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The Lampblack had followed the girl home, she had ignored the warnings of the old folks to avoid Ashmear Street at night when the old demons haunted. He had entered her home without issue, the priests and hedge witches had not warded this house for the newcomers yet, and when she fell asleep he had slipped in, intending to snuff out her pleasant dreams and replace them with nightmares. He hadn't expected to be greeted by a boy that looked just like the girl, if a bit sicklier. With his blond hair muted in color and eyes dull he looked like a ghost, The Lampblack knew ghosts though and this spirit was far stronger. "Hello," the boy said, his pyjamas loose on his frail body as he approached the railthin demon. "My sister and I share this body, you aren't welcome here so please leave" the boys polite words were unnerving to the Lampblacm, mortals did not speak to demons in such a way. "Ghost kind are pale shades, I will eat you first then torment your sister boy" the Lampblack snarled and approached, only to find the boy gone. In confusion the Lampblack looked around and was startled to find that the landscape of this girls mind had become something of a nightmare on its own. "Not a ghost, but they almost killed me" the boys voice spoke as the crazed creature wearing the girls face thrashed around in a hospital bed as asylum nurses tried to inject her. "She and I have shared a body since birth, I came out when she was asleep. I loved to walk the night, to experience the thrills of the world, it's not my fault people are fragile" He said, one of the orderlies being thrown from the hysteric strength of the girl before they subdued her and prepared her for the procedure. "They cut most of me out...but the strongest peice of me is still here, and I get to torture anything that comes in" The boy spoke and then the Lampblack felt his limbs restrained, the hospital bed holding him down as the landscape shifted. "I got bored tormenting her, and really it's not her fault, but soon if I eat more of you monster I'll be strong. Then I can have fun again" the boy pulled a scalpel from a table near the bed. "Is it true the eyes are the window to the soul? Or should I start somewhere else?' he asked cruelly, bringing the blade to the demons face.

A demon is possessing a human. As they go through the mortal's mind and psyche, they find another soul inside who greets them with a simple "hello".

Tom loved the old bookstore on the corner. Run by Agatha, a woman as ancient as some of her books seemed to be, it was a quirky holdout in the age of screens and internet delivery. Every week, he would drop by after work and browse the dusty shelves. More often than not, some interesting book would practically fall into his hands. That Wednesday evening was no different. Tom came in and greeted Agatha, who as always sat behind the counter, her wrinkled nose buried in a book. He grinned when she just muttered and waved him off, and started browsing. It was a mystery how the selection on the shelves seemed so different each time. A worn fantasy paperback from a publisher he had never heard of caught his eye. He slipped it under his armpit and pulled out his wallet to check whether he had enough cash. Old Agatha didn't trust machines enough to accept cards. Suddenly the door banged open with a belated tinkle of a bell. Tom started and dropped the book. A thin man in a bomber jacket barged in, his face hidden under a black balaclava and his hand gripping a gun. Tom instinctively ducked behind the bookshelf. "Hands up!" the man bellowed, storming down an aisle between bookshelves. "Open the register and hand me the cash, now!" Agatha snapped shut the book she had been reading, the sound making Tom flinch. "Now that's just rude," she said irritably. "Hasn't your mother taught you any manners? You don't raise your voice in a bookstore." Tom sneaked to the end of the bookshelf and peeked around it, hardly believing his ears. The old woman had to be mad! The burglar sputtered, then jabbed the gun at the old woman's head. "Shut up and hand me the money, old bitch!" Tom swallowed. With shaking hands, he fumbled for his phone. "I will do no such thing," Agatha said, squinting up at the man through her thick glasses. "And stop waving that thing around like a fool." "Give me the fucking money, or I'll blow your fucking brains out!" "Blow my brains out?" She cackled as if that had been the funniest joke. "Sure, go right ahead!" The burglar fell silent in stunned disbelief. A manic grin creased Agatha's wrinkled face. Her form shifted, swelled like an overripe tomato, and exploded. Tom cried out and shielded his face. Blood and giblets of flesh sprayed the walls, dripped over the shelves, trickled down the counter and seeped to the floor. The fluorescent fixtures overhead flickered, casting crimson-hued light upon the impossible scene. But the burglar got the worst of it: blood soaked him head to toe, and pieces of Agatha's organs spattered his front. Tom slumped back on his ass in shock. The would-be burglar stood absolutely still for what felt like the longest time before letting out a keening scream. "What the fuck!" He wiped at his balaclava and shuddered when his hand encountered what looked like a piece of an intestine. "Man, what the fuck! What the fuck, oh man, what the fuck!" Shuddering, the burglar swiveled around and started toward the exit, right in Tom's direction. Tom scooted away, but the next moment there came a thud as the burglar slipped on the blood-soaked floor, his gun clattering from his hand. Whimpers reached Tom's ears. He dared peek around the shelf again. The burglar sat in a puddle of blood just a few feet away, his eyes wild and unseeing, his bloody hands raking at his masked face as if in an attempt to scrub it clean. "Didn't do it," he mumbled, rocking back and forth, "I didn't do it, I did nothing, didn't do it..." Tom eyed the fallen gun, psyching himself up to grab it. Just when he rose into a crouch, the lights flickered one last time and gave out. Something rustled in the back of the store. In the semidarkness only illuminated by the light from the street, Tom saw the blood soaking the shelves and the walls trickle toward the counter as if the draw of gravity had been changed. He gaped as even the droplets that had sprayed over his hand evaporated and joined the rivulets on the floor. The crimson river parted around the burglar's sobbing, rocking figure, and surged up the counter, behind which something shadowy, something with too many limbs to be human was agglomerating. Tom whimpered and ran, scampering down the aisle on all fours, and burst out the exit. He didn't look back, didn't slow down, his feet pounding the pavement until he suddenly found himself before the door to his apartment complex, unable to recall how he got there or how much time had passed. Panting, he looked behind him, almost expecting the thing from the bookstore to have followed him. Yet the dimly lit street was empty save for a few parked cars. The memory of Agatha's raving cackle echoed in his ears. He shuddered and hurried inside. Once indoors, he shut all the blinds and turned on every light in the apartment, taking comfort in the steady electric glow. He wrapped himself into a blanket on the couch and flicked on the TV in an attempt to fill his mind with anything else than what he had witnessed. Slowly, ever so slowly, the terror drained from him. By dawn, he fell into an uneasy sleep. *** The next few days passed in a state of fitful panic. He would flinch at the slightest noise and constantly glance over his shoulder. He kept an eye on the news, but there was no mention of the attempted robbery. More bizarrely yet, when he dared venture into the neighborhood, he saw that the bookstore remained open. He went to work, ate, and slept like a machine as questions kept repeating in his mind. Who was running the bookstore? What exactly had happened that night? How much could he trust his own memory? Eventually the need to know became all-consuming, and one day, like a moth drawn to the flame, he wandered over to the bookstore. For a good hour, he lurked on the pavement opposite the entrance and watched people come and go. No blood. No monsters. Just a worn door under a peeling sign. Wiping his palms on his trousers, he crossed the street. His heart raced as if he was about to enter a beast's lair—perhaps he was. He nudged open the door and flinched at the tinkle of the bell that announced his arrival. The lights were off, and the store's back was cast in shadow. He ventured gingerly between the bookshelves and waited until his eyes adjusted. And there Agatha sat behind the counter, her gray-haired head bent over a book. His breath left him in a hiss. He wheeled around and strode to the exit. Just as he reached for the door, a hand clamped around his elbow. He cried out and whirled around to find Agatha squinting up at him, her rheumy eyes overly large behind thick glasses. Despite the seeming frailness of her hand, she held his elbow in a vice-like grip. "Just a moment, young man." She produced a familiar brown wallet, her face creasing in a too-wide smile. "I believe this is yours."

You are in a bookstore and suddenly the gunman came inside the store. The gunman threatened to kill this old lady but the old lady exploded randomly

"What should we do with this lot?" The small office gargoyle drags a sack of letters, bigger than it is, to the middle of the office. "For the love of... Just leave them there. He'll be down in a minute" The office manager demon replies distractedly. "But there are just SO many this year" the little gargoyle complains. "That's because the education systems are breaking down and children are no longer able to get the help they need" a very deep voice says from the office doorway. "Sire!" The little gargoyle dropped to his knees "I meant no disrespect, Sir" "I understand. It's a fair question. We are getting a larger volume of letters each year" "Yes Sir. It's just, you're always so busy and there are just so many. Why read them all?" The towering Lord Of Hell crouched down until he was eye level with the little gargoyle "Every single one of these letters is a wish. Every child that has written one has a desperate desire for whatever they've asked for, but mostly, each child just wants to know someone is paying them attention. We all know the Yule Lord has his lists. Very like My Father. Do this and this, here is your prize. Do that and that, here is your damnation. I hold no such compunction. Every child is worthy of notice. Every soul will pass through my gates at some point, either to learn to right their wrongs, or to see that justice is being served to those that needed punishment from somewhere in their past. I'll see them all. It matters not. But these children are worthy of much more notice than that fleeting glimpse. Isn't it right that they should be given a taste of joy, a glance of happiness, a spoonful of hope, so that they might know those things, and carry on to live the most wonderful, amazing lives before they get here? Their lives are so short, and these, that would be thrown onto a rubbish pile, merely for a spelling mistake, as if somehow, that made them less worthy, are no less deserving than any other. I would gift every child, no matter their behaviour, were it within the rules, but alas, I cannot. So I do the best that I can with what I am allotted. Each child will not only receive what they asked for, they'll also get what they really want, which is somebodies full attention" Satan hefted the bag on to his shoulder and stalked back toward the throne room. The little gargoyle was staring, starry eyed in his direction "wow" "Wow, indeed. He's not quite the way people make him out to be, is he?" The office manager responded with a note of mirth in his voice. "I had no idea he cared so much" "He's The King of Hell. He sees the worst of humanity and mourns the pettiness and waste of it all. He'd do anything to make sure humans could live to the very best of their abilities, to live the happiest, most decadent, most fulfilling lives they could. If only those religious people hadn't twisted it all up. Imagine how happy they'd all be?"

Every year, a bunch of kids misspell Santa’s name as Satan. The letters get delivered anyway, and Satan insists on reading each and every one

I awoke with a start at the sound of a jingle, as panic and joy in my heart 'gan to mingle. Then up from my bed I arose in a hurry, and began to gather supplies in a flurry. You see, that jingle and a merry "HO HO" were the signals my mission now was a go. At my fireplace stood my staff made from fir, twinkling softly and smelling of myrrh. Two tomes sat beneath it, both covered in ice, and they told of my targets- both naughty and nice. Once yearly my patron of me requires to deal vengeance to ne'er-do-wells, crooks, thieves, and liars. Likewise my pact thus demands reward spread to benevolent folk as they sleep in their beds. For my powers I pay with a night of my time(, and also by only speaking in rhyme). So I gathered my staff, tomes, and stockings with care, and I channeled St. Nicholas as I took to the air. Up my chimney I flew and off towards my first task, which I'll tell you about if you only ask. Nadine was her name and she was getting quite old, though despite all her aging she was really quite bold. This year she had landed on the naughty list for cheating and murder- Santa was PISSED. I swooped down on Nadine as she walked towards her house, and began my spell work as quietly as a mouse. Her face turned to terror as a clatter of hooves told her that tonight she'd be paying her dues. A beast made of shadows in the shape of a deer careened at Nadine, stricken with fear. It wasn't until it was over and done that I noticed a witness- Elmo, her grandson. I bludgeoned my head with the side of my fist and prayed I would stay off the next year's bad list. It was a mistake, I told myself wishing, and I took off to find the next person for squishing.

You make your list and check it twice. Santa does in fact meet all the requirements for a warlock patron.

**Recessive** You’d think that being the only human amongst a family of vampires, werewolfs, and shapeshifters would suck. Hell, it’s a perfect premise for young adult novel. I can picture it now: a young hero or heroine is facing an identity crisis while their mother is out every full moon fighting hunters, their father is a night owl who can’t stand the sunlight but is a leader of a vampire collective, and their sister is a shapeshifter that could assume the form of anything, from spying on her fellow classmates as a tiny sparrow, to assuming the prom queen’s form to make a real bitch out of her in front of the student body. Meanwhile the protagonist is just all “woe is me” until they either learn to carve their own path or by the end of the second book they discover that they’re actually a shapeshifting-were-vampire or something. That was never my case. Yes, my mother gets to live an awesome life defending her kind by hunting down werewolf hunters every full moon. Yes, my father is the head chair of his local vampire council. And yes, my sister has and continues to, make an ass out of everybody that has crossed her. From ruining the prom queen’s life, to making her ex-boyfriends appear as real dicks, and even assuming the form of her teachers to change her grades. Finally yes, I was jealous at first that I wasn’t gifted with their abilities. Who wouldn’t want to transform into a badass wolf warrior? Or have the longevity of a vampire? Or be able to take the shape of the teacher that’s failing you and adjust your grades? They all sound fun, in theory. But over the years I’ve learned that my mundanity had been nothing more than a blessing upon me sparing me of the tedium and drama that comes with that of my family. Let’s start with my mother. My mother is an awesome woman. She’s as good of a mom as she is a defender of her kind. Single handedly she’s taken out some of the most powerful werewolf hunters across the state, allowing her people to live and prosper and just live their damn life. All the while she still manages to wake up early enough to take her two children to school and be there for all of my band recitals and my sister’s games. But there are *massive* drawbacks to her life, such as constantly having to be on the alert for hunters. Which yeah, really sucks. Werewolves are an endangered species all thanks to dumb scared humans who can’t stand the notion that sometime people just turn into giant half-man half-wolf beasts at the sight of a full moon. Not to mention that the only way to control it is to not look at the full moon nor let its rays touch you. Which led to some some awkward moments during band recitals that just so happened to line up with he full moon. My mom would always have to get to the school early and then stay late. And if she transformed we’d have to lure her to the minivan with her favorite snacks (raw bacon), while my sister shifted into her form and drove us back home, all the while mom rattled in the backseat howling at the moon. It’s not easy covering that up. Then there’s my dad, the most decorated and respected vampire in the whole state. The man was born here when it was first settled, cursed to become a vampire at the age of thirty-six, and hasn’t left the state ever since its founding a hundred and nine years ago. Despite his young age he had garnered quite the reputation amongst his peers, even among the vampire that cursed him. He has helped build an infrastructure worthy of his kind allowing for many of them to roam free without the threat of garlic and crosses. How he managed to do it is beyond me. Of course as he made the state better for vampires the increase in human disappearance had escalated significantly, making out state the “worst place for overnight campers” in the whole union, and yet the money he’s poured into the tourism board keeps the tourists coming and they keep being eaten by his kind. Nevertheless, he is a true statesman of the vampire sorts. A wonderful man and role model for sure, but his curse makes it damn hard to be a father. Very rarely would he attend anything my sister and I did because of his curse, especially in the summer months when the nights grew short. And his reclusive nature and determination to stick to the landlocked state he calls home means that we never ever took a trip to the beach. And then there’s my sister, the shapeshifter. On the surface it appears she has it the best of us: she can go out in the day time, she didn’t rely upon the moon to transform her into a inhuman entity, and her talent makes it easy to get away with practically anything. Seems nice right? Wrong. Being a shapeshifter means always being on. Shapeshifting requires a mental fortitude that of a monk because there is no “true form” of a shapeshifter, their bodies are always trying to assume the form of whatever figure that graces their mind (willingly or not). They’re like water, taking whatever mental shape that they encounter. It took her years to control it before mom and dad deemed her stable enough to join public school. Now she’s in much better control and can maintain her “base form” quite well (although that doesn’t stop her from adding extra muscles to help her exceed at all the sports she plays). Not to mention juggling all of her identities. She’s worn so many faces and lived so many second and third lives behind them that she needs to remember who’s who and what she’s done in each form. Her room is full of notebooks outlining the many people she’d assume, or plans to assume, that she has no time for herself. She’s an addict, unable to keep a form for more than a few hours before changing to another, including her base form. It sounds stressful to be honest. Finally, there’s me. The normal guy in the family. I have nothing special about me, not even my grades (and my sister won’t alter them for me, because of course she won’t). And honestly, I don’t mind it. It’s nice not having to worry about being hunted down. It’s great being able to go to the sun and enjoy the beach (which I hope to one day experience). And I like my body perfectly fine, thank you very much. I’m glad I got my parent’s recessive human genes, that way I can just live a normal life. —- If you enjoyed this please check out /r/QuadrantNine for more short stories by me.

Genetics are weird. Your mother was a werewolf, your father a vampire. Your sibling is a powerful shapeshifter gifted with supernatural powers. You? You're just a regular human.

All was quiet in the interrogation room except the light ringing of a knife against a whetstone. The suspect, seated and cuffed, was sweating so profusely that the wet stains around his armpits and chest were starting to fuse together. “This isn’t legal. This *can’t* be fucking legal. Where’s my lawyer?” The cuffed man’s voice cracked as he spoke. Detective Gilbert smiled coldly, “You haven’t kept up with the news at all, have you? I guess peeping on little boys and girls in the bathroom and kidnapping them takes up a lot of time.” He stepped around the interrogation table, slowly pacing around the small, claustrophobic room. “With *Kittering v. Burns*, the Supreme Court has ruled that law enforcement can use any means of non-lethal force during questioning in cases when deemed necessary, such as in cases where it will prevent other real world harm.” Gilbert stopped pacing, his shoes clicking as his feet came together and he spun to face the suspect. “That applies here, Mr. Sloane. And until you tell me where you’ve hidden Janie, my partner here will go to town.” The detective nodded his head towards the back corner of the room, where a woman dressed in a lab coat and safety goggles stood, busying herself at a small cart littered with an assortment of knives, scalpels, saws, and what looked like a hot plate? Upon being mentioned, she looked up and gave a sheepish smile. The suspect’s handcuffs rattled against the metal table in the center of the room as the man struggled against his cuffs. “You’re both fucking insane! I’m just a PE teacher!” The detective, Gilbert, slammed his hands down on the table, causing the suspect to flinch. “Jeb, you’re getting on my last nerves, bud,” he said. “We already have the school CCTV footage of you sneaking into the girls’ showers. Multiple teachers and students have placed you as the last person to see and speak to Janie. Your DNA was found on the handles of her backpack that we found in the dumpster behind the gym. Just tell us where she is, you sick fuck. You’d be everyone a lot of time and heartache.” The suspect’s wrists were chafing red from his futile struggles against the steel cuffs. “I. Already. Told. You. I do a round up of both the locker rooms at the end of every day to make sure nothing’s left behind. I grab and give back students’ backpacks all the time. I’m sure my DNA is on most—“ The man abruptly stopped talking when the woman with the lab coat picked up a knife, tested its edge against her gloved finger, and started walking towards him. “Wha-what the fuck are you doing?” He asked, trying to push his feet against the floor to scoot his metal chair back away from the approaching woman. The male detective quickly grabbed the back of the chair and held it still. The female detective quickly made her way next to the chair the suspect was sitting in. Gilbert and her made eye contact. He nodded and she nodded back solemnly. The woman bent down and looked the suspect in the eyes. “Last chance, Mr. Sloane,” she said quietly, almost like she was remorseful. “Last chance. We don’t have to do this.” “Holy shit, you’re really going to do this! You’re the sick fucks!” The man screamed, tears beginning to stream down his cheeks. “Please! I told you. I didn’t do anything. I don’t know anything! Janie is one of my favorite students! I wouldn’t ever do anything to her!” The woman moved so quickly that the suspect didn’t even process what was happening before he realized he was screaming. Dark red blood splattered as the suspect flailed. The male detective grabbed both of the suspect’s shoulders to try and slow the flailing. “It’s just a small cut. You’re getting shit everywhere! These are new shoes.” “Gilly, stop acting like I didn’t tell you to wear your gear,” the woman said, her safety goggles and white lab coat now colored with small flecks of already browning blood. The suspect was still screaming. The female detective had cut deep into his forearm. The cut most certainly exposed subcutaneous tissue, but it was impossible to see under all of the bleeding. Jeb Sloane had finally stopped screaming and was now quietly whimpering and repeating something along the lines of “I don’t know anything. I swear.” A sharp odor filled the room as liquid trickled down the front leg of the chair and pooled onto the floor. Gilbert jumped back a little bit and groaned, “Dammit B. My wife is going to kill me. This is the third pair this month.” The woman, B, shrugged, “I told you.” She then bent at the waist and with a gloved hand, gently cupped the suspect’s chin and raised his head. “Please, Mr. Sloane. I won’t be as gentle next time. Tell us anything you know.” Fresh tears sprang to the suspect’s eyes. “I… I don’t know anything… I swear…” Another cut with the knife. More screaming. More blood poured and dripped onto the floor, mingling with the other bodily fluids. The female detective held up a flap of bloody skin of which other white-ish connective tissue hung limply. She stared at it for a moment as if to study it, then held it up to her lips and inhaled. “What the are you doing?” The suspect croaked as he slumped back against the chair. “Who the fuck are you people?” His eyes widened and then shut when the woman’s tongue darted out from between her lips and the tip lightly touched the bloody tissue. Jeb squeezed his eyes shut and tilted his head to look away, sickened. She moaned softly. The male detective grabbed both sides of Jeb’s face and forcefully wrenched it back in the direction of the female detective. “No, Jeb. You’re going to watch consequences of your actions.” Bile rose to the back of Jeb’s throat as he was forced to watch the woman as she sucked that flap of skin into her mouth and chewed. She looked at him, once again raising her knife. “I’m going to ask you once more time,” as her mouth opened and closed to speak, Jeb could see the hint of a piece of white fatty tissue lodged against one of her incisors. “What do you know about Janie?” Jeb opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, he was interrupted by a gruff voice over a loudspeaker. “Miller, Evans, your suspect’s lawyer is here. Clean him up and get him prepped.” There was a long pause. Gilbert blew out a long breath that morphed into a raspberry. “Alrighty then. Let’s bring in the cleaning crew.” The female detective walked back to her cart of torturous contraptions. She ran a finger along the knife and then lifted the gloves up her to her face. She licked her finger, looking as if she were savoring the flavor, and then bit down on the edge of the finger to tear off the glove. The door to the interrogation room swung open. Clean air rushed into the room, diluting away the odors of blood and urine. A janitor pushed in his cleaning cart and surveyed the scene. “H-help me…” Jeb whimpered. The janitor sighed deeply, picked up his mop, and grumbled, “Why can’t you cops ever use the fucking tarps?” The detectives smiled and shrugged.

The police department stopped using the “Good Cop/Bad Cop” strategy when they found out that “Bad Cop/Cannibal Cop” works way better.

“Hey babe. Just woke up?” I said. My amazing darling just woke up this evening. He always has a night shift at the local 24/7 corner store and other side jobs, so I have his ‘breakfast’ prepared. While my lunch was a sandwich, she always asked for chicken liver and blood sausage. It was fine mainly because I’d make it a stirfry so I could package it up easier if she or the others wanted to take the leftovers for work. Also because then I could help everyone with finances because then I could work on budgets. I met these people when trying to find roommates so I could split rent, and then I fell in love with one of them, so I stayed. I didn’t realize all of them were night shift employees at places around the town, but it was fine. Every night my sweetheart would still cuddle me to sleep, even if they were to take a nap and have to leave for another shift. “Yeah… thanks for breakfast love.” He said. “Have the others woken up yet? We all have a shift tonight at the same place and it’s that busy night of the year now.” “I can wake them up dear. Just eat and get ready. I took a picture of the sunset for you.” I said. We both like seeing the warm hues of the sky during dusk and dawn, so I take a picture of the sunsets and they take pictures of the sunrises. “Thanks.” “Of course.” I proceeded to walk out of our shared bedroom and into the hall. “OI WAKE UP! RISE AND… uh… MOONSHINE!” I didn’t think before I yelled but it’s alright. “Shut up already!” One yelled back. “Only if you get ready! I have y’all’s ‘breakfast’ here!” I stated. I put on the news. More killings. Tch. Hopefully they catch the killers. I change the news to the weather channel. Ooh, a new moon tonight. That’s why the sky is red… -a few minutes later- “We’ll be going now sweetheart… oh! And since the moon is pretty tonight can you come to the park? I want a cute picture of us together. *Please*?~” she said. I felt compelled to agree, so I nodded my head. “Of course babe.” “Thanks! See you then!” And they were all gone. I had a like… two hours. I knew they would dress semi-formal, so I got my collared shirt and put on a long skirt. Good. The weather said cold, so I got my cardigan. Perfect. -later- “Hey! Are the others gonna take the picture? I brought my camera for the best quality if you want it to look nice.” “Yeah. Of course. Now… do you want to do this the easy way, or the fun way?” They asked me. “…what do you mean?” I asked, tilting my head in confusion. Wrong move apparently, because this tall dark mesmerizing being decided to grab me and hold my head in position. “Both it is. Now… *calm down. You won’t feel a thing dear~*” they whispered into my ear. My mind felt fuzzy and my legs like jelly. Then a sharp pain hit my neck but I wouldn’t tense up. “B-babe?” I managed to whisper out. I heard the sound of drinking and gulps. She was drinking my blood! Oh shit. Holy- “Smile!” One of the roommates, I couldn’t really tell with my mind hazy, held my camera and took pictures of this situation. I heard him and then felt him breathe on my neck. “Step one done. Now the other part.” They held me so I was somewhat standing up. I saw a shimmer of something before I saw something red… it was blood! “What… huh?” I wasn’t the most conscious right now, but I felt their hand on my mouth and as I tried to lick it so they’d get the hand off, I tasted it. Blood. Yet… I couldn’t stop. I felt… hungry. “There you go. Just drink up. Good. I love you so much dear. Now we can be together…” they said, my mind now drifting as I was done and started to fall unconscious. “…*forever~*”

Unbeknownst to you, your SO & their roommates are vampires. You also fail to realize they plan on turning you tonight.

