living. "Do you lot need special treatment as guests?" "Some. Invitiation in, no garlic, no open blood. Some sun's fine for his age." Eddy sent the first message, but then remembered one of the hobbies the werewolf's partner had. "Hide Badr's woodwhittling too, just in case." As far as Eddy knew, his son was a year clean, but no need to test that. "Will do. Btw, y'sure ya don't want to change bet? If Sel's willing to bring him here..." the message trailed off meaningfully. Eddy shook his head, grey-white coffinhead locks falling around his face. "A pact made is a pact made." And he would stick to that even if it lost him the bet the parents had made three weeks ago. "Off to inspect my son's blood magic progress. Want a picture?" "Always!"

Your vampire son thinks you don't know about him sneaking out to visit his werewolf girlfriend. Truth is, your two families have been betting on how long until they announce it.

I walk down. The extreme whiteness of the walls, floor, and ceiling almost burn my eyes. I have the urge to shield my eyes with my arm, yet when I raise it, the slight burning continues, as if it’s coming from the inside out, not the outside in. Why am I here? I think back to before. Maybe turning around and seeing where i came from will jog my memory. So I do just that, I turn. And what is it I see there, but a plain, as plain and white as everything else in this hallway, wall. So that leaves me with my memory and memory only. A grenade, a small bomb commonly used in war, drops next to me on…dirt? wood? grass even? I can’t seem to put any detail into it other than the fact that it was a grenade. After that… well I guess I just woke up here. I look down the hallway, not able to see the end. The only thing left to do now is to walk. Walk. Why would I walk? There’s no telling what is at the end. Yet I walk. I walk as if something calls for me, like the faint voice of an old lover is calling my name in a romantical tone. There was some sort of comfort to this hall. As my feet gently touch the ground, pushing me forward each time, I feel my soul getting lighter, easier to carry with me. That was when I remembered. I saw seven faces, each had a terrified expression. I saw a gun in my hand, pointed directly at each, then fired. I had killed seven people. Was it war? Or something else? I continue down this hall. There was nothing to really look at, it was all a boring white. My thoughts almost spilled out of my brain onto the blank walls. After a minutes I remembered it was war, after hours I remembered my name, Jack Trent, my family, the year, 1975, and remembered the voices of all seven of the men. The men I had killed. Their voices were all different, all extremely complex, as if it mirrored their entire lives, and forced me to realize how each of these men were not only soldiers, but people with feelings and lives equivalent of mine. Then I reached the end. A circular room, with a long table in the center. As I entered the room, I started to see others enter as well. We all walked to the table, all equal as confused, and sat down. As we all sat down I recognized them, I recognized all seven. After moments of awkward silence, one of them spoke. “I don’t know about all of you, but I don’t know how I got here.” The others smiled and agreed, nodding their heads, collapsing back with now assurance and sudden comfort. As for me, nothing changed, the tension only grew inside me. The walls grew brighter. The people’s voices grew louder. Their names echoed in my brain. I knew, I remembered, I know why they were here. I now remember how I died. I, struck with guilt, held a grenade in my hand. The lieutenant yelling at me to throw it, the pin already pulled, I froze. Then, I just relaxed my hand, and let it fall to my feet, hitting the mixture of dead grass, dirt, and splinters of wood. It then blew. Looking at the seven of these men, I realized something that made my heart drop. I had killed everyone in this room.

As a grenade explodes and your heart stops, you wake up in a place unfamiliar. It is not heaven or hell. It’s a long corridor, and you feel a strange urge to walk down it

[English is not my first language] Sincerely? The only thing abnormal about me is how often I ran into the supernatural. It's like I'm playing a game that I don't know the rules of, but for some reason I've reached the top level without any skill. Now I'll explain. I've never been rated better than average, really. Both in studies, and in strength, height, etc. Literally everything about me falls within the average society standards, I have a decent office job with ok benefits, I was never interested in relationships as a kid, the partners I had didn't last more than a year and honestly no one would define me ugly or beautiful, just "okay". Now, this is where I need an explanation. How come someone like me, who wants nothing more than a peaceful life, finds himself with what can best be described as a reincarnation of the god Ra in his living room? But is it really Ra? Weren't there a couple more guys with falcon heads in Egyptian mythology? Of course when I opened the door, I certainly couldn't leave him standing there… The fact is that now, a ten-foot-tall man was sitting on my sofa, with his knees drawn towards his chest, trying to sip the tea offered through his beak that obviously had no lips (a funny scene, if it weren't a fucking bird face). I sighed nervously and the god immediately froze. Now that I looked closer, he looked extremely nervous, with ruffled feathers and dilated eyes. Am I wrong, or is he shaking? “Ra, right?” “Y-Yes sir?” Sir? Was he really talking to the sun god? There was a moment of silence. “With all due respect, may I know what you are doing here?” The god gulped audibly, almost making me laugh, it looked like a cartoon scene. “Well, technically I shouldn't have come alone, others had to be by my side, but…” "But?" “…but, well… you know that, with you…” In fact, I didn't have the faintest idea what he was saying. “That doesn't answer my question.” I couldn't help but laugh a little, what must have been a god trying not to piss himself. He tried to speak, but only stammers and a few chirps came out. Making me smile even more. At that point, I couldn't hold back and I burst out laughing as Ra almost threw the cup and started running towards the door "IT'SOKAYSORRYTODISTURBYOUTHANKSFORTHETEA". I heard the door slam shut behind him. I was almost used to it by now, it was the fifth time a deity showed up at my house, shaking like they had seen a ghost or something. . . . “IT'S THE FIFTH TIME WE'VE TRYED” The Jade Emperor yelled, slamming his fists on the table. “You go then! Amaterasu, Odin, Brahma, the Master Spirit AND NOW RA have gone there!” Zeus answered indignantly. “Who do you think will go next? Jesus Christ? Don't make me laugh. That human is a beast, just standing in front of him takes your breath away and suddenly you don't feel immortal anymore! I wonder how humanity is able to coexist with such a being. We tried talking to him to peacefully make things up, but…each god we sent comes back to their own realm scared shitless.” “So what do you think we should do?” “Wait and pray that the universe has some mercy spared for us.”

you’re a completely normal person. No special powers, abilities or weapons. You don’t even know the first thing about fighting, wether it’s with ranged or melee weapons. Yet for some reason every god, alien, mythological, and legenadar entity is extremely terrified of you

Nature? A benevolent entity? Oh child, you couldn't be *more* wrong. We call her "Mother Nature" in the same way we called Stalin the "Father of the People". It's just a bloody personality cult. Because, truth be told, Nature is just a hell of a tyrant, an autocrat, a despot ruling without sharing a speck of her power; or when she does it, it's only according to *her* desideratae. She's a selfish queen, who has little care in the world except herself. "Living in harmony with Nature" is probably the biggest bullshit ever served. It's like telling slaves to live in harmony with the slaveowners. Because, if you listen carefully, we are always asked to respect Nature; but nowhere do I see Nature respecting us. Birds and flowers and bees and trees and rainbows are just propaganda. Don't fall for it. They butter you up with shiny colours, before ripping your throat. Sure, Humanity is responsible for the fifth or sixth mass extinction... do you know what that means? That Nature is responsible for the four or five previous ones. And we should blame ourselves for something that Nature did already several times? "Rule for thee but not for me", that's what you have to understand. We are just learning from the master, but the master doesn't like that we are becoming as good as them. We touched her prerogatives, her priviledges, and she *hates* it. We keep talking about the right of self-governance for all people ; why should we stop with Nature giving us cancers and diseases and tornadoes and earthquakes and volcanic eruptions? Let's bring democracy to the very core of this planet. So, yes, my child, when a "nature spirit" awoke, it wasn't some hippie shit; it wasn't some hungry, stupid beast only following its instinct; it wasn't even an incarnation of ravenous, voracious hunger. No, when Nature awoke to crush the puny revolutionaries that we are, she took the form of a glorious queen, with crown and cape and sword and scepter, covered in purple and jewelry tainted by blood. She took the form of the ruthless tyrants that once dominated us, sending her army to keep us docile and obedient. But we toppled every tyrant that come across our path. So be brave, my child, and join the fight againt the ultimate despot barring us from true freedom.

When humans hear “nature spirit” they assume peaceful hippie and are never prepared for for the horror and brutality that comes with nature.

I work as a doctor, obviously in a hospital. Although the hospital I worked at is in the middle of a very large city. Anyways, back to the point. I grew up in a particularly small village. People said I was destined to be a god of healing, others thought I was a legend, a being off of an unknown prophecy. I didn't care, as I was a smart child back then. I never used this power of mine for evil, for immortality, or for young people who simply want to re-do the mistakes they've made to themselves. Believe it, or not, I simply use it to bring old beings, back to their prime days. Not by force, but by choice. I believe it's my fate to do this. Although I only do it in secret, not everyone knows about it. Hopefully, not everyone knows about it. *"Dr.Norman! There is another patient. They recently came in with these symptoms."* A young blonde man proclaimed as he walked next to me, handing me a clipboard. *"What room, Nurse Malika?"* I asked. This was a usual occurrence, as I was a head doctor of the Geriatric unit. I'm the one they go to when people want to wish their final goodbyes or the one who usually checks up on the old ones, just to make sure they're fine. *"Room 238 sir."* The blonde man said, he then walked off to his department, as he was one of the receptionists. I walked through the halls, it was treacherous yet beautiful. As you seen one side of the hallway, the horrors of the world, yet the other is the beauty of humanity working against those horrors. *"Is that doctor Norman I see there..?"* A hoarse voice called out. *"Hello there Mrs. Betty, how are you feeling today?"* I asked, making my way to the beauty of an old lady she was. *"Have they told you yet..? I'm going to pass soon, in a few days I suppose..."* Mrs. Betty said, clearly sadden. *"Is there nobody to come and bring you comfort?"* I muttered out loud, a bit too loud. *"Ah, no ... My children live days away. My husband passed a couple of years ago ... Handsome man he was..."* Soon as she said the sentence she began to cough. *"Take it easy Mrs. Betty... I have a question for you."* I said as I slowly walked closer the her bedside. *"Hmm, dear? What might you ask of me..?"* Mrs.Betty asked, curious like a child. "Would you.. want to be brought back to your prime days? To re-live as lively as you were, to go back to partying? The internet..? Or to simply pass, to be with everyone you've grown to love?"* *"Well dear, as horrible my life is right now... I'd love to relive my prime days. I'd hope this action doesn't upset the love who has waited for me.."* Mrs. Betty said horasly, coughing returned after. As there was no going back after the procedure, I began. She has a new name, I did nothing but remove the memory of the question I asked, and how she used to be an old being. She walked out the room with quite confidence, as I wrote her bill, I simply marked it as if she was a coma patient. As I did most times. *"Dr. Norman! A patient is in room 195, their info is on the clipboard next to their bed."*

You have the ability to revert someone’s age to when they were in their prime, but you only offer it to those on their deathbed.

*"It cannot be," the knight cried out, as all about began to shout. For there stood she, kingdom's princess, replete with crown and noble dress. For had he known he'd not have dared, To treat her as naught but a mare.* *"It is true, but all is alright. I blame you not, my dear sir knight."* *"But," he cried, "I have searched so long Hunting for a trace of your song. Through the kingdom's valleys and hills, past fields of grain and lumber mills. In caves deep and mountains not, places distant and long forgot."* *"All to find the princess, thought gone, had been beside me all along."* *"I have done you a disservice. Pray forgive me, my dear highness. Take my head and my title too, All that would make it up to you I deserve not my knightly name, my actions here bring me great shame."* *He fell to his knees, hands a-quiver, wracked with guilt over his failure.* *"Your diligence is becoming, your concern is truly touching. But sir knight, you must understand, how it was I received my curse. I was locked in my father's keep, Trapped, captive, and could only weep."* *"In my desperation I swore, I would pay any price, and more."* *"If only I could flee my cage. I screamed out loud, my mind enraged, My heart knew naught but wanderlust. To see the world, and not just dust. I yearned to see the world out there, for lush green forests and fresh air."* *"The next morning, when I awoke, Why, I just about had a stroke."* *Some strange power had heard my plea, and chose to play a trick on me. My hands were gone, as was my hair, Somehow, I had become a mare. But before I could feel despair, You arrived, answer to my prayer.* *"My dashing knight, clad in armour, Even then, you were a charmer."* *"You chose me, of all in stable, Since then, I have lived a fable. Through the kingdom's valleys and hills, past fields of grain and lumber mills. In caves deep and mountains not, places distant and long forgot."* *"You have treated me with respect, and helped, where you could, my subjects."* *"You have righted wrongs, stopped evil, always with a smile to people. And though I fear I'm being vain, always found time to brush my mane. So, sir knight, for my forgiveness, I ask one thing as recompense."* ***Please take me on your next quest.***

The knight can't believe it, his Noble steed from the Royal Stables, capable, loyal, who went on so many adventures together, just transformed into the princess. She remembers it all and she has something to say to the knight