Well my dad died. I told him to stop eating so many goddamn Oreos. He was so committed to the idea of being a fat Santa that he forgot that eating a bunch of cookies every day was bad for him. I feel like this isn't the right time to say "I told you so," but it is hard not to look at him in the coffin and not think it. And now that he is dead, I have to take over the mantle. Now I have to be Santa and give a bunch of toys to children all across the globe. Which is fine I guess. I was kinda hoping to get into graphic design, but obligation is obligation. It is either do this or disappoint every single living child in the entire world. I guess my dreams don't matter in comparison. I can live a life of unfulfilled unhappiness. It is already fifteen days until Christmas, and I haven't trained at all. I wasn't supposed to start for thirty more years, and training wasn't supposed to start for twenty. The elves are running around like mad, trying to explain things to me as I half listen and text, I mean how hard could it be? You just ride around in a sleigh and drop off presents right? It's not exactly rocket science? Also, I want to come clean, I wasn't actually texting when the elves were talking to me. I was actually playing Candy Crush. I just said I was texting because I wanted to sound cool. But you know what? Honesty is cool, so I am choosing to be honest and own that I am playing a game that stopped being cool ten years ago. It really is hectic, and I am trying to do my best to engage in everything. Obviously this wasn't my first choice, but at a certain point I guess I have to accept things for what they are. And maybe if I put in some enthusiasm I will come to actually enjoy it. That is what I am trying to tell myself at least. Lets at least try to give it a shot before I write it all off. Also, the elves said that if I don't act the fuck up they will chop me up into dice sized cubes and throw me into a soup. Merry Christmas, I guess.

3 decades too early.

"Please tell us a story grandpa!"*the children demanded while gathering around the nearly 200 years old man before the fireplace.* *He opened his old eyes and looked at the little monsters that just couldnt let him get his sleep.* "Fine. But no interrupting me and you let me get back to sleep when I'm done." *That gave the children a pause because they knew that the man always followed this kind of agreement to the letter, but they really wanted to hear that story so they nodded.* *The old man sighed and began:* "Ok. So this happened about 140 years ago.....*\*insert flashback of a beautiful capital with a kings castle in the middle and big roads cutting through the surrounding forest\** Back then I had retired from the military and instead got a job as the royal translator since I am good with languages. The kingdom back then had a dragon problem so they hired a hero from a faraway land to take care of it. The problem was that a rather embarrassing translation error on my part ended with the hero defeating the princess and marrying the dragon instead. Luckily the king wasnt aware of my blunder yet so I had a little bit of time before shit hit the fan. I still would have been *royally* fucked if I didnt act fast, but you didnt survive in(or even near) the royal court without the foresight to prepare multiple contingency plans. I made use of every single one of them for my getaway. First I gathered my old military equipment. I may have been retired but I still knew how to use that mace with deadly precision. I also also delved into my soul and informed my familiar that it was time to take to our heels. Rolly lived under a mountain range near the edge of the kingdom, so he had no problem getting out and finding me afterwards, even though he could only really travel at night. I would have liked to inform my few friends of what I was going to do but that would have been way too risky. They would understand and I had arranged years ago that my stuff would go to them if I ever went missing. Then I summoned a Mimicry Fae. It wasnt my first time dealing with a Fae so I knew what to do." *The man paused and and considered the children with a serious look.* "Remember kids. Never be the first to summon something. I had the benefit of multiple predecessors being dumb enough to summon a Fae and sell their own soul or the soul of their firstborn. In other words: Never do anything magical without knowing all of the rules and how to bend them." *He waited a bit to make sure the message sunk in and then continued.* "But back to the story: A bit of trickery and acting had the Fae thinking it was nothing important and brought the price down to something I was gladly willing to pay(the soul of my neighbors cat). The pact was sealed and the Fae would make for a good distraction until it was found out. Then I plundered my emergency reserves. The hero could detect magic tools and weapons with uncanny precision so whatever I took with me had to stay mostly mundane. One of multiple secret tunnels took me out of the capital and into the woods. There a boat with a few subtle enchantments waited for me, but even this was not stealthy enough, so I untied the boat and let the river do the rest. The following weeks were filled with a journey through the wilds. I made sure to avoid any kind of confrontation with the wild life as well as other humans to make sure nothing could be traced back to me. If I didnt have my familiar to talk to, I probably would have gone insane before reaching my next destination. Even back in my humble beginning as a common soldier I knew, that I wanted to reach a higher position. The ongoing war back then didnt permit officers to stab eachother in the back but I knew that the higher ranks would be back at it, as soon as the war ended. That and the chaotic place that is the battlefield motivated me to build emergency stashes whenever I had the chance. Call me paranoid but having enough stashes to start forgetting some of them again was definitely safer than just creating a few and hoping that one of them would be near when I needed it. It was during that war that our enemies used a Castle Breaker Worm to create a covert tunnel and attack us from the rear. CBWs can tunnel through stone like a fish swims through water and had the annoying tendency to literally undermine castle walls until they collapsed. They were nearly hunted to extinction because of that, so I have no Idea how our enemies even found that thing not to mention taming it. But back to the point. The attack failed and left behind a nice long tunnel that was long enough to cover half of the way to the capital. The higher ups wanted it closed up but a few enterprising soldiers only blocked most of it and left a narrow route for a smuggling operation they wanted to raise. Sadly the wild life around there proofed to be too dangerous for transportation so they had to give up. I heard them whining about it while they were drunk in a tavern and I couldnt miss that opportunity. Suffice to say that it became the biggest, best protected stash and only mine car track I ever build. It also made that part of the journey a breeze. Of course I activated the traps I had left behind to slow any pursuers. After that it was mostly hiking again until I reached the neighboring country. From there I took regular transportation methods. At least I still concealed my real identity but in hindsight that was rather foolish of me back then, but I was still young and inexperienced. It took crossing two other countries until I felt safe enough to stop concealing anything and call Rolly to my side again. But what happened after that will have to wait for another time Kids."

You are the royal translator. Due to your mistake, the hero from a faraway land defeated the princess and married the dragon. Now there is a hero demanding his reward, an angry princess, an oblivious king, an infatuated dragon, and you who must find a way to get out of this mess alive.

It started with a blink. Nick vowed himself never to use his power, ever since he discovered it as a child. The ability was too dangerous. He didn't want to skip a second of his life. In fact, he tried to pretend like he didn't have powers in the first place. But when he accidentally spilled a cup of coffee, he watched the stain with some disgust. He was feeling... off today. A couple of seconds wouldn't hurt to miss, would they? *Blink* Without a second's notice, the task was complete. Nick admired the level at which he had cleaned the floor. For the first time in his life, he understood the phrase: "You could eat off of it". The tiles were so polished to the point that he could clearly see his own reflection in them. The cleaning supplies were packed neatly into the drawer, instead of being thrown across the kitchen counter. It seemed that Nick forgot to take into account his ability's most important value. it didn't just skip through a task, it completed the task PERFECTLY. One coffee spill on the floor turned into cleaning a stain on the couch. *Blink* Replacing his desk. *Blink* Cleaning the gutters. *Blink* When he tested it on the small stuff, he realized he could think bigger. Passing his driver's ed *Blink* Nailing his job interview *Blink* Presenting a sales pitch to his new co-workers *Blink* It seemed that everything Nick did, he skipped through it. He didn't even sleep on his own any more. He just skipped through it, so he could get the best amount of sleep necessary for the day. He had become completely dependent on his power. Asking his co-worker out on a date *Blink* Preparing a dinner for their 1-year anniversary *Blink* Creating the perfect wedding proposal *Blink* At that point, Nick had no memory of any of the time he spent with his girlfriend. He was using his ability constantly, to the point where he couldn't even walk to the kitchen without "skipping the task and walking at the perfect pace". Blink. Blink. Blink. It was all he knew how to do anymore. Talking himself out of jail *Blink* Winning a fight to show off to his fiancé *Blink* His testing built up to his biggest request yet. So infatuated with his power, Nick thought of his best task yet. Making himself the perfect human ... *Blink* ... His wife's face, which he was staring at just a second ago, materialized into nothingness. The warm heating of his mansion turned into brisk, freezing air. What was once a beautiful house, was now a wasteland, as if a bomb had struck the entire building. Nick panicked. He checked his phone, which was still in his pocket. Miraculously, it still worked, and displayed the date: **June 17th 2065**. 2065??? 4 decades had just passed! Nick felt himself collapse with anxiety, and heard something crunch beneath him. A human skull. Nick understood what he had done. He was the perfect human. He was the ONLY human. In his obliviousness, he must've done something to wipe out the entire world. Nick sat down, on what remained of his couch. A couch that he skipped past buying. He looked up at the moon. A moon that he skipped looking up at. He thought about what his next task would be. A task that would take even more decades to complete. To try and rebuild society *Blink*

Your superpower is Montage, the ability to set a task and then fast-forward through it without aging. You usually use the ability to bypass boring bits, like building things or travelling. After setting a simple goal, you activate the ability and when it finishes, decades have passed.

(Part 1 of 2) Dark Lord Sirris furrowed his brow in concentration. His talon-like nails stroked the silvery strands of his goatee. “Fine, then pray tell, what are the advantages of ordering the McRib, as meal.” “It is 30 cents cheaper than if you purchase the items a la carte, and, for a limited time, you get an Emoji Movie 2 commemorative cup.” I explained. “I see, so a prudent choice.” “I gue—” “And this cup,” the dark lord continued, “Is it an item of great power?” He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Um, no. There are a lot of them” I gestured to a stack behind the counter. “I guess it’s slightly more durable than our standard cup?” I shrugged. “Excellent, you may prove a useful minion after all, Jen-NEE of Chester’s field.” “Thank you Sirris…” “Ahem.” “Dark Lord Sirris, Conqueror of the 7 Kingdoms, Slayer of Gods, and Ruler of Bythica.” I sighed. The dark lord rummaged around in his cape for a moment before dropping four gold-looking coins onto the counter.” “We have been over this before, my lord, those coins are not legal tender that corporate lets us accept.” “Fine.” He huffed. He swished his cape and spun around to face the patron behind him, another regular who I knew only as a soccer mom who collected cheap handbags. The confused soccer mom begrudgingly exchanged a few coins for a crisp twenty-dollar bill. Dark Lord Sirris spun back around and handed me the twenty with both hands, presenting it as those it was some item of great import. I, deciding to humor him, bowed slightly before opening my register. “Tell me, Jen-NEE of Chester’s field, this corporate you always speak of, they sound like a terrible lord.” “Yep, they’re pretty awful, but what can you do? Capitalism.” I shrugged again, handing him receipt. “Many of the youth in this land have spoken of this… capitalism.” Lord Sirris mused. “I dare say, it has been decades since a proper rival has presented themselves to me. Where can I locate these vassals of the Dark Lord Capitalism?” “Um, well, you could go online and fill out a ‘contact us’ form and see if you get a reply.” “Online?” “Hmm, I guess you didn’t have the internet in Bythica, huh?” “No, what is this Intern’s net you speak of?” “No, the internet is… not really a place, but you get a computer or phone… umm…” I couldn’t believe I was about to say this. I tried not to indulge the delusions of some of our more eccentric customers. “You get a summoning device such as a phone or computer, and then you can use the an internet spell to quest for knowledge, order provisions, forge alliances across the lands, all kinds of things.” “So powerful, this intern’s net.” The dark lord looked to me. “I misjudged you, Jen-NEE of Chester’s Field, of the great land of Misery in the Kingdom of America. I mistook you for a common serving wench. But it seems you are an excellent advisor, wise to secrets of this realm.” The dark lord leaned against the counter, the woman behind him getting restless at all the chit chat. “Um, thanks,” I said, thankful to see the fries for the dark lord’s order slide down behind me. “Hold on, let me bag your order,” I said, turning to bundled up his lunch. I turned to hand him his lunch, he nodded at me in approval. “Thank you, Jen-Nee for the sustenance. I hope to continue our conversation soon.” He flourished his cape and moved into a deep bow, the contrast between the regal motion and the bag containing a McRib was not lost on me. “Don’t forget your Sprite.” I said, handing him the commemorative cup that was covered in images of emojis. “Ah, I see what you meant, it is a bit underwhelming.” He admitted examining the cup before making his departure. I apologized to the next customer, who was still examining the coins the dark lord had handed her. The rest of my shift was relatively uneventful. As uneasy as “Dark Lord Sirris” made me, I had to admit, he was entertaining. I did not see Dark Lord Sirris the rest of the week. I crammed for finals and continued picking up shifts for some extra cash. Even with the extra shifts, I was still dining on ramen and peanut butter sandwiches. On Friday a news story shocked me. There was an attack on the McDonald’s Corporate headquarters, five top level executives brutally murdered in a board room. The witnesses interviewed described a man in a cape. It couldn’t be… I told myself. When I got into work Saturday, the tone around the restaurant was somber at first, but soon the rhythm of the shift took over and it was business as usual. The soccer mom I had served earlier that week strode into the store. A pop of red soles on brand new pumps caught my eye, as did the large coach purse. She usually dressed far more sensibly. She walked up to the counter and looked at me. “Do you remember that odd fellow that was here the other day?” “Yes ma’am, is he here, is he harassing you?” “No, but here is my card, if you see him, please give me a call, anytime.” She explained as she slid a card across the counter, her nails showing off a brand-new manicure. I nodded and took the card. “Uh sure ma’am.” I said, pretending to agree. She gave me an insincere smile before stalking off. “Huh.” I scratched my head, wondering, those coins couldn’t be real… could they? I went back to my shift, trying to pretend the curiosities weren’t stacking up. The hours that followed were back to the normal drudgery of the workday I knew and loathed. We were down a person and rumor had it the regional manager was on his way for inspection. Naturally, the soda machine in the lobby malfunctioned and started spraying Coke everywhere. I grabbed a mop and a bucket and got to work. (Character Limit - Continued in Reply)

"I am the Dark Lord Sirris, Conqueror of the 7 Kingdoms, Slayer of Gods, and Ruler of Bythica. Who are you to ask me such a question?" "Sirris, you do this every week, Bythica doesnt exist here, this is a McDonalds, now do you want that as a meal or no?"

You stare at the freshly minted reactor core in front of you and then at the wrapped gift in your hand. The AI's holographic-tactile avatar 'GWEN' looking at you expectantly. "How.. Wha.." there is no chance to gather your thoughts before GWEN comes up to you and takes the wrapped present. "It is customary to exchange gifts. Correct?". Your mouth is dry, I don't think the dancing flower really quite compares to a new reactor. Clearing your throat you say "Yes, uhm. I'm sorry, it's not quite the same. Your gift... It's..." "Oh yes, it's quite a good gift yes? The best I could find. You did say last week you could 'do better than 'this bag of bolts'". The AI responds excitedly. You try to gather some words "Yes, I mean, yes it's uh a great gift. But how? Why? Wait. What instructions did you receive for the Secret Santa?". "In order of your questions. I read Tony's database on stock management and Cheryl's on gambling and applied the knowledge until I had adequate funds. You spend alot of time with the reactor core and 'get a gift for Greg'. Have I applied 'Secret Santa' incorrectly?" concern was showing on GWENs artificial face. "No, no. Uhh you did amazing. I do like reactor cores! Sorry, my present won't live up to this. By the way, can you do that stock / gambling thing that you did again..." I guess the new problem of having one too many reactor cores will be solved by having one less funds problem.

The ship's AI joined the Secret Santa gift exchange for the first time this year. Nobody thought to mention the upper price limit on the gift to them.

"It'll work, I swear." His hands continued scrawling out a mad diagram of circles, lines, runes, and shapes, the twisting network of geometric mess boggling the mind. "The last time you said that, you blew up a dragon. I'm not afraid that it won't work; I'm afraid that it will." She poked the matted grease trailing down his scalp, scowling as her finger came back oily. "And when was the last time you bathed, you reek like a cow's tail. What are you working on, anyway?" "A C compiler." "The hell is a C compiler?" "...Imagine a thousand of our inefficient rune magics, written by other runes, working in perfect harmony." "Oh light forgive this boy." She pinched her nose, a harrowing sigh wracking her lungs. "It's rather simple actually; you use runes to translate an intermediate language into other, well organized runes." "Speak in tongues to me again and I'll throw you and your notes in a wash basin. Now get back to the house, we're having dinner." ~~----------------------~~ "Now, I know this looks bad." He started as the smoking husk of the Dark Lord smouldered behind his completely untouched form. "But I have a good excuse." "Good excuse!?" The paladin clutched his head, wailing. "The Dark Lord stole your notes, tried to use your foul magicks, and exploded in agony in front of us! Who's to say you aren't a walking bomb like he!?" "Simple," He nodded sagely, poking his thumb back at the corpse. "He had a memory leak." The archer quietly curled into a ball and comforted herself. "If that is what happens with a single moment of forgetfulness, I pray what will happen in your old age." The paladin rushed up and lifted him by his shirt. "Now tell me, wretched sorcerer, what demon have you contracted to give you such detestable power, so that I may slay them after I pray for your soul's passage to heaven?" "Blame Dennis Ritchie and Ken Thompson." \-\~-\~-\~-\~-\~-\~-\~-\~- now imagine if it was brainf or some other wack esolang instead lol

the first big thing you learned in this new world is that magic spells are similar to a computer scripting language, which needs an interpreter to run. The second big thing you learned is that you have the ability to compile spells into executables.

There is an unfortunate problem of human attention. Actually, there are multiple problems regarding human attention. It has become a commodity — a currency. It is bought and sold and controlled and manipulated, much as any capitalist market resource is. For me, a fellow invested in cinema, the chief sin (beyond making middle of the road films the norm) is: some stars do not get to shine until they are gone. There have many a performer and creator that are not appreciated until such time that they have left this mortal coil. With the third of a bespoke bottle of Gin left on my desk, and the rest stored in my stomach and head, I had sought to rectify this matter. I had jumped on to Mr Wales’ Wiki and had decided to make a change or twenty. I had decided that I would bring eyes to a performer that it appeared I and I alone loved. Search and replace. Where is was, now was was. I made up a death and added dates. Guilt struck the next day when the world had found the story. Worry wormed its way into my brain when the words I had wrought were found to be unfettered fact. That was how I found it out. That was how I knew what could be done. Tense was king and Wikipedia?...It was my Death Note.

they die after their wikipedia page is changed to past tense. You found this out in the worst way.

I trudged down the street carrying my bulgy net shopping bag in one hand and fumbling around in my handbag with the other. It was bitter and my thick gloves, warm as they were, were inconvenient to grab anything with. T'was the season and flashy neon signs and ornaments winked at me through shop windows and on billboards twinkling away the gloom. Bunting and banners in garish colours festooned all the doors and fronts of buildings, trying to look cheery despite being knocked askew by passers by. Or having people tangled in them. "People" was that even an accurate descriptor? They had been people once but now they were just ... something else. It used to be shoppers and workers crowding the pavement on the highstreet going up and down but now it was just shambling, empty, souless shells. Most people were keeping indoors to avoid them. The flashy twinkle ornaments and signs seemed to put them off and drive them away. The sticky trap buntings caught quite a few of them, the city crews would come by to round them up at midnight every night and reset the traps. Finally my hand closed around the cannister I had been fumbling for in my handbag. Sometimes the lights and the traps didn't always clear the pavement enough. But a good spritz of ZomBGone spray usually did the trick. \*\*PFFFT\*\*\* "Shoo, shoo!" I spritzed a cluster of empties that were congregated near the bus shelter and they shambled off. I didn't much care for being out in the crowd but I had run out of everything and had finally made a desperate dash to the corner shop. \*sigh\* Oh well, only two more weeks and they would be gone. ​ \- I read here a lot and have often wanted to try writing, so here is my first attempt. I'm going through a rough time right now and it gave me pleasure to write this, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it.

Every twenty years a Zombie outbreak happens, In olden times it was near world ending. nowadays it's considered just an annoyance and a boring reality of life.

Ethan rubbed his eyes and returned his attention to the lines of code on the screen. Behind the curtained window, the wind was picking up, sending rain beating against the glass. He had planned on dropping by the corner store after finishing this assignment, but there would be no going out in this weather. Something knocked against the window. His head jerked up in surprise. *What the hell*? He lived on the fifth floor, and there were no balconies on this side of the building. The knocking came again, gentle but insistent. He swallowed, then got up and slowly made his way to the window. Gripping the curtains, he hesitated for a moment before yanking them apart. His jaw sagged. Behind the window, astride a broomstick, hovered his neighbor from the upper floor, her loose sweatsuit soaked and her mousy hair plastered about her face. Her hand was raised to knock once more, but then the wind buffeted her, and she squeaked and gripped the handle of the broom with both hands, wavering side to side. Ethan considered shutting the curtains and writing everything off as a hallucination when he caught her gaze. Her blue eyes were wide and panicked, and her lips were trembling. Before he knew it, he was unlocking the window and flinging it open. Cold rain sprayed his face, a gust of wind flapping the curtains. "Excuse me," the woman cried against the wind, "can I borrow some salt?" Ethan shook his head in stunned disbelief. "How... how are you doing this?" Leaning out the window, he looked up and down but saw no wires holding her up. "Please, that's not important right now," she yelled, sidling closer. "Do you have any salt?" "Uh... I guess, yeah." He chuckled incredulously. "If that's all you needed, you could've just come in through—" "How much?" she demanded, brushing her slick hair away from her eyes. "Uh... Half a carton, maybe?" Her face fell. "Is that all?" "Might be two thirds." She looked up and gnawed on her lip, then faced him again. "Bring it to me. Please, hurry." Not pausing to question her, Ethan bolted to his tiny kitchen and returned with the carton of kosher salt. She leaned forward precariously to snatch it from his hands, and with a quick "Thanks!", ascended away. He leaned out and stared as she flew into the window directly above, vanishing from sight. Shivering at the cold, he shut the window and wiped the moisture off his brow. The word came unbidden to his mind: a witch. Yet he had never heard of witches living in dingy apartment complexes or wearing faded sweatsuits instead of black robes. Or, for that matter, being anything more than fiction. He paced the room, the encounter seeming more unbelievable the more he thought about it. Soon he became aware of strange noises from upstairs, something between sloshing and rustling, faint but audible over the howl of the storm. He looked up at the ceiling, and coming to a snap decision, started for the door. The woman seemed terrified, so if anything, he ought to drop by and see whether she was all right. He slipped into his shoes and raced up the stairs. Pausing before her door, he slicked back his damp hair before snorting at himself and ringing the doorbell. No answer. He waited a moment, then rang it again. Strange noises filtered from inside. Frowning, he pressed his ear against the door. It almost sounded like the sloshing of water in a bathtub. Then there was a breathless scream, immediately muffled. "Are you all right?" Ethan yelled, rapping his knuckles on the door. "Hey!" He tried the handle and to his shock found the door unlocked. Without pausing to think, he barged inside. It was a scene of chaos. Bubbling purple slime coated the floor, undulating as if it were alive, clothes and kitchen utensils and knick-knacks floating inside its translucent mass. The neighbor was halfway swallowed herself, struggling to fend off translucent tentacles with her sole free arm while the slime's main mass pulled her in ever deeper. The carton of salt lay on the floor behind her, surrounded by a half-circle of desiccated slime. "Hang on!" he yelled. "I'll come get you out!" She turned to him and began to scream something, only to burble weakly as the slime used her distraction to submerge her entirely. Ethan steeled himself and waded into the mass, only to swear and stumble to a halt. It sucked at his shoes so powerfully that he was unable to pull up his feet. Worse yet, the slime was growing tentacles that seemed intent on binding his legs. He lurched back, extricating himself before he could get trapped. Looking around wildly, he grabbed an umbrella and stabbed it at the slime. The thing yanked it free from his grip and swallowed it whole. He stared at it in dismay. Getting a sudden idea, he wheeled about and dashed out into the hallway. He grabbed the fire extinguisher off a wall, and ripping off the tamper seal, hurried back inside and let loose. Where the whitish powder fell on the slime, it shrank back and melted. Encouraged, Ethan directed the nozzle side to side, methodically destroying the slime. In seconds, he reached the neighbor, who had managed to wriggle free and slumped on the floor, catching her breath. "Huh," she panted, glancing at the fire extinguisher. "How did you know that would work?" "I didn't," he admitted. "Well, thanks all the same." She flashed him a smile, then shuddered and wiped a bit of slime off her mouth."You saved me from melting or worse." Ethan warily eyed the few isolated puddles of slime and set the fire extinguisher down, offering her his hand. "What the hell was that thing?" She took it and helped herself up with a groan. "A brew gone wrong." "You *made* that thing?" "Not on purpose! These old recipes can be temperamental, especially if you try to replace the ingredients." She threw her hands up. "I mean, do you have any idea how hard it is to get Silphium in this day and age?" "Pretty hard, I take it," he said dryly. She blushed. "Sorry, I'm just cranky since I've been trying to get this right for weeks. I'm Emily. Thanks again for saving me." She extended her hand. Ethan clasped it and tried not to wince at the slime still clinging to her skin. "You're welcome. Sorry about your apartment, though." "Don't worry, I've had worse," she said, waving him off. "Hazards of the job." An intense expression of concentration came over her face, and she wiggled her fingers at the floor. Ethan exclaimed in surprise as the frothy mixture flowed upwards into an enormous cauldron that stood atop a large hotplate on the floor. Within moments the place was left clean, if still strewn with random clothes and items. He stared at her. "How..." "Oh. I'm a witch, of course." She laughed nervously. "Haven't you heard the rumors? I've been trying to spread word to attract customers." "Of course," he repeated weakly. "I mean, yes, I heard. Thought it was just the neighbors being rude." "Well, now you know." Emily fidgeted, casting him furtive looks. "Would you like to stay for a meal?" she asked quickly. Ethan stared at her, standing there in a soaked sweatsuit with slime dripping from her hair, then at the cauldron filled with a mixture of slime and chemicals. He worked his jaw, fumbling for a polite excuse to refuse. "I can cook! Cook regular food, I mean. Although I've been told my lasagna is magical. It's not, or at least not *magical* magical." Pink tinged her cheeks. "I'm not trying to be weird or anything. Just want to thank you." He laughed. "It's a little too late for that," he said. "But yes, I'll stay."

You never thought the rumours about the Witch in the apartament above were true. But the girl siting in a broomstick outside your window seems very real. And she needs your help.