The news said everything would be fine. Most of my friends were being encouraged to still go into work. We'd had a much worse hurricane just the month before. So why, just why, was Waffle House closed? It must've meant something bad was coming. Something terrible. Waffle House stay open through anything - I've seen those doors wide open in far worse conditions. If there are patrons around, they will sell to them, no questions asked. It's how things have always been. At that moment, I knew only 2 things: 1. I had to get out of there. 2. I needed to get to the bottom of this. So, I did what any sane person would. I tracked down the manager of my local Waffle House and went straight to his home address. He lived about a 10-minute drive away, in the next town over. There were still many other cars on the road at this time. All that kept racing through my head was why Waffle House would be closed. The hurricane wasn't for another few hours - If drivers could be out, Waffle House could stay open! In fact, I don't think I had ever seen them closed before this. Do their doors even have locks? I pulled up at the house. There was already a car in the driveway, so I just pulled up on the sidewalk. I got out of my car and walked up to the door. I knocked. 3 stern, demanding knocks. Not a movement inside. This was definitely the right house. So I knocked again. 3 sterner, even more demanding knocks. Still nothing. I walked up to the window and peered in. A chair was knocked over, breakfast was getting cold on the table... I could see the kitchen through an open door at the back of the room - The sink was overflowing with water, and the faucet left on. I walked slowly back to my car. What could have made everyone leave so fast? And without their car? I sat down, defeated. I had come for answers, but only collected more questions. To clear my head, I turned the radio on, and what blasted out of the speakers is etched in my mind. "Breaking News: All 2,100 Waffle Houses have decided to close today." The only words I could muster up were "My god..." The first thought I had was, well, wow, that's a lot of locations. Is there really that many? That seems like a lot. But then my *second* thought was about how dire this must be. ALL Waffle Houses?? Whatever was going on was not a localised problem - This was national, maybe even global. That's when I spotted a black car with tinted windows at the end of the road. I decided to follow them, in hopes that I had just caught the family as they left the house. I saw them disappear around the corner and immediately started driving. No other cars were around at the time, so I knew I had to be discreet, as my presence would be obvious. But when I turned the corner, there the car was. Just stopped in the middle of the road, as if waiting for me. I slowed down to a stop, and their back left door opened. A man in a suit stepped out - As soon as his face was visible, I recognised him. This was the manager I had been looking for. I felt my stomach drop a little as he approached the driver's seat window, and waited for me to roll it down. He peered at me through the glass with calculating eyes, as if he already knew me. I rolled down the window. He spoke up, "You're wondering how I knew you'd follow me, aren't you Jeremy?" I probably looked terrified at this point. I felt myself go pale, but tried to keep my composure. "You know my name?" "I know a lot of things, your name is just one. But you should probably leave, Jeremy. Things aren't safe in most of America." He began to walk away. But as soon as I opened my mouth to talk, he stopped. Not a sound had left my lips yet, but somehow, without even so much as glancing back at me, he knew I was about to speak. "Not safe? What do you mean?" He stood for a moment, as if he was thinking. I'm not entirely sure why, as he seemed to know everything that was going to happen up to this point. But then he spoke without looking at me. "As a manager of a Waffle House, I'm granted special knowledge every morning. I'm told what will happen throughout my day. Not tomorrow, not next week, every morning I am only informed about the current day." He turned back at me now, and continued. "I'm told how safe my restaurant will be, how safe my staff will be, and how safe my family will be. I don't know who tells me these things, no manager does. We just know it's always through a phone call, and it's always correct." I caught my breath, not even realising it had sped up, and replied, "And your family isn't safe today?" "They are not. And it sounds like no family is." "What's causing it? What's going to happen?" He looked a little scared, maybe sad. He had a way of hiding his emotions behind his cold, serious tone. "I've told you everything I know. I also know that this is the end of this conversation, and that's the last question you ask me today. Goodbye." He was right. I was speechless, and hardly moved a muscle as he walked back to the car, got in, and was driven off. I contacted my friends and family and told them we had to go to Europe, right now. I explained everything I could, but they all thought I sounded insane. They mostly told me I wasn't thinking straight. That's when the news interrupted all broadcasts. All planes were cancelled due to a large solar flare, the largest ever recorded, estimated to hit somewhere in Northern America later that day. They urged the listeners not to panic, and that it was only precautionary. But I knew better.

You live in a place that gets hurricanes on the regular. A hurricane is happening, but it's ok. Projected to only be a category one. Everything is all fine and good until you realize...the waffle house is...CLOSED!

The leaves were gently rustling in the breeze, the warm sunlight of dusk painting the sky a golden yellow. She sat on a park bench, shoulder to shoulder with her newest date, his arm wrapped around her, her palm enclosed in his. She snuggled close into him, sighing contentedly, watching as a flock of pigeons landed in front of her, scouring the ground for some evening snacks, perhaps... Without notice, she felt an extradimensional weight press upon her being. Hurriedly, she shifted into the astral sight, where she saw a raw, searing ball of light nestled in the breast of a pigeon. Sensing her attention, the pigeon lifted its head, and fixed his monocular, unblinking gaze on her. "Hello, unworldly abomination." "Hello, self-righteous vermin. Come to steal my date?" "Hardly. I'm here on official business. At this very moment, ten of my brethen have already snuck up on you, well positioned to deal a killing blow. I just thought it was courtesy to inform you, before we annihilate you and scatter your ashes to the winds. Any last words?" "What-" She broadened her perceptions to conduct a quick scan of her surroundings. "Ha! Made you look." An involuntary scowl formed on her alien face, and with her many eyes she affixed a nasty glare at the pigeon. "If you need some ideas for entertainment, go grab a mortal or two instead. Shoo. Stop invading my privacy." The radiant pigeon stared back mutely, its rays still. "Well, go on then. Go somewhere else, or I'm going to have to kick you." "How about ... no?" She glared harder at him, but inside she knew that it was utterly unreasonable to make such a request of him. He was assigned to watch and counter her, and duty-bound as he was, he would never, ever leave. "..." "You're so annoying." --- It's dusk, and a couple still sits on the park bench, shoulder to shoulder, his arm wrapped around hers, her palm enclosed in his. Her other hand is stroking a common pigeon, its feathers as white as snow, its gaze somehow piercing. The trappings of this mortal disguise does nothing in the way of true subterfuge, not for otherworldly beings such as them. She feels his essence under the soft downy feathers, feels the weight of years - oh how has it stretched their souls! Countless memories are summoned, unbidden, into her mind. No one asked them before assigning them to the roles of "unworldly abomination" and "self-righteous vermin", roles that could not be laid down, for fear of breaking the balance of the world. Yet they are real troupers, sworn to see through their story to the very end... Tears fill her eyes without warning, and though she is still pampering the pigeon with rhythmic strokes, she is wracked with quiet sobs. Her lover looks on, concerned; he whispers to her promises that it will be all right, squeezes her hand in an effort to comfort her. He implores her to share her sorrows, so that he can take a share of her burden, but she shakes her head, and gives no answer.

An eldritch horror disguised as a human is on a date. An angel disguised as a pigeon lands nearby. "Hello, unworldly abomination." "Hello, self-righteous vermin."

*Psionic telemetry reading of crew member 626, Callsign: "Warbeast" regarding boarding incident 621.* *Beginning playback:* *It was a standard day on The SS Kobold. We're a small Merc company that's technically part of the UER (United Earthen Republic) army, though no one would blame you for thinking otherwise.* *My role of "Warbeast" Is to be a big hulking lug with sharp claws, wicked fang and to look like I'd snap you in half if you looked at me the wrong way. Captain wants me to be proactive about it but I think trying to hard to seem intimidating makes you look insecure. I mean I already match the description of a werewolf from those pre-space myths he liked to bang on about.* *I was going about my usual day not listening to the captain unless he got the taser out and making it nice and quick for any who got in the way of our tasks. Today it was a simple scavenger mission. Lots of psi-ko tech in the area from a recent space battle that Carl and Onyx would be all over.* *It was also a trap, while I was lagging behind I heard two of my allies scream quickly before it was cut off. Naturally I came looking and saw those two allies, Rock and Fox, with the barrels of flashslights (sys note: mark II Lasguns) sitting on their temples. Unconscious.* *One of them said "You, Dog thing! drop your scavenge and fuck off or this gets ugly!"* *Now the captain had always said comply with these kinda things. So I did, dropped what I had collected, kicked it over to them, waited for them to do the same...* *They did not do the same.* ​ *One the scavenge had reached them they said "We're taking your friends here hostage. You want them back you've got 2 days to cough up 10000 units of Iridium. Understand doggy?"* *I knew everything I was seeing and hearing was also being streamed to the ship so I waited for the signal from command...* *A drone was pinged for me, we were reading their ships FTL wake signature. I needed to buy time for the scanning of it.* "Oh ok buddy understood, how about we put the guns down and talk about this like reasonable people..." *I tried to sound scared, Hoping that I could juxtapose my intimidating visage with a sort of cute and friendly persona and lull them into a false sense of security.* *"Don't try and bullshit, we know what you're really like, 'Warbeast'" The one holding rock croaked* *That... made things difficult. I only needed a few more seconds though...* "Alright..." *I said with my paws in the air* "Ya got me." *I looked up and smiled a little bit on making that little reference.* "So, where exactly are we supposed to drop of these units? I assume you have a location?" *"Yeah, there's a big ole cluster of asteroids around 1 light-hour south of the Mind'n'body. It's a bar popular with psionic species, familiar?"* "Yeah I know the place, probably gonna have to stop by there after this for the incident report" *"Good. Go there and our contact will meet you. See you in 48 terran hours." The abductors said grinning as they started getting beamed up.* "More like 5 seconds." *I replied as my body was cloaked in the same orange-reddish hue of a teleporter.* *I closed my eyes to prevent warp-blindness for a second before allowing my instincts to take over from there. I was standing beside the two who had just taken my allies hostage, they twirled on the spot and blew 30 bursts of lightfire into my chest...* *I looked at them laughing as I grabbed one in each hand, the staff in the teleporter room too horrified to do anything.* "Standard issue sub-dermal plasma absorption weave... thanks for the juice boys." *I cackle as I begin my assault. First, I run a Psi-Op, Data extraction, to learn the layout of the ship. Standard UER vessel with minor refurbishments.* *Second... I squeeze both my captives tight, dangling them on the edge of passing out, the doors open as the security team tries to attack with kinetics. I hurl the one who called me dog thing at them making them kill their own ally.* *I feel a hunger and I sate it, using the pause created from the security team's emotional distress to devour the second abductor. It's rare I get the chance to do this so I savour the moment, sinking my fangs only as deep as I need to inflict the pain, my jaw unhinging slightly to allow his shoulders and such to pass. Deeper and deeper he falls. Muffled screams and horrified gasps fill the room my gut pushes it's way out to accommodate the meal it's receiving. (SyS note: armour of faction unidentified, reason stated: "Acid burns rendered markings illegible")* *Everyone stands still for a second as I gulp the last of the bastard down. The room is slient and still save for my midriff stretching out and the screams of the one causing that stretching with his struggles. The fool should just go limp, that way the acid would hurt less.* "So..." *I begin to ask in an open question* "I'm usually not a very... active person... but you've all done a few things that earn my ire..." *I pause, it's so rare I get to have these moments I've got to savour them* "You jumped my crew, broke the sanctity of a hold up... and now you're all to cowardly to even attack me while I made a meal of your ally... You're all weak, cowardly creatures... Throw down your weapons and I'll make this quick... Or" *I pat my distended gut in satisfaction, looks like he finally suffocated or burned in the acid. Laughing menacingly before burping up some stale air.* "Or you can save me a hell of a lot on rations this month" *I grin with bloodstained teeth as one man charges forward. My claws meet his chest and punture him like spears through paper. I simply flex my fingers and the gap in his chest expands, eventually separating him into 3 or for chunks of meat.* *The rest threw their weapons in the air and ran for their lives. It was time for the hunt to begin.* ​ **Telemetry playback end.** ​ *"So do you mind explaining to me why you felt in necessary to EAT 3 other people? I know the first one was an intimidation tactic but after that it just felt unnecessary"* The captain said leering at me through his glasses. "It was an intimidation tactic! Can't have them getting any ideas they might live now" I pleaded my case, casually picking my teeth with my claws. *"You are aware that that's a warcrime right? Cruel and unusual punishments?"* He responded in an exasperated sigh. "We're not at war right now" I semi jokingly pointed out. *"Not the point Warbeast."* He replied, unamused. "I know." I chuckled with a shit eating grin. (Cont in comments)

You're usually too lazy to be cruel and vicious unless in certain situations.Your crew being captured and tortured beyond typical is one of them.

Being bullied sometimes has it perks. Like being able to get out of class, or sometimes just skipping the school day to sit in Mrs.Trudy’s office and read my books in peace. The school nurse seems to get when people don’t want to talk and just leaves me to my thoughts on the examination table behind the curtain. My parents hardly seem to care what happens to me, they only care about what happens to their “precious little Lacey”, their only biological daughter. To them, she is the only one that truly exists, and the only one that truly matters. Luckily it means that me and Rowan, my other adopted older brother, can pretty much do what we want. Only as long as we stay out of our parents way of course. He’s always been the smart one, the goody two shoes if you will. Always the one to ace his classes, and always the one to patch me up when I get into another fight. He doesn’t ask questions either, he only pesters me, his little sister, about not doing it again when he knows that the bruises are inevitable. I wish I was more like Rowan. I wish I was smart like he is and I wish I could keep my mouth shut at times when I really just need to stop talking, but I like egging people on. I like seeing the way their mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water when I’ve said something particularly offensive. I don’t start it of course, but I do finish it. This just so happens to be one of those particular circumstances where I just so happen to have said one of those somewhat offensive words to Tyler, the kid who thinks he’s the shit just because he has every man, woman and teacher wrapped around his little rich boy finger. I mean, correcting his answer in front of the whole class when he so proudly stated it isn’t a crime is it? Maybe calling him a dumbass was the kicker. Now I guess I’m reaping the “consequences of my actions” by getting my ass beat at the back of the school by the little rich asshole and all of his little rich asshole friends. I didn’t throw the first punch of course, I merely just poked and prodded at his pride before he decided that his fists spoke louder than his poorly constructed comebacks. The burn of the first punch always feels the best because it wakes you up out of whatever coma you were in before it. It makes you miss it when it’s gone and leaves you wanting more just to get a taste of that adrenaline high again. Yeah, I know it kinda sadistic but I’m a sadistic gal. Anyway, he had just thrown a particularly gnarly punch to my gut which had me stumbling back to grip the brick wall behind me. I let out a breathy laugh and turned to him with a smile on my face, one that must’ve been particularly intimidating as he stumbles back with a shocked look on his face. “Aww, it that it? I was just getting started,” I said, slightly groaning as I pulled myself up higher onto the brick wall to stand at my full height. I look around to see all of his little friends whispering to each other and pointing at me. “What?” I asked, my smile dropping as I looked toward the bystanders surrounding Tyler “Never seen blood before? Don’t worry, your about to see a lot more of it on Tyler in a second.” I look around again and catch a “Did you see that? Her eyes just glowed!” From one of the girls standing with one of Tyler’s friends. Glowed?! Are they crazy? The hell is going on… As I start to feel the adrenaline drain from my body, I decided that I’d had enough of the whispering and gawking and decided to take matters into my own hands by throwing a punch to Tyler’s chin just as he turned towards his friends to confirm whatever he saw with them too. Tyler stumbles back, seemingly snapped out of whatever trance he was in and on the fight at hand which he seems to have somewhat forgotten about. With a smile returning to my face, I put my fists back up and prepared for whatever he had to throw at me. He tries to throw a punch at me with his right hand, aiming for my cheek but I quickly block it with my raised arms and throw a fake with my right while my left hand is currently directed to uppercut him in the ribs. He falls for he fake leaving his right side open and I nail him in the exact spot I was focusing, only instead of him clutching his side and stumbling back to regain his composure, he goes flying into the air and hits a bush in one of the landscaped areas that surround he school Surprised, I look down at my hands in wonder as the rest of his friends scramble off saying “Let’s get out of here,” or “What the hell was that?” As soon as they’re gone I go to check on Tyler and find that he is thoroughly knocked out and laying like a starfish from where he landed in the bush. A sense of pride and confusion cascades through my body as I turn around to head back into school, but when I see two figures standing before me, one a woman of undeniable beauty dressed in a flowing white gown and the other a man with firm set features and horns sticking out of his head, wearing a freshly pressed suit, the feeling immediately turns to just confusion as I face them fully. The woman speaks first, “We’ve been looking everywhere for you my daughter”

Lucifer, the Devil seduced a woman, who gave him a child. What the Prince of Lies didn't know, is that said woman was Laufey, a Norse Goddess. As for you -now a high schooler- it turns out being The Antichrist AND Loki, has it's perks, especially when your parent's don't fight over custody.

Mergoloth held a knife to his own throat. With a trembling hand, he pressed the blade and swayed it, slicing his skin ever-so-slightly. Drops of blood slithered down his throat and dried at the seam between his neck and armor. "Why?" he screamed at the top of his lungs, and the stone walls of the throne room wavered and cracked. "Why do you forbid my death?" His expression shifted from hatred to repentance. He hauled the knife and collapsed to his knees. With a quick motion, he held a gloved hand to his heart and muttered, "This is a prayer to the Three Gods, Vilkor, Vanazar, and Vaeros. Forgive me for yearning for death even in its most disgusting, unworthy form. Forgive me. I will not succumb to my thoughts. I will ignore them. I will die an honorable death, not one that comes by my own hand. I will sit with you in the Brimming Halls. I will not be weak. I will not falter." Mergoloth moved his hand from his heart to the stone floor. Then, he mumbled forgotten words under his breath and traced the names of the Three Gods across the stone. "I pray this prayer reaches the Brimming Halls," he said and the names of the gods burst afire on the floor. "For I fear there is no one who can gift me a worthy death. For I fear my might has reached bounds no other being can reach. For I need guidance, temperance, and patience." A sigh followed as he rose to his feet. On cue, the gates of the throne room grated open and a small, hunched figure stepped in and faced Mergoloth. "You can speak," Mergoloth said. "They're ready, Your Endlessness. They've killed Bamoth. Gruesome death, but a worthy one." "Did they struggle?" His words came out with a hint of worry. The servant nodded. "They struggled oceans, Your Endlessness. They barely survived." Mergoloth stood in silence. The air grew heavy and tense. The walls trembled again and their fissures deepened the longer the words lacked. "Your Endlessness?" the servant said, stepping backward. Mergoloth drew a deep breath. "They are not ready. They are too weak. Bamoth, who was said to be the most powerful being roving the world, knelt the moment she felt my presence. I could have killed her with a single word." "Yes, Your Endlessness, but the enemies are growing older and Bamoth was our most powerful minion. There's no one else we can send. They won't get stronger--" "They are not ready!" Mergoloth shouted and the thundering roar of a collapsing palace followed. A storm of boulders fell upon them. The servant was reduced to a pool of blood and crushed bone but Mergoloth remained unscathed, for every rock that touched him broke and turned into sand. After the noises settled, he swung his hand in an upward motion, and the endless debris encompassing him disappeared into the sky. He walked then, and he did so for thirty days. Not a word was uttered throughout the journey, not a sound was heard. Mergoloth came to a halt in front of three adventurers, who, upon seeing him, unsheathed their swords and surged towards him to commence a flurry of attacks that lasted for thirty more days. For the entirety of the bout, he remained stone-still against the battering of swords and spells. He never moved nor retaliated. He didn't even flinch. But when exhaustion embraced the adventurers, he shed three silent tears. "You were my only hope. My one and only hope." His gaze strayed to the stars then, and with a shattered voice, he screamed, "Why are my prayers not heard? Why am I left without aid? I yearn to die a worthy death. I yearn to reach the Brimming Halls. I--I yearn to be gone. Why? Why?" The adventurers attempted to escape as he spoke, but after ten steps, the cracking of bones thundered through the night. All of them collapsed like ragdolls to their death, for Mergoloth pulverized everything inside of them with a single word. Mergoloth broke into laughter. His tears turned into plumes of smoke. "I understand now." He looked at the sky again. "Vilkor, Vanazar, Vaeros you hear me. You have always heard me. Every single word I spoke you heard and you ignored them, for I am your worst mistake." His grin widened. "And because of that, you fear me. For I can murder all of you. You fear me and so you hide from me in the Brimming Halls and fill my head with the importance of honor in death. There can not be honor in death, for death is the destination not the journey." Mergoloth stopped to laugh a deranged laugh. "I see now. I see clearly." His extremities trembled with delight. "You may prohibit my entrance to the Brimming Halls, but I will tear the gates down with a word and devour each one of you across all eternities. You made me, and you made me only to bring me suffering. It is time for your punishment to come. It is time for you to suffer the suffering I felt. "Tell me, what can a God do against a Mergoloth?" With that, Mergoloth unsheathed the knife from his waist and sliced his throat. \----------------------------- /r/AStoryToRuleThemAll

You are the Big Bad, you've been purposefully sending weaker minions to the Hero and their party, in order to strengthen them for the final confrontation. All you seek, is a worthy death.

"Do you even know why Lady Rielle has been here the last three thousand years?" the deep voice boomed with its last gasps. "Isn't it obvious?" the haughty knight replied. "You kidnapped the former princess eons ago for whatever dastardly scheme only your fell scaly hide could conjure up out of the pits of hell! Anyone with the slightest hint of a a brain stem could have figured *that* one out." The dragon Mykliathos weakly chuckled. "Pits of hell, hah! You may... not be so stupid as your bravado led me to believe. Strong though you may be, strong enough to have mortally wounded me, I can... assure you that you're only the second strongest being here in this castle. And the strongest wasn't me. Not by any stretch of the imagination." The knight smirked, clearly not believing Mykliathos's words. "Let me guess, you're the servant of some big bad demon lord that's been secretly ruling the world in the shadows for thousands of years and now he's going to get revenge now that his literal Dragon has been slain. I've seen that one before plenty of times - it's a pretty common trope in these sorts of stories." "Ha, so you're a little more savvy than the average adventurer. I like that, but you missed two key points. Not him, but her. And not her servant, but her lover. Have you ever considered that the stories you've read about Rielle's kidnapping might just have been a little bit fabricated over the centuries? I never kidnapped my lady Rielle; the king of your realm willingly gave her to me a hundred generations back." "You foul cretin, you lie! No noble king of Alvistere would ever willingly give up his own flesh and blood to such a vile monster! I was going to grant you the mercy of a swift death, but now I think I'll let you suffer your final moments before your blood stains this earth, your corpse serves as my trophy, and Lady Rielle shall enjoy her life as my bride." Mykliathos closed her eyes and sighed. "Sure, Lady Rielle, the half-demon Princess of Alvistere, and my wife for the last 2500 years, is going to go with the man who killed her lover. Let me ask you a question, Sir Foolsalot, what do you think will happen when the daughter of the late Demon Queen awakes to find her wife's been slain? Her affection for me and her strong willpower kept her dark power in check and her human sanity from being overpowered by demonic bloodlust. Let me tell your simple mind, in case those hamsters in your head are taking a break - you'll wish your death were as painless as mine. I'd suggest you run. You'll die either way, but maybe you'll get lucky be killed wantonly instead of being found out as the one who killed me. Let's see who gets the last... laugh."

The noble knight hears of a princess kidnapped by a dragon for millennia, and he goes to save her. He slays the beast. But as the dragon dies, it speaks "I was the only thing powerful enough to keep her confined. You have no idea what horrors you have unleashed. Run."

I collapsed to the ground breathing heavily, feeling the cold stone tiles on my legs and arms. I lie staring at the intricate tiles and carvings on the ceiling for a while until my breathing and thoughts slow. I turn my head to look at the dead orc just a few feet away. A grin spreads slowly across my face as I stare at its lifeless body. Slowly, I stand up, dust myself off, and gaze upon the many corpses of my failed attempts. Picking up my lantern I look closer at each one searching for my red cloak. The room is big, much bigger than the others, so it is not too difficult to pick out my first attempt from the others. I walk over to it, stepping over a few corpses along the way, and I bend over grabbing and pulling off the cloak. I wrap it around my ragged commoners' clothes that I got from my storage, and clip it in place. I look down and push the corpse over so I can reach its pockets. Getting down on one knee I slip my hand into a pocket and clasp a cold silver pocket watch and pull it out. I hold up the lantern and squint at the watch hands. “Twenty minutes to get back,” I mumble to myself and stuff the watch into my pocket. I reach into another pocket and pull out a crumpled piece of paper and a charcoal pencil. I unfold the paper and flatten it on the ground, setting the lantern next to it. I tap the pencil on my lip tracing my path on the map with a finger until I reach the room connected to this one. I look around and notice two doors other than the entrance before counting the tiles for the dimensions of the room. Carefully, I draw a rectangle matching the number of tiles in the room and draw the two doors accordingly. I scan the room counting all of my other attempts before jotting it down in the room on the map along with a checkmark. “That’s always the fun part,” I say smiling as I look back to all of the other rooms I've discovered, some with checkmarks, some with trap warnings, and all have a casualty number. I stop. I’d died so many times in this place that I’d just begun to view my dead bodies as simply failed attempts to conquer this place. I look up from the map and look closer at the bodies around the room. There is blood everywhere. All of the faces in pain. limbs and heads cleanly cut off or mangled. It reminds me of the first time I discovered the tunnels. Part 1 End :) like if you want more (will check in every few hours/days)

You aren't the most talented at magic or swordsmanship instead you find yourself in the tunnels of your school training. Dying over and over again slowly getting better at dodging the traps and fighting the monsters. Everything is looking up until you find out no else can die and come back.

Zack had no idea why he was there. This was not a part of the city good people went to. This was the kind of place where a guy could get his teeth knocked out for walking on the wrong side of the street. And the less he thought about the store itself, the better. But he was determined to see this through, even if it could end up with him in a hospital. Besides, he already had ideas on how to get back at the others for forcing this onto him. He took a deep breath and entered the building. It was a small pawn shop. So small that there was barely enough room to move without tripping over anything. The man at the counter looked like he crushed rocks for fun, and had so much ink that Zack was left wondering what color his actual skin was. "What?" The man growled. "Nothing." Zack said quickly. "Just, uh, you know, looking around." The man grunted but did not say anything. Zack took this to be a good sign and began looking around. Not that there was much to look at. His eyes moved along the few shelves, glancing at the various items. Old dolls, mismatched keyrings, old instruments, even a worn out hammer. Nothing was really interesting though. Zack sighed and turned to leave when he heard something. Well, not really heard. It was more like he felt something. Something deep down inside of him. He could not figure out where the feeling came from, but he looked around again. He slowly perused the various items. Suddenly, the feeling came back. It felt old and powerful. And it got stronger the closer he got to the hammer. It was a piece of junk. Covered in rust and sporting a few thin cracks along the side. The head was short and stubby, with one side ending in a relatively large face, while the other side was much smaller. It looked like a pain to use, but he was hardly an expert on tool use. Zack was about to pass it by when the feeling came back, more potent than before. Without even intending to, he picked up the tool. It felt warm, like it had been bathed in heat for a long time. And when it was off the shelf, his mind began churning. Racing with images, sounds and feeling. Flashes of a massive man using the hammer to strike red hot metal. The sound of hammer and anvil. The feeling of blazing heat. Suddenly, the visions stopped flashing at a break neck pace, and steadied into the image of the great blacksmith. The man's eyes glowed like hot coals, and his hair looked like strands of hot metal. He was also big. Bigger than the shopkeeper by more than double. "Hm, not worthy." The man said in a voice as heavy as a mountain. "Not yet anyway. Hm, but someday. Yes, someday you will be. Hm. Go, young one. Learn well. Use my hammer well and restart the Great Forge. Hm. It will not be easy. Very difficult. But it will be worth it. Good luck." The vision ended. He blinked as his vision returned to normal, and the small dusty pawn shop came back into very. "Hey. You gonna buy that or not?" The shopkeep rumbled. He looked a lot less intimidating for some reason. "Huh? Oh, uh, yeah. Yeah, I think I am." Zack hefted the old smith's hammer and resolved himself to learning the art of the forge. He had no idea who that giant blacksmith was, but it was clearly someone important. And Zack was not one to let a challenge go unfulfilled.