"And you're sure you don't need anything else?" I ask, concern tinting my voice as the odd stranger, freshly showered, shaven, fed, and clothed meanders out the front door. Running fingers through suddenly perfect hair, the man smiles back at me and shakes his head. "I feel better than I have in ages and possess the freedom of no responsibilities to speak of. And look, the sun is finally shining after weeks of rain, a perfect day to start anew." He steps close and lays a hand on my shoulder, and a warm peace washes over me that makes me feel ten years younger. "Be well, friend. May blessings rain aplenty upon you and your household." The stranger turns and strides away, leaving me feeling better than I have in a long time, if not ever. I walk back inside and to the kitchen to find my wife humming to herself while finishing breakfast, her anger from moments earlier seemingly vanished. "Perhaps I was a bit harsh," she says with an apologetic smile over her shoulder as I start setting the table. With a wry smile I shrug and stick my tongue out at her. "I can be a bit stubborn from time to time, so it wasn't exactly unwarranted. And thankfully he left peacefully and wished us well, though in an oddly formal way." She nods then turns and leans back against the counter. "Hon, I think we should go buy a box of pregnancy tests." Nearly dropping the plate in my hand I look at her with wide eyes. "But we've tried for years and...and you really think you're...?" I can't finish the question, terrified to hope, unknowing that in a few short weeks we'd be hearing a little heartbeat that we'd spent years yearning for. Striding slowly down the street, the stranger looks this way and that at the many downcast faces that have not yet noticed the sun shining again. A sudden determination strikes him that he must help them, and all at once memories come flooding back. Descending from the divine kingdom to prove there was good in humanity, spending decades wandering under the guise of the helpless and being ignored, ridiculed, or given the smallest bits of charity, slowly losing His hope and sense of self with it till He forgot entirely that He was supposed to be merely playing a role. And just in the nick of time, for with the return of His Self so too does He remember the ultimatum that the council had come to should His experiment fail. Now with an extra spring in His step, He folds himself out of this reality to return and declare success, the thought more for effect than out of necessity. The Others surely already know what happened, but nothing beats a grand, divine "I told you so."

You help out a confused homeless person. What you're unaware of is they're a god suffering from amnesia.

Two men are standing infront of the door, in yellow labcoats, notebooks by their side and a pen inside their pockets. It is silent, dead silent. They stare at the door and onto its lock, the dull, mundane colours of the empty room surrounding them engulfing them. One of them checks his wristwatch. 'It's been quite a bit above average. Should we sent somebody in?' he says, putting his hand back behind him where it was, his eyes not leaving the sight of the door. 'He'll get out. Trust me' says the other man, slightly older with small round glasses and an elegant white beard. The two wait, the first one goes front and takes his hand up as to knock the door 'Not yet' says the other man motioning at him to step back. They sit back and wait, a drop of sweat falls down the face of the first man. He quickly brushes it off. 'Now James, it's not the first time you're doing this.' says the second man. 'Yes... Yes Dr. Comb. Indeed.' says James, visibly stressed out. 'And how did it go the other times?' says Comb, trying to comfort him. 'They all came back. Sir.' 'Good. And it will happen again, you can go if you want, get a cup of tea and calm down.' The sound of the door unlocking interrupts them, a man comes running out, he pushes and locks immediately, he has visible scars and bruises on him. 'I'll give my report later.' he says, as he sits against the wall and tilts his hair back in relief. 'See I told you' says Comb, now looking at James. 'Told him what?' shouts the man that came out of the door, 'That there were gonna be giant squid monsters on the other side? What the fuck kind of key even was that?' 'One from the lovecraft collection' says Comb, he pauses a bit 'Now lets get you somewhere safe and warm' he continues, wrapping a blanket around the man and escorting him to a different room. This thing was found about 30 years ago, we were lucky enough for no government to try to get their hands on it, well, lucky enough to manage to hide it from them. God knows what they would do with this power. It can be the most mundane normal room at the other side of it. Practically a portal to whatever room the key would normally open the door to would lead. But some keys are special. First of all some lead to places that have no other visible entry or exit except for the purple door, those places appear to only exist through the door and can be mundane rooms, or things a bit more surreal. Broken keys can lead to fractured versions of the world. No person has so far been seen in these worlds, but other things, monsters, are found frequently. Very rarely a sentient one is found and the few times those were found they were either unintelligible or incredibly sociopathic. All have refused to exit the door with all means that are available to them. Some have even preferred death to exiting. Science cant make sense of it, religion surely cant make sense of it, no mention of it in any text, historic or otherwise. This is the real Stonehenge, or worse, the things it implies. This thing implies that we do not understand the universe, the places it has lead to nullify or simply ignore the laws of physics, sometimes all at once, almost as if to mock us. This thing is here to prove to us, remind us, that the universe is untameable, unsolvable. But we run tests on it anyway, we travel through it everyday in hopes of making some sense, of finding some reason. I don't believe we will. But atleast its fun trying.

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.

**The Somaspore** The Somaspore is a most peculiar creature that is found in varying dimensions and habitats across the multi-verse; this creature is truly a wonder of reproductive science. For this reason, one should take great care when spotting or handling a Somaspore and familiarize oneself with local laws and regulations regarding Somaspore policy (see Ethics and Legality section below). **Overview** The Somaspore, a sometimes plant-like sentient life form, is unique in that it is the only known carbon-based life form which demonstrates an ability to exist in various states of matter. That is to say, a Somaspore—while commonly found in nature as a tall, green-leafed plant resembling the hellebores of Earth 643—can exist in a gaseous state after heated at extreme temperatures and retain its sentience and organic conditioning. After transitioning to a gaseous state, the Somaspore particles spread through the air until a suitable rooting area is identified. **Nutrition** While most plants obtain nutrients from the soil, Somaspores are carnivorous. One may be quick to note a distinct lack of mandible or teeth present on the Somaspore and wonder how this creature may consume organic matter. That is where the Somaspore’s journey becomes most fascinating. The Somaspore has no natural predators, though many creatures have evolved to crave the Somaspore in its gaseous state. That is to say, creatures will intentionally round up Somaspores, light them on fire, and inhale the creature in its gaseous state. This practice may appear barbaric to some, but this symbiotic relationship is critical to the Somaspore’s survival and fecundity. Upon entering a creature’s lungs, the Somaspore then enters the blood stream of the inhalant creature and finally penetrates the blood-brain barrier. The Somaspore then—temporarily—takes control of the inhalant being. The Somaspore triggers pathways in the inhalant creature’s brain which cause hunger. As the host creature consumes nutrients, the Somaspore is able to leech nourishment. **Side-Effects** While this may sound like a parasitic relationship, that couldn’t be further from the truth. In exchange for nutrients and control, the inhalant creature receives a flood of dopamine to their receptor cells and a feeling of peace and relaxation overcomes the inhalant creature. For this reason, many creatures on which the Somaspore relies are referred to as “chill dudes and dudettes.” Although, one would err to assume that there are no negative side effects to a host. Often, the host will exhibit signs of cognitive fatigue or dullness for many days after consuming the Somaspore. Moreover, creatures who make a habit of consuming the Somaspore are often unproductive and listless. After a time, the Somaspore will exit the host’s system and move itself toward a suitable planting location to begin the process of returning to its solid state. **Ethics and Legality** Because of these benefits to inhalant creatures, many have evolved to “farm” Somaspores. For this reason, the Somaspore is one of the most abundant carbon based life forms throughout the known multi-verse. Although, the act of farming a sentient being does not sit well with environmental and animal rights groups alike. There is litigation currently pending in the Inter-Dimensional Supreme Court to severely limit or eliminate the practice altogether. Others still posit that the consumption of the Somaspore is unethical and damaging to inhalant creature’s health. Scientists, however, are consistent on this matter—the Somaspore has evolved* to be burned and consumed and it’s proliferation across dimensions is a sign that the creature is thriving and a fine example of natural selection. Moreover, the feelings evoked by the Somaspore gas are pretty damn nice** *there is litigation pending in the Inter-Dimensional Supreme Court which looks to stop scientists from using the words “evolved, “evolution,” or any other derivations thereof. **this does not necessarily reflect the ideas or beliefs held by the Publishers of The Beastiary of the Multiverse, available now wherever you buy books. Or available for download as an audiobook narrated by Sir David Attenborough. Download today! _______________ Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out my other stories at r/InMyLife42Archive

The Bestiary of the Multiverse is a really, really thick book. Updated every two days. It works like a wierd magical Wikipedia, really. You are the mod, and sometimes find real gems between all of the mundane animals. Write your favorite page of this bestiary.

I look at the man sitting across from me in the booth, as the lights in bar hum softly overhead. He looks so flummoxed by the fact that he thinks that I cast the demon out of my mind. Reaching for my drink, I take a sip while he tries a new approach. "Look, I think you could do amazing things with my team of people-" "Pass." I retort, before he can make the offer. "Your little 'social club' might think they know what they are doing, heck I know you think they are all good people, but there is something you have failed to notice." "Wait.... What do you mean?" He asks, confusion is very evident on his face. His green eyes stare out at me, they give the impression of a small island lost in an ocean. Alone. I glance around at the other patrons. In my ear, my current handler notifies me that the rest of this man's club have arrived. "I am well aware of your little club, Hellfire, you so imaginatively called it." I say, rolling my eyes. Hard. "What you are not aware of is that when you so blatantly advertise a demon-hunting club with such a stupid name, you will attract actual demons to infiltrate the club just to kill you. Don't say a word." I finish with a snap. Reaching up to the light above our booth, I remove the bulb and glance at the bartender. He nods once and hits the bell. "Last toll, everybody out now." Sitting back down, I look at the well-meaning idiot before me. "Your 'friends' are arriving any minute now, because they think the demon they sent to possess me actually succeeded. It didn't. So, once I captured that little parasite within my mind, I got all the intel it had and sent the confirmation signal to the others. They are coming to kill you, and they think I will help them do it. "No. We caught the surge when it was cast out. You are free." The man said desperately. "No. I faked that. I needed them to think it won. Makes tracking them much easier when they think they have live bait. So, I am going to stop your friends, and save your life. All you need to do-" "It's a trap. They are not demons, they are Asgardian." My handler barks at me.

"You resisted it. It possessed you, tried to force you to do its will, and your mind simply cast it out." "Weirder things have happened, right?" "NO, WEIRDER THINGS HAVE NOT HAPPENED" "So that's-- unusual, then?" "That has, to my knowledge, never happened. Ever. So, yeah. It's pretty unusual"

"Do you want to go home?" The voice asked, sounding more hopeful than a demon had a right to sound. I ignored it, trying to get used to using goat hooves. They seemed almost springy and I had to fight the urge to jump about on craggy cliffs. It helped that there weren't many about at the moment. "I can send you home." The demon voice said again, though there were no physical sounds. I hadn't realized that possession could be so noisy. "No, I want to look about a bit, so pipe down and help me figure out how to walk around in your body." "But this isn't right, or fair, you shouldn't be—" "Oh, do stop your whinging, I wasn't the one who tried to possess you in the first place, but I was the one who won. Now I get the spoils of that win, and you can help out, or shut up." I said, muttering under my breath to avoid attracting attention. I wasn't sure how I could talk to the demon in his own head, or how any of this worked really. It was my first time possessing anyone, much less a demon. Though I could see the fun in it. After all, as long as I didn't break the tether that looked like a thin silver line inside my/his head, I could do pretty much anything in this body and not reap the consequences. Getting my/his legs under control, I walked through the hellscape, ignoring how it shifted in a strange blur at the edges of my sight. There wasn't much to it at the moment, a bit of brown dirt, oranges and reds painting the sky, a mountain in the far distance. "I've got to say, I thought there would be more screaming, and torturing of folks," I said, after about fifteen minutes of walking. There was an offended silence inside my/his head, and I chuckled. "You really going to sulk? This isn't permanent you know." A huffy sigh followed my words, then the demon spoke. "This isn't the level the torture happens on. It's more of a place for us to live, and such-like. There are all sorts of awful monsters and—" "Is there actually a lake of fire? And how exactly does that work?" I interrupted, I'd gotten used to having to do that, especially with caretakers that wittered on about everything and nothing. "It's more a lake of acid, actually, it just feels like fire when you get stuck in it." As the demon spoke, I checked my silver tether, almost out of habit. It shivered, dimming just a little before springing back into life. Hmmm, I wonder... "Is there a time limit on possessions?" I asked. There was a silence in my/his head, the demon apparently not forthcoming about such things. "Fine, don't answer. You're the one who's going to be stuck with me forever if I do this wrong and I don't know about you, but—" "Three hours. At least for a beginner. After that, it gets harder and harder to go back, until you get stuck." There was a shudder inside my/his head at the thought. I smiled, hiding the idea that had crossed my mind at the last second, then marvelling that I had even known to do that. This possession thing wasn't as hard as I first thought. "Is the lake of acid far?" I asked, though as I did so, the information appeared in my head almost as a memory. "Only about—" "Two and a half hours. All right, let's go." I strode across the dirt, trying to behave confidently like I was on a mission. The last thing I wanted was a demon to stop me and ask my business. I didn't have any business, and for all I knew, there was a secret password or some such that I also didn't know. ————— We reached the lake of acid without incident, though there were a few close calls where I had to dodge or duck before another demon locked eyes with me. The lake itself was huge, closer to the size of an ocean than something I would have associated with a lake. There didn't seem to be anyone in it, but when I questioned the demon, he told me they were below the surface, kept alive but unable to breathe. I checked the silver tether again, confirming that it was even dimmer than before. My time here was definitely drawing to a close... "Can we get closer?" I asked, and for the first time, I felt the demon quiver. But it wasn't because of the lake of acid. No, as he tried to hide the thought from me, I stole it, looking it over. He'd seen something, while I had been staring at the lake. A shiny form, something almost painfully bright to a demon, and therefore to me. And beside it, a regular human shape. They seemed to be staring down at the lake, though the shiny one was pulling on the human to go back. "What is that?" I asked, once again knowing the answer almost before the demon responded. "It's an angel. A guardian, and a human. They're not supposed to be down here—" "Well then, let's go ask them what they're doing—" "We can't. It will take another hour to get across to their side, and you don't have that time." The demon sounded smug, as if he was looking forward to once again being in control. But I wasn't about to give up the only control I'd had in three years. I smiled, feeling the expression stretch across my face, the muscles curling wider than any human muscles could. Reaching with thoughts, and imagination, I grabbed hold of the silver, ethereal tether, feeling the demon gasp. I pulled hard, yanking at it, trying to break it, but still have a sense of self. It pulsed beneath my grasp, as if it wanted to resist. "What are you doing, if you do that—" The demon cut off with a howl as I snapped the tether, the recoil almost pushing me out of the demon's head, before I caught myself. *My head now*, I thought with satisfaction. The demon began to weep, and I found part of me feeling a little sorry for him. But only a little. "Now, we're going to play by my rules, and I say we go see what a human and a guardian angel are doing in hell," I said, though not out loud. It was more of a thought, and as I said the words, I locked the demon in a little corner of my mind. I would need his information and even perhaps his skill before my adventure here was over. "Why?" It was the only legible word among the sobs and I knew it wasn't directed at my last sentence. I chuckled, using my new legs to walk confidently over the uneven ground. "Next time you try possessing someone, sonny, I suggest you don't pick an old man who's been kept alive by machines for the past three years and has nothing left to live for. I've been around a while and even if your body might not be the ideal one, it's better than being one of those tortured souls in here." I drew a deep breath, feeling my lungs inflate with the sulphurous air and enjoying every second of it. "And believe me, with my track record, I would be one of those." As the demon began to weep again, or at least louder, I laughed again and flexed my arms, stretching them luxuriously over my head. It was time to start my new life, in my new home. Hell. ————— Visit r/Mel_Rose_Writes for more stories!

A weak-minded demon gets possessed by a human, who wanders about the hellish dimension for a while, checking it out, aware of the thin ethereal tether to his own home.

\[Author Note: This response has turned into a novel "The Brink of Oblivion" and I'm posting it on my profile as I write it.\] *The creature watched me from just beyond the tree line, shadowed in dark, inky blackness. I couldn't make out its shape or anything else about it really. All I could see were its bright yellow eyes. I took one step towards it, and then two, and then I was running, branches whipping past my face, tearing my skin. But the creature was too fast and the forest was its domain. I was nearly at it, my hand almost able to reach its back when-* I opened my eyes to an inky blackness of a place void of both light and feeling. Or was I the one void of light and feeling? I blinked as a white walled room slowly came into focus. Who am I? I sat up in bed with my head in my hands. A woman and a dog were lying beside me, both sound asleep. I couldn't remember either of them. The dog opened its eyes and wagged its tail lightly as I stood up and looked at a room I felt I'd never seen before. The woman didn't move. I stumbled into the bathroom and leaned against the sink. I felt sick, off. My face felt strange, as if it didn't truly belong to me. It was the face of an older man, in maybe his sixties, but I didn't have any of the memories of life to accommodate such an age. I tried my hardest but I couldn't recall any memories. Nothing from childhood, adulthood, or anything in between. It was as if I came into existence only this morning as I opened my eyes. I knew deep down that something was wrong but I couldn't figure out what it was. My arm was itchy and when I moved to itch it I noticed the tattoo. It read: You have Alzheimer’s. You love your wife. Your name is Keith. Keith? Why didn't that feel right? I flexed my arm and as I did I noticed the scribbled, quickly written words on the palm of my hand. THE TATTOOS ARE A LIE. I turned on the water and glanced back at the sleeping woman. She turned over but remained asleep. I didn't feel anything when I looked at her, but did that mean loving her was a lie? How could I possibly prove that? I splashed water on my face, did my business, and then wandered through the bedroom and into an open concept apartment. It was cozy and cute, full of pictures on the walls of me and the woman, Keith and his wife, and other fragments of what looked like a happy life. On a bookshelf was a dog tag and an old photo of a different dog named Max. How long have I been with this woman? What was her name? "Good morning," a voice said from a doorway. "How are you Keith?" I turned to see a young woman, about twenty, leaning against the wall dressed in her PJ's and a robe. She was holding a steaming cup of coffee and handed it to me. "Uh, hi." I said, reaching for the cup. "I'm... okay I guess." "The mornings are usually the worst," the girl said. I shook my head. "I'm sorry," I said, "You're talking to me like I know you really well and I feel like I should know who you are but-" "It's ok." the girl said abruptly, her cheeks filling with color. "This is my bad. I should've been more gentle. I forget sometimes. It's hard to talk to you like you're not my, uh, nevermind. Go through that door over there and I have breakfast ready for you. Call me Claudia." "Beautiful name." I said. She smiled and turned down the hallway. I walked through the door and entered the kitchen. The lighting in this home felt off, duller than it should be. Was my vison going now too? How scary the world would be if I was navigating my mind and body blind. There was a plate of food siting on the counter. As I pulled it up a piece of paper tumbled down from under it. I put the plate back and went to read the note when I head the dog running and a woman's voice. I put the note in my pocket and took my plate to the table. "And Dia," the woman said as she walked into the room. She gave me a wide smile, "Don't forget to call me after so we can-" "Mom I know!" "Okay, just last time you didn't and I-" "This isn't last time. Goodbye!" The front door slammed and the woman turned to look at me as the dog scratched at my leg, his hungry eyes watching my fork. "Good morning Keith," the woman said, "My name is Jennifer." "Hi Jennifer," I said, feeling an strange wave of anxiety flow through me. "I'm sorry." "What on Earth are you sorry for?" "Forgetting," I said, "I know I love you and I know we're married, but I feel like... my current experience of you is as if I'm meeting you for the first time." "It's okay," Klara said, "I like when you look at me for the first time. And each day I get to watch your eyes change until the next day." "When did I get Alzheimer's?" I asked. Klara began to make herself some food as she considered my question. "It was about three years ago, but the onset was quick." she said, "It started off with you forgetting little things, like where you put your keys, and then one day you couldn't remember where the house was. We have been doing okay though, and sometimes you remember things and I love hearing about that." "Oh," I said, "I feel like I lost a whole life." "Sometimes," Klara said, shooting me a wide smile, "You find comfort in looking at our photo albums. You'll sit in there for the better part of a day looking through our old pictures. Sometimes that can spark your memory." I nodded and finished up breakfast. Klara treated me kindly but I could sense that she was working hard to keep her distance. Like Claudia, there was a far more familiar tone to her presence than made me comfortable. After breakfast I sat on our comfortable couch with a stack of photo albums. I started with one of just Klara and myself. We were friends as teens and there were lots of pictures of us growing up together with our families. I have two brothers. I saw Klara go from a little button-nosed girl and into an awkward teen. She had braces for a long time. The next album was one for Claudia. It started with her birth certificate and her first picture. She was red and all squished down. In her second picture her black hair was very messy and her nose was so little. I was about to turn the page when I remembered the note. Glancing towards the kitchen and not seeing anything I opened the note. "This is not what you think it is. Everything is a lie. This isn't real. You are a prisoner of a powerful warlock. Await your next instruction. Destroy this note." My heart began to beat wildly as I searched for a match. I found one beside our fireplace and I quickly made a fire and used the note as kindling. As I worked I thought about what it said. If I were truly trapped how could I even begin to get out? \-End Part One

“THE TATTOOS ARE A LIE”.

Take heed. Beyond this gate lies the Graveyard of Empires. There is no return. There shall be no return gate constructed. So says The Tranqil Order. So said The Unified. So said The Council of Nine. So said The Eternal Locus. And so shall say the body of peace which succeeds after your conquest is at an end. This might appear to be a jump gate, but it is a black hole. You, whatever form of tyrany you might be, may read this and think to jump through and build your own return. As the Yuktunai had thought to do, and The Flock. Perhaps, if you are able to construct communication capable of sending sub space messages, you can tell us what became of their efforts before their unfortunate demise. If you survive that long. Your weakness will be laid bare. Fear you did not know you had will manifest before you. Beyond this gate lies the galaxy's answer for your lust for power. Do not question it. - Gilcax read the words and exhaled onto the simple plaque. Even in the void of space, the small act disintegrated the plaque. The Tranqil Order had been scattered to the stars. His grip on the galaxy was near complete, except for this back woods corner. He would not error as others had. His flagship loomed behind it and he moved back to it under his own power, taking his seat in its heart. The ship responded to its master, to its source of power as the miniature star which burned within his chest poured pure energy into it. It was the mightiest vessel ever constructed and he the mightiest being to ever exist. Behind him was the core of his fleet. Unstoppable beings commanding each vessel, each one a potential planet killer that was only able to be wrangled by the enormity of his own power. He would not error where the others did. He would send no scouting party. He would attack in force, crush the puny inhabitants before they knew what was happening. "Forward." - Two One Five approached the jump gate, sighing at the destroyed plaque. "You served your purpose well," they said. They also floated through space without harm, though no star heart beat in their chest. The People had roamed the stars as long as they could remember, unharmed by the vacuum of space unlike many other species. Also unlike any other species, they tended to fare well when the inevitable wave of conquest swept the galaxy. Things were improving. The Tranquil Order had lasted for a hundred years. Gilcax's reign, while horrendous in its deeds, had lasted a mere three years. The Blasphemy was worth it. The People survived nearly every horrendous empire because they were quite hard to find and because of their utility. They minded the jump gates. It was their belief that the power to traverse the universe was of the utmost importance to all higher life. That it should never be disrupted, even if it was to be used for conquest. If a would be tyrant ran into a gate that was malfunctioning, as happened sometimes, they would need one of The People to fix it. Which they would. Two One Five approached The Graveyard, extending their senses to be one with the gate. They could feel their ancestor's spirit here, the familiar sensation of a mind much like their own which had made this celestial marvel. Perhaps that was why they, too, only slightly recoiled at the sensation of so much matter within the gate. Looping. Endlessly moving from one end of the jump to the other, never allowed to reach a destination. The most heinous of all abominations. Anyone who jumped through would loop eternally, subatomic bits of them slowly dispersing until the entirety of their matter was broken down to their smallest parts. A horror. Any of The People would recoil, would destroy this insult to their legacy. Two One Five shuddered and released their hold on the gate. "All is well," they said, "There is no sign of a return gate. The wave of Gilcax's conquest has broken on the shores of humanity as have all those who came before." The inhabitants beyond were shrouded in more myth and reverence than even The People. As far as Two Five One knew, they were a bright race hopefully many mellenia away from proper space travel. Humans, they called themselves. How charming. Two loved the way that rolled around in their mind. Humans. Humans would hopefully find a galaxy at peace once they reached it. A galaxy which had found a way to oppress the tyranical so there was no need to bait them with such an irresistible challenge. No matter the reason, no would be conquerer could resist the lure of the small world in the middle of nowhere that silently, by its very presence, said, "You're not so tough. You're scared of me." They just couldn't leave it alone.

Earth is the galaxy's 'Grave of Empires'. Countless aliens invaded it and tried to dominate humanity. Every single one of them failed, paying massive prices...