You visit a shady pawn shop and find a battered blacksmith's hammer that seems to silently call out to you. What you're unaware of is this hammer used to belong to the god of the blacksmiths.

Outside my window it's hot. Is it supposed to be this way at all times? When a turkey is baking in the oven for many, and the cranberries get their fifteen minutes of fame is it still supposed to be this hot? Twelve hours in the difference of a day from where I call home I can walk outside in shorts and feel just fine, I can walk to work and make my farmers tan that much more pronounced. But its more than that, I can cut the air in pieces like a turkey and serve it on a platter, the taste and the smell permeating throughout the house making the anticipation of sitting around the table that much more enticing. The air however doesn’t taste as good, but it leaves me just as parched. Much like stuffing oneself almost to bursting to feel the relief of satiety while simultaneously feeling ill at ease does the night feel on exposed skin as I trod upon asphalt, sand, and concrete. It would feel better with the absence of peddlers who peddle and flashes of light ceaselessly shining across my eyes. But even with those inconveniences erased how can I feel comfortable when I look around me and all I can see are windows that reach up into the sky? I'm still swimming on land, but at least I'm not sweating this time.

Outside your window, what's the weather like?

Why are humans so good at telling stories? Most humans would tell you that the capacities for creativity and ingenuity are uniquely human. This isn’t true. It isn’t even true within the confines of Earth’s own biosphere. Crows, elephants, and octopi exhibit creative solutions to problems; while their creativity may be outstripped by humanity’s, it is still clear that robust problem-solving capability is not a uniquely human evolutionary trait. Ask a human biologist and they might give a different answer. Perhaps, they might answer, it is language that makes humanity uniquely good storytellers. Within Earth’s biosphere, this is largely true. Of those few species that have even the barest claim to language, things like syntactical structures and formalized grammar remain forever out of reach. Ascend to the cosmos, however, and you will find that the stars speak a million languages. Indeed, the great civilizations utter out such volumes of communication, divided into so many tongues, that even the immortals among us would struggle to learn and comprehend it all before the heat-death consumed us. So, while I do not blame humans for claiming that their ability for language is the key to their storytelling skill, their assertion is patently false. I believe instead that the human penchant for storytelling derives merely from a biological weakness that, through chance, gave them a culture deeply rooted in tales and legends. Humans, I have noticed, have oddly weak stomachs. They cannot eat raw meat, nor even many raw plants; it boggles the mind how they ever made it to where they are today. Many millions, maybe billions, of their number have died from foodborne or waterborne pathogens in their evolutionary history; even after the advent of public health and food safety standards, what they call “food poisoning” still lays low a great many of them for long periods of time. But, as one human saying goes, “necessity is the mother of invention.” While humans were perfectly capable of hunting using spears in their early history, they could not safely consume most forms of raw meat. While some took to chemical treatment to kill foodborne pathogens, others tried something different. They began to harness fire. To obligate herbivore species, the discovery of fire was mainly useful for its ability to clear large areas of land for agriculture; to obligate carnivore species, fire was mainly a tool to scare prey into waiting traps. Omnivore species did a little of both. Humans alone, however, regarded cooking as a primary use of fire. While almost every intelligent species cooks, most regard the act as something of a luxury. We N’kla reserve cooking for great festivals and holidays; our galactic neighbors, the amoebic Suggouiet, only use fire to burn food for religious offerings. Humans, though, from the times before their first societies emerged, would gather around a fire each night to cook food. Because of their weak stomachs, this was not an easy process: the surface of meat had to be subjected to wholesale chemical alteration by the heat to render it safe for consumption. Having no other option for dinner, the humans gathered around their fire. While they waited, they passed the time. They began to tell stories. At first, the stories were simple. They were of things that truly had happened. They told of the times when a great hunter had taken down a particularly large or vicious example of megafauna; they told of the triumph of one tribe over another, that the memory of victory would live on and be remembered by the teller’s children. By the time the first human settlements went up, the stories had already become grand myths. No longer was the triumph of one human over another sufficient; now, the stories told of humans walking beside gods. The tales of hunters killing megafauna became stories of heroes slaying monsters. The stars themselves entered the fold; to the budding civilizations that strode the land between rivers, the night sky itself was a canvas upon with the stories of myth were painted. Today, millennia after those first myths became enshrined in history, human vessels have begun to make the trip up to the cosmic canvas that their ancestors once revered. In recent decades, more and more of their stories have toyed with the idea of a system- or even galaxy-spanning Humanity; in this regard, I believe that the humans may be somewhat prescient. However, Humanity’s ascent to the stars, while certainly likely on long timescales, is not entirely a given. They are faced with many of the same problems our species had endured in our pre-spacefaring eras; they face struggles that threaten their species both physically and philosophically in ways that their history did not prepare them for. My job here is not to intervene. I am to record. I am to get involved only in the event of imminent species-scale extinction; I am to render aid if and only if the human population descends to a size that would subject them to an irreversible loss of genetic diversity. I do not help. I do not harm. I just observe. This does not feel like enough. My recordings, I know, are not only of academic importance; it is an open secret that many of my colleagues sell the recordings off to the media corporations of the Core Worlds, where they are then adapted for N’kla audiences. I am not arguing for an end to the usage of human media; it is good to see that the cultural wealth of their species can be replicated to bring joy to so many trillions. I do not argue against usage of the human stories; I only argue on behalf of Humanity, that they might one day find a place in the galaxy alongside us rather than beneath us. A portion of the proceeds from every entertainment property that directly adapts human stories should be held in trust by the N’kla Academy of Arts; upon Humanity’s discovery of faster-than-light travel, the funds held in trust should be given to Humanity to compensate them for the joy they brought to us all. I have lived among humans. I know them better than most N’kla. I know that there will be a time, long from now, when we make first official contact with Humanity; I know that many humans will experience anger at the idea that the N’kla watched atrocities occur on Earth while doing nothing. While the idea of cultural quarantine is familiar to humans, it is not an ideal that they will accept when they find out that they are the “primitive” culture who has been sheltered from the greater universe for its supposed protection. The establishment and maintenance of funds held in trust for Humanity would go a great distance as a gesture of respect for this species; it might pave over what would otherwise be a wholesale diplomatic incident. I hope the people of the core worlds will consider my request. All things considered, I believe it is a small one.

You're a disguised alien living on Earth. It turns out human movies, tv shows, music etc. are among the best in the galaxy, and you make your living by translating and adapting human made media to alien audiences.

It's funny how life works. One moment Jim was in his jail cell and the next he was being dragged by the arms and roughly shoved through a machine. It was nothing for a while and then he burst out straight into the middle of an empty street. Everything was wrong. He was in New York, one of the busiest cities in the world. It was never silent. Until now. He looked around, panic increasing. It looked exactly like home, or what New York was in 2015, the year he went to jail. Too similar. Jim felt uneasy as he started walking along the street. He walked into the first store he saw, an apple store, hoping to find someone, anyone. But all he saw was an empty counter and the latest devices. Jim felt his heart race as he picked up the nearest phone. It was the 2015 model, along with a shiny bright red sticker that screamed new. Last he checked it was 2022. Jim looked around again, at the empty streets and felt hollow. He'd just about take the jail now - at least there he had company. Unknown to him, he was being watched by thousands and thousands of people across the world. After all, he was currently the newest character in the latest hit show of the year 2872. "Prison."

In order to form a more "Humane" prison system. Criminals are no longer imprisoned instead they are sent centuries into the future.

*BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP* I shut off the alarm, barely awake. Immediately I noticed a throbbing headache. Outside, the first rays of sunlight we’re starting to peak through my window, yet not even the sun could combat the freezing cold. Though it made sense, New York winter and all. What didn’t make sense was why I was so tired.. I remembered falling asleep last night exceptionally early, before 9 pm. I glanced to the alarm, 7 am, a solid 10 hours that was. I hoped that a cup or two of coffee and a hot shower would wake me up. I finally sat up, revealing to me why i felt abnormally cold, my blanket was thrown on the floor. I got up from my bed and threw the blanket back on top of my sheets. Satisfied (or maybe just too tired to fix it properly), I started preparing myself to get to work. Immediately after getting back to my apartment from work, I ran into my bedroom and threw myself on the bed. After the shower, and the three cups of coffee, I still felt tired. I started to pull myself under the covers when I noticed something odd. The sheets had holes! And they weren’t just regular holes, they looked as if they’d been scratched through. I immediately knew what it was. I threw myself out of the bed, with energy I hadn’t had all day. I ran into the kitchen. Low and behold, laying on the floor was the culprit: Fluffles the cat. “Fluffles!” I shout, agitated, “You already scratch everything, you don’t need to destroy my sheets too!” Fluffles looked at me curiously. “You know what you did” I muttered. He softly mewed. I sigh, “I guess I have to get new sheets now” I gaze out the window, then at the clock. 5 pm, it’s already dark. I get Fluffles food and water, then I head out of my apartment once again to buy new sheets. *about a month later* *BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP* I turn the alarm off, feeling oddly tired. Groggily, I get up and notice the blanket is thrown on the floor, and a deeper inspection of the sheets reveals scratch marks. I throw the blanket back on the back and immediately go to check if the door is locked. After Fluffles ruined my last set of sheets, I started liking the door to me room. I hated doing it, I did love Fluffles sleeping next to me, but having to replace sheets nightly would not an option. The door was locked. I was dumbfounded. How could Fluffles possibly have ruined my sheets again if the door was locked. There was no time to worry about it though, I had work in an hour. So, I got ready for work, electing to deal with it later. I got home. I tried to figure out what could have possibly happened, but nothing came to me. I body would have broken into my apartment to just scratch the sheets. I couldn’t be the one scratching the sheets up in my sleep, my nails were not nearly long enough. Fluffles couldn’t come in, the door was locked during the night. I couldn’t think of anything. I decided to just buy new sheets, again, and ignore it. After all, it probably wouldn’t happen again. Before going to bed though, I did make sure to double check that everything was locked. *a couple months later* “It’s weird, there’s no possible explanation. I can’t even predict it. I started keeping track of the dates after the third time, but there’s not really a pattern, not besides it happening once a month ” I was telling my friend, Matt, about my predicament “Well, Jess” Matt said “I’m not sure. Maybe look at the moon cycles.” “What? Why? Why would it have anything to do with that?” “Well, once it month, scratch marks, all those sightings recently” he smiled “maybe you’re a warewolf!” I just laughed at him “You seriously believe that Matt? That’s ridiculous.” “I dunno Jess, some of the videos look pretty realistic” he pulled out his phone, smirk still firmly planted on his face “wanna see?” He didn’t wait for an answer, and instead opened a video where I could count the amount of pixels. “Look at that! Irrefutable evidence!” I could see it on his face now though, he was trying his absolute hardest not to break out in laughter. I smiled and rolled my eyes at his joke. *a couple hours later* Me being a werewolf would be stupid, especially since werewolves are not real. But I figured, just to be certain, I’d check the moon cycles. I went through the dates, one by one. Full moon, full moon, full moon, full moon. I was shocked by the results. They are all full moons, maybe I am a werewolf? Immediately though, I banished the thought from my mind, that would be ridiculous. There has to be a reasonable explanation. I was going to find it. **the next day** “Matt, hey I bought a security camera, can you help me install it?” “Why do you need a security camera?” Despite his voice being distorted by the phone, I could still recognize how confused he was. “I’m going to figure out my sheets problem. And tonight’s the full moon” “Jess” he suddenly sounded concerned “you know I was joking about the werewolf thing, right?” “I know that, but I looked into it. Each time it happened, was on a full moon.” “Are you serious?” “Yep” I heard him sigh into the microphone “Okay Jess, I’ll help you. Be there in an hour” **BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP** I woke up, tired. I stared at the clock in front of me and shut it off. All I had to do was to check the footage, then I’d know. I got up from bed. As expected the blanket was thrown to the floor and my sheets were covered in scratches. All I had to do was get through work, I reminded myself as I prepared myself and gave Fluffles some food. I came back home. Work was especially difficult today, so very busy. But that was ok, the prospect of finally knowing after so many months of frustration kept me going all day. I went to my laptop, opened it, and went over to the application I installed that would show me the security camera footage. I opened the footage from last night, set it to 2x times speed and skimmed through it. There it was, so clear. Instead of me laying on my bed, was a wolf, scratching and thrashing around, but most definitely asleep. I did not know how to process the truth. I shut my laptop down immediately and went to go lie on my scratch filled bed.

Warewolves exist but they don't go rabid when they transform. When reviewing security camera footage you find yourself transforming in your sleep and sleep through the moon. Now you know why you have to constantly replace your sheets.

"Could you imagine how catastrophic it would be if people learned to use magic?" Director Bell asked me and the other new hires. "That's why it's of utmost importance that we find and use ways to reduce mana in the environment and in people." I couldn't help but speak up. "What about the terrible pain migraines bring, that you said is mana building up to dangerous, even critical, levels?" "What about that pain in particular? I don't understand," responded the director. "People have killed themselves over agonizing migraines before." The room went silent as the fact I had stated hung in the air. The director gave a sad smile as she said, "Some day, you will understand, their deaths were for the better. It allows for built up mana to safely return to the environment." The icy hand of stark realization placed itself on my back, unsettled goosebumps spreading from the top of my spine, down. "... for the better? Does... does this department advocate suicide?" "It is an unfortunate side effect of critical mana overload," said Director Bell. "It isn't as if we are going to these people suffering migraines and suggesting they kill themselves." "You kind of are? The current treatments out there for migraines are inadequate. What is this department doing to mitigate the damage from mana overload?" The director smiled tensely. "We have better things to spend our time on, as do you. You will learn to adapt and overcome that conscience that guides you, at this job, in exchange for vast knowledge of mana and techniques that will help you manage it." One of the other recruits asked, "What if we release those management techniques to the public?" "You will never have to worry about being employed ever again. On that note... if any of you wish to quit now, it will not be held against you. I'm sure nobody will believe your stories of your time here, so you are free to go." I watched as the other recruits all left without a second thought. I turned to leave as well, but my feet failed to propel me forward. I was stuck in place. Director Bell came and placed a hand on my shoulder. "There's a lot of learning to be done. Let's get your paperwork finalized." I felt a sinking, sickening feeling in my gut. What had I just signed myself up for?

magic is REAL, and migraines are our bodies response to MANA building up to dangerous levels.