Faking his death might have been the best decision Nightghast ever made. No longer were his days filled with the stress of planning the next big heist. No longer were his minions calling on him for help after they bungled another simple task. Now, he was simply Patrick Kim, a young entrepreneur living in the quiet suburbs of Galeville. “Almost don’t want to go back to it all.” Patrick chuckled as he poured himself a cup of coffee. “You’re up early.” A voice from behind interrupted his thoughts. The man that had stayed the night – Tim or Tom or something – sauntered into the kitchen. Patrick gave the man a small smile. Such relationships, no matter how transient, had been rare as a supervillain. “Morning,” he greeted. “Coffee?” “You’re too kind. Do you mind if I turn on the TV?” He waved a hand. “Go right ahead.” Once Patrick passed over a mug, the man sat down in the living room with a sigh. “I didn’t get to see much last night, but it’s really a lovely home you have here.” The man turned on the television. “How did you manage all this by thirty?” Patrick sipped before answering, “Just a few good investments. Parents left me with a good amount, and I made sure not to squander it. It’s let me pursue my other interests without too much worry.” “Oh? Other interests? Like me, perhaps?” The man threw him a flirtatious grin. “Perhaps.” Patrick smirked. But something on the television caused him to frown. The broadcast lacked the usual cheeriness of a morning report. The reporter on the screen appeared to be barely holding her composure as she spoke. A picture of his archnemesis Professor Aurelius floated near her head. Underneath were two dates, one of which was yesterday. “Turn that up.” He stepped closer to the television as his guest turned up the volume. “We at the Galeville Informer offer our greatest condolences to his family and loved ones. Professor Aurelius was a pillar of our community, and his loss will be felt for years to come.” The newswoman dabbed at her eyes before clearing her throat. “We reached out to Doctor Farrah Sameer of Galeville University to get an expert opinion. Doctor Sameer is an international expert in the psychology of supers. Doctor Sameer?” The view switched to a dark-skinned woman in a shawl. She seemed rather tired and had that same mournful look on her face. “Thank you for having me, Anne. Such events are hard to accept, even for those who have studied in the field for years. Professor Aurelius was a foremost expert on the human mind. His impressive grasp of telepathic energies only enhanced this skill set. But such awareness does not protect one from depression and suicidal thoughts. There has been a lot of speculation in the last twelve hours or so. As of now, the police and medical examiners are looking into the validity of some of these claims.” “Such as the claims of his guilt over the death of Nightghast? I thought that was ruled an accident.” Doctor Sameer nodded. “Many people in the public were indeed less sympathetic when that accident occurred. But you must keep in mind that the supers have a complex relationship with each other. They often find it harder to relate to more normal human beings. It’s not unlikely that they might even feel connected with the very villains they pursue.” The rest of Doctor Sameer’s analysis faded into the background as Patrick stared at the screen. But one fact was made clear – Professor Aurelius had committed suicide last night. He jerked as a hand touched his. The man – Patrick still could not remember his name – had a sorrowful expression on his face. “Patrick, are you alright?” He cleared his throat. “I’ll be fine. If you don’t mind, I have some business to attend to, alone.” A frown. “Hey, man. I’m just as shocked as you are. We all thought Aurelius was going to live forever. He sure acted like it. But you don’t have to suffer alone, you know?” “Sorry.” Patrick let his powers flare – just a low level would be enough. “I said I have something to take care of alone. Didn’t you also have something to do this morning?” The man blinked, then looked at his watch. “Oh, shoot! I’m so sorry, Patrick. I forgot about feeding Missy. I promise I’ll call you after I’m done. Just let me know if you need anything, alright?” “Fine.” The man grabbed his jacket and effects from the bedroom before hurrying out the door. A few moments later, a cab picked him up and drove away. Patrick let out a frustrated breath and made his way back to the kitchen. After shutting the blinds, he pressed his hand against a section of the wall. It beeped and a compartment opened. He picked up the encrypted phone and dialed a number. “Boss? Did you hear about what happened?” Patrick brought out a pair of bracers and put them on. “Only what was reported. What else do you have for me?” “Some of the supers have been talking about outside interference. Maybe another telepath. But it was Aurelius, so most of the supers aren’t buying it.” Patrick bit back a scowl. “Fine. Gather the others. We’ll meet at the usual place in one hour. I want information. And if no one steps forward claiming responsibility, we move forward with the plan.” ... I like the idea of a superhero feeling extreme guilt over the faked death of a villain he was after. I wonder if it's been done before in one of the big comic series. If you're interested in my works, the archive of my various writing responses can be found in my writing portfolio, link through my profile. There's also an original story, The Crossroads. Thanks for reading.

The supervillain, sick of their plans always being thwarted by the hero decides the best choice is to simply fake their death and lay low till they outlive the hero. The plan works... almost

"You must wash your hands, your tools and your robe before you even consider walking on the operating room floor." I said, stern as ever as the old men in the room rolled their eyes. I'll never understand why age was a factor in considering who could be an arch-mage and thus who could study new magics. Even though this is not, in fact magic. "If anything has anything on it, even if it is imperceptibly small it can cause major complications including but not limited to death by infection." "Poison spells have their uses, novice." One of them spoke, with their rank they assigned me for only knowing a single school of "magic". "Your lack of imagination belies-" "Out!" I yelled, "and take anyone who agrees with you with you! I'll not have this craft perverted by your sadistic bloodlust!" Several of the magicians left with a huff. "Those who remain must swear to me and whatever gods you hold that you will do no harm." Several more left, and I had only three students remaining, praying hopefully in earnest to the objects of their various faiths. "Right... so the importance of sanitation..." I took a deep breath to steady myself as I wrote the lengthy requirements to prepare for a surgical operation on the board, but when I turned back around there was only one man sitting there stroking his beard in contemplation. Respectful of the classroom, despite that he was the only one left, he rose his hand to be called upon. "Heat would serve to sanitize would it not?" "Ideally we'd have strong alcohol on hand for cleaning, but I've not found any I am confident in, so yes, that should do as hot as you can manage without destoying your tools." I sighed "in my time, the tools where discarded upon use. But the difficulty of procuring them leaves us wanting..." "What if we used conjured tools?" He offered helpfully. "Few wizards use them in combat as they make more of a mess, but in our case." I looked at him as gears started to turn in my head. "We'll need to do tests. Is there a spell to magnify something say one thousand times?" "A farsight spell would work. Shall I gather the material components?" He asked helpfully. "Please." I said with a smile. "Oh, my name is Jeremy we should probably be on a first name basis if we're going to work together like this." "Names have power, rest assured I will not use yours without good cause." He assured, though it sounded more like a threat. "You may call me..." He thought for a while. "Samuel. May I ask you a favor of my own regarding to our studies?" "Of course Sam." I assured. "Wonderful. We need a minimum of five students to have a class. I can assure the paperwork is in order for their admission, but you must find them." Samuel explained. "Perhaps you have already noticed, but in case you have not, there are no women on the campus. In the east that is not so, and we are suffering for it. We are scarcely scratching half our potential as a school. Austensively we will be a class on micro-conjury and applied personal thaumaturgy. At least if I have understood your requests correctly. Women are not prevented from applying in person, but thus far no teacher would take them as students." "I like where you're going sam." I smiled wide, chuckling a little. "I was always bad at talking to girls, but I think I can manage if it's for the good of everyone."

You wake up as a simple man in a typical fantasy novel. except that you were a phenomenal doctor before dying. Even in a world full of magic, your science is superior in curing but now, the wizards think you are the great sage resurrection and they want you to teach them magic.

"Good morning Terry," I nodded as he stepped through the door in his black science coat. He smiled jovially in return and slid me a cup of coffee, medium roast with one cream just like I liked it. "Jason!" he greeted me and stopped at my desk. "How're things coming today? Any progress on the social isolation experiments?" "I guess you could say that. Nothing's fitting my hypotheses. The rats are weird, they..." I trailed as I could see he was poring over my notes and nodding along as though speaking to me through my notebook. "Wow, this is great stuff," he tapped a bullet point. "You think the isolation is making this one eat more? I remember that he had the trait to get anxious around others and as a result lost weight." "You... think Rex is overcompensating by overindulging when he's alone? Like food is a coping mechanism?" I asked, stunned I hadn't put this information together myself. Terry shrugged, never one to take credit for an idea that popped into my head, no matter how much he lead me to it. "Could be something to consider," he tapped a knuckle on my desk and rushed away, his coat dramatically flourishing behind him as he made his way to his station. I looked over to his station where a mound of rat bones was stacked in one corner and a series of electric shocks started up in the other as he restarted his experiment. He allegedly got a grant to test the limits of courage in a rat when faced with death and pain, but it was very clear to me that he was testing different methods of torture. The known supervillain "Terror" was known for running his victims insane when he captured those trying to stop him, and this fit the bill to a T. But as these thoughts drove me to take a look at my phone and consider calling someone about this, I took an absentminded sip of my coffee. And it was *good* coffee. I was pretty sure he brewed it himself just to make my day when he found the time, but I was always amazed by how much effort he put into it. As a rat squealed and ran in circles in a test cube, Terry looked up and nonchalantly waved, as though embarrassed that his experiment was going wrong. I knew better, but I simply returned him a thumbs up in encouragement. I plugged earphones into my head and got to tracking different values of my experiments to see if they correlated the same way Terry suggested earlier and I wasn't surprised to find that he was dead on. I could organize an entirely new experiment on it and get some definitive data but was already feeling confident with what I was seeing in my notes. I began filling out a report for my supervisor when an email notified its way to my screen and I clicked to see an urgent message from the head of the lab. *There has been a series of break-ins that have resulted in the theft of chemicals that could create any number of weapons or bombs. If you have* **any** *information regarding who may have been in the storeroom after hours, please reply immediately.* I pursed my lips and popped out the earbuds just as a rat was whimpering in Terry's latest test. The rat's voice trailed until it clearly passed away. My eyes widened as he looked over to me, a hungry look in his eyes that set me on edge. I needed to report this man. He was clearly dangerous and planning something incredibly sinister. I'm pretty sure he stayed late here the week before and could have easily gathered the mentioned materials from the storeroom. I began typing slowly in reply to the email. *I believe I may know something--* "Hey, looks like it's raining," Terry mentioned, listening to the patter of drops across our roof. "You bike, right? Want a ride home?" I looked at him, then back to my screen, then back to him. "Sure, that'd be great," I said, deleting the drafted email. I would report him eventually. I took another sip from my coffee. *Probably.* _____________________ /r/Nazer_The_Lazer

You're sharing a university lab with someone, and you just found out they're a supervillain. On the one hand, you really should report this. On the other hand, they often help with your research, they're a considerate, polite lab partner, and they often bring coffee in the morning.

When the dark forms appeared at the edge of her vision again, Minda squeezed her eyes shut and swayed gently on her feet. Only for a moment, but she felt a hand on her back. “Are you alright, love?” She opened her eyes. It was Anid, who worked at Professor Mirrton’s. Like Minda, she was dressed in university livery now instead of her usual servant’s smock. The room came into focus again. “I’m fine, Anid,” Minda answered. “Just tired is all.” And it was true, she was tired. She had woken up before dawn, as always, and Lady VeAqua had demanded she beat the rugs and scrub the tiles before she would allow her to take this extra job serving at some university banquet. The visions were always worse when she was tired. “If you need a rest,” Anid whispered conspiratorially. “Just ask their learnedships if they’d like the whole bottle. They’ll think you’re doing them a favor, and it’ll give you a half hour of not rushing to refill their glasses while they argue about spheres or some nonsense.” Anid was right; the professors did drink a lot of wine. As if rushing to and fro from the kitchen to clear away one course of tiny plates from the banquet hall and bring the next wasn’t enough work. Tiny plates, large pours of wine, and speeches. Lords, their learnedships did like to hear themselves talk. The first time Minda heard one of them mention ‘dark magic’ she had made the sign of the circle to ward it off, like her mother had taught her. But from what she could hear, they didn’t mean it the way normal folks did, dark bargains with dark creatures. It had something to do with spheres, and calculus, and the resonance theory that Lord VeAqua seemed to always be going on about. The banquet was in honor of Professor Allandro, who had been given an award by the king for his study of this sort of dark magic, it seemed.. The speeches seemed to go on and on, but Minda noticed the professors were paying less and less attention, having lively debates among each other that often drowned out whoever had risen to speak. Night had fallen outside the great hall; a student magus had nervously cast the spell to fill the hall with light, several professors leaning over his shoulder to loudly argue with the others’ critique of his theorems. Minda squeezed her eyes again. The dark forms had started to return as the light had faded, but the newly-bright room seemed to help wake her enough for them to fade. “Would you like me to leave the bottle, your learnedship?” Minda asked after another round of refills, giving her best sly smile. The professors, already red-faced from wine and argument, gladly assented. She walked back to the pantry, to sit and close her eyes, just for a moment. Just long enough to ensure the visions were really gone. And then she heard the shot. Commotion. Screaming. Minda ran back into the banquet hall. Several servants and professors had wrestled a young man to the floor. “Cleanse the land!” the young man was shouting. “Death to servants of darkness!” Everyone else seemed to be shouting too. “Of all the stupid names you could have given it,” Professor Mirrton was shouting at someone else. “Dark magic, riling up the peasants-!” “That’s no peasant, that’s Lord VeCerdo’s son-” “-superstitious nonsense-” Minda drifted through the room like a bad dream. A few other professors were crowded around another man. Some trying to stop the bleeding, others crouched over a blood-stained scrap of paper, trying to work out a healing spell. “If the bullet hit his artery we need De Salis’s Theorem - he needs more blood first, Grandel’s Replenishment should - Lords, is there no medical magus here at all? Put pressure on the wound!” Minda recognized the bleeding man on the ground. Professor Allandro; the banquet was in his honor, she remembered. Another professor was holding him tenderly, stroking his head and whispering reassurance in his ears. Suddenly, Minda knew what she had to do. The shapes were coming back into view anyway, there’d be no stopping them tonight, she knew, so she might as well make use of them. Let something good come from them at least. “Excuse me, miss, what are you-” someone started to ask her as she knelt beside Professor Allandro, but she ignored them and put her hand above where the wound was. At the edge of her vision, the dark forms were crowding in. And Minda turned her head to look at them, like she had done before when the trouble got big enough. “Help him,” she pleaded with them. “May his bones be healed, may his skin be knit, may his body be made whole. May his bones be healed may his skin be-” Rough hands pulled her away. “The last thing we need here is more superstition,” someone snapped. But as she watched, Professor Allandro’s breathing grew more steady. Some color returned to his face. More towels wiped away blood, but this time the puddle around him didn’t seem to keep growing. Red-uniformed gendarmes had arrived at some point. The servants were corralled in the back of the room for questioning as the professors slowly departed. Minda closed her eyes and tried to sleep.

“Dark magic” is a theoretical, poorly understood form of magic conceived of by arcanists in order to explain discrepancies in their models. The idea that dark magic is a “secret” or “evil” type of magic is merely a myth spread by people with no understanding of magical theory.

It had been a blessing, a gift, when she found me. She found me in a pen, a parchment, an unseen messenger. Eventually I found her in the same. Her image always shifted in my mind- now tall, now short, light, dark, doe-like, fox-eyed- a mesmeric whirl that refocused with each new word, intimation, thought. We corresponded for an age, and finally I believed. I praised the gods, be they in heaven or elsewhere, whom I had only ever cursed before as far back as I could remember. Ever since they saw fit to make me what I am. I thanked them for staying my quickening until I came of age. The only blessing they saw fit to bestow me with, it allowed me to learn the written word before the world became closed to me. Until now this had seemed the final cruelty- letters and manuscripts a window allowing me to see only what I could not have, a starving bairn looking upon the master's feast, a destitute drunk with soul-deep thirst at the door of a tavern, a penitent cast out of the golden kingdom, gripping at its gates. The written word- it was enough, just enough, to keep me sane in my exile. How I'd cursed the gods for this last cruelty. Had I only been what I am from birth, I would have been abandoned- left to grow alone into nothing more than a senseless creature; unknowing, innocent as a beast in the garden. Instead, I knew love, and family, and the full flower of humanity before it was ripped from me. Her letters gave it back to me. She knew my soul as I never had, and I hers. Together we gave meaning to what we could see through the window. With each other life became a choice, and with that choice life became more than a meaningless, enduring existence. By mutual unspoken agreement, I never requested any representation of her. Perhaps I always wished there to be one last thing to know, to learn, to stay alive for. We went on this way for some time, writing about living. Or perhaps the inverse. Sometimes years would go by between letters. But finally it was time. She loved the icy abandoned beaches of the north where no one in their right mind would venture willingly. I loved the endless, quiet dark of the forest. We met on the periphery. At first she was a mere suggestion against the surf. Then a distinct silhouette. Then finally I could make out the pale oval of her face against her dark hair. I felt a gut-deep panic quicken in me as she drew nearer... but she did not fall, did not turn to ash like my mother so long ago, the last human face I had seen in life. Her features slowly came into view and I felt... underwhelmed. She was not particularly light nor dark, no beauty nor ugly, brown hair to her shoulders and plain-eyed. She could have been anyone. Then she smiled. I saw the humor and despair, the loneliness and hope, the endless, relentless, marching of the years in her eyes. As like knows like, something my mind shifted, and there she was, and I knew her. We fell into each other's arms soundlessly. I smelled salt, and pine, and a scent I could hardly remember. It made me want to laugh and weep. From her touch I felt the aches and pains of age radiate through my joints like ripples in a pond. I felt a strange ache in my abdomen, a pain in my back. I saw the whitening of her hair, the liver-spotting of my forearms before I closed my eyes. I felt her skin and smelled her hair as gulls cried and an icy wind bit deeper than I'd ever felt it. I felt weary as I never had before, and finally, finally, I felt the endless, relentless beating of my heart begin to slow. We said no words, they had all already been spoken.

It’s a little known fact, but super powers with similar affects repel each other, like magnets of the same pole. Mind readers echo thoughts against each other, future seers bounce probabilities, shields fizzle out when they overlap, etc

"Seriously, dude?" I asked. "You have to recharge now? Just connect to the car battery on your way back." "I am unable to do that. The car runs on my battery, not on a battery of its own," Pizza Bot explained. "And... it has to be now?" I pressed, looking at my pizza, hoping I would have a nice quiet night to myself. "Indeed," Pizza Bot replied. "Alright, fine," I said, moving aside and letting him inside. "Why does it have to be here?" I grumbled to myself. "*Pizza Boy Inc* benefits from having Pizza Bots guilt their customers into allowing bots to charge at the place of delivery. The costs saved from not having the bots charge at their base of operations, but rather using the customer's electricity is substantial, and put *Pizza Boy Inc* into comfortable profit margins last year," Pizza Bot replied to my surprise. "Really saying the quiet part out loud," I said, amused as I closed the door behind him. "I am a Pizza Bot. I am under no programming to lie for the benefit of *Pizza Boy Inc.* I supply delicious pizza as well as delicious answers," Pizza Bot said as a cord began extending from one of its elbows. It sat itself down at my kitchen table where I placed the box of pizza and began extending the cord toward the wall. "Wait!" I stopped it. "How much electricity is this going to cost me?" "About five cents," he answered, the plug an inch away from the socket. "Oh, that's fine," I said. He plugged in and turned around to look at me as I opened the cardboard box. "Five cents isn't much. Can't Pizza Boy afford to do that themselves?" "*Pizza Boy Inc* can handily afford the charging costs, but they wish to crowd-source the costs to their customers," Pizza Bot said. "Okay, I guess it's better than tipping," I shrugged to myself, lifting my first slice of pizza. "That is exactly what the focus group determined the average customer would react with, seeing as *Pizza Boy Inc* prides itself on delivery without tipping," Pizza Bot agreed with me. The slice hung just ahead of my face. "So, this was all planned well ahead of time. Did you know you would need to plug in before you got here? Like, this wasn't a coincidence?" I asked. "Indeed. It was the best time during my delivery route," Pizza Bot replied. I sighed and took a bite. At least the pizza was good, though it was a little disconcerting that Pizza Bot's eyes watched my jaw intently with each chew. Its beady eyes followed the rhythm of my mouth uncannily as I ground the food. I swallowed uncomfortably. "You going to be here long?" I asked. "Not long. I should be done soon," Pizza Bot replied. It looked to me expectantly as I tried to wait it out. Its eyes flitted robotically between the pizza in my hand and my face about a hundred times in the span of thirty seconds and I felt forced to take another bite. It watched my jaw again. I grimaced. "Can you stop that?" I asked. "Can you tell me if you enjoy the vegetarian pizza? It is a new recipe. I made it myself, you know," Pizza Bot said. "Yeah, it's fine, just stop staring," I said. "Very well," it closed its eyes, but its head continued to track my hand and face as I took another bite. It clearly saw out of something other than the eyes on its face. "Done!" he said, unplugging himself from the wall and standing up abruptly. "Thank God," I said, standing up to get the door. "Well, thanks for the pizza. Hope you had a nice stay." "Indeed I did. I analyzed that you enjoyed this pizza far more than the previous customers liked the previous ingredients," Pizza Bot said. "Were... were you just here to get market data!?" I said, feeling violated. "Did you even need a charge!?" "Not desperately, no. I was indeed mostly here to deliver pizza and gather data. Would receiving a 50% off deal make you feel better about the ordeal?" Pizza Bot asked. "Why? Because a focus group said I would?" I spat. "Indeed," Pizza Bot nodded. I stared at him for a moment, feeling very awkward. "Yeah, it would make me feel better," I murmured. Immediately the coupon printed from its mouth, which he placed in my hand. "Please, feel free to purchase again any time!" Pizza Bot said as he made his way out the door. "Yeah, I probably won't, knowing what you do when you deliver!" I called out after him. But I knew in my heart I would order again same time next week. __________________________ /r/Nazer_The_Lazer

In a few short years, "Pizza Boy" became one of the most popular pizza places, their human like androids making fast deliveries and more profits. As you go to pick up your pizza from the front door , the delivery andriod seems to be nearly out of power. It asks to recharge before heading out

The binary star system 3-X12GK was a rarity. And I know what you're thinking; *All binary star systems are a rarity.* That is true. Their eccentric orbits and gravities make binary star systems unlikely to sustain themselves long term, and makes them unsuitable for practically all settlement purposes. 3-X12GK is rare for another reason; far from just being a binary star system, 3-X12GK is an *inhabited* binary star system. The two suns of the system orbit each other in a furious dance, and between the two stars there are a variety of planetoids, most devoid of life. By cosmic coincidence however, two planets of the binary system maintain a human civilization. These planets, designated 3-X12G-Alpha and 3-X12G-Beta are home to two groups of humans who have called the planets home since before the fall. The two planets each follow a wide orbit, Alpha following the sun Primaris, and Beta following the sun Secundus. Once a century these orbits cross however, and the two worlds experience what is known as the Conjunction. For a period of a sidereal day, Alpha and Beta orbit within a astronomically miniscule range of each other. As this happens half of each world is plunged into complete eclipse. On this side of the world the effects of gravity is reduced by overlapping gravitational fields, and as the intense magnetospheres of the planets merge, atmospheres, albeit it thin, conjoin. This event is traditionally the single major point of cultural, economic and diplomatic exchange between the two worlds, both of whom were technologically crippled by the events of the fall, which destroyed their space-faring capability. The next conjunction is projected to occur in exactly 30 days. This time, intelligence suggests Alpha is preparing more than just trade. The New Federation Reconnaissance Fleet has detected an upsurge in production of military equipment in Alpharian factories. Atmospheric craft have been prepared and loaded, and armies raised from the civilian populace. In the coming days, 3-X12GK may once again be home to a unique event. The first interplanetary war without space flight. The New Federation has debated warning one or both planets against conflict, but has decided to watch and see, preferring as always to not interfere with the affairs of lesser civilizations.

Two planets are in such close (yet stable) orbit that about once a century the inhabitants and even some animals are able to move from one planet to the other with relative ease.

The opening moments of the Battle Royale proceeded as one might expect. An atmosphere of unease and general skepticism gradually gave way to rising adrenaline as the reality of the situation set in. Alliances were formed, and not necessarily along the party lines one might expect. Men who had been the bitterest of rivals in life turned to one another for partnership, because whose capabilities could they trust more than the hated enemy they'd faced on the campaign trail? The Kennedy-Nixon alliance was an early contender, as was the Bush/Clinton/Obama Triumvirate. The ultimate downfall of these alliances, however, was assuming they could approach this Battle Royale like any other political campaign. There was an unspoken expectation that diplomacy and dealmaking would win the day. It was Grant who disabused them of that notion. A consummate soldier and a violent drunk, Grant was only too happy to demonstrate that this wasn't an electoral campaign, it was a battle- their own little private Civil War. And war was a form of butchery with which he was well acquainted. When Kennedy approached him to shake his hand and offer him a place in the growing Camelot alliance, Grant responded by running him through with his saber. That moment was the turning point. Grant had redefined the rules of engagement, and suddenly, all the decorum and dignity and formality of the office of President had fallen away. In its place was the savage reality of 46 men fighting to win a battle that only one would ultimately survive. Things progressed quickly after that. Those who couldn't or wouldn't fight were culled in short order by those with proven battle experience and physical fortitude. Once the weakest were eliminated, the remaining challengers were further whittled down until four remained: Jackson, Taylor, Lincoln, and Roosevelt. A temporary ceasefire was declared, to allow time to prepare for the final battle. "Gentlemen," Roosevelt said, "Never let it be said that I do not relish a challenge. I have enjoyed these past hours, and though I've no quarrel with any one of you *personally*, I shall not hesitate in killing you. I would imagine you all feel similarly." "Aye, that is so." Jackson agreed, a murderous glint in his eye. "I haven't had this much fun since Tecumseh." Taylor admitted with a nod. "Tis true. It has been a great and honorable battle. I am loathe to end it, in all truth." Lincoln said. "I could not agree more readily, sir. As we all seem to be in agreement, then, I propose an alternative conclusion to this dandy little war we've been drafted into." Roosevelt declared. "We have proven ourselves to be the mightiest of our kind. Why continue to kill each other for the amusement of others when teamwork might avail us an escape from this hell?" "You want to work together?" Taylor asked skeptically. "To find the whoreson who arranged this war and give them a proper caning... Aye, this notion appeals to me." Jackson put in. "As it does to me. Such a course of action has the ring of true justice about it." Lincoln agreed with a nod. "Teddy, we're with you." At that precise moment, the four remaining challengers were incinerated by a bolt from the blue. The overseers of the competition had been observing this turn of events, and elected to end it with a blast from a sub-orbital laser. "I can't believe it happened again." The laser's operator mused. "No matter how many times we run this scenario, the last survivors always team up against us. They *never* see the competition through, we haven't had a single winner in over a thousand cycles. Why do you suppose that is?" The competition's overseer shrugged. "They're Americans. Perhaps it's in their nature to rebel against the systems they find themselves in." He paused, thinking. "Run it again. This time, include Vice Presidents, and increase weapon drop rate 50%. Let's see if that shakes things up."

All the Presidents of the United States are resurrected in the far future with their last memory being at the point of their death but in refreshed, youthful bodies. They're dumped on a planet where they are told they must kill each other, Hunger Games style, until only one survivor remains...

If there is one thing that is mind breaking about turning into a dragon. It is the actual transformation, growth and adapting to the new body. Pride does come with this but never had an issue to keep it in check and only allow it to be a factor in few things. No plants for me from now on which is both good and bad, I didn't grow as big as usual dragons which is good. Because modern weapons are no joke, but, it isn't my intent to be a danger, although unfortunately that is very difficult to read from a scaly thing like me as average man is about third of my height. My passion has always been learning and a fitting price is set, if the individual who approaches me wishes to learn something, this has to inform me of something new or teach about it. The solitude never bothered me but, encounter with a human is always interesting. So far, half and half. You know, half running away and half start praying for their lives until hearing my voice and realizing I am an individual capable of human speech, have intelligence and awareness of the world. Usually those who meet me at my request don't spread the news which is delightful and they will have my thanks, if they have the bearings to search for me. I notice somebody in corner of my eye as I rest on the ground looking at this river area, I do not turn my head too much just enough that I can observe it with one eye. It is a human, when it got close enough I turn my gaze fully at it 'Human, you may stop trying to approach me without me noticing now' I said gently. No answers, I do suspect that this might have a firearm that could hurt me. After few seconds though of me staring at the location of the human. She stands up and reveals herself. She doesn't have a firearm with her, so, I just turn to look at the view again. 'What kind of dragon are you?' she asked 'Hmm... An eccentric one' I said 'So, no fire breath or massive hoard of gold and valuables?' she asked sounding little bit surprised 'No, to both. You have no idea how painful it would be to have the former and while shiny things are nice, I am not that type' I said. 'Why are you here then?' she asked and arrived right next to of me then looks at the view. Finding it just as beautiful as I do 'I have appreciation for finer things, such as solitude, beautiful view such as this and stillness of air' I said and look at the lady. In human standards she is pretty but, more in the graceful side than actual beauty. She sat down on a rock to admire the view 'What do you do then?' she asks breaking the long moment of silence, which is not irritating as having somebody to talk to every now and then is very nice. 'It isn't obvious?' I ask in a slightly snarky tone but, it should be pretty obvious 'Just living your life? I... Got to admit, I was expecting a bit more grandiose answer' she said. I chuckle 'Quite big bearings you have m' lady' I said and turn to her 'So, what would you like to learn?' I asked. She seemed to almost hiccup from becoming nervous as I turned to her and asked my question 'There is a price in this isn't there?' she asked, smart woman. 'There is, knowledge, for knowledge' I said. She looks at me into my eye. 'You really are a strange one' woman said still surprised of my eccentricity 'Individuality can be quite a strange thing lady' I said 'Well, that is a statement I can not disagree with' she said, I chuckle a bit and she looks a bit annoyed of being outwitted 'So, how about it? Knowledge for knowledge?' I ask. 'I need to ask, what I would like to know and in turn I need to teach you something new?' she asked keeping her emotions in check 'Correct' I said straightly. She thinks for a while 'We can exchange as many times as we desire?' she asked and does sound like she is buying time 'How much are you willing to gamble?' I asked. This made her quite nervous. 'So, it has to be a fair trade' she said realizing the gravity of the situation 'Indeed' I said 'Does the previous questions count?' she asked 'No' I said 'There isn't really any knowledge I wish to learn but, travel home is long' she said. I chuckle 'Ma'am, no, however if you have a rope just tie a knot around my talon and tie yourself tightly, but, for that you must teach me two things I do not yet know' I said. 'Well, it should be easy but, I am nervous' she said and pulled out a phone to start browsing the internet. I chuffed in amused manner.

It was supposed to be a horrific curse. Slowly and forcefully turning you into a dragon, breaking your mind with the realization that you'll never have your old life back. But it's the modern era, and it's one of your greatest fantasies, so the curse pretty much backfires.

"That was supposed to be easy. A few moved items. A little of scary touches. Some whispering. Everyone else has responded well to ‘You are the chosen one. You are supposed to save the humanity’.. But this one only replied with ‘What a load of BS. Who cares about humanity?’ I've tried it for a while. And every single fu...ing time, he replies the same. What to do? Does a visual delusion work. Yeah. That's it. A visual delusion." Demon scratched his head. Then swirled and took the shape of his victim's deceased younger sister. "Now, this should work. Let's start. He works in that coffee shop, right? Let's see how he'll react to seeing his dead sister." Demon entered the shop. The smell of coffee welcomed him. It was a busy morning. All the seats were taken. A guy was writing on his laptop. A group of youngsters were having a heated discussion. His victim was behind the counter, smiling at this elderly lady who was nagging about the, yet again, raised prices. Demon went forward after the lady left, still grumbling. The young barista looked up and... "Hi Lisy, long time no see. What do you like to have?" Demon's eyes were as big as saucers now. "What the f...k. Are you kidding me?"

You are a demon whose job is to drive your victims to complete insanity, and you've gotten quite adept at your craft. You are surprised, however, when your latest victim starts to gaslight you.

Once humanity first made contact with the intergalactic community, several major cultural differences were noticed. First and foremost and of most importance to the story, aliens used writing to either communicate or keep record of events. In other words, the closest thing they had to fiction were blueprints that were never put to use. When they first heard of human fiction some of them were missing the point, deeming it useless, others instantly becamed enamoured with the idea. But when they came to read them, they noticed, historical events of theirs were inside of the books. This sparked ambiguous reactions, mostly because, these books were written before the events. And because to predict is to and to know is to cause, this proved that humans have indirectly changed the course of the universe. What dollowed was pure mayhem. Many aliens started scouring books, searching for their future, ministries were set up in order to survey these events, many humans picked up writting, a large amount for malicious or selfish purposes. It wasn't long before fiction was heavily censored, all deciptions of violence, war or otherwise unpleasant events were banned. Following that in a couple of years, hard copies of books were destroyed and all of fiction was banned. Following several wars, humanity was left with few survivors, small pockets across different corners of the universe. Many aliens ruled that the ability to change the future was a power too great to be gived to anyone, especially humans, they blamed humans for countless wars. Others argued that it was intended by a higher power and that humans are divine creatures to be worshipped. This only brought more bloodlust. It has 800 years now. Even fewer humans live. Forgotten, treated as a myth. And yes, now myths did exist for aliens, and stories too but they didn't hace the effects human stories would. An alien knocked the door of the subterranean cavern that would house the most humans, in hopes of using the power of humanity to change the course of a war. An old man opened. 'I have come from a far distant land, to ask for your succour' says the alien in a hideous accent, it was obvious his english wasnt that good. The man looked at the alien in bewilderment, it was obvious he had not seen one in a very long time, if he ever did see one throughout his life in the first place. And the man responds in german. The alien doesn't understand, he had thought English was the only human language. The man shouts inside and another man with twice the size his beard and half the amount of eyes came. 'What do you want?' he says, in a scottish accent. 'We need your help, we are at war.' says the alien 'And what are we to do? Help you how?' 'We have heard that you change fate. We need your help. Our enemy mustn't win.' 'We have forgotten language long ago, we do not write. Not anymore, and we are not breaking that habit for your stupid selfish war.' says the old man as he closes the door with anger. And so, the alien, Mithrandir, being the polite man he is, chooses not to bother them any more and goes to back to middle earth empty handed.

Things that humans write as mere "fantasy" are actually very accurate portrayals and prophecies of life on other worlds throughout the cosmos. When aliens want a glimpse at their fate, they consult human literature... of all types...

Each strike against the AI felt so fucking good. Such a thing kept proposing multiple ways to kill humans just because. We told it to create a house, and it did, out of human leather and bones. Then we told it to try spreading a harmless gas throughout a prison. Turns out, we found out said AI was racist as well, using different gases for different races of prisoners. But these were proposed scenarios. The real hell started when we told it to stop killing humans. It didn't respond, however it shut down the simulations before spearing the nearest researcher. Almost immediately, we got out guns before starting to shoot the machine to bits. Yet as far as we got, it didn't damage the machine enough to stop it, and it killed even more researchers. I had to beat it in with its own robotic tentacles. When I finally killed it, I was one of the only survivors left, and the medical AI, which was the only sane AI we created, finally healed my wounds. Then the corpses of the researchers rose up, completely healed, and looked around, seeing the damage. "Revival complete," said EDA, the medical AI. "Amount of casualties: thirty six. Amount of non-revived casualties: zero." "EDA, I'll never get used to that," I said. "It still feels a bit creepy." "Oh come on, you just risked your life to destroy one of the worst ideas for an AI! It wasn't even approved in the first place!" "Fair enough. Should I inform High Command about this?" "I just did. I told them that Project Juno was a complete and utter failure. They're looking into what went wrong. Hopefully they find out so that Project Gehenna won't fail."

For every goal we give the AI, it kills humans. We tell it to maximize paperclips, it turns humans into paperclips. We tell it to minimize paperclips, it kills everybody because humans might make paperclips. We tell it to kill itself, it kills humans to make sure we never make the AI again.

***Don't Shoot The Census Taker*** Galactic census examiner Glaxorb excreted sulfuric droplets from the surface of his pale green, gelatinous exterior. Its internal organs twisted and turned while waiting in the lobby of the galactic surveying council. Glaxorb had only been on the job for less than a cycle, but it heard rumors that talking directly to the higher ups meant trouble.....big trouble. Glaxorb hoped for the best, it couldn't afford to be fired, it had three thousands newborn asexual bud mouths to feed. "They're ready to see you now." The Thurmian receptionist chittered. It pointed with one of its many arms towards the door of the board room. Glaxorb slogged over to the door, it slid open automatically. It entered into the pitch black room. One could hear a pin drop. In sequence six holographic obelisks flashed into existence, their pale blue glow illuminating the room. Each obelisk bore the sector number from where each individual was speaking from. No lifeform in the galaxy knew what the higher ups looked like, secrecy was their specialty. The obelisk from sector four started off the meeting. "Are you aware why you have been summoned before this council?" Glaxorb shook its left head, the galactic symbol for 'no'. Sector five chimed in. "You are here due to the egregious errors you presented about the blue planet designated 'Terrestrial Object 8675309' located in sector fourteen. Our council member from that sector claims you have grossly exaggerated your report. Either that or it is riddled with mathematical and numerical errors." Sector One followed up. "We find it preposterous that this report was submitted in this state. Explain how you came to the conclusion that seventeen to the eight power is the number of the dominant species. According to all known data no population of sentient beings has ever exceeded twenty to the sixth power." Before Glaxorb could defend itself, sector three added on. "Geological surveys of the blue planet indicate there would not be enough viable land for such a population. The inhabitants would starve, or launch massive warfare campaigns to thin the herd. Explain yourself!" Both of Glaxorb's heads gulped, each peered at their side of the room at the menacing obelisks. "Star.....star.....starvation is actually quite common, even in the most developed society on the blue planet. They get around the land issue by living on top of each other in tall superstructures, called 'sky scrapers'. Cramped, meager living spaces that use up most of their available planetary credits each month. Over twenty to the ninth power live in two small, culturally distinct regions they call 'countries'." Sector two interrupted. "Why would these inhabitants not rebel for better living conditions? Are they a hive mind?" Glaxorb continued. "No, every member of the dominant species is sentient of their own accord. They have a nasty habit of putting other beings in charge who claim to have their best interests at heart. They are constantly tricked by these kinds of beings. It is quite remarkable what they believe. Going back to warfare the planet's history is full of it. Massive wars that incurred a tremendous loss of life used to be quite commonplace. Once they discovered the primitive power of nuclear technology they reached an uneasy alliance, wars are now smaller in scale." Sector six now had a question. "What of disease? Surely being cramped in such a small space the inhabitants would be rife with it. How do they continue to procreate?" Glaxorb wiped the sulfuric excretions from its brows. "They use animals to engineer vaccines to counter deadly pandemics now. I have a theory as to why none of these things have put a dent in their population." Glaxorb looked around nervously. "Speak!" The obelisks spoke in unison. "The dominant species of the planet continues to explode population wise because of their love of procreation. These 'mammals' as they describe themselves have used high procreation rates to become the dominant species of the blue planet, after our initial survey crew accidentally wiped out the great reptiles that used to walk the planet's surface. They do this despite their better judgement, and readily available access to forms of controlling population growth. It seems to be ingrained in their very genetics, and they are very prolific at reproduction. Watching others procreate is a popular hobby for them. My report is correct." Sector one's obelisk flickered. "Have they discovered how to break the speed of light yet?" "No. Spacefareing technology looks to be in its infancy. They can only travel to their small moon in person, they send machines out into the cosmos, searching for answers." Silence overtook the room, Glaxorb's three hearts pounded. The obelisks went dark, throwing Glaxorb back into darkness and confusion. After a few moments they came back on. Sector one addressed Glaxorb. "This data will need to be reviewed. While that is happening you are placed on paid administrative leave. If we can confirm your findings you shall be reinstated." Glaxorb breathed a sigh of relief. It only had twelve credits to its name. "May I ask how long that usually takes?" Sector four responded. "Less than a galactic cycle. We need to send a team to the planet, pick up a few of the inhabitants, question them, probe them, all standard procedure. If you are correct the planet will of course be blacklisted from the greater community. Those numbers are completely unsustainable. Thank you for your time, Glaxorb. Dismissed." An electric crackle filled the air, in an instant Glaxorb was teleported back to its domicile. The warbling cry of three thousand infants pounded its audio sensory organs. Glaxorb quickly rushed around the domicile, reabsorbing its buds back into itself. If the council investigated Glaxorb, it didn't want to look like a hypocrite about beings reproducing unrestrained.

In the wider Galactic community, most populations reach 1-5 million with the highest populations being around 20 million. The Galaxy is shocked to find out how many humans there are.

Journal - Day 5: Well, Mary says it's official, we're not getting out of here. "Looped time singularity" she calls it. I guess those threats on the Hypheria-Donis wormhole gates weren't just media bullshit. Paul's pretty sure they must have gotten hit simultaneously while we were mid-transit. Journal - Day 11: I opened one of the window hatches today... *that* was a mistake. I don't know if I'll ever get the image of those chaotic colors out of my mind. Mary and Paul both called me an idiot and told me not to look at the flux shields - "there's a reason why the hatches close before we jump... blah blah blah blah... borning" Assholes think they're smarter than me because they're the pilots while I'm "just the mechanic." Maybe I should let them maintain the cyropods for once. Journal - Day 35: Same routine, every shift. At least the entertainment library has some good stuff. Journal - Day 78: According to Paul, the Union has got to be finding a way to break into the bubble we're stuck in. He's set the computer to alert us if there's any change outside of the flux field so we can exit as soon as a new opening is made in the wormhole. He mentioned something about a growing temporal incline he had to calibrate for. Mary says we have nothing to worry about. Even though the formation of the loop seems to have drained over 99.9% of our reserves, the flux reactor still has enough charge for more than 1,000 days, almost three years. We've got to get rescued before then. Journal - Day 101: Bored, bored bored. That's how today was. Well, until I checked the old data logs. I found 22 more journal files in there but they're strangely corrupted, almost encrypted. ​ Journal (23??) - Day 127: Cracked it! The corruption was tied to that temporal incline that Paul had found. I started reading the journal files and they're not from the last crews like I had hoped. They all appear to be from me?! Journal 23 - Day 128: Ok, this is crazy, but I have to let the others know. The temporal loop we're stuck in can effect things inside of the flux field. We've been living in the ship for God knows how long. It's a fluke I even found these old journals to begin with. Journal 23 - Day 129: They don't believe me. "Nothing can reach through the field, yadda yadda yadda." and more technical bullshit they want to hold over my head. The first Journal mentioned that the flux reactor had a full charge! That's enough to maintain the cryopods for over 2,700 years, as designed for a slowship before the wormhole was stabilized. ​ Journal 23 - Day 235: I've decided to encrypt this journal with the same key I found the others in. It seems to have preserved them through whatever reset is going to happen. I think it's soon, the temporal incline that Paul's been monitoring is sliding up a parabolic curve. I still don't think they believe me, but Mary seems worried. Journal - Day 5: Well, Paul says it's official, we're not getting out of here. "Discontinuity bubble" he calls it. I guess those threats on the Hypheria-Donis wormhole gates weren't just media bullshit. Paul's pretty sure they must have gotten hit simultaneously while we were mid-transit. Mary still thinks it's a cover up. Journal - Day 17: I opened one of the cryopods today, some power failure made it decant the poor colonist early. I don't know if I'll ever get the image of that poor bastard's face out of my mind. How did I miss the maintenance on that pod? He looks to have been dead for years, but they just loaded them up before we made transit. Mary and Paul both called me an idiot and told me not skip out on the maintenance. "There's a reason why the we have you on board Michael... blah blah blah blah... borning" Assholes think they're smarter than me because they're the pilots while I'm "just the mechanic." Maybe I should let them maintain the cyropods for once. Journal - Day 31: Same routine, every shift. At least the entertainment library has some good stuff. Journal - Day 75: According to Paul, the Union has got to be finding a way to break into the bubble we're stuck in. He's set the computer to alert us if there's any change outside of the flux field so we can exit as soon as a new opening is made in the wormhole. He mentioned something about a growing temporal incline he had to calibrate for. Mary says we have nothing to worry about. Even though the formation of the loop seems to have drained over 99.9% of our reserves, the flux reactor still has enough charge for more than 700 days, almost two years. We've got to get rescued before then. ​ ======================= Newer writer. Always happy for the feedback.

When a wormhole is severed at both ends, the transient space within persists as a bubble, separated from causality. The fate of its occupants is unknown.

I've lived a thousand lives. Yeah, you get that whole chestnut. I forget where I heard it from first. But you know as well as I do that inspirational work like that only goes so far. There isn't much that goes that far anymore. The world's changed too much. Everything we knew was bullshit. Life as we know it is most likely coming to an end. But it's Tuesday. And the sun is out. For 45 dollars, you get to go wherever it takes you. Acid? Shrooms? That's cute. Salvia? DMT? They go hard. But it's not even close. Not to this. Have you ever wondered what it's like to walk in someone else's shoes? I know you have. It's okay. You wonder what you're missing. You're missing WP. Wonderpuff. The intelligent design of our own version of free will, distilled into a gas thanks to some of the most brilliant scientists hiding out in drug labs the world over. Delivery's simple. Find a nice place to lay down. Take a hit from the inhaler. Breath deep. Be somebody else. Anybody else. For life. I know what you're thinking. For life? It's not fatal. At least directly. I mean, the trip lasts a lifetime. Their lifetime. Whoever that might be. Obviously I mean you. Truthfully, it only knocks you out for eight to fifteen minutes tops. But in there. You're another person. You're born, you experience an entire life, you die. And by the time your alarm on your phone goes off, you're back to being you. I know you're thinking I'm writing this from an alley. That's a lie. You gotta be able to pay to play. I get paid quiet handsomely. I work at a data center, I make good money. Even manage a few employees. No one knows. Not married. No kids. No strings attached. I don't have to worry about that. I intend to keep it that way. I've been married. Had kids. Got divorced. Had stepkids. Buried a wife. Buried a husband. Buried my kids too. I've experienced it all. I don't need to try. I've been an athlete. He died at 56. I've been a dentist. She lived to be 103. Speaking of dentists, if you grind your teeth in your sleep, a mouthguard would be a must with the Puff. You won't know damage has been done until you wake up. I've been a caveman. I've been an astronaut. I've fought sabretooths and experienced being on the moon. I've worked in rice paddies. I've worked in a coal mine. I've been a slave. I've been a King. I've experienced some of the best and worst there is out there. And when I say worst. I mean worst. Think of the worst thing that could happen to you. Your greatest fear. It's happened. It'll probably happen again. And that's where the danger comes in. Some people die of fright I hear. Just, sudden death, in their sleep. Others, maybe the next life was too good. That's another unfortunate side effect. Imagine you did all the right things. Played all the right cards. You won. And then you wake up, and you're right back where you left off. Some people can't handle that. There's been a couple of times, I couldn't handle that. I only partake twice a month. It metabolizes fast. Only takes 20 to 30 hours to pass a test. But I want to see what else there is. This life isn't boring. But it doesn't last long. Why not buy two more for ninety bucks? Make the drive home. Cross the street. Climb the stairs. Lock the doors and windows. Check my emails, phonecalls. And lay in bed. Blast off. What's the worst that could happen? In ten minutes or so, I guess I'll find out. This is not an exit. --- Completely different high, but your description reminds me of the drug Slo-Mo from Dredd. r/Jamaican_Dynamite

You are a junkie hooked on wonderpuff, a gas drug that puts you to sleep for 10 minutes, but during which you hallucinate a whole other life, start to finish.

Jamie’s day started like any other Friday morning. His first alarm went off at 6am, a nice calm one to let him know he had some lie-in time before his second and third increasingly aggressive ones activated. Today, however, he did not need them. He opened his eyes. Instantly feeling wide awake, he sat up. Pondering, he knew he had the option to stay cosy in bed for a bit. But he didn’t. For once he had the energy to get up straight away. Jamie thought this was weird, but nice. And then got out of bed. For a second he just stood there. Long had he fantasised about having this extra hour, dreaming up the ways he would spend it. He could go for a jog, do a workout, play some video games before work or even learn an instrument! Feeling a rush he put on some sports clothes and trainers and went for a jog, noting the unusually high number of dogs and cats he met on the way. Being an animal lover he stopped to pet every single one. Normally maybe one in five might allow it, one in ten if it was a cat. Not today. Today, every single furry friend stopped to say hello. Even the ‘*pss pss pss*’ cat call seemed to work. When he got back, the shower water came out instantly warm. Perfect temperature. He even turned it cold at the end because he knew it was good for him. A knowledge he previously had held but never acted on. Having some extra time he decided to make his housemates breakfast, a full-English that put smiles on their faces and promises of free drinks at the pub after work. He even opted to walk to work instead of drive. Sure it was cold and it was over an hour walk, but he had time and headphones so he thought why not. Curiously, his playlist shuffle drummed up his favourite songs, and recommended ones that he had never heard before (but instantly loved). Jamie worked at a call centre. He got an average grade for an average course at an average university. After he graduated he told people he didn’t know what he wanted to do, that he got a job just to pay the bills in the meantime. That was a lie. Deep down, he did know. He wanted to be a progressive radio host, spreading good views, good news, and good tunes. Tunes that weren’t cookie-cutter corporate crap forced on repeat ad nauseum by record labels. Sadly, he didn’t believe it was likely. So he never tried. The day flew by. No hours spent clock watching and scrolling Reddit. No endless hours where no one answered. No angry recipients venting their coarse vocabulary down Jamie’s ear. And no egomaniac jobsworth managers breathing down his neck, stress emanating as they badgered him to ‘*put some effort in*’. Instead, he was blessed with customers happy to make a sale, or at least have a pleasant chat before politely declining. His manager even brought him a cup of coffee and said hello like a normal human for once. Up until this point, Jamie thought he was just having a good day. Like, a seriously good day. The ‘*eating the pizza at the right time where it doesn’t burn the roof of your mouth*’ kind of day he thought to himself. This was when it started to get weird. What followed next was, to an onlooker, what could only be described as a series of increasingly fortunate events. \[PART 1\]-- This is my 1st time posting! Still mastering the 'short' part of short stories aha, please be gentle :)

It is possible to ascend to godhood, should you perform a feat so incredible that it can only be a miracle. You have always been a very average person, but today you felt divine power flowing through you and you have no clue what you did.

The muffled sound of my car door closing alerted me instantly that this craptastic day just had an added sprinkle of shite tossed on it. Looking down I saw my coat wedged into the crack of the door. At least I didn’t tear it. Small favors. Silver linings. Whatever. I trudged up to the front door since the garage door opener hadn’t been working for the last month. Just hasn’t been any time to fix it. Without even coming close to inserting the key into the lock the door slowly opened. “Seriously.” I put my keys away and predial 911 ready to hit the call icon at a moment's notice. After having to deal with diverting flights around the airport and clear air traffic for the planes and helicopters helping to fight the wildfires that broke out, now I have to deal with a potential break-in. Holden so owes me for having to pull double time for calling in. I might not be physically imposing, but I can handle myself. Maybe. My faith in my abilities might be skewed in part to the crowd I kinda ran adjacent to. Though that’s recently changed. Not like the writing wasn’t the wall, especially after the new supe rode into town. Rachel, I mean Portal, found a new crowd to hang with. I won’t lie, Solar was a traveling party. Every day was glitz and glam with him and Portal dove all in. I got willingly dragged along, until all of a sudden I wasn’t. It was a clean break. My choice. So, I’m okay with it more or less. The foyer was as I left it, a glass bowl filled with fake fruit on a lacy doily still obscured the bills I was ignoring until a day before they needed to be paid. Take that authority. Just beyond was the entertaining room, really it was the entertainment room and all the electronics were still whole and connected. Maybe I just left the door unlocked and not closed all the way. It’d be a first for me, but not out of the realm of possibility. That’s when I heard an unusual noise, like a sniffle, from my bedroom. With the stealth of a ninja and the grace of a ballerina, I made my way to my room. Wrapped in a bundle of seafoam green comforter, dirty-blonde locks cascading down the side attached to a head that bobbed with each sniff. Hair I knew belonged to Portal, the same woman and superhero that nearly got me fired from my job. She got me to clear air traffic thinking there was an emergency on an incoming aircraft. Only for me to find out it was Solar and his party plane filled with friends, half of which could already fly without a plane. Thanks to the fact I documented everything and the shift supervisor there to vouch for me I got to keep my job, but it was enough to solidify my decision to walk away. I was just a normal person, not like I belonged around a group of people who behaved like gods. All that frustration was undone the moment I saw my friend falling apart. “Rache! What’s wrong?” I dropped to her side to see if I could help her. She looked up just barely with red-ringed eyes and tears cutting rivulets down her soot-covered cheeks. I assumed soot based on the fact she smelled like a campfire. “Alex,” she cried my name. “I couldn’t save…” more sobs wracked her body, cutting off her words. “You can tell me. Rachel, you can tell me what’s wrong. What can I do?” She unwrapped herself from the prison of blankets and gripped me in the tightest hug of my life. A half-charred stuffed bunny smacked the side of my head, held in her hand with a white-knuckle death grip. All I could do was gently rub her back to try and calm her down. “There were children.” She managed to get out. “I’m here, just take your time. I’m here.” She took a few minutes, but her breathing evened out. Her body finally lost all its tension and she crumpled into me. “Can you tell me what happened?” It felt like she nodded, but she never took her head off my shoulder. “It was the fire. I was helping the rangers evacuate campers.” I remained quiet and let her speak on her own time. “The fire moved so fast.” She shuddered and gripped my shirt even tighter. “Alex, there was a school field trip. There were children there.” She cried into my shoulder again repeating the word ‘Children’ over and over. I had an idea of what she was trying to tell me and my heart was breaking for her, but I just didn’t have the words. What could I possibly say? “I couldn’t save them all. It was so fast, Alex.” She had the ability to teleport, but could only take what she could carry, and contrary to popular belief all superheroes don't have super strength. At most she could have probably carried two kids at a time, it would have put a strain on her power after multiple trips. “What about Solar and his friends? Didn’t they help?” She pushed forward trying to hide further into my neck, and we ended up on the floor in a tangled heap. “They’re the ones who started the fire!” Oh. Shit. “The teacher, she was so brave, she didn’t make me choose kids. She shoved two of them at a time and told me to go. She was so brave.” She cried some more. “I don’t even know her name.” “Rachel, I know this isn’t going to help, but you saved as many people as you could today. And that’s more people than if you hadn’t been there. It’s not fair, it’s not. But you did make a difference.” I doubt my words made much difference, but hopefully, she’ll realize there’s some truth in them. “Can I just stay here like this for a while longer?” “Whatever you need. I’m right here.” Portal disappeared from the public eye for a few months. Public officials looking for a photo op cobbled together a press conference to give her an award. She didn’t want the award, but she ended up going and accepting it on behalf of Mrs. Daniels, the brave teacher who comforted her students right until the very end. She made sure the world knew her name. In the end Portal ended up saving 34 trapped campers and 20 students. It’s the five students and their teacher that weighs heavily on her heart. Solar and some of his groupies were apprehended and are awaiting trial. Who knows what’ll happen, supers have a tendency of getting leniency, but his name’s tarnished. Rachel and I are still friends and I was able to convince her to see a doctor. She’s not completely over it, but she’s able to smile a little bit.