“Are you okay, Sir?” I turned my head slowly to look at the server who had approached me. He had a worried expression. I realized how strange I must look. How long had I been standing here? Half hiding behind a palm tree. Towel and bag waiting in the sand off to my left where I dropped them. The whole time staring at her. It couldn’t be her, right? “I’m okay.” I replied, shaking off my stupor. “Thank you for asking.” I began to laugh. “Must be recovering from last night still.” A terrible excuse. He didn’t look convinced. “Okay.” He laughed nervously glancing from me to her. Obviously he noticed my staring. “Let me know if you need anything.” He half heartedly tried to object as I grabbed one of the drinks off his tray. “Thanks buddy I’ll let you know” I said as I began to down it. He walked off shaking his head. “Hello” I froze as I looked up from my nearly finished, ill gotten drink. There she was. “Hi” I replied meekly. Anxiety flooding through me. A million thoughts running through my head. Is she like me? Does she remember me? Is she actually the same person? What do I say? Do I run away? How is she so pretty? Can I hold back these tears? Do I ask how old she is? Definitely not the last one. Shouldn’t ask a woman her age. She smiled. A curious look on her face. “How old are you?” She asked.

You're an immortal who lives at a beach resort. You have many summer flings with mortals on getaways. One day you see someone you had a hot romantic night with 50 years ago. They look exactly the same.

How long has it been now? I grab my sword again. It's easier to sheath it with the blade- more time. Plus, it lets me know my story hasn't started. No matter how sharp the blade is, my hand doesn't scar, doesn't cut, never even bleeds. It never has. That's what happens when you're invincible- maybe Mario makes people think the invincible can just run through things and destroy them...nah, it's just as simple as "you can't bleed and don't get cut." Even the worst attack's just a mere flesh wound that heals within a day or two. That's what happens when you're immortal, invulnerable. Never die, never get hurt, never age. The greatest hero- well, aside from that one time I became the villain, it was experimenting a bit, just seeing if me being the ultimate evil would do things- but usually the greatest hero- of all time. I can't imagine all the things I found. It all started with that prophecy in Roman times; I would be the protagonist of the greatest story known to man. I fought in most great wars on the battlefield. My heroics are known throughout whole history books. Most of those times, I was just trying to find a way to end this. Immortality, invincibility, it gets hard after a while. Immortals can tell you the hardest part of it is having to watch everyone you care about in life die while you remain alive...and knowing that you're the hero of a story means you can't die until the story happens. Every war, every plot- it's never THE plot. Heck, it adds another problem most protagonists never notice- it's kind of hard to pretend to be dead on the battlefield. When they see a body that isn't wounded, isn't bleeding, then they notice...but after about 40, 50 years when you've been a great hero of the country, but you don't age, don't suffer, and stay alive, you start to realize that the only way you can try to find your next story is to fake your death in one of the battles, sneak away, and show up somewhere pretending to be someone else. You'd be surprised how often it works- even in the era of social media, if people look like you in older photos, they just chalk it off to a conspiracy and don't REALLY know it's the truth. Eventually, I just went with it. I've travelled the world before people even knew about most of the world, thinking that the fish out of water aspect would start my plot. I've been a hero on six of the seven continents and was able to be part of the discovery of the seventh one. I've literally been everywhere and done everything. And yet, I haven't bled once. I know it sounds bad to be invulnerable, but I just wait for that. The oracle said it best- as long as you haven't found your plot, you will be immortal, invulnerable due to plot armor. I know it sounds creepy or angsty, but I honestly can say I want to bleed more than anything; the second I bleed, the second I'll know I've found my plot and my life can get on with things. So, I just had to go about my business. In this era, my guise is that of a martial arts teacher for action movies. I pretend to study the action so I can make the fight scenes as accurate as possible. I can just play myself off as a history geek for why I know how all of these different ancient weaponry would work in battle, I remain anonymous enough so that real martial arts buffs would know my name but the average person doesn't know me- important, it's been hard for some other people I knew to remain anonymous with this problem once they entered the movie business as an actor- and I just get to wait and bide my time until the next hero work. This day, I ended up with a quick day, so I figured I'd go to the local theater and see the end result. Nice work to relax if I can get it. I headed to the theater, and I head through. I go to the ticket booth. A woman was there running it. It's always weird to deal with people. I always get wary of new relationships in the last 200 or so years- if the fact you'll outlive everyone you care about doesn't turn you off of dating, the fact that if you've been immortal for long enough, simple mathematics means that statistically, everyone on earth is distantly related to you would. But this person, she was beautiful- as beautiful as the many princesses I was betrothed to time and time again so many, many times all those years ago. She handed me my ticket. "Theater seven please...oh sorry." One of the advertising buttons on her vest fell off and pricked me. I bled. ...you know, I never saw this plot coming...

You can’t die because you have Plot Armour. It’s been 400 years, you’ve saved realms, killed dictators, rescued royalty, even became evil for a decade. But still you have not found your plot.

It hurt. Everything hurt. I could feel liquid running down my chin, flowing onto my clothes from my mouth and a dozen other holes in my body that hadn't been there mere moments ago. My sense of touch was overclocked with pain, to the point that I could hardly focus on the words I was hearing. "The people needed hope," the voice said. "They needed a hero, and I chose you. I nurtured you through ever challenge and every trial, each just a little harder than the last. And at the end, you would stop *me.* You would be the hero." She paused, and my sight sharpened. I saw my own mother standing in front of me, her back turned to the encroaching darkness I had been unable to defeat. "But I grew selfish," she continued, her voice taking on a solemn depth. "I never wanted it to end. I never wanted you to find out what I was really capable of." I coughed. "Mother?" I said, confused. The pain was stopping me from thinking clearly. "What do you mean?" "Don't call me that any longer, Alethea. I have no children." If I had been completely lucid when she said it, it would have wounded me unimaginably deeply. "I only ever had you." "Mother!" I begged, the confusion and agony forcing my voice to crack. She slowly walked away from me, and I fell unconscious. Or, at least, I think I did. I remember dreams from that day, seeing my mother ripping apart demons with her bare hands, bathing the entire landscape in blood. I remember her rage, unholy in its potency, as it tore through the Dark Lord's army and broke them. Many tried to flee, but I remember that her mercy was no longer present. They were dead sooner than they could retreat back to hell. And the last thing I remember, before truly blacking out, was her expression when she turned to me. Her face was dark, far too dark to see despite the light coming from the newly revealed sun above, but she was smiling, her teeth stabbing through the darkness and searing my eyes with the sight. That was the last time I ever saw her. When I awoke, I was surrounded by the remnants of the battle, and my wounds had miraculously healed. When I returned to the capitol, I was lauded as the savior of the world. I was hailed as a hero, the one who had vanquished the entire Dark Lord's army, including a certain traitorous woman who had been trying to sway me to the side of the demons all along. But I knew better, and I couldn't tell anyone. And every time I tried to, I felt the weight of her smile bearing down on me, crushing me, telling me exactly what would happen to me if I denied her her wish. I would never stop having nightmares about it, even when I eventually settled down with a family of my own. Even when my happiness was too great to put words to, I knew I was still being watched. Normally, someone's mother watching them would provide comfort or joy. My mother watches me... And I am terrified.

"The people needed hope. They needed a hero. And I chose you. I nurtured you. Every challenge, every trial, just a little harder than the last. And at the end, you would stop me. You would be the hero. I never wanted it to end... I never wanted you to know what I was really capable of."

Every night, I have a routine. After a long day, I take an equally long shower, the temperature cranked all the way up. After I dry myself off, I make myself dinner(today it's buffalo mac and cheese, my favorite) and eat while I catch up on the news that day. Some days it is good news. Maybe a new building is planned, maybe a new law is passed. Maybe an aspiring hero makes their debut. More often, however, are the bad news. "Evil mastermind Database has escaped his high security prison," said the news lady, her face showing complete indifference on the matter. "Citizens should be warned that despite his seemingly frail appearance, he is able to control any type of technology, including police robots, security gates, and even personal electronical devvvvvv-zzzzz-zz." The screen froze, the news lady frozen with her mouth wide open mid-speech. Out came a horrible static sound, the type that you can hear in your head despite covering your ears. I cursed and walked up to the television, trying to see what was wrong. Suddenly, I heard a familiar voice clearing his throat. "Hey man, what's up." One of the benefits of living alone is that you can swear however loud you like and nobody can stop you. After my initial shock, I composed myself. Staring at the still-frozen screen, I coughed and swallowed whatever food I had left in my mouth. "Database. What do you want." "Oooh, no self-righteous monologue this time? What happened to- hold on a second." I hear a beep, and then my own voice. "Database, your reign of terror ends today! I, Plasmabolt, shall defeat you and-" "That's enough, I get the point," I interrupted, my face growing red. "What are you trying to achieve here, hacking my television and talking to me? With a press of a button, I can call heroes directly to your location and-" "Nope, just disabled that," said the disembodied voice of Database, sounding smug as ever. "What a stupid name, by the way. *Plasmabolt.* Who came up with that, a ten year old?" My face felt heated, and inside I died a little remembering the teenage me picking that name, thinking it was cool and edgy. "State your purpose and begone. I don't get paid enough to personally track down a Class B villain outside working hours." "I'm hurt!" said Database, clearly not hurt. "I could shut off entire power grids, I just don't choose to." "Yeah, you choose to instead play practical pranks on billionaires and steal millions of dollars from global corporations," I retorted. "Exactly! Not a single mention of disabling power grids!" "Enough. What do you want?" I growled, trying to make my voice seem as intimidating as possible. "Uhhhhhhh..." I hear a long pause, then him clearing his throat, as if trying to work up the courage to say whatever he wanted to say. When he spoke, his voice was a lot softer than what I was accustomed to. "So here's the thing. I'm kinda homeless right now." I was confused. "And?" I asked. "what does that have to do with me?" "Well, turns out they guard the houses of villains when they get arrested so I can't just escape back to my hideout, and it's just a tad cold outside and I need a place to stay for a bit..." His voice trailed off. I looked outside my window, at the falling snow petals drifting from the sky. "And I'm the first person you turn to. Your nemesis. The person that spent most of their time with you fighting off your, what is it called again, MechaBot 3.0's?" "They're 4.0's now, I upgraded them right before I got caught." His voice seemed sad, distant. "You're the *only* person I could turn to. I... I don't have any friends that can take me in." He reminded me of myself when I was a kid. Lonely, afraid, and abandoned by the world. He sounded young, vulnerable. A small part of me felt bad for this kid, wondering what kind of backstory he had for him to do what he did. "You're expecting me to harbor a fugitive. You want me to do something that could destroy my reputation, get myself arrested, lose all the trust and relationships that I built in the past 12 years. What do I get out of this?" "I..." His voice faded away. "I'm sorry I wasted your time. I-" "No no, what *do* I get out of this?" "What?" His voice was confused, with the slightest inkling of hope. "Come on over, you know my address. You can pay me back after a warm bed and fresh clothes. I've got some leftover macaroni anyways." "You still eat macaroni at your age?" There was a slight hint of sarcasm, overpowered by his relief and joy. "So you want to crash at my place or no?" "Yeah yeah, old man. I'm coming."

Someone beginning to get ready for bed gets a knock at the door. Surprised, they open the door to see their arch nemesis, looking sheepishly at the ground. "I need a place to stay" they say.

Orion found himself standing in a field of flowers that stretched out forever, with only an enormous castle of pure platinum standing to break up the landscape. Heaven itself- the eternal resting place of good natured souls. The palace itself was the hall of heroes and home of Bahamut, where the legends and heroes of the world enjoyed an eternal feast in their honor. Instead of participating, however, Orion was arguing with the grim-looking knight guarding the door. "I was a tyrant! I killed millions!" Orion threw his arms up in protest, pacing back and forth before the Knight. The Knight spoke plainly, without moving. "You protected more. Your inventions help many." Orion paused, and cackled, pointing a finger at the Knight. "The *greater good* is a sham! I knew that even as I said it! There is no excuse for my actions. No hell hot enough." The Knight groaned softly, and waved a hand. A projection of light manifested between them, depicting a scale. "All are judged at the moment of their death. Their deeds are counted, their impact measured." As the Knight spoke, black coins began to stack on one side of the scale. "Murder. Kidnapping. Torture. Your evil deeds were many indeed, and if I were permitted to I would strike you down again and again... and yet..." On the other side, white coins began to stack higher and higher until barely, just barely, the light side outweighed the dark. "Rules are rules. You were deemed worthy." Orion watched with incredulity, before folding his arms dismissively. Fine, he supposed he couldn't argue with that, but it left one major question unanswered. "But where is Kolm?" ### Kolm was in hell. His own personal afterlife of torture. He knew this would be his end, and had accepted it. Even if his fight against Orion was just, Kolm had committed too many missteps. Too many mistakes and hasty acts that would be mere trifles on their own, but added up. Kolm's punishment was simple and elegant. He marched over the hill and stood over a small village below, clad in armor and bearing his sword. The troops behind him readied their weapons and awaited his call. At the time, Kolm didn't know that in the village below, his family waited. They had been taken by Orion. Perhaps Kolm could have saved them if he chose to simply raid the town, or send a diplomat. But no. He didn't. And Kolm would watch himself raise his hands to the sky, calling down a rain of fire upon the village that painted the sky and the land black with hatred, over and over and over again. Forever. As he killed his family and countless innocents again, Kolm closed his eyes and sighed. He deserved it, after all. And no one was above punishment, not even a "Hero".