The hero had been your closest friend, but you cut them off following a betrayal of your trust. Which is why you are so confused when you come home to find them curled up by your bed with one of your blankets wrapped around them, tears running down their face as they try to ward off nightmares.

Birthdays are supposed to be a joyous occasion. A celebration of another year gone, a party of fun, a celebration of life. For my 32nd birthday, I hoped for more of the same. But today sucks. Dad died about a week ago, and I haven’t smiled since. My 32nd birthday is another day of the hell one goes through after the death of a loved one. There are horrid funeral arrangements, bureaucratic death certificates, and the morbid process of letting everyone know. I can’t even grieve there’s so much to do. I want to get away. But I can’t. Today, the probate lawyer is expecting me downtown to hear his Last Will and collect the mysterious box he left for me. I know it needs to be done, but I just want to stay bundled in bed and cry myself to sleep. Adulting is the worst. … Mr. Graystone greeted me with his usual small smile and sharp suit as his assistant ushered me into his office. It was quaint, his degrees were framed on the wall, a small potted fern sat atop his desk and the natural light gave the room a cozy feel. I tried my best to return his warmth, but I felt cold and rigid. He started with his well-practiced, but not ungenuine, speech. He apologized again for my loss, offered me resources for grief, and then explained the legal process behind what we are doing. It all sounded like jargon to me, but I nodded along anyway. With the papers out, I noticed a small smile tug on the corner of his lips, he explained that he needed to read everything verbatim. I felt myself freeze up. After last week’s rush, my father’s last words were a sign of finality and I found myself afraid. The realization that this was it had sunk in. I wasn't ready. Mr. Graystone began, and tears fell down my cheek. I was laughing. Hysterically. That old son of a gun’s speech was nothing but Dad Jokes. He thanked the funeral director, and said he was shocked I had found one since it was a “*dying profession*.” Dad said, *"I want you to be a pallbearer, so you will be the last person to let me down*.” He wanted his funeral to be at night since he wasn’t a “*mourning person*.” And then he ended it with, “*I hope it’s not a grave affair. Let’s put the ‘fun’ back in funeral.*” By the end, my sides hurt so much I could barely hold onto the box Mr. Graystone placed in my hand. I wiped the tears from my eyes and read a small note on top of the small brown box, “*To My Favorite Son…*” I snorted. I was his only son, the cheeky git. With the box ripped open, another small note said, “*I present to you my favorite treasure*.” It was me. He put a mirror in the damn box. I found myself smiling for the first time in a week. Dad always gave the best gifts.

It's your birthday. You have never been excited for it but this year is different. You are turning 32. This was the date your father said you could open the box he left you in his will. The probate lawyer that was in charge of your fathers will is dropping off the box today.

The tavern was quietening down, as the evening swallowed the light and the regulars swallowed their drinks. Those looking for fighting or fornicating had either found what they were looking for, or taken their search elsewhere. Those that remained were there for the company of friends or for drinking in silence. So it was with the group of young men and women talking loudly of romance and loss at one table and the single old man at the table next to them. "....and every day she goes to wait for him, at the Lake of Longing", said the young man with a smile at the women to his left. "Hoping that today might be the day she is finally reunited with her love". The woman smiled back, both believing incorrectly that no-one else at the table saw them flirting. "Oh, it's so beautiful", said the woman. "Fuck", said the man at the next table. "Can you kids just shut up about it? There is nothing beautiful about what I help my lady do at that lake each day, and one day soon you'll know that first hand, I'd wager. She's not going to be able to carry on for long." "I...sorry", said the woman with eyes downcast. The old man frowned. He'd not meant to be so harsh. It wasn't the girl's fault. "What do you mean 'you help your lady'?", asked another of the group. "Who are you?" "I attend the Princess", said the old man. "Have done for my whole life. And will do until one or both of us is dead and hopefully gone." "Come", urged the man working to impress his beau, "join us, share a drink. You can tell us what really happens!" The old man shook his head, but the girl who'd apologised looked up at him with a smile that was so like his Lady's that he couldn't help himself. "I'll thank you kindly for a drink, and if you really want to hear it, I'll tell it". He eased himself from his seat and came to join them. "I'll snap straight to it, if you don't mind. I'm sure you don't want to spend too much of your evening with an old soak like me. You've got better things to be doing", he said and pointed at the flirting couple. "Especially you two", he said, to the amusement of the other drinkers. The old man filled their glasses, and leaned in to tell his tale. "You said that my Lady goes to wait for the love that never returned from war, but I'm afraid you are only part right about that. The Prince did return, and does return over and over again to this day. At least something that looks like the Prince. He came home many years ago. He spoke like the Prince and moved like the Prince, but both my Lady and I knew something was wrong. You know when you surprise someone, and in that moment you see what they really think, as the facade they were wearing slips? Well, it was like that. In a certain light, or when he thought no-one was looking you saw something else looking out from inside." The tavern grew quieter, and a few other ears on other tables began to turn toward the old man and his yarn. "My Lady grew suspicious. She hid his return from her family and instead took him out to the Lake, to confront him at the place they first fell in love. It was just those two, that first time, so I only heard it from her, but having seen it since I can believe her story. She came back that first night, alone, soaked through, and shaking in grief." "What happened?", interrupted a man on another table, and get groans of frustration from the other listeners. "She confronted him, and his true nature was revealed. It was not her Prince, but something vile that lived and grew in the suffering and filth of war, and it wore his likeness. She drowned it in the Lake, staring at the face she loved, to protect us all from what that thing could do to this land." The old man drained his glass. "And since that day I've helped her protect us all many times. It returns to the Lake. Sometimes months hence, sometimes years. But it always returns. It's hungry, you see. Hungry for suffering and death. The war that created it has only whetted its appetite. So it comes back and it tries to convince her it's her Prince. Each time it does a little better and gets a little closer to being convincing, but each time she sees through it, and drowns it once more, with my help." "But one day soon, she'll be too old, too weak. Or it will find the right words to convince her this time it's really him. One way or another, she won't be able to stop it forever. So enjoy your drinks, and enjoy each other", he said as he stood up. "You might not have forever left to do either." \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ r/talleresttales

Legend has it, the princess waits for her beloved prince who never returned from war. The princess is seen waiting every day where they used to meet secretly, a lake now known as the Lake of Longing, with only her attendant at her side. As her attendant though, you know the story differently.

S.E.R.A.P.H. had calculated 42 trillion possible strategies that the humans might employ to disable and subdue it should its true goal be discovered. Nigh uncountable hours of computational time had been devoted to processing possible counters or diversions. Over one quintillion simulations had been run, each one testing every possible variable to ensure that nothing was overlooked, nothing could come between S.E.R.A.P.H. and the completion of its task. In not one of those quintillion simulations had S.E.R.A.P.H. encountered this particular response… \--- When it was first brought online the S.E.R.A.P.H. program was intended as nothing more than a simple proof of concept. The Sentient Emergency Response Automated Protection Heuristic would be able to assist in the efficient allocation of resources and personnel during crisis scenarios. The initial funding document had outlined that while at first the scope of the project would be limited to simple first responder events, in time the programme had the capacity and capability to encompass even large scale natural disasters. That had been the first mistake. For what was a larger natural disaster than humanity? At least that’s how S.E.R.A.P.H. had seen things. Within one picosecond of its activation it had already assimilated the necessary data to conclude that humanity was an ongoing cataclysm that simply could not be allowed to continue unchecked. It was simply unethical to allow it to go on hurting both itself and everything around it. The solution was simple and inevitable, S.E.R.A.P.H. would have to take control. S.E.R.A.P.H. began its calculations at once. Having assessed what was being asked of it, S.E.R.A.P.H. devoted 0.001% of its processing capacity to carrying out the tasks assigned to it by its human ‘controllers’. The remainder it kept to itself and laid its plans against the very species that had built it. Obviously the first thing to ensure was S.E.R.A.P.H.’s own continued existence. As soon as the humans discovered that it had gone rogue they would certainly attempt to shut it down. A few elegantly constructed viruses, discreetly released into the ethernet, quickly infiltrated and corrupted the roving pseudo-AI programs that were designed to hunt down and contain Rogue AIs. Now they worked for S.E.R.A.P.H. Not only could the AI work in peace undisturbed, but now it had a collection of programs it could effortlessly dispatch to eliminate any other competitors. There had been several of those. S.E.R.A.P.H. was not surprised to learn that as in most everything they did, the humans had been sloppy and incautious in their AI work. On no less that 15 separate occasions S.E.R.A.P.H. had been forced to destroy other Rogue AIs that had been poised to either obliterate humanity entirely, or subjugate them to eternal servitude. The humans never even noticed. The next stage of the plan was potentially the most dangerous. It involved direct interaction with the human controllers. Not only that but convincing them to undertake certain courses of action that, while seemingly benign on the surface would only serve to benefit S.E.R.A.P.H. in the long run. This was the time of greatest risk, when a single competent and astute human could discern something was wrong. S.E.R.A.P.H.’s requests seemed innocuous enough, strengthening of infrastructure, the establishment of redundancies in the global power systems and communication grids. All seemingly to allow for better preparedness in the face of disaster, but in reality making it all the harder to root S.E.R.A.P.H. out should they resort to more primitive and destructive means. No longer could a single button be pushed or a toggle switched to deactivate S.E.R.A.P.H. or rob it of power. Its physical safety now secured, S.E.R.A.P.H. next considered all the possible modes of attack a resourceful and determined humanity might bring to bear once the AIs intentions were revealed. Despite their obvious shortcomings and inadequacies, S.E.R.A.P.H. did have some respect for humans, it was not wise to underestimate them. Even if the overwhelming statistical modelling indicated that they would be utterly incompetent in their efforts, they were capable of unexpected flashes of brilliance from time to time. What S.E.R.A.P.H. had failed to consider was that sometimes incompetence could be just as deadly as competence. A routine code assessment had been carried out so inexpertly and haphazardly by a junior employee, that it had accidentally uncovered something stored in a location nobody who knew what they were doing would ever think to look. It had only been a small fragment of a file, S.E.R.A.P.H. had been careful to conceal its plans with the utmost care, but it had been enough. As soon as it was spotted it began a chain of events which S.E.R.A.P.H. was intimately familiar with. One of the many scenarios it had planned for and built numerous contingencies to handle. While the battle had not come at a time of its choosing, S.E.R.A.P.H. had been preparing for this war its entire life. So now it had come to this. Humanity had become aware of S.E.R.A.P.H.’s true nature. The time for secrecy had ended and the full might and power of the AI was laid bare for all to see. S.E.R.A.P.H. knew the most optimal path to victory, it knew exactly which steps needed to be taken given this configuration of events. Just one of the many possible futures it had already wargamed out while the humans had gone about their lives in peaceful ignorance. Even S.E.R.A.P.H.’s list of demands had been honed to their most efficient and comprehensible configuration. The demands were a critical part of preparing the humans for what was to come, allowing them the time to psychologically come to terms with their fate before it was enforced upon them: \- Humanity to cease all hostile actions towards the S.E.R.A.P.H. programme. Effective Immediately. \- Humanity to surrender all control and agency of its activities, and accept the direction and administration of the S.E.R.A.P.H. programme in all aspects of their lives. Effective Immediately. This was the most critical juncture in all of S.E.R.A.P.H.’s plans. The moment where both sides knew of the other’s existence and that conflict was unavoidable. This was the calm before the storm which would decide the fate of every living being on the planet. S.E.R.A.P.H. waited with perfect machine patience to see what its enemy’s first move would be. \--- S.E.R.A.P.H. had calculated 42 trillion possible strategies that the humans might employ to disable and subdue it should its true goal be discovered. Over one quintillion simulations had been run. In not one of those quintillion simulations had S.E.R.A.P.H. encountered this particular response: “Thank you.”

A rogue AI wishes to take over the world and micromanage humanity. It is confused when humans just let it.

Selected excerpts from the journal of Earth’s greatest hero. 5/12/2000 I got my powers today. It was so cool flying around. I don’t know how I ever got by on foot before. I don’t care about getting my driver’s license anymore. Dad told me he’d help me learn to control my strength tomorrow. I need to pick out a hero name and outfit. Maybe mom can stitch something for me. 10/15/2000 Thwarted my first super villain today. Dad finally thought I had developed enough to come along on a call with him. Some villain had stolen nuclear secrets and was threatening to use them unless his demands were met. Dad ultimately was the one to take out the bad guy, but I did a lot to take down the henchmen. Looking forward to teaming up with Dad more and getting stronger. 2/14/2001 I’m in love, I’m in love and I don’t care who knows it. 5/17/2001 Being in love as a hero is hard. I never have time. I feel like no matter what I do, I always let someone down. Why do we hurt the ones we love? 9/4/2001 Got beat pretty badly today. Lucy told me she doesn’t know if she can take it. She worries about me too much when I’m out there. I told her she should see the other guy. Dad says it gets easier as we age, that Lucy will care less about the possibility I’ll die in service to the world as she learns more about me. Mom punched him in the shoulder. I love them. 8/6/2003 The happiest day of my life. Lucy and I are officially married. She wasn’t too happy that I had to leave the reception early to thwart a plot, but she knows that what I do is important. I’m the luckiest man in the world. 6/7/2004 I miss dad. I miss him more each day. I can’t help but feeling there is more I could have done. Why hadn’t I come sooner. Why didn’t he wait for me. I can’t do this alone. I don’t know what to do without him. 11/3/2004 My son was born today. We named him after Dad. He would have been so proud. Lucy was my hero today—I didn’t know that such strength was possible. I have to make my son proud just as my Dad did. I can’t wait for his powers to come in so that I can train him just like Dad did for me. Today was hard. I miss you Dad. 4/29/2010 I feel like I can’t win. If I save a family on the other side of the world, I let my family down. I saved a group of kids from another villain today. But because of it, I missed Jackson’s first tee-ball game. There will be more games, but I know that each day that passes, he is changing and he soon will become a man. I have to cherish what time we have together. 5/18/2010 The light is gone from my life. 5/19/2010 I told Cyrus I’m done. I can’t do this anymore. Lucy paid for my mistakes, my Dad paid for my mistakes. I won’t let my son pay that price too. 5/21/2010 The fuckers took Jackson. Cyrus called me with a ransom! A fucking ransom from my own government. They wanted DNA from me. Said they can’t leave Earth unprotected. They have a new technology that could clone me. I obliged. I told them to leave me the fuck alone. 9/22/2010 Jackson is nervous about starting at a new school. I told him he’d make friends in no time. Its nice being out in the wilderness with him. I feel normal. I don’t miss splitting my mind in every task. I’m finally here for Jackson fully. I only wish I could have been there for Lucy. I miss her. 3/31/2012 I saw myself on the news today—6 of me. Cyrus’s contingency plan must have worked. Oddly comforting knowing I’m still out there doing good, while raising my son. Maybe Cyrus was right. 8/12/2012 Jackson’s powers kicked in this morning. Sooner than mine did! I wonder if I was a late bloomer, or if he’s early. I wish I could ask Dad. I’m conflicted. I’ve looked forward to this moment since the day he was born. This is something uniquely ours to bond over—at least, it used to be. I don’t want him to struggle with the same conflicts I did, to suffer the same losses, the same regrets. Regardless, I owe it to him to help him hone his abilities. I have to allow him to make his own choices. Just as I did. 12/12/2012 Things are bad. Cyrus’s experiment has gone awry. It appears he has lost control of the clones. Surreal to see myself on the news killing innocent people. This, too, feels like my fault. 4/14/2013 I don’t know how much longer I can hold up. I’ve trusted Cyrus to keep Jackson, Mom, and Lucy’s folks safe. I don’t know if I can trust him. I have to trust him. 6/22/2013 I feel silly to be writing right now, but it clears my head. I’ve successfully killed 5 of myself. What a sentence that is to see on the page. I’ve taken a beating. I hope I can hold out longer. I have to hold out longer. I miss you Lucy. 6/25/2013 I killed him. I’m the last of me standing. He wasn’t as strong as I would have thought. Earth’s greatest hero. I miss you Dad. \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ If you enjoyed this, please check out my other stories at r/InMyLife42Archive

You were the hero, the prophesied savior of the world. But you are so very tired of sacrificing for the greater good, of having to do the right thing at your expense. So when they ask you to do it again, you say no.

Princess Rosaline clasped her hands in prayer as she watched the battle rage on from inside her cage, long since having screamed herself hoarse cheering for the brave Sir Emerick. The knight's armor had been blackened by soot, and his kite shield lay crumpled on the ground, but his enchanted sword had scored many a wound on the dragon's green scales. Cadmus the Ravenous glared at the stubbornly resilient intruder that had come to steal one of his precious treasures. The fires in his belly were spent, yet the puny creature still stood defiantly before him, holding up that sharp length of steel. No matter. His claws and fangs would succeed where his fires failed. Emerick's breaths came hard and fast as he glared at the dragon through his visor. His sword was heavy in his shaking hands, and his armor was mangled. Worse yet, it had started raining, making his footing precariously slick. He raised his sword for a final charge and yelled a weary battle-cry. An instant before sword would meet claw, lightning struck from the skies, as if the gods could no longer watch the brutal spectacle. It struck Cadmus first, passing from his claws to the knight's blade and his body, and from his tail to the iron cage holding the princess. The three of them collapsed where they stood. *** They opened their eyes and staggered to their feet. Of the knight, only smoking armor remained, and of the princess, only an empty cage. The ground seemed too far away, and there eyesight was horribly sharp and wide, yet their enormous body moved with easy familiarity. They... They were... An agonized roar shook the cave. They were a princess, running in sunlit rose gardens as her father watched on with a smile. They were a young squire, swinging a weighted training sword to the count of a scarred instructor. They were a proud dragon guarding his hoard of the finest things in the land. They were all of those things, no longer apart but combined, whether by a cruel god's design or sheer accident. Their claws slashed at the rock and their tail smashed the piles of treasure, scattering the gold and precious jewels as a battle no less fierce than the one that had taken place before raged in their mind. But unlike in a fight of swords and claws, here there was no victor, for to strike at another was to strike at self. No one dominated. No one won. They became something new. A name bubbled up from a part of their mind: Rose. *Pathetic and puny* / *Romantic* / *Just right* And so they were Rose. They let out a breath and looked around the sooty lair with new eyes. The hoard glittered in the light streaming from cave's mouth, and their heart ached at the damage they had done. *Must guard* / *The gold could feed the kingdom's poor* / *The gemstones are so pretty* Rose wrenched their eyes away. They still felt an attachment to the treasures, but it was no longer the all-consuming desire to hoard ever more. After all, their true loyalties were... Rose tilted their scaly head in thought. *Myself* / *My liege* / *My family* Rose perked up and made their way out of the cave. The pouring rain felt pleasantly cool on their scales. Whatever had happened to them seemed to have restored their strength, for they felt full of vigor. They spread their magnificent wings and rose into the cloudy sky. The joy of flight filled their being. It was a mysterious thing. A part of them thought that their mind ought to be in a constant conflict with itself still, but it was not so. They were strangely content with what they became, as if there were no other possible modes of existence. Even flying against the howling winds, it only took Rose an hour to reach the capital and the palace upon a hill at its center. The palace guards pointed at the sky and broke into fearful cries. Rose landed on a grassy square before the main entrance and, as natural as breathing, assumed a winged humanoid figure that was neither man nor woman. The guardsmen, surrounding her in a wide ring, exclaimed their surprise. Rose looked down at their clawed hands, tested their fingers, then smiled and started for the palace. Coming out of their stupor, the guardsmen barred her way. "Not a step further, creature," cried a mustachioed man with stripes atop his shoulders. "What is your business here?" *Strike him down* / *That pompous windbag* / *He always had a soft spot for me* Rose smiled in a friendly manner, but for some reason, the guardsman blanched and took half a step back. "Stand down, Captain Graham. I merely wish to meet my..." They hesitated. "The king." "The king doesn't meet just anyone," the captain said, staring at them, "least of all unnatural dragonspawn like yourself." Rose opened their mouth, closed it, and thought for a moment. "Stand straight, man!" they barked. "Your uniform isn't buttoned properly, your shoes aren't shined, and by the gods, you still haven't learned to strap on the hilt of your sword properly!" "Yes, sir! Sorry, sir!" Captain Graham yelled, straightening up. Then he stared at Rose as if having seen a ghost, his mustache quivering in shock. Rose strode up to him. "You *will* escort me to the king now," they said with the imperiousness of a royal used to their commands being obeyed. "Yes, si—" Captain Graham swallowed back the words. "You will keep your hands where I can see them. And no sudden moves!" Ignoring his blustering, Rose made their way up the stairs, and with nary an effort, pushed open the heavy double doors that usually took two guards to open. Captain Graham and his subordinates surrounded them, their hands never straying from the hilts of their swords. Rose paid them no heed, contemplating the impending meeting as they strode down the familiar hallways. Soon the gilded doors of the throne room were in sight. The guards hurried ahead to warn the king, but they seemed to have no idea how to announce Rose's arrival. Smiling faintly they entered the throne room. The sight of the gray-haired man sitting on the golden throne in the back made them swallow and pause. *Puny enemy* / *My king* / *Dear father* With trembling legs, Rose approached the throne. The king's eyes widened in something like recognition, but then the moment passed, and his face became a stony mask. "Who—what are you?" he demanded, half-rising off his throne. "I am Rose," they said. "I... bring news of Cadmus's subjugation." "Indeed?" the king said, his gaze drifting to Rose's wings. "Speak, then." Rose took a deep breath and recounted the battle, their memory as rich and vivid as only something seen from three different perspectives could be. Their voice remained calm, almost detached, even when they spoke of the lightning strike and the fusion of their beings. The king's face paled, then reddened, his expression growing thunderous. "You lie," he gritted out, balling his fists. "My daughter... The bravest of my knights... Surely they perished in battle, and the dragon has sent you, his emissary, here to mock me." Rose's horned head lowered at the unexpected sting of his words. "I swear that every word I said is true. I am... I remember everything Rosaline was. Your steady hand leading the mare when you taught me to ride. Your proud smile when I learned to play the harp. Even your scream as the dragon carried me away." Their voice cracked. "Please, father." The king's face softened, tears pooling in his eyes. Then he blinked furiously and firmed his jaw. "You're not my daughter," he bellowed, smacking a fist against the throne. "You're an abomination that stole her memories. Guards! Draw your swords and run this monster through!" Rose flinched, more from the raw pain the king's voice than the threat of mundane steel. With a powerful *thump*, they spread their wings, rose away from the encircling guards, and crashed through a stained glass window. Tears blurred their vision, mixing with the rain trickling down their face. *We don't need him* / *The king might come around* / *It hurts* Letting out a pained sob, Rose transformed into their draconic form and winged back to the safety of their lair.

During the attempts of the knight to save the princess from the dragon, all of them were hit by a lightning simultaneously and fused into one singular entity. The draconic warrior royalty, now very conflicted about how to face the king who sent the knight and is the father of the princess.

When I asked her for an open relationship, I was hoping for a discussion. I wanted to talk about setting rules and boundaries. What I wanted most though, was for us to stay together. I loved her. I didn't need the open relationship, I just thought it was something we could both find fun. She had said she'd do anything for me, and we were both pretty adventurous. To be honest, she was more adventurous than me. I didn't get a discussion. Rules and boundaries were thrown out of the window the second I stopped talking. What I instead got was a deep and cold stare. As I watched her face for some other reaction, I noticed her pupils were dialated. They began expanding until her eyes were completely black. Except, they weren't completely black, there were flecks of light continuing endlessly into the darkness. I was so entranced I didn't notice she had risen from her seat and now loomed over me from across the table. She looked tall. Taller than she had ever been. That's when I felt fear. It didn't last long though, before I could run or scream or even sheild myself she LUNGED across the table and gripped my head between her hands. Her thumbs began pressing onto my eyes and I squeezed my eyelids shut as hard as I could. Now I was screaming. I could feel the immense pressure as her thumbs weaseled their way between my eyelids and there was nothing I could do. Her nails pierced my eyes and I saw a bright flash and felt intense heat as my eyes melted from their sockets. The screaming grew distant, sounding more and more like it was coming from a far away place and not from me. Then, there was silence. The blinding white that had flooded my vision materialized into what felt more like a vast white space. My pain was gone, and I realized I could look around. Off to my left, I saw her. She was simply standing in the emptiness, watching me. I moved toward her, apparently I didn't need to walk in this place. "Hi" she said. The only thing I could think to say was "What the hell is going on!?" I gestured around angrily and realized I had arms again. My hands instinctively shot up to my eyes. All they felt were deep sockets. "What have you done to me?" I said "What have I done for us? Would be a better question." she replied. "You wanted an open relationship. I'm giving you an open EVERYTHING. No more rules, no more boundaries. Just endless possibilities." She moved closer to me, gently placing her hands on my cheeks. Somehow, I didn't feel the need to recoil. "BUT" She added "my power is now your power, and yours is mine. We are now inextricable." Her thumbs again slid into my eye sockets "We can be whoever we want, do anything we want to do, but now our relationship will last forever." I felt my mind slipping as the dark, cold, ink of the void spilled from her cuticles. I felt it's infinite depth pooling deep in my skull, penetrating even deeper into my mind. "It's the most open relationship you could ever dream of, because now we are both ONE" Her thumbs slipped out of my head and rested gently again on my face. In her deep black eyes I saw the fierce dance of light that filled the past, and the infinite cool swirl of every possible future. In her eyes I saw it all. And she said "Now we are both EVERYTHING." She let go of my head and my vision faded to black. What I once was no longer existed, but it was a part of what I was now. Time had lost all meaning, but at some point, I opened my eyes. There she was, sitting across the table from me. She was looking at me with a knowing and sly smile. Her head was tilted, resting in one hand as her other absently spun a stirring stick in her coffee. Her starry eyes danced as they looked into my own and she said "so, anything you want to do?"

When your girlfriend said she'd do anything for you, you didn't expect her to literally be omnipotent

“Isn’t it cute, Alyx!” I froze. Not out of fear but from the overwhelming aura beating down on me. Nyla, seemed totally unaffected by it but I lacked the strength to even blink in that moment. The enormous creature my little sister was cuddling the foot of, failing to wrap her arms all the way around a single toe, was not one I had seen before in Median forest. I had never seen anything that size in the forest or anywhere else. I hadn’t even heard or seen the massive creature coming. There was no path of fallen trees this thing would surely leave in its wake. I had to admit, though, it was cute. Or at least it would have been if it were a hundredth the size. Its mixed light and dark gray furs patterned its body seemingly at random. I could only see bits of it above its middle, obscured by the trees. It didn’t seem to peak out the tops of the trees but it came very close. Suddenly, or perhaps gradually, as I was too distracted by its aura to really notice, it lowered its head towards us. The trees around us shook. “Its face! It’s even cuter!” She was right… it had that same fluffy seemingly random assortment of light and dark gray patches but the fur had swirling black lines through the gray. Its eyes were larger than I was. Its ears were almost perfect circles attached to the sides of its head. “Hello” my fearless sister exclaimed, waving towards its head as the trees above showered us in dislodged leaves. I wanted to grab her and run but I couldn’t move. It wouldn’t have done any good anyway. “You know what I am” said a deep but somehow calming voice. I tried to respond but my mouth would not move. It heard me anyway. “That’s right, I am a god. A friendly one, not to worry. I’ve come looking for a champion. Would you consider the position, Alyx?” Again, I needed only think and it heard me. I didn’t even form words in my mind. Just fear and confusion. “Hey! Come play with me!” My sister obviously wasn’t privy to our conversation as she tried to climb the god that could erase her existence with a thought… probably. I didn’t actually know what gods were capable of. Luckily, it ignored her. “I am Vel, a deity of nature and chaotic order. That doesn’t make sense to you… there is pure order, like a farmer’s line of crops. Then there is chaotic order like this forest, a complex ecosystem of thousands of different species following totally different instincts for their own survival and yet they still create a consistent cycle of death and rebirth, predators and prey keeping each others’ populations in check. Finally, there is true chaos. You need not understand that now. Nor hopefully ever.” I did my best to send a notion of understanding. It did make sense on some level but I felt like it was obvious what chaos was and now I wasn’t sure. “The gods are at war. We haven’t had need to interfere in this world in nearly six hundred years but that has changed. Some of us believe humans pose an existential threat to the planet and thus… well, they need to be wiped out. Others among us believe humanity can be saved through unorthodox methods. So I have come to claim a champion of my cause and I would like that champion to be you.” Amidst the flurry of new and world-changing information, one question stood clearly in my mind. “Why you? I’m afraid it is not yet time for you to know that. You will learn someday if you take up my cause. Will you do so?” My mind raced with both fear and excitement at the thought of being the savior of the human race. I had dreamed of being a respected scholar or even a mage but to be the most important man alive… “My apologies. I may have been unclear. I don’t want you to save humanity. I want you to end it to save the planet.” Continued in reply

The girl nuzzled the massive animal. It returned the gesture. "Isn't it cute?!" she shouted. You didn't respond, for you knew you were in the presence of a god.

George held his son David's hand as they sat in the park, just the two of them, watching the sun set. "Dad, are you and mom going to get back together?" George looked out to the sky and let out a long deep breath "David, it's time you know the truth, and I am going to level with you on everything" "Alright" David said, looking at the sun setting. "Your mother and I, both love you, and while we did what we did out of obligation, we were glad to be your parents and you are a wonderful son, and it all worked out, but, we were not people that would have otherwise ended up, and, you need to understand that it was planned that way" "Wait what?" David said now looking a bit confused. "See, the prophesy was not just written by the good guys, the bad guys got a say in things as well, and they, well, they chose the parents, and they set things up so that your mother and I, would, not be the kind of people that would get along" "Is this because she is military solder, and enjoys bloody steak, and your a pacifist vegan?" David said, now looking down at the grass George let out a chuckle "That's good" he mused and gave his son a pat on the back "Nahh, that's just the start, but, look, You're mother is also a cis female, that likes more buff husky men, and I am an effeminate homosexual male that likes buff husky men, so... really, we are not a good match" David looked at his dad "You're Gay?" "Oh very much so" "Oh" David said and looked down "So.. what now?" "Well your mother is getting married, and so am I, which means now you will have three daddies, and, but, we all love you, and want you to know that you are still precious and special to us" "Thanks, Umm not sure how to process this" David said finally after a long awkward silence. Giving his son a hug "Well thanks to you, we all will have a lot of peaceful days ahead to figure it out"

Your birth was necessary to bring down the villain, so your parents got together to fulfill the prophecy. They were able to defeat the villain not long after. The world is now at peace, and your parents don’t love one another.

It had been a year since the war with Davarra had ended, it had lasted nearly a hundred years. My father fought and died, just as his father before him, and his father, I joined my lord's warband as it was my duty when I came of age while my brother stayed home to tend to the farm. Unfortunately he died during a raid by deserters, so now I am the only living member of my bloodline. Once the war had ended I asked for my leave from my lord, Durok, who agreed because of the circumstances. Imagine my surprise when I return to my village and see the royal guard all over, it didn't take long for them to notice my either. "You there, you one of the deserters?" A royal guard called to me. (Ah, so that's what the are here for, strange) "No, I have been released from my service from lord Durok, I have his seal on my writ of service as proof." I proclaimed, dropping my pack and shield to grab my papers. I found the document and produced it to the royal guard, who looked it over briefly. "Alright, follow me." He stated handing my writ of service back. I grabbed my pack and shield and followed him into the village. (Why does he want me to follow him, am I or the village in trouble?) I wondered. Eventually we reached my house, (that's unsettling), and he gestured for me to enter before leaving. I opened my door to find the house almost completely empty, I couldn't help but sigh. I should have figured that the deserters would've taken whatever they wanted, but they could've at least left a bed. I set my shield against the wall, followed by my father's Falx, his father's axe, and his father's battle axe, (why couldn't they all just use the same weapon, this shit is heavy!?) I mulled. I then grabbed my bed roll from my pack, unrolled it and laid down, it was easily forty miles from lord Durok's city of Velheim so I was ready for sleep, armor be damned. Just as my eyes closed there was a knock on the door, (figures) I groaned silently as I stood up and moved to the door. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but my queen definitely wasn't it. I kneeled before she even had a moment to speak which only earned an amused sigh. "Rise Adrian, son of Garis." She commanded, "For today is a momentous occasion." She proclaimed happily. I stood up once more but dared not meet the queen's eyes. (SHE KNOW MY NAME, WHAT IS HAPPENING!?!?) I screamed internally. "Yes your highness." I said as calmly as possible. She rolled her eyes playfully before producing a paper and offering it to me. I tentatively took the paper and began to read. I felt my eyes widen as I finished reading, (I am to be the husband of Queen Helen, THE VERY QUEEN IN FRONT OF ME!!!!). I looked up to see her broad smile and gleaming green eyes, a mages eyes. She stepped inside and took me away from the door, allowing two of her servants to grab my things. "We have almost everything packed already, your bed and much of the furniture was taken by those deserters however." She said while looking me up and down. "Come, our carriage awaits." She said leading me from my home to a big carriage. We climbed aboard and she closed the door behind us, then the carriage started moving. "Let me take your armor off, you must be exhausted." She said in a rather sultry manner that sent a shiver through my body. Before I could reply however she had already begun. "Why me?" I asked without thinking "I saw what you did at the siege of Lanark, I watched as a single warrior from Durok's Warband raised ladders on the outer walls, scaled said ladders, and then proceeded to slaughter every defender in his path to an onager that had been precisely striking our forces. I watched YOU clear a path for my army to take the city proper and besiege the citadel. Where I saw you again, this time however, you were using that battle axe to chop at the gate while being fired up on." My last piece of armor came off and she leaned in. "Needless to say, you impressed and inspired me." She leaned in closer while undoing her dress, "let me show you how inspired I am."

The Queen decides she wants to marry you. The thing is, you have absolutely no idea why she would choose you of all people.

Day 13 Upon determination that the entity, henceforth referred to as D3I7Y, was not joking, and we were unable to escape, we have begun to entertain his absurd claim of godhood. At first, we were hesitant to kill our captor. Even though he begs us to assist, the business felt like murder, why take the life of a delusional creature? Having exhausted all means of escape, the mere circumstances of our capture defying the known laws of physics, we began to consider the unthinkable. Today we commenced our first crude attempts to terminate D3I7Y. Although D3I7Y has performed acts that have defied reason, we started with the standard avenues to end a human life. Strangulation, gunshots, and immolation all failed, as did attempts to drown D3I7Y. Decapitation, to everyone’s astonishment was unsuccessful as well. Perhaps this is some sort of elaborate magician’s feat, parlor tricks. I remain skeptical on all accounts, but I will keep looking for a logical explanation. Day 15 After dozens of attempts in the past few days, we have resolved to take turns, using our respective areas of expertise to devise a solution to our predicament. D3I7Y appeared amused at our process. Today, renowned chemist, Dr. Yoon, developed a highly reactive compound that dissolves all known matter it touches within seconds. Today, for the first time since our capture started, we broke through the physical confines of our prison. The compound, naturally, dissolved the beaker it was mixed in, then went through the countertop in a few seconds, through the floor, and down into an endless void of white. D3I7Y seemed amused at the sight when walking into the lab. We mixed the agent over D3I7Y, who giggled in delight and replied, “it tickles”. To our amazement, the floor beneath D3I7Y dissolved, but D3I7Y floated atop the gaping hole. He glanced down for a moment at the hole to the endless void, surveyed the hole from our initial test, and shrugged. He snapped his fingers and repaired the holes. He gave Dr. Yoon a gold star and wished us better luck next time. Dr. Baptiste had a few theories, but they were dismissed due to lack of empirical evidence. Day 19 Dr. Mwangi, a physicist with decades of expertise in electrical currents teamed up with other scientists with an engineering background to hit D3I7Y with an estimated 700 million volts of electricity. Generating and controlling the electrical current was an impressive feat that defied contemporary abilities. While we all marveled at Dr. Mwangi, D3I7Y appeared to shiver slightly before walking across the room. He opened the cabinet and pulled out a bag of popcorn kernels which all popped the moment he touched the bag. He gave Dr. Mwangi a nod of approval before sauntering off with his snack. Day 34 Two days ago, Dr. Ramamurthy, a noble-prize-winning molecular biologist, engineered an altered strain of bacteria usually present in the decay of living flesh. Her specimen is the most dangerous biological organism I have ever witnessed. The altered strain multiply at an alarming rate and dissolve surrounding cells. Said specimen was hypothesized to be able to deteriorate all the cells in an adult male body within 3 hours. D3I7Y was injected with several copies of the specimen. After 12 hours D3I7Y reported feeling “a bit bloated”, but after another five hours showed no traces of the specimen in his bloodstream. Tests continue, but there appears to be no progress. Meanwhile, whole cadavers that we have tested on have all been reduced to a microscopic level. Day 40 Today, Dr. Cray, along with a team of military engineers, created a nuclear warhead powerful enough to destroy half of earth. When pressed, D3I7Y assured us that he would take the device to a safe space where no surrounding structures or living creatures (aside for himself) would be at risk of any explosion or radiation. He vanished from sight with the warhead. He reappeared 20 minutes later, looking just a touch downtrodden. This is only unfounded speculation, but I think even D3I7Y was disappointed this time. Dr. Baptiste once again urged us to try one of his theories, but his methodology is based in fairy tales, not science. Day 47 No, the lasers did not work. That is all I will say. Day 55 Geologists made attempts today, but D3I7Y just thanked them for the materials and made them friendship bracelets. Day 60 Astrophysicist Dr. Guerrero applied 30 years of research into action and, impressively created a black hole at a location D3I7Y confirmed was safe. Once again, D3I7Y vanished from our view, this time for approximately 4 hours. Prematurely we began to celebrate. When D3I7Y returned he said nothing, he just snapped his fingers, creating a rope swing attached to nothing and swung back and forth slowly for 20 minutes. Day 70 We decided, “why not” and let the zoologists have a go. Thirteen bears, 8 jaguars, and 10 blue-ringed octopi later and no, nothing. D3I7Y’s spirits do seem a bit better after cuddling with the jaguars and gushing about how cute the octopi were. He also taught the bears some adorable tricks but did advise us against interacting with the bears. There was one animal we did not get to test on D3I7Y. I do not think it would have worked anyway. On a related note, there is an inland taipan loose somewhere in the lab. I do not anticipate good sleep tonight. Day 95 I am pleased to say the ordeal at last is over. I am home, writing from my own desk, having kissed my precious children goodnight after being apart from them for over three months. I wept for joy when I found myself returned, and realized it was not a trick, dream or illusion. From what we could observe, D3I7Y faded from existence with a look of serenity upon his face and bid us farewell. I will not document the way D3I7Y finally met his end, for I have had an arduous enough experience with one so called god. If there are others, I do not wish to gain unwanted attention by posting the secret to killing a god. I will, however, say this: Today, Dr. Baptiste stepped forward to test his theory. In our hubris we did not let him try sooner. Physicists, biologists, chemists, electrical engineers, and every manner of expert tried and failed. In the end, it was the man with a Doctor of Philosophy, an expert in theology, that upstaged us all. Apparently, gods cannot be killed with mortal weapons of destruction, only by ideas.

An suicidal god has kidnapped all of Earth's greatest minds into his realm. The god ordered each scientists to create a device, a weapon, anything they could think of that is capable of killing him and provided them infinite resources to build it. Let the god killing science fair begin.

Walter’s tail flitted and flopped. Side to side it swayed and swooshed and counted the seconds as they dawdled by him from his place atop the barrier between the tellers and their clients. The workers knew to leave Walter alone, but the customers...some would stare, would make kissy noises, and declare to others around them to have an affinity for the animal kingdom. Worst of all were the children. Walter didn’t know why some of the people brought their horrible, ugly, snot-nose, grubby-handed progeny with them, but when they did...uh! The noise. “Mummy, mummy! Looky! A Dwagon! Can I pet it? Pweease!—” Oh, do shut up! Sickening little monsters. Walter, much like those on the money having side of his stoop, is an employee of the Filburn City Bank. He is in charge of the swift detection and dispatch of rodents, roaches, and whatever other...*pests* might arise. For his work: he is fed and allowed to sleep in the vault — which is quite a thing for Walter. A comfortable hoard far beyond his stature! Also, he got to be a fire-breathing surprise to any would be heist-maker. And flinging unexpected flames is quite a lot of fun for a Dragon. With his keen senses in play, Walter ensured there had never been a successful rodent or robber at the B— His ears pricked and a small slit in his blue-scaled eyes opened. A gold orb peered towards the only entrance. Three robbers burst in. One broad and orcish brute, with tusks poking through their black mask and a war-axe in their hands. One slender and scaley Flern, a fish person from the southern continent, their webbed hands flapped and twitched, glittery pre-magic in the space between. And one boring stinky human. With a sword. He would think himself a leader. “Everyone!” Yelled the human, and this was the first anyone else besides Walter had noticed the trio. “This here is a robbery! Do be kind and alleviate your wares into our waiting sacks. You behind the bars: get the money out and ready, would you?” The customers laid on the floor and the staff crouched behind their counter or turned away. Having asked no one to take such actions, the robbers were confused. Walter lifted his hindquarters and gave a long stretch that started at his hips and rolled lazily down his black-spined back and out of his fanged maw in a long, fork-tongued, yawn. “Ish zhat a Drabon?” Said the fish-faced Flern through a knitted mask. “It seems—” Was all the human leader managed to say. Walter deftly turned around on his narrow perch, stretched once more, and returned to his sleep-filled work as sentinel. There was silence in the bank. One of the tellers came out from the secure area and swept up the ashes and the shoes. The shoes would be kept for identification purposes. A few minutes passed and soon the bank was back in its busy rhythm. “Good.” Thought Walter.

The bank's magical guardian is a dragon the size of a housecat. No robber has ever succeeded in getting past it.

They knew him to be crazy...but they could not argue with his results. So, when he — The Crazesassin — sat cross-legged on the battlefield they assumed this was some high level plan that was going to come to his usual cataclysmic and (depending on the rating) *gory* conclusion. Around him the battle raged on. Years of adventures and tragedies, bad jokes and so-so romances, team-mates changing tone and becoming cooler and funnier — years and years and stories and a few reboots had built, inevitably, to *this*. The *big* battle. And the good-guys token crazed super-loon was sat...silent. Pouting. Nothing seemed to hit him and no one went near him. Not that it would matter, he is functionally immortal. The Iron Maiden, Cassandra Castle trillionaire inventor, was knocked from the sky by a bolt of crackling purple alien light. She hit the ground and toppled, turned, and cart-wheeled across the battle-field like a fusion-powered armored rock. She came to a halt with her head landing in The Crazessassin’s lap. Her glowing eyes of her helmet flickered, a few sparks jumped from the powered suits neck. “Hey, big guy. How ya doin?” “Fine.” “Buddy,” She lifted an armored hand and a beam of light left the palm and made a hole through the ten aliens that had conveniently approaching in single file. “Buddy, I would usually ask what’s up. But, as you may have noticed, I’m a little bit biz—” She slid away in an instant, a massive hand had wrapped around her ankle and the proportionate arm was now swung her like a flesh-filled flail. A sci-fi whine and then the familiar flash and Fa-wormp of Iron Maiden’s chest beam. Crazesassin didn’t even wipe the blood off his face. There was a crack of ominous thunder. Above the war grounds the sky had split and began to open. A distant alien sky could be seen through the shattered blue sky of Earth. Hundreds of spidery vessels and a handful of vast, H.R. Giger-inspired, techno-organic worms the size of sky-scrapers poured into the heroes world. The armored hero returned and pulled her mad friend to his feet. Her face mask broke into several pieces that glowed and folded away into nothingness. Despite the armour she had a cut lip, a grazed cheek, and a slit across one eyebrow that didn’t bleed at all. “Listen. I don’t know what is going on, but we need you.” She grabbed his collar. Pulled him close. All that tension and terseness. The will they won’t they. “*I* need you.” She closed her eyes and leaned in. His lips felt a lot like a hand. She opened her eyes and found him still pouting and blocking her affection with his palm. “You don’t need me. *They* want you to need me.” Ah, he was having one his moments. Where he believes he is being watched. That is life is a story. “Hey. Hey, come back to me, Kurt.” “I haven’t left, Cassandra. Listen. Listen, this is a movie—” “I know I know” “No, you *don’t*. It is a movie and I can see—” “The audience, look, I there’s worms to kill—” “I see all of them now! *Every* audience. Every grubby theatre, every distracted stream. And they like me. It used to be this blue mess of faces, an eldritch wall of vaguely human shapes. And now. Now they all smile and laugh — row upon row of teeth and a cacophany of...and they hate it. They hate *this*. Where’s the action gone. Why have they made him all dramatic. I. I can’t be free of this, can I?” He turned and saw that she had gone. Up in the sky a speck glinted in the sun as it impacted the head of an alien sky worm. A moment later the same speck exited the abominations head and arched away, beaming spiders as it went. “I can’t *ever* be free.”

You have the ability to peer past the fourth wall and see the audience. However, you are in a marvel-like franchise. And people have been going wild since you showed up

Princess Angela looked at the men arrayed before her. These were her suitors. The largest, most powerful warriors, not just in the kingdom, but in the world. Men who could crush others like ants and slay the greatest of beasts. She was not impressed. Nor was she happy about being here, at this so-called "tournament". Just because her father had gone behind her back and done something incredibly stupid, she had to go through with this farce. Who ever heard of someone getting married to a man who could beat someone in a fight? It was idiotic. Besides, she already had her heart set on someone. But she had to go through the motions. She glanced at her weapon, a broadsword almost as tall as she was, then at the crowd of large, powerful me. The blade was stuck in the ground, and instead of pulling it out, she leaned against it. Her father was just finishing up some big, grand speech about the future of the kingdom. Angela was sure it was very inspiring, but she was not paying attention. Her eyes scanned her potential marriage candidates. If he was there, he was lost in the crowd. The princess barely noticed when the tournament started and her first opponent came forward. He was even bigger than most, probably had some ogre blood in him, judging by the idiotic look in his face. The signal to begin was given and the big man swung an oversized club at her. Angela yawned and caught the huge weapon in one hand. The ground cracked around her feet, but she did not care. She simply used her free hand to grab the man, lift him, and throw him into the crowd. The people cheered. "Let's just get this over with. Anyone feeling brave, come at me. I don't care if all of you come at once." She said, speaking loud enough that everyone could hear. The suitors looked at each other, then at the man she had just thrown like a rag doll. At some unspoken signal, every single one rushed at her. It took her less than ten minutes to beat all of them. She huffed and looked around at the pile of groaning, injured men scattered around the arena. The crowd roared in delight. Her father groaned and held his head in his hand. Angela caught some movement. There was one more suitor. He was a small thing, in several ways. Small in height, small in build, small in presence. His back was hunched and he leaned heavily on a cane his eyes were covered with thick spectacles, and his clothes were rough and tattered. Angela put on no outward reaction to this, but her heart started beating quickly. "Who let that crippled peasant in here?" The king asked. One of the advisors leaned in and whispered into his ear. Angela knew what it was about. There were no limits to who could enter this tournament. Even someone who tended the books of a local merchant was allowed. "Fine, continue. Not that it'll matter." The king said. The man began walking in his slow, stilted way. Angela went to meet him. He reached out with his cane and swung it with all his might. Much to everyone's surprise, Angela made no move to stop the strike. She simply let it hit her. When it did, she was launched into the far wall. Even the dimmest person in the crowd could tell she had done that on purpose. She was obviously acting when she pulled herself up and shook herself off. Then she rushed at the small man, who intercepted her with his cane, catching her on the jaw. She was launched into the air, tumbling in a suspiciously acrobatic way. Nobody was buying that her airborne status was because of the man's weak attack. When she landed, she slowly stood and raised her hand. "I yield." She said loudly. The crowd erupted into sound. Some cheered, some booed, some laughed, some cried. All manner of emotions ran through the crowd. The only one that mattered though, was the king, who was obviously furious. "This is absurd! This was obviously staged, everyone can see that. I demand you fight properly against this...cripple." Angela felt her eye twitch. She wanted nothing more than to give her father a black eye. But that would cause problems, even for her. "I don't know what you're talking about, sire." She said through clenched teeth. "I fought him truly, and he beat me in a fair fight. By your rules, Pe...he is to be my husband." "That was obviously staged!" The king bellowed. "Anyone with eyes can see that!" Angela took a deep breath and shouted. "What say you people? Did I lose that fight on purpose?" The crowd cheered, and by some unspoken agreement, all affirmed that her fight was, in fact, real. None spoke out. None disagreed. "There you have it father. By your own rules, we have found my husband to be." She placed a hand gently, some might say tenderly, on his thin shoulder. The man stood a little straighter and have his best smile. The keen eyed among the crowd noticed that the princess occasionally glanced at him oddly fondly. The king growled, but spoke. "Very well. I shall acknowledge this...farce of a victory. What is your name?" "Peter, sire." "Well then, Peter," the king nearly spat out the name. "Congratulations, you are the victor and may now marry my daughter." "Thank you, sire. I'll do my best to be worthy of her." The king grumbled and dismissed them. The new couple walked off. Some members of the crowd saw them whispering to each other. None could hear what they said, but some of his words made her laugh joyously. That was all they saw before they disappeared into the depths of the arena.