The Hero and Villain finally fall and die. The Hero ends up in hell and is quite content with it. The villain ends up in Heaven and is objecting and trying to switch places with the hero

"For the last time, during the day I'm a centaur, at night I'm a vampire, at the full moon I'm a werewolf, when I'm in water I'm a merman, during the hottest day I'm a dragon and at the coldest night I'm a yeti." I stared at him blankly. "That makes no sense," I finally concluded. "I'll admit, it is quite convoluted, but it is what it is," he shrugged and took another sip of his coffee. "So- I mean like- how?" I sputtered out. "See, I was born a werewolf. Pureblood, both my parents were lycans. Due to a rare genetic mutation, I have rather remarkable regenerative abilities so when I was bitten by a vampire at 17, I became partially vampire. Every night, to be specific, except the full moon, where the lycanthropy trumps it," he said matter-of-factly. "This wouldn't be the first time a werewolf got bit by a vampire. It doesn't match. You'd die." "I did." I stared at him silently. "Then how are you here?!" I yelled out. "I got better." I, once again, stared daggers. "See, I was dead for quite a while but when the full moon came around, my remarkable regenerative abilities kicked in and I lived once more." "Right," I said and rubbed my brow, trying to understand the mess. "And the merman part?" "I was just having a nice evening dip under the full moon, and, well, got bitten by a merman." "But- mermen don't bite people! They don't eat meat, they don't-" "Yeah, but this one was *really* high. He thought I was seaweed because my fur was so wet. Lucky I was a werewolf at the time - my remarkable regenerative abilities allowed me to live through the transformation once again." "The centaur part?" "Did you know that horses can bite *really* hard? Well I do. And it's a really dominant mutation for some reason. Spend most of my time as one, just horsing around" he chuckled, much to my annoyance. "But... there's no way a dragon bit you. I don't care how much you can heal, there's no surviving that!" "You're right. I, uh... well, it's a bit embarrassing, but..." he looked down at his feet. "Well?" "I bit a dragon." *Oh for fucks sake*, I thought. "See, when I ingested his blood, that was enough. Normally this would kill me, but my-" "If you say 'remarkable regenerative abilities' one more goddamn time I'll put them to the test," I hissed. "Uh, well..." he nervously said, "I just survived it. With so many mutations in my body, that one only kicks in during extremely hot weather. Rare around these parts, unlike that bloody yeti part." "And that happened when..." I started cautiously, dreading the answer that I already expected. "Funny thing, this. I was skiing with my partner and before you know it, I skied into a nearby treeline and a yeti just - *poof*, runs out and bites straight through my ribcage." "He crushed your ribcage? And you survived?" I asked. He opened his mouth but said no words, only looking at me expectantly. I sighed very loudly and put my hand over my face. "Go on," I said. "See, my remarkable regenerative abilities..."

"For the last time, at day I'm a centaur, at night I'm a vampire, at the full moon I'm a werewolf, when I'm in water I'm a merman, during the hottest day I'm a dragon and at the coldest night I'm a yeti."

"Damn it." It's never really been easy. It's rarely fun. But god, if you don't know where you stand with number, you don't know anything. I call in with the men on the ground, "what do we see Winters?" He's an undergraduate, barely out of Calc I. I don't even know if he's seen an epsilon/delta proof yet. "Seems contained to the Integers sir. Subsector Z. Section Q seems like it could go at any second but R seems stable." If something was wrong with Z it would affect Q. Everybody knew that. Most people think Q is way bigger than Z. It isn't. it just feels like more is happening. "Ok, Winters this is what you're going to do," I kept talking into my radio as I stood up. I was getting my jacket. "Keep everything positive if you can. Once people start thinking negative they'll try to find the root cause. Then it gets complicated." "Yes sir!" "And close a ring around Z. It should be closed under addition and multiplication." "Sir, if there's a riot what should we do?" "Open it up to Q." "Sir?" The kid wouldn't understand. Not yet. But I had to let him know. "If we can open this thing to Q we'll be able to keep it contained. You can set up a field, get more units." "Sir?" "We'll be able to divide the whole space. We can calm it down from there. Once that's done, then we can find the identity of the bastard whose behind all this." "Who could it be sir?" I chuckled, there were two choses. It didn't add up if 0 was behind this. "One choice, Winters. One."

Ever since 7 got arrested for cannibalism, disorder broke out among the numbers. 9 was dead. 8 was accused as an accomplice. 6 was in therapy for months. It's your job, as the chief of police, to add order back as a variable, and subtract the fear from the masses.

I sighed as we pulled up the long, winding drive. I had been dreading this for ages, but it had to happen someday. Grandpa always has been the type to make sure everything his kin do passes inspection. This time, however, was different. Grandpa, the most prominent monster hunter of his day, famed for taking out an Arch-Demon bare handed, was going to be meeting my fiancé. We'd met at a random dive bar in the... less savory part of the city three years ago. I had just lost my dead-end job, so money was tight. I decided to drink my sorrows away at the cheapest place my phone knew of, and ended up in that hole. I walked into the bar too pissed to notice that every single eye in the place snapped to me as soon as the door opened. I sat down at the bar and ordered the strongest drink I could see on the shelf behind the bartender. He gave me a shot, and I slammed it, waving for a second. Then I did a double take. Some of the drinks on the shelf were... strange, to say the least. One tall, thin vial held some kind of bubbling green fluid, while another, much stockier bottle contained what looked like tar. There were a couple gallon cans of paint, and an ice cream bucket filled with a viscous crimson substance that I prayed wasn't blood. Someone cleared their throat beside me. I whirled around, startled. It was a woman, tall and pale, with jet-black hair and a presence of sorts that was all kinds of intimidating. She nodded to the bartender, "One Bloody Mary please, night special." The thin, wiry man set to work, and I watched his movements, trying not to acknowledge the woman beside me. "Scared, human?" she purred coyly, "You should be." The comment was strange, and I stared at her for a few moments, then took another shot of liquid courage. Suddenly, she seemed less intimidating, more hot. Man, whatever that drink had in it worked wonders. I was distracted when the bartender smacked down the woman's Bloody Mary, and she grinned, exposing terrifyingly long canine teeth. She turned, picking up her drink, and put her lips to it. The thing was, I could still see her teeth, especially those canines. Eventually, she got to the bottom of the glass, and that's when I put the pieces together. A bar with strange drinks, where everyone stared at me like I was an outsider, even though almost everyone in there looked the same, a woman with pale skin and long canines who drinks Bloody Marys and calls me human. I was smack dab in the middle of a fabled 'Supernatural Station', a chain of crappy bars that catered to the monsters my grandfather hunted, and a place where said monsters did business.

Grandpa was a monster hunter, dad decided to not become one. I was turned into a werewolf and my girlfriend is a vampire. I honestly don't know how to tell grandpa and family that we are getting married

I do not regret trying. I know what I did was destructive and insanely dangerous, with potentially devastating consequences, but I didn't and still don't care who could have gotten hurt. I promised myself I would do anything necessary to bring him back. My only real regret is that I held back as much as I did. If I hadn't resisted the darker arts earlier on, if I had just pushed past my moral compass... but there's no time to dwell on the past. I tried that already, and all it did was push him further away. Now I'm chained to this same wall in the dungeon of the warlock king, awaiting my trial. Just like he did all those months ago. I have no defence. I was reckless and chaotic. I broke the three rules of magic, and I did it all CWE (casting while emotional). I know how this saga goes. I watched the same thing happen to him, even though he was only a first-time offender who accidentally broke one law. I had hope for his trial. I am doomed. But at least now, I can get my revenge. Before, when he was alive and I was happy, we religiously followed the warlock king. He freed magic and gave us all free access to it, so long as we didn't meddle with time, minds or death. We were so innocent and trusting, and everyone did exactly what was asked. The world was a good place. We were all essentially immortal because we could heal ourselves and each other instantaneously without breaching the law. We had hope. But the warlock king was not a good man. He was enraged that we had found a loophole, so he scattered magical artefacts in order to frame us. My partner picked up a glowing orb and was shown a vision of the future. Immediately, he was taken away by the warlock king's shadow knights and put to trial. I was confident, though, because i still thought we could reason with the warlock king. The jury found my partner guilty of abusing magic and slew him with a magic bolt. In every memory I have of him, his smile is always there to light up the darkest corners and dimmest woodlands. His warmth is always there to banish the chill of depression that grips me when the seasons change. He is my lantern and my campfire: a light to guide and a warmth to return to. The day he died my entire world darkened. The day he died I vowed that I would do anything to get him back. I didn't care about the warlock king's laws anymore. It seemed likely that sooner or later i would be framed anyway. I stole his corpse from the morgue and tried every charm i could think of. It became clear then that the jury's magic was too strong for simple resurrection charms. I tried travelling back in time to save him, but in any timeline I visited, it was as though he never existed. Even my neighbours didn't know him, no matter how many charms I used to bring their memories out. It was then that the knights of the warlock king showed up to escort me to the dungeons. And it was too late to do anything else. Except... I kept the orb that damned my partner. I keep it in my pocket, but I have never dared to look into it. I often wondered what my partner saw, but suppose I will have to wait until the next life to ask him. What I do know is that, under the law, all who learn of the secrets of time through magic in any way are in breach of the law. So I will break one more law tonight. I will read the future to the warlock king and make him complicit in my crime. He will face the same charge as me. This shall be my final revenge before I join my partner in the beyond.

Magic is a very loose system, with only three rules. Don't enchant dead bodies, Don't alter sentient minds, and Don't mess with Time. You have broken all three while trying to bring back your love.

"I... you want to do what???" I'm surprised, that a creature long considered mythological had shown up at my door, asking for me to represent him (him? Do dragons use the same pronouns we do?) In a court of law. For defamation and racism, and we might actually have a case; from what I've seen of this dragon - I just realised I never got his name, he is no evil, cruel beast, but a rather kindly one. " I want you to represent me in a court, against all media that has shown dragons to be evil. It's completely the opposite of what we are" i might have expected him to growl, however his voice is soft, lilting, almost Irish sounding. "Alright, I can do that, but you are aware, we're going to need more than me for this, a whole team of lawyers might not even be enough. We'll be going up against several multimillion dollar companies here. By the way, what's your name?" "Ah yes, my name," he growls something indecipherable to me, I cannot understand it, nor repeat it "However that may be a bit difficult for you to say, you may simply call me Merlin" Relatively new to this, so feel free to leave any criticism you have for me!

You are a young lawyer and one day a huge dragon appears at your door with a pile of gold. He wants to hire you to sue all the media that contain dragons for defamation and racism.

I thumbed the pill bottle on the table, and rolled it until the label faced upwards. "ANTI-PSYCHOTIC 1 PILL DAILY WITH FOOD" glared back at me, in a cold and unforgiving black and white font. The bottle remained full, despite the bottle being almost a week old. Every day, I ordered the same thing from this cafe, a refill coffee and a chicken supreme, and let my food go cold while I stared at the bottle. Because this bottle promised some kind of escape. I could feel it glaring at me. I knew that if I looked ahead of me, or in the reflection of the cutlery, or in the mirror at the back of the coffee shop, I would see it. Haunting, pale and ceaselessly grinning. The skin around its mouth tight and creased. Some days I would stare at it for hours, while other locals in the cafe would grow more and more uncomfortable at the strange man with cold food, glaring tearfully into the middle distance. And the more I stared at it, the more I felt an intense fear grow inside of me, until it threatened to claw its way through my chest and bare all of my darkest secrets to the strangers in this nondescript cafe. So I stopped, and instead I stared at the 50mg pills that a doctor had prescribed for me a week ago. I hadn't taken them. There was an aura of hatred around the bottle, as if the forces that had concocted them were more malevolent than whatever had sent me my incessant, smiling demon. Some ancient part of my instinct told me not to touch them, that a truth was hidden behind the tormented eyes of my silent companion, but in the throes of my anguish I took 3. Weeks passed this way. The demon would not disappear, but the pills would blur everything, so that the grin would smear its way across my vision into an amorphous cloud of yellowing teeth, and I could no longer make out the shapes that haunted my waking hours. I could function, but barely. It was a kind of half existence, that offered an escape from the torment, but at the cost of everything else. A bleach for my sorrows. Until I saw another blur, hovering its way at the edges of my eyesight. It moved like the ghost that haunted me, without steps, floating over tables and resting on window ledges. I knew something had changed, because I saw the two blurs sit down at the table together. In that moment, I knew that there was something here I needed to see through. I rested my head on the table and closed my eyes, willing myself to overcome the pills. If, just for a moment, I could see and think clearly, I could find out what was so significant about a young woman, eating lunch with her ethereal demon. When I opened them again, the cafe was empty. I knew instantly that I had slept, and the staff, having seen me wandering in a daze for weeks, had elected to leave me alone. All that remained were a few of the young workers, cleaning tables. The pills had worn off, meaning I had been asleep for hours. And then I heard her voice. "They won't help, you know". I jumped in my chair, and looked at her. She smiled at me, a smile without pity or malice, it was a thin but friendly and it spoke of a burden shared and suddenly halved. "These things, they're not from here, so nothing from here will get rid of them". I didn't say anything, I just looked to her side and saw that her demon was much like mine. Only hers didn't grin, its teeth did not show, and instead it merely looked at me, curious, inquisitive. I could see behind its eyes that the torment was gone. And there were crumbs on its shirt collar. I realised what I had seen before. They had sat down to eat together. I stared back at the young woman, and she fixed me with a look that preempted my question. She placed a hand on my shoulder. "They're not here to haunt you. They need your help." I looked back at my demon, and for the first time, behind the crimson red pupils and bloodshot eyes, through the taut skin around its mouth and the strained neck muscles from its stretched face, I glimpsed a momentary light that shone for only a moment. I recognised that light, and knew in that moment what I needed to do. I shuffled up on the bench and made space for the demon, who slowly, cautiously, floated over and took his seat next to me. And the corners of his smile twitched.

The . . . creature . . . has been following you for weeks now, but nobody else can see it. It just sits there, staring, grinning. Then one day you look across the coffee shop and see a young woman with another one right behind her. Your eyes meet . . .

You'd never expect alphabet soup to bind you to a eldrich entity to become its agent but then again you'd never expect your aunt to be the previous agent of said eldrich entity. Standing in a place of nothingness in front of a being that was a quintessential piece of reality and could not be understood by any living thing you knew or else it would drive them to insanity. "You want me to commit tax evasion?" Not sure if there was a term for cosmic dissappointment or if you should make one up but you felt it roll off of C'thuzheth the Unknowable Fraction of Reality. Yes. You felt the words slithe into your mind like thousands of spiders crawling along the riddges of your brain. Tax Evasion. "No cult sacrifices or hunting down the unholy in your name?" The emptiness rippled every time you spoke. You tried not to look down as you spoke, the fake reality that the entitiy had created for you started to fracture there and it made your brain hurt. No. "A cosmic entity of few words I see." The focus - you've never felt an experience quite like it - bore down on you. It is in direct competiton with another one of the Troxhex. The length of the sentance surprised you. "But tax evasion?" MY MEANS ARE BEYOND YOU MORTAL. YOU WILL RECIEVE FUTURE INSTRUCTION. With that a distinct snap could be felt along with a feeling of inversion, as if you'd been sucked in through your belly button and turned inside out. Dots of color came into view and gre then came into focus and you find yourself staring into your bowl of soup. Your aunt looks back at you with a knowning smirk. She set a pile of papers down infront of you. You realized they were your tax forms. "Your mom gave these to me." She tossed you a pen which you barely managed to catch. "He," She pointed down, "doens't like electronic paperwork either so I'll help you with the first few and see if you can get it from there." With that, you got to work.

almost like a foreign language. I mumble them while I am waiting for it to cool. Suddenly, lightning and thunder shake my house!

Finally, I had found the great spiral scimitar of the Dwarf king. Admittedly, it had taken a few centuries longer than I would have liked, but here it was before me, and the only thing between me and my prize was a dark stone that seemed to be wrapped around the blade. It was interesting, in all the myths I had read, it never mentioned a Sword-in-the-Stone type scenario. "After all that effort, I'd better be worthy," I mused. I reached out and grasped the leather hilt and... "Wait! Stop!" The voice echoed into my mind against my will. At this point I was just irritated. "You can talk, too? Not a single story mentioned you could talk! Are you even the Spiral Scimitar of the Dwarf King?" "Not the sword, dummy. The stone!" "Why are you... how are you talking?" "I'm not really a stone! I'm a wizard who was impaled by this stupid sword millennia ago, and if you remove it, the spell will end and I will bleed to death!" I took a deep breath, thinking. I had spent too much time searching for this Scimitar to bother with a 2000+ years-old wizard. I started tugging at the hilt again, and the voice grated at my skull like nails on a chalkboard. "Ugh, stop! I'll stop!" I exclaimed, releasing the hilt and gripping my head in my hands as the sound subsided. "I'm sorry," said the rock, "but I can't allow you to remove this sword! Why do you even need it? To my knowledge it doesn't even have any special magical qualities besides-" "I just need it, okay? It doesn't matter why, all that matters is that I need it and it's embedded in your corpse, so unless you have some way of removing this thing without damaging yourself, I'll just have to do it like this." I started tugging again, putting my whole back into it. "Wait! Please, hear me out!" I stopped briefly and waited impatiently. "What? What could you possibly have to offer me?" "I can give you something worth your while! I speak the language of the wind and I know the deepest secrets of the universe. I can tell you whatever you want! Don't you want to know the secret to immortality? The meaning of life? How to talk to girls?" "Already immortal, 42, and I'm gay. So, no. Not really." I went to keep pulling as the stone wizard rambled off various universal secrets. "What is magic, where do you come from, the cure to cancer, the solution to poverty... oh come on! At least be a humanitarian!" "No thanks, mate. I've waited one century too many to get this Scimitar and I'm not waiting any longer. No amount of homelessness or global crises will stop that." The stone was silent for a while as it thought. The blade was beginning to give a bit when it finally responded. "Okay, how about this: I will teach you a spell that will bend anyone to your will." I jumped back and considered it. "Okay, sure. That works." The stone sighed. "This spell is relatively simple, but extremely powerful. What you need to do is point your thumb and index finger in the shape of a V in the direction of your target, then say "pareo", followed by whatever it is you want them to do." I adjusted my hand into the gesture the stone instructed and pointed it at the stone. "What are you..." The stone started to say... "Pareo! Just shut the hell up and let me pull this bloody Scimitar out!" I proceeded to work in silence until I finally had the twisted blade removed. The stone shimmered and appeared to melt into the form of a bleeding wizard. "You... are extremely... deceitful. I just... hope it was... worth it." He closed his eyes and faded in front of me. I shrugged and reached into my bag. "Finally," I muttered, "I can use the special ability of the Spiral Scimitar of the Dwarf King." This was it. This was what my centuries of research had amounted to. Even unlocking immortality was but a stepping stone to get to this point. I withdrew an apple from the bag and positioned the Scimitar above it. The result was everything I had dreamed of and more. In the centre of the apple was a cylindrical hole, cut perfectly around the core so that it slipped out easily and left a seedless apple in my hand. Smiling, I slid the blade along the exterior, relishing the way the skin peeled off so willingly. I was left with a core-less, perfectly skinned apple. "Yes," I said, biting into my perfect creation, "I think it was very much worth it."

As you walk to the altar holding the twisty silver knife, the dark stone links to your mind telepathically and begins pleading. It rattles through the "big questions" before settling on one you never had an answer for...

It has been 25 years since the events of The Alien Transmission. I was only sixteen when the fruits of enlightenment reached us in the form of radio waves, intercepted by our collossal radio arrays. I remember the excitement I felt in those days, a sense of carefree optimism amid the throes of a global recession and sociopolitical upheaval in my country. Every day I would scroll through the endless feed on r/TheAlienTransmission and go to sleep with my mind comforted by the knowledge that the science imparted upon us would grant us a way to engineer solutions to most of the world's probelms. And so I was right. The alien transmission (handily encoded in data formats not foreign to us), gave us diagrams demonstrating how to achieve feats of engineering thought impossible, such as easily harnessing fusion energy, a way to fully decrypt the genetic code of any organism, building science-fiction level spacecraft and the ability to terraform whole countries. For a time we had some sort of a renaissance. Advances in genetic engineering allowed us to design hungry, durable microbes that readily ate up all sorts of plastics. Nuclear fusion gave us nearly unlimited, clean energy, at a size and scale never seen before. Deserts were terraformed into lush forests, teeming with picturesque, artificially designed wildlife. But soon things began falling apart. I was one of the first to notice so, being sent on a scientific expedition to a region that was terraformed seven years ago. Temperatures were dropping faster than expected and it seemed that the curve was going exponential. I didn't think much of it at the time, even dismissing it as a piece of good news. That was how all of us felt back then - we didn't care about where the knowledge came from or its long-term effects. All we cared about was that it worked, and that it helped us as far as we could see. Many of us did not even care to think about where and why the radio transmission reached us. It was known that it came from somewhere near Kepler-186f but despite our efforts, we found no signs of life on any planet in that region. However, that exponential curve would stay, grafted into my mind, following me wherever I went. Somehow there was something about it that begged for attention, that stood out. It was only today, that the answer to that question was revealed to me. It was a normal day at work. Done with most of my pressing tasks, I went onto [infoslam.com](https://infoslam.com) (successor to reddit) and saw a post titled "Anomaly on comet-87A due to issue with NGRST's ageing systems." In the comments, a devoted infoslammer had conveniently reminded me that comet-87A was due to closely pass by Earth 7 years from now. 7 years. I dug through my old files and came across that exponential graph that I could somehow not remove from my brain. I extrapolated the data and estimated that the temperature of the terraformed area would drop to -86 degrees 7 years from now. Damn. That was huge, but it wasn't logical right? Science as we knew it wouldn't allow such anomalies to occur. But that was science as we knew it. And we had been shooting in the dark for the past few decades, using science that no one could claim to fully know yet. Was it merely a coincidence that Kepler-186f's average temperature was close to -86 degrees? I don't think so. Is it merely a coincidence that comet-87A, which is due to fly past us in 7 years has experienced anomalies that have forced even the most seasoned astrophysicists to blame mechanical failure? I think not. We have around 7 years, 12 days and 12 hours to figure out how to save our gullible selves when whoever it is arrives to kick us out and make Earth their second (or possibly 200th) home. Game on.

Earth is listening since several decades the first radio transmission of a far away civilisation. they became source of inspiration and advancement in sciences. You witness a very dark and frightening change over the last decade

I almost cried when I opened the box. The writing on the outside was a large, untidy scrawl that I hadn't recognised buy it all came flooding back to me as soon as a lifted the lid. I lived in a cottage in the middle of the woods. I didn't really have anything else. My parents were torn apart by a bear when I was five, and that had been hard on me. Mostly because I realised i would always be alone for my birthday. I knew I could handle it because I was a tough girl, but I thought it would be lonely for an older me to be on my own. So I collected some items that were important for me, wrote happy birthday on the box, and ran to the town where I asked the nice man at the post office to deliver this package on the 26th of November in twenty years time. He was bemused, but I think he found it cute. Naturally, the state found me and put me into the foster system for a while, but as soon as I turned 18 I returned to my house in the woods to fix it up and just get back to my roots. I had a boyfriend staying with me for a while, but he left and I found myself alone again like I had been when I was five. Now here I was, a twenty five-year-old, sobbing over the generosity of a younger version of myself who gave up her most precious treasures in order to cheer up an adult she didn't even know. I hugged the stuffed bunny I had loved so dearly and sniffed its dusty fur. I considered the post-office and how they had kept the strange little box from the strange little girl and still remembered the address and the date. I felt seen.

As usual, you spend your birthday alone. It's not as depressing as it sounds, you're ok with it; this year, though, you get a package in the mail... no name, no return address... it says 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY' in big, bold letters. Curious, you open it...

*I look around frantically as I run through the alleyway, attempting to find a safe place to law low while the police continue to search for me.* *You might be wondering what I did, and the thing is, I didn't do it! Well actually I kinda did, but I'll have to explain so you can understand. You see, when you turn 15, you get to swap bodies with your future self, but what they didn't tell you was that your future self gets to inhabit your past body.* *This means that the future you can do things while you're unaware and in the future, if that makes sense. Apparently, future me was so sick of all the shit she'd dealt with in the past, that when she was able to return she ended up commiting vile acts one would never have attempted in the more guarded and peaceful future. It was as if future me was exacting revenge on the past and I'M the one suffering for it.* *So here I am, stuck here and being blamed for the extinction of modern humanity for some strange reason. I don't know how future me killed over one billion people in under an hour but she did and now everyone is pissed.*

when you turn 15 you get body swapped with yourself from 10 years in the future for an hour . When you visit yours the future seems peaceful but upon returning you find 86% of the population of earth was killed , all the media blames you as the culprit.

The creature was perfect monotony. There was no lilt, no detectable inflection in its voice; no feature in its face that evoked emotion; no flaw or harmony in its gray and translucent being that drew attention. The creature was and that was it. "Thank you for the welcome," I said and observed my surroundings. Purgatory was a vast plane of blurry, foggy grayness. There were no trees, no constructions, no nature, only a low sky covered in slow-rolling gray clouds that in the distance hooked down to cover the horizon. "What am I to do here?" My gaze drew to the creature. "Rove for eternity? Were our mortal assumptions correct?" The creature didn't move. It simply stared at me. "Yes and no. You will rove, and perhaps you will do so for eternity. Or perhaps you will find one of the two gates. They're identical, and no soul knows which one leads to where. I don't know either. All I can tell you is that one leads to Heaven, and the other leads to Hell." Again, its voice carried no tune. It was a humdrum of nothingness. It was odd, I felt as though this creature could follow and speak to me for eternities and I wouldn't feel unnerved nor calm. I couldn't explain it. "You don't judge our souls then? To see where we belong?" "No, I am not one to judge. Neither are you, God, Satan, or any other soul. Bias exists even in otherworldly beings. Chance is the only fair judge. Heaven and Hell are the two sides of a coin, and Purgatory is where you flip that coin." I nodded. "I see. Is that it? Should I just rove now?" The creature stood in silence for a moment too long. "You can do that or you can remain without here moving. It's up to you. You can roam with your consciousness, or you can ask me to strip you from that consciousness as well. It's up to you." This time the staleness of my emotions crumbled and something akin to fear lodged in my bones. "Strip me from my consciousness? Why would I want that?" The creature looked around. "Purgatory is a vast place. Many souls have spent eternities looking for the gates and have not found them. Others have found them in hours. If you find one, and it leads you to Hell, you will suffer. If you never find one, you will wilt and grow desperate, for an eternity of wandering is akin to eternal torment. If you find the gate to Heaven, perhaps you will find peace. Two of the three possible outcomes are better traveled without conscience." I drew a deep breath. If I had a heart, I'm sure I would've skipped a beat. "Will God give me back my consciousness if I gave it to you?" "Perhaps. I do not know. But if God can give it or build it back, so can Satan. I do not know, I can only speculate." He stepped back. "What will you do?" "Can I decide later?" "Yes, if you ever find me again." Many thoughts sprung into my mind. Strangely enough, I knew there were no more questions to ask the creature. The picture of Purgatory was clear and overwhelmingly simple. It was a vast, unwalled maze with two possible exits. And I was not certain I could ever find any of those exits. Giving away my consciousness was tempting and statistically sound provided God couldn't build back my consciousness. I would not suffer in Hell and I would not have to bear the endless monotony of Purgatory. But at the same time, I would become an empty wandering shell incapable of rejoicing in Heaven. I drew a deep breath and stepped forth. "I like my odds." When I looked back, the creature was gone, and nothing but grayness encompassed me. Eternity awaited me, but I hoped for it to be a short one. \----------- /r/AStoryToRuleThemAll \--> Come, I have candy.

“Hell has Satan, Heaven has God, and Purgatory has me.” It reached out to shake your hand. “Welcome to my domain.”

“What do you mean, you don’t own any of it?” The old farmer, well past the point of retirement, leaned back in his wooden chair which threatened him with a loud creek. “It is really wonderful to see you are well, Misha. How’s Clarence?” He was deflecting. Misha’s face twisted some as she hid a frown. “He’s well, our children are well. Our whole world has food aplenty and we brought some of it here to celebrate all you did for us… I … I imagined you had a grand life. Your passion and knowledge surely meant you had all that you… that you had a good life…” her voiced trailed off. People could be heard outside arguing with the men from the Bank. Misha could see the how much older man was who had saved thousands or maybe millions from ever going hungry. There wasn’t some magic or time difference, his was a hard life. “You never spoke of your home.” “Ain’t mine” “This isn’t right!” “It’s the law. Can’t pay, can’t have a mortgage.” “Then your laws are unjust!” “Ain’t nothing to do about it” Misha tremble with anger. She met his eyes, but the passionate man who had worked so hard to make a difference was not there. In those eyes were fatigue, defeat, and bitterness. “You could return with us, come back to our world.” And now she saw something new in his eyes: Hope

Years ago, a farmer ended up in another world, teaching a peasant modern farming techniques and giving them some seeds before returning. Today, the people of the other world managed to cross over, all in search of the saint who saved their land from famine.

More INFO. Cast it on her to make her fall in love with her arranged partner, or does she already have someone in mind? Or does it has to be anyone but her set partner? I was a witch who had a similar case a few years ago. My client was a prince who sought The True Love spell from me, but I perhaps misinterpret his wish when I turned him into a frog. He was furious because I thought it had to be anyone but his fiance. Turns out he had someone in mind, and later his secret lover asked for a separation because what lady would kiss a frog? Prince banished me into the wood and sue me for several thousand golds. If you cast the spell on her without giving her full context, YWBTA for hiding details about the side effect of the spell. I suggested you tell the princess to be upfront about her true love towards her king and queen. If she had no one in mind and dislike the arranged partner, provides details about the coma or beasthood and see if she accepts the terms. One more thing, when you use the true love spell, make sure you cast it on her at the secluded location! The Beasthood effect has a high chance of turning everyone around her into living, talking furniture. And make sure to lawyer up in case of the princess sue you!

I (78, F) am a witch, was paid by a princess to cast a True Love Spell on her to save her from an arranged marriage...The spell might put her in a coma or turn her into a beast, WIBTA if I do it?

Okay so to be fair, they have been holding me captive my entire life and manipulating me in order to create entertainment, but I may have gone a little overboard. Realising I was on TV was not as hard as the films make out. I mean seriously, it would be so much easier for them if they actually created an original reality that they could warp to fix any issues they may run into but no, the idiots created an entirely basic world, seemingly identical to the world outside which I am still yet to visit. After one two many terrifying crowds of people ran me away from buildings that supposedly had no interior, I realised how conveniently timed and manoeuvred everything was. I’m about to enter and suddenly whoever I am with starts to drag me somewhere they supposedly just “have to go” and on cue, a crowd leaves the building, getting off work at 11am, none of them ever actually making contact with my body but rather my only fear of being crushed moving me away. So needless to say, at the ripe age of 18, I figured it out. I started screwing with people by first informing my careers advisor that I intended on becoming a flight attendant, the perfect career to travel the world and see all the things I never got to see as a child. The panic in her face was priceless but sure enough, a surprise uni fair that I “was informed of a month ago” appears on school grounds and I instantly get mobbed by an administrator begging me to attend their unsurprisingly local uni. I let everyone relax and accept their offer. I switched it up a notch and decided to have the rebel phase I’d always been too terrified to go through. “Disappearing” till all hours and concealing my grins at the fake fear on my “parents” faces knowing full well they knew where I was the whole time. Took up drinking which I doubt was like actual drinking as everything just tasted like sewage and made me feel nothing, presumably so I wouldn’t actually develop any health complications from it but would still stop doing it. I wasn’t sure why I was doing all these things, they weren’t helping me to escape. I guess they were just ways to fill time. Allow me to push back, rebel against them, make myself a nightmare. Make them feel slightly bad about filming me my whole life, hiding cameras in my shower and mirrors, falsifying friendships, manipulating me and moulding me how they wanted me to be. I wanted to make things difficult, so I continued down this path. One night I “accidentally” put a fork in a plug socket, just so I could hopefully black out the cameras for the night and let myself feel free. But somehow they idiots managed to connect everything together. I blacked out everything with that one simple action. I could hear the panic around me, feel it in the air. But this was my chance. One major side effect of realising that you are being watched is learning to see in the dark. I would shower, dress and have fun in the dark so once again, I could feel free. I had learnt the intricacies of my house and could make out all the outlines of things. I could hear my “parents” calling for me. Insisting I stay in my room to stay safe. Fat chance. I got myself downstairs, into the kitchen and grabbed the biggest knife I could find. About an hour later everything turned back on. Safe to say they’re going to let me go. They can’t very well continue to make money off of someone who massacred an entire village. Even if nobody saw me do it, they all saw the first shot when the cameras came back on. Me in the centre of town, drenched in blood, surrounded my bodies. I don’t know why they acted all surprised, they all watched me kill my sister when I was 12. I was never one to give up the spotlight, and I could sense they were getting bored of me, the plots were getting weaker. But now no one will forget me. I will be immortalised

You've recently realized that all your life you have been secretly the protagonist on a truman-esque reality TV show. The show runners don't know you know. Time to have some fun...

"Why aren't you in your dragon form?” the knight in black heavy armor took his helmet off and asked as he stabbed his sword on the ground. Obviously irritated for being belittled and the fact that he was in this cave again, fighting to rescue the princess for the fifth time. "Are you looking down on me?" He asked threateningly at the dragoness before him. He gave her a death glare. "How about you just hand over the princess this time. I'm sick of fighting you." The man said heartlessly. He glanced at the princess. "Don't worry this will be over quickly princess. I'll bring you home in time for you're tea party this afternoon." The knights blue aura of mana exploded as he dashed at the dragoness. The dragoness with beautiful red hair and silver draconic eyes was dressed seductively in light armor. Her cheeks blushed embarrassingly as well with a bit of annoyance and anger. "Hmph, I don't need my dragon form to face you. You will have to make me change if you dare." She said flustered as she blocked his sword with her transformed hand like claws. The knight growled. "So be it." And so a fight began as the princess watched tiredly. This has been the fifth time in the past three months that a showdown has happened between these two. The princess gave an exhausted look at the hopeless dragoness and the incredibly dense knight of hers. *I'm sick of being kidnapped.* The princess thought. The first time the princess was kidnapped and saved was when the dragoness fell in love. Something about the way the knight fought fearlessly captivated her that day. The princess was quite surprised when the dragoness showed up in her draconic human form outside the balcony of her room that very same night. The princess could tell the dragoness was embarrassed to ask for help as she practically pleaded with the princess to let her kidnap her again so that she could meet and face him one more time before confessing. The princess was flabbergasted but thought getting a dragon to owe you a favor would be advantageous to herself and her kingdom so she relented. Then it happened four more times...these passed three months have been eventful to say the least. During this time the dragoness and princess became sorta close as the princess with long flowing blond hair continued to help the dragoness find a way for her own knight to fall in love with her. *But why?!* *Why was he so dense?!* The princess thought for the umpteenth time today as she looked at the flirtatious fight happening in front of her as the dragon play fought the knight. While the knight carried a small smile. She watched as the dragoness dodged in such a way that showed off her cleavage while the knight tried "seriously" to defeat her. She wanted to palm her face in embarrassment at the two but couldn't as she had to play and act as the damsel in distress. She continued to watch until she simply couldn't take it anymore. "**Stop it, you two. Right now.**" The dragoness and knight looked at the princess in surprise as they paused their battle mid motion. The princess looked at the knight. "You, you are very dense. Can't you see what's happening before your eyes?" She practically screamed. "Huh?" The knight looked bewildered. "W-wait, Laura, d-don't!" The dragoness cried out as her draconic ears flushed violet. "First of all, this is the 5th time I've been kidnapped by the *same* dragon. This should have been you're first clue. Secondly, look at how she is fighting you?! How obvious can it get?! Haven't you read books on dragon mating rituals before?! Don't answer that, it was rhetorical. Of course you haven't. Let me just tell you. When a dragon likes the opposite sex, they fight! *Playfully!* And lose on purpose!" The princess took a heavy breath in as she continued her rant. The dragoness was speechless as she turned around and crouched down to the floor as if she wanted to disappear. She did...as she casted an invisibility spell on herself. The princess looked over sympathetically at where the now invisible dragoness was. "I'm sorry but sometimes men can be so incredibly stupid that they don't know what's in front of their eyes unless it's just told out loud honestly. If you won't confess. I'll do it for you. This dragoness likes you okay?!!" The knight was speechless. His face turned a bit pink as he took all of what she said in. "I-I see...I-is that so. The dragoness likes me... To be honest I had a hunch but I never acted on it. My job is to protect the princess. My feelings can't get in the way of my duty." He said respectfully. He looked around the cave. "Umm. If you're still out there...just know...that the feeling is m-mutual." The man replied to the open cave. Suddenly the dragoness appeared again right next to the knight her silver eyes gazed at the knight in pleasant surprise. "R-really?!" "Y-yes. I enjoyed our battles. If you'll have me. Would you give me a chance?" He asked hesitantly. "Of course!" She said almost too eagerly that the knight took a step back. "Ehem. I mean sure. I'll give you a chance. Human." She turned her face as she was too embarrassed to look at the knight any further. "Great! But I need to ask. What is your name?" The black knight asked as he smiled in relief. The dragoness looked at him blankly as she tried to recall if she told him her name only to realize she has not. This made her want to crawl in another hole and disappear again. "You can can call me C-Claire." She stuttered. "Claire..Claire.." the man mumbled to himself. "Okay. Claire would you like to join the princess and I for tea?" The man asked on a whim. "Sure!" The dragoness smiled sweetly while the princess sighed and laughed in relief. *Thank God. I don't need to be kidnapped anymore! And they are kind of adorable.* The princess's heart melted at the display in front of her. *This was worth it. I'm so amazing. I should become a professional matchmaker...* The princess thought cockily as she practically skipped while humming a famous tune as they left the cave.

For the 5th time in these past three months, You a princess has been kidnapped by the dragoness. Your best friend a Knight has come to rescue you, fighting the dragoness, But wait they seem to have goof chemistry? and she's flirting with him, how in the world is he not noticing this?!?!?

We have travelled 50 million light years. All the way from the other side of this galaxy to the only planet in our survey that seems to contain semi-intelligent life. Like the thousands of worlds across hundreds of galaxies that we the Skardaks have visited. This one too shall submit. Our magnificent fleet of war ships begin to orbit the planet, waiting for the singalong from I Grooblat the Conqueror to drop upon the surface of this primitive world. Our drones have already scanned the planet, finding the major population centres and our AI have tapped into their communications networks and decoded their many languages. These inferiors still haven’t unified their planet and seem to still war with one another. Such children, this will be even easier than we thought. Our drop point for the soldiers will be the large city seemings called Los Angeles. I put my hand on the console and direct my communications officer to broadcast to all ships. All forces begin invasion. Dreadnoughts! Alpha formation! Prepare to bombard the surface with heavy cannon fire should the need arise. Transporters you are cleared for launch! Once their leaders have been gathered in one place the mother ship will descend and I will negotiate their surrender. Millions of balls of fire began lighting up the atmosphere as the drop pods full of soldiers rocketed toward the planets surface. The communications network is buzzing with traffic as squads coordinate their objectives. It seems all is going well. Around 30 minutes pass when Suddenly a video shoots upon my console’s screen. “ sir! We need bombardment on our location now! We are being slaughtered here. These aren’t intelligent life forms these are monsters!” A massive hand slams down crushing the whole squad and ending the transmission. Then all radio traffic began to surge, calls for aid, reinforcements, bombardment and retreat began to flood all the ships in orbit. I yell at the communications officer! Bring up the live feeds from as many squads as you can! The main screen In front of us lit up with thousands of feeds in little square boxes. It was absolute chaos. Our men firing their weapons at gigantic monsters to no effect. Even our artillery and heavy armour are no match. The monsters themselves were stomping on our soldiers, swatting our air support with cloths and hands. Some of the creatures were fleeing however. Climbing into huge metal vehicles or ducking into buildings. Even with only about a 10th of the monsters staying to fight our men were being crushed. Retreat! Send in the shuttles! Full retreat. We must bring our men back, have their commands rally all survivors back to their initial drop locations. We had never setup evacuation pointe. In all the years our empire has been conquering the universe we have never needed to. This was an absolute disaster. For the first time in millennia our race has encountered a foe that demolished our expectations. Most other races were similar in size compared to us the Skardaks. However judging from the video feeds the inhabitants of this planet are roughly 1,000 times our size. I Grooblat that conqueror shall make haste back to the council and inform them of our defeat. I will also caution the council to leave this planet alone. If we were to anger these beings and then they develop FTL travel. Our empire will be extinguished

An alien race invades Earth, expecting to strike fear into the hearts of many and have humanity bow down before them. However, it appears they severely miscalculated the size of a human.