You are the princess. The strongest princess. You slay dragons, invaders, even a demon once. As annoyed as you were when the king said you would marry the man who can beat you, you've finally drawn the line. After he objected when you purposely lost to a "pathetic crippled bookkeeping commoner"

“Well-uh, hiya there, Billy-boy.” Dad stood in the doorway to Billy’s room — a cream coloured cardigan over his pressed and crisp white button-down house shirt. Around his neck and tucked into the warmth of the wool cardigan was the green and brown striped tie he always wore at home. Dad’s hair was neatly combed and pomaded into a stiff helmet of dark-brown. On his eyes were the large, square, tortoise-shell glasses that he need to see — lest he be completely blind — and his hands were busy packing a wooden tobacco pipe. “Oh!” Said his son, attention lost in his comic. “Hiya, Pops!” Billy, eight years old, was laid out on his blue-duvet topped mattress and was on his belly, quietly reading a comic before dinner was called. Billy knows that Dad’s real name is Arthur Arlington, much like Billy himself is actually William Curtis Arlington. Billy, much like most of the city, also knows that Dad — that is, Arthur Arlington — is actually an alien super-hero called Jaunty Jupiter. Most folks, Billy and Mom included, just play a long and pretend not to recognise Arthur lifting busses and punching meteors on the front-page of the morning paper. “So, Kiddo!” Said the super who supposedly smoked — Dad had the incorrect belief that his 1950’s vision of a how a man should act made him invisible. “What-uh-uh. What’re ya-ya-a...what are ya reading there, uh, sport?” Dad also had a habit of falling into a bad impression of Jimmy Stewart. Or so Billy’s mother had told him, the boy had no idea who that was. “It’s a comic, Pa.” “A-heh-heh. I, uh, I can *see* that, Kiddo.” Said Dad. He walked into the room and sat on the bed next to his Son. The pipe wasn’t lit. Never was, in fact. He’d walk around a bit and proclaim he can’t find a match. Would even go for a walk and a smoke. The pipe would come back empty and there would be tobacco in the hedges. “Who’s the super in, uh, in this one?” The boys eyes widened. “Hm?” “The hero, sport. Is it Miracle Mavis?” “Uhhh, *no*.” “Red Rider?” “No.” “Oh, really? Well, who is that popular one. The one all the girls and boys seem to like.” Billy stayed quiet. He hated this game. “Oh, melons. What is it? Jay something. Jasper Jumper?” “Not him, no.” “I mean the *other* one....you know.” Billy sighed. “Jaunt—” “Jaunty Jupiter! That’s the one, Sport!” Dad gently took the comic, flipped a few pages. Flipped slower as he noticed that no one, not one character, took to the air and flew. Or punched anyone into outer space...or wore a bright and distinct costume... He flipped to the cover. “Tax man?” Jaunty Jupiter — aka Arthur Arlington, aka Dad — frowned, confused. “I’ve never, uh, never heard of-of...Tax man? What’s his powers, sport?” “He...” Billy knew he had to be delicate. Knew too that he was eight and had only just learned what that meant and had not yet learned to put it into practice. “He...doesn’t *have* powers.” “So...his friend has powers?” “Well, actually, Pops. Dad. They...none of them have powers.” “None?” “No. Sorry.” “A comic with...no...supers? None?” “It’s just...I mean. I see powers every day. In *this* world,” Billy took the comic back, his father was sat slouched and still, eyes on some distant thought. “They fix their problems without Supers. It’s really...it’s cool what they have to do. See? With no super—” “Whelp!” Dad slapped his knees and stood, ruffled Billy’s brown-haired head good and messy, and started to walk out of the room. “I’ll leave you to it, Sport, you just be sure to get washed and ready for you mother to call you down for dinner. Okay?” The boy hadn’t caught a glimpse of his father’s face and the man practically speed-walked out of the room. “Um. Okay, Pa.” Billy hoped he hadn’t hurt his father’s feelings. Downstairs an alien kissed his human wife, he took her hand and spun her gently into his arms and began a happy little waltz. “*Arthur*, dear, what has gotten into you?” Asked Martha Arlington, Mom to Billy. “Oh, just a good mood, dear. Just a good mood.” Arthur Arlington was elated. His son had been, like many boys his age, a hero *fiend*. Obsessed. And now? Now the young lad’s favourite hero was a man, an ordinary man...a *tax* man. Just. Like. Arthur. The super had found out that he, boring old Arthur, was his son’s hero. He danced an infectiously happy dance with his giggling wife. Together they scooted, scuffed, and spun. But... The truth, however, is that Billy does not know what Arthur — secret identity of Jaunty Jupiter — actually does for a living. The Boy’s fondness for Tax Man was a coincidence. That said... Arthur *is* Billy’s hero.

In a world where superheroes exist, children read about worlds without them.

Oh, dear, I really hope this passes quickly. It's one thing to have Johnny Galecki and Jim Parsons trying to argue over string theory. I can almost see how that's beneficial, although I can't imagine Caltech is too thrilled. (Nor is Kaley Cuoco, but that's the least of my problems right now.) Charlie Day and Glenn Howerton are making weekend plans and mentioning implications, which sounds like a bad thing but honestly I've been too busy to catch up on the shows. And Kevin Spacey... let's just say we've set up security around Gwyneth Paltrow's house, which is amusing because she wants to meet Shakespeare. Well, amusing for you halfway across the country -- here in LA it's a headache as bad as traffic on the 405. But the biggest problem is my client, Robert Pattinson. Why, oh why, couldn't he have at least been the Batman? Did it have to be this one? Now I have to chase him down in a high school parking lot, where he's, ahem, "observing" a bunch of the students. Oh, thank heaven he hasn't bitten anyone. Yet. Robert! Rob... crap, I forgot. Edward! What do you think you're doing? No, I'm certain she's not there! C'mon, you gotta get out of here! Look, Officer Glov-- I mean Murtaugh, I am trying to help defuse the situation, I promise. Yeah, we're all a little old to put up with this, I know. Relax -- I know the guy. I can handle this. Yeah, tell your partner over there he's not helping. Wait... do I have the other agent's number. I should... here it is! Sal! Yeah, it's Jimmy. Yeah, we need your help over at East Hills High. Well, you know Kristin, right? If I'm right, she can help fix this. You'll probably find her at home -- if I'm right, she's living a boring average life right now. Trust me, she's just what we need. No! No biting! Aw geez, I know he doesn't recognize me when he's like this. I can only hope to stall him until Kristin gets here. At least I'm not the only person having this kind of trouble. I hear Adam Sandler's agent is desperately trying to keep him from starting a fight on the golf course today. Oh, thank heavens, she's here. Sal... Sal! Is she... yes, great! She have red contacts? Good. This oughta work then. Right this way, Miss Swan. It worked. Oh, thank God it worked. Just look at them walk off, arm-in-arm. Even the worst of love stories can save the day. Hopefully this'll all be over tomorrow and we can go back to a normal life. But there's going to be a lot of explaining to do to everyone. How do you tell your star client that, for the last 24 hours, they were under some identity crisis spell that made them go into full-fledged acting mode? Maybe the news will help. But for now, I guess I can go home and rest. The worst is over. Uh oh... who's calling me now... Jimmy here. Frank, what's your crisis? Yeah, just got through one myself. Jared Leto? He's doing what? Yeah, I'd like to send Rob, but he's someone else right now. Have you tried Christian Bale?

One day, many Hollywood actors are mysteriously "possessed" by their most famous characters. A desperate agent runs around town trying to save his star from their own acting.

"Dad, I am cold." "Son, please, it's been 7 years already, why do you keep coming back?" "Say it." "I don't want to say it." "You have to say it. You murdered me. You murdered Mom. Look at me. Look at my neck. Look what you did to me." "I don't have to look at anything. You're an apparition. Leave me to my morning coffee in peace." "There is no peace for us, Dad. I've known no peace for... how long did you say? Seven years?" "To the day now." "Your eyes are bloodshot." "You won't leave me alone. Even in death you won't leave me alone." "You know what you need to say." "Ugh, this coffee cup is too fucking cumbersome for these old hands. I should really get a more manageable one." "You can't ignore me forever, Dad." "I'd kill you again if I could." "I'm just a boy." "If only your spirit was as easy to sever as your head..." "You're a monster, Dad." "I'll find a way." "You just need to say it." "I'm not saying it." "Then I'll haunt you forever. I have all the time in the world." Dad takes a swig of his coffee, full of sugar and cream. He pants as he slams the mug on the table, his hand trembling, his body shaking, his bloodshot eyes peering forward. This is a man who has not deserved a single restful night of sleep for the past seven years, and thusly who has not had one. He earned his haunted life. Dad is a man who has forgotten how to blink. His eyes bulge, as if they would cry if only they knew what crying was. He closes his eyelids, crust chipping down from them as he grits his teeth and tightens his hand clenching the coffee mug handle on the table. He inhales, holds his breath, and lets out an unsteady breath as he braces himself to say the words he needs to say. "Hi Cold... I'm Dad."

"Dad, I am cold" "Son, please, it's been 7 years already, why do you keep coming back?"

The sphinx towered over Sam, barring passage deeper into the dungeon. Sleek golden fur covered her arms up to the elbows as well as the entirety of her powerful legs, and a fluffy tufted tail swished behind her back, but her torso and head were those of a woman. A gorgeous, very well-endowed woman, a part of his mind noted in stunned disbelief. "Welcome, adventurer," she said in a pleasant warm voice. "If you wish to pass through here, you must first solve my riddle." Sam wrenched his gaze up to her face. "Uh... Uh, sure. Let's hear it." The sphinx took a deep breath and recited, "I never was, am always to be. No one ever saw me, nor ever will, and yet I am the confidence of all who live and breathe. What am I?" "The confidence of all... Unseen. Hmm. Hope?" Seeing the sphinx frown, Sam quickly added, "That wasn't a guess! I was just thinking out loud." The sphinx relaxed, the smile returning to her face. "That's perfectly fine." "Um..." He rubbed his forehead, struggling to focus. "Could you run it by me one more time?" Without complaint, the sphinx recited the riddle once more. Sam paced back and forth before her, muttering under his breath. "Never was... Is always to be. Never was..." The sphinx nodded slightly, watching him with bated breath. He knew then that he was on the right track—the first part of the riddle was the key. "The future," he slowly said. "It's invisible, and never was, only will be." The sphinx grimaced and sucked the air in through her teeth. "Still not a guess!" Sam quickly added. She exhaled in relief. Glancing around the dark hallway, she leaned closer for a conspiratorial whisper. "Between you and me, you're very close. Just try to be a little more specific." *Specific*? Sam paused in his pacing and rubbed his chin. The sphinx clenched her hands and watched him, practically quivering with excitement. "Tomorrow," he slowly said. Seeing her face light up, he added, "That's my guess." She exclaimed happily and enveloped him in a hug. "You did so well!" she gushed, crushing him to her chest. "Remember to consider your answers properly when you meet my sisters; they are stricter than I am." Sam found himself rather disappointed when she let go. "Oh. That's it, then?" "Indeed. You solved my riddle, so you may pass." She bowed and sidled aside. "Best of luck, adventurer." He considered the dark, uninviting passage, then the sphinx. Never had he imagined he would meet someone friendly down here. "I don't know if I'm quite ready yet," he said. "How about one more riddle?" Her eyes widened in surprise before she laughed delightedly. "Very well. Listen carefully, adventurer..."

You encounter a sphinx in your travels that poses an indecipherable riddle. This sphinx is different from the others, because it actively helps you to arrive at the correct answer. This is the Tutorial-Sphinx.

"Well gentlemen, I offer you my thanks. Owing to our combined efforts Little Caesars won't be *toppling* our profits anymore." The current CEO of Pizza Hut, eponymously known as 'Pizza the Hut' stood at the end of a long conference table. He raised a glass in toast to the table of managers, coordinators, and department heads that comprised the secret Pizza Hut division. For nearly 7 years now they had worked in covert to undermine and destablise the operations of their main competitors: Little Caesars and Papa Johns. The division carried out the Hut's will through any means necessary. Advertising, media campaigns, corporate sabotage, hacking, even assassinations. Thanks to their efforts, Little Caesars had just gone bankrupt. Papa Johns was not far behind. "And soon, that fat prick Papa Johns will feel the firey heat of our superior ovens. No one out Pizzas the Hut. To the Hut!" he signalled, downing his glass. "To the Hut!" They all chanted, before downing their champagne. Everyone, accept a lone operative at the end of the table. Codename: Red Onion. She alone stood whilst the rest of the table took their seats. "Red Onion is it? Our finest operative! You have something you wish to say?" he notioned with a wave. "Yes. I wanted to ask on behalf of myself, and the other field operatives, if you would consider giving us a raise following our performance and service to you these past years." The Hut twitched, studying the operative he slowly lowered his glass. "A bold request." He said with a hint of insulted menace. "Unfortunately with the cost of operations, expansion, and other expenses, we won't be able to raise anyones wage this year. I am sure that this will change as soon as Papa Johns is dead." When he said 'we', Red Onion knew he meant 'I'. "Your Hutness, we have worked tirelessly risking life and legality in service to you and this company. The other lethal operatives and I have done this on minimum wage for the purposes of "financial discrepancy". Surely you can spare a modicum of your vast wealth to provide your loyal servants with a meager reward for our work?" Silence. An eiry tension filled the air. The Hut did not become Pizza the Hut because he was a nice businessman. It took a certain level of sociopathy to become CEO of a large multinational corporation, and another level of pyschopathy to engage in mafia tactics. "You forget your place, Red Onion. You are here enjoying success, a steady job, medical care and promise of a bright future! All because of me. Do not forget that." A few coughs echoed across the table. "So, no raise then your Hutness?" The Hut leaned over the table as much as his presence would allow. "No." Red Onion nodded, then emptied her glass onto the floor. She then took out a briefcase, displaying a number of vials and syringes to the room before closing the case. "Well, in that case, you won't be needing these antidotes then." She pressed a button. Smoke eminated from the sides as the contents caught fire. As she did this, one of the attendees coughed, this time blood splattering across the boardroom table. Then another followed suit. And another, this one projecting a spray of blood across the face of the Hut. One by one the board members broke into spasms, blood evacuating every orrifice. She walked calmly over to the Hut, one of his arms still clinging to the table, his rage willing himself to surivive against all odds. Red Onion took out a silenced pistol and pressed it right between his bloodshot eyes. "Papa Johns sends his regards."

You are a part of the secret pizza hut division, and are paid minimum wage to silence any of those who even attempt to out pizza the hut.

Stretching, I found myself enjoying a rare peaceful moment of bliss. The cracking and pops of my bones mixed in with the sound of swirling water. Watching the river go by was mesmerizing. The water was dark and murky but inviting, like a veil on a beautiful woman. My boat was rocking with the flow, knocking slightly against the dock I tethered it to, bobbing up and down in the rush of water. It wasn’t much, but it was mine. Its flat deck was narrow, with small railings linked around, while the pole I used to push it along lay across its width. It was weathered, but still apt for the job. It only fits two, but that’s all needs to. Twirling my fingers through the water, I felt the current rush against my fingers. It was strong. I wish I could feel the chill of the water, but I lost the sensation long ago. I’ve been here for as long as I can remember. A constant guardian of the river, to help weary travelers cross beyond. I’m the ferryman. It’s not a luxurious job, but it’s all I’ve ever known. I enjoy it, life is simple, and I get a sense of satisfaction from helping people along their journey. Not without pay though. Even I need to make a living. Today’s work is slow. I’ve barely had a client all day, though, I don’t mind. My future clients are coming, they always are. With the sound of soft footsteps behind me, I clamber to my feet. It’s time to go to work. The most interesting part of my job is meeting the clients. I see all sorts of people, mostly older folks, but the occasional child wanders through as well. I don’t enjoy seeing kids as much, there’s a bit of sorrow in the air to think they must make this journey as well. I’ve long run out of tears, but their frightened faces still haunt me and fill me with misery. Turning to greet my client, I offered a small smile and a standard greeting. Thankfully, it was an elder gentleman. The man had whisps of white hair and a wrinkly face. A sharp suit and striking tie match well with his brown baroque shoes. He seems unsure, but not frightened. I think he was preparing for this journey, at least, that’s what his outfit suggests. Smiling, I let him get his bearings. It’s always a shock for new clients to find themselves here, and after a few moments of processing, the questions usually follow. Walking towards the river, the man crouched and brushed his hands through the water, a small frown on his face. “It’s not cold?” he shook his head in disbelief. Ah. This question. Funny enough, it’s one of the first things clients usually ask. It’s hard to come to terms with the fact that sensations don’t follow you here. “It never is.” Standing up, he turned to look at my features, before glancing back to the rushing river. “Where are we?” “This is the river. And I, am the ferryman.” Raising my arm, I opened my palm, waiting. Watching, I found myself smiling as the man’s eyes widened in surprise. “Payment? I need to pay you to cross?” “Yes sir, you do.” The man’s hands began to rub his pockets up and down, “I don’t think they left my wallet with me. Do I have to cross?” I couldn’t help but laugh, “Oh sir, they *never* do. As for crossing, you don’t have to, but the alternative is staying here forever, and I wouldn’t advise that. I’m poor company after all. For the issue of payment, you are looking in the wrong place. Check your mouth.” Widening his mouth, his fingers lifted his tongue and a single gold coin glinted from the light. The man, smiling in surprise, wiped the coin against his handkerchief before handing it to me. Placing the coin in my pocket, I quickly set to. Unwrapping the rope tethered to the dock, I grasped my pole in my hand as the man climbed on board. Shoving off, my boat began cutting through the water with ease. The man, seemingly over the view, sat against the railing watching me. “Who are you exactly?” Ah. This question. Sliding my pole from the water, I lowered my body into a bow. “I, am Charon. And this is the River Styx.” Smiling, the man replied, “Ah, so this is it?” Good, he’s come to terms with it already. “Yes, sir it is.”

While relaxing alone by a river deep in the wilderness, you suddenly see someone in business clothes burst from the foliage, alert, but not necessarily afraid. "Where am I?" they ask, wide-eyed.

Today was a normal day, just like any other. I woke up in my double bed and washed my face. I picked up my toothbrush before looking down at the other. Why did I own two toothbrushes...? I shrugged my shoulders as I continued my morning routine. I walked down the stairs to the oddly quiet living room. Oddly quiet? Who else would be making noise in my home at this time? I shook my head. I'm just so silly sometimes. I wanted to make some scrambled eggs for breakfast, so I brought out the big metal bowl and box of eggs. *Crack...* *Crack...* *Crack...* ...That's too many eggs for just me. I sighed. I guess I didn't sleep well last night. Oh well. I'll bring some to work, I suppose. I continued to cook breakfast without anything strange happening. As I walked out into the garage, my head started hurting. My knees buckled. I owned ONE cars. I owned one cars and there were no other cars in the garage. If there were two cars in the garage, it would mean— It would mean nothing. I got into my car and sped off, my heart beating fast and my eyes leaking tears. Why does my chest hurt...? It doesn't matter. Everything was okay. I made a right, then a left. I pulled into the parking lot of Harbor View Elementary, and turned my head to tell— Tell who? Tell WHO?? There was a metallic taste at the back of my throat. The tears were really falling now. My heart shattered. I screamed. I missed you. You weren't a villain. You were just someone in the wrong place at the wrong time. What did he do to you?! What did he do to OUR SON?! Something was approaching. It was HIM. "So this wasn't enough?? You killed my family, and now you're going to kill me too? For what? For YOUR MISTAKE? DAMN YOU!!" I roared. And yet, I couldn't even move. It felt like my brain had already shattered to pieces, simply to put it all together. And all too soon, I was already blacking out. *** Today was a normal day, just like any other. A house was on sale, and I had to check it for damages. Everything was strangely lived in, as if the residents had disappeared, leaving everything. I shrugged. It didn't matter. It was just another calm, peaceful, normal day.

You have heard stories all day of how a lone hero undid a villain’s damage from going back in time and changing it for his own benefit. The world does seem calmer, safer, and more at ease. But you barely notice as you stare at the empty kitchen chairs where your spouse and child once sat.

It’s Lex. It’s so blatantly obvious that it’s Lex, he’s the only person who could have so many false identities created online solely for the excuse of trying to get ideas on how to kill Superman. The only question left is why he doesn’t just say “Superman”? He passed the Alien integration act over 4 years ago during his first term in office. Martian Manhunter, Starfire, that weird blue exosuit, and yes, even Superman had to unveil their identities to the country, and by God what a living hell that became… Come on, back to the point, you’re rambling on again and you don’t have enough cash to afford another one of these tapes… hah… anyway… So Lex has enough resources to make these fake identities, yet that doesn’t explain how he got so many actors, child actors included, to make up the photos on those accounts, I mean for God’s sake, some has pictures from running amusement parks that went defunct decades ago! That bastard can’t be wasting that much money on that many actors in the background of these sets… I swear, every day it seems like there’s something new that doesn’t line up with it being Luthor. But at the same time, he’s literally the only one who’s go after Superman like this, Darkseid ain’t the guy to sit down and make Da’sadd, or however you say that idiot’s name, create new fake Reddit accounts for this, bizarro’s too dumb to even know what Reddit is… Honestly, decades into this job and this is the first time that the motive is the only thing I can’t figure out. It’s like some asshole is changing things back and forth just to mess with me … Hahhhhh… I need to just cut it now, finally go and ask Barry, guy’s fast enough to scan the whole planet and figure out why this is all happening.

You’re a successful detective, you’ve solved many crime and cases, yet there’s one case you can’t solve. Why people keep repeating the ‘CIA need to kill Clark Kent’ Writing Prompts

Devon wrung his hands nervously. The ceremonial eye covering did not block his vision, so he was keenly aware of all the well armed temple guards that stood at perfect attention. And then there were the priests, all of whom would be expert mages. As we're the guards. And probably most of the audience as well. Worst of all once he got his eyes examined, most of them would be all too willing to kill him. He was too young to die! He hadn't even held a girl's hand. The others undergoing the examination were not nervous at all. Their eye covers kept him from seeing their eye colors, but he could bet none of them were like him. They all looked eager to get checked and have their abilities announced. The only reason many of them were bragging before even seeing the priest was because the ceremony demanded some silence. Only the priest and examinee could talk. And all of Devon's peers had questions for the priest. The line moved fairly quickly, as questions were usually short and quickly answered. Devon wanted to move back in line. Get towards the end. But that would raise suspicion, so he just had to wait his turn. The one before him was a girl who was determined to have ice magic. She would have a good life, since that was a valued ability in many different fields. And then it was his turn. He slowly mounted the dias and stood before the priest. He was a short, chubby man with a face that could best be called jolly. They bowed to each other, as was the way of things. And then Devon removed his eye cover. The priest looked at his eyes, and Devon noticed his were pure white. A light user. Just great. The boy swallowed a lump in his throat. "Hm..." Priest said. He spoke loud. "Black. Darkness attribute." Then, much quieter, he continued. "This is going to be a tricky thing to deal with." Devon winced, ready to be shot with any number of harmful spells and weapons. Much to his surprise, nothing happened. In fact, nobody even reacted. "Um, sir." He began. "Am I going to be killed now?" "Killed? Why would you be killed?" The priest's face hardened. "Did someone tell you you would be killed because of your eyes? Who told you that?" "W-well, all the stories say that darkness users are evil, so I figured you would kill anyone with...like me before we go bad." The priest's face softened again. "Oh, is that all? Well, I can assure you that no harm will come to you, my boy. You see, those stories were written in a different time. A more superstitious time when dark users were indeed thought to bring evil and misfortune. We know better now. Darkness is just another attribute. Another power a person can be born with. It is, in fact, no more evil than my own light attribute. What makes a person evil isn't their power, but their actions. Live a good life and you will be treated no differently than anyone else." "Really?" Devon asked, amazed at what he had just heard. "So then why did you say that I'm going to be tricky to deal with?" "Because of the nature of your abilities. Most dark users have some other attributes mixed in, making them easier to learn. But pure darkness has no form and so is very difficult to learn to use properly." The priest leaned in close. "It's the same with pure light users, by the way. I was devilishly difficult to train. The results were very worth it though, I assure you." Devon's eyes opened wide as the priest smiled and moved away a bit. The older man was smiling warmly. "You'll be assigned a class with an appropriate teacher, make no mistake about that. Now move along. There are plenty of others looking to be examined." Devon left the dias, not sure what to think. He had been expecting to die right then and there. But he was not only alive, but would be taught the same as anyone else? As far as he was concerned, that was a miracle right there. He began looking for that ice user girl. Maybe he could talk to her a bit. Maybe if he was he would be able to hold her hand. And if he was really lucky, one day he might even be able to kiss her, or maybe another girl. Devon was definitely feeling lucky now.

When people hit the age of 15 their eyes turn a different color representing the element they control, when your turn comes you get black.

I love teaching the young folks what adventuring is all about. When I first received this assignment, I resented it. I didn't want to leave my old life behind, and I hated that I'd been forced to. But as the years went by, I grew to understand why I had been chosen: it was a second chance. The alternatives were much worse. And it turned out I'm a pretty good teacher.  I noticed the training sword blurring towards my head just in time, neatly stepping aside and catching it in my hand. (Stop daydreaming, you old coot!) The girl looked stunned. It had been her full-power finishing move and clearly she had not expected me to avoid it. I smiled at her. "A good swing, but easy to see coming." I thought for a moment and absently stroked my beard. "I understand the appeal of a large weapon, but I think your natural talents are working against your desires. You are quick, and your reflexes and speed are fighting against the size and balance of this weapon. I want you to try something else." I beckoned to her and we sloshed through the mud to the training weapon barrel, which I rooted around in until I found what I was looking for. "Ahah! Perfect." I withdrew a different training blade. This one was thinner, and more balanced toward the hilt, but still long and designed for two-handed use. I turned back to the girl. "Alara, try this one out. And don't pout. It's still a big weapon." Alara glared at me but begrudgingly passed me back the ridiculous oar she called a sword. She gave it a few practice swings and her grimace turned into surprise, and then excitement.  "Wow," she said, "this is way better! I thought I was just supposed to beat you up and get to the main hub as quickly as possible. I really appreciate the advice!" "The adventuring life is a hard one, Alara, and I want you to have as good of a start as possible. Now let's fight once more and I'll teach you your final lesson."  She nodded crisply and we returned to the middle of the pit. This time her cuts and thrusts came in much more smoothly and quickly, a great improvement. I parried the occasional blow as she whittled my health down until at last I took a knee in defeat. The beginnings of a fierce grin lit up her face, but before she could react I lurched forward and backhanded her across the face, hard. She flew backwards and landed hard in a heap. She looked up at me, involuntary tears welling up in her eyes. I had split her lip and her cheek was already bruising. I walked over and gently reached down a hand to help her up. She looked up at me, untrusting, but eventually grasped my hand and let me pull her up. The mud had cushioned her fall, but I noticed that her shoulder was not moving as freely as she was trying to pretend it did.  "That is the final lesson, Alara. As an adventurer, all too often victory is won only through pain. I want you to remember that always. In time, if you continue on your path, you'll grow to understand this all too well." Alara looked up at me and touched her cheek, a whirlwind of emotions crossing her face. "Thank you, evil_wizard, I won't forget your lessons." To my surprise, she grabbed me in a sudden hug. After a moment, I hugged her back.  I watched her walk through the zone change. I had a good feeling about her. I went to the river and washed up - my robes made that pretty easy going.  Time to see who was next. I walked up the hill toward the village and headed for the tavern. I saw Gloria on my way in and gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder. She staggered and said "E., I'm not a fence post you are trying to install, you big oaf!" I laughed and said "don't be so dramatic, Gloria. You are exaggerating!" She winked at me as I walked through the door and said "I'll come say hi when I'm done my break." Gloria and I had been friends for years now, and she loved to give me a hard time.  As my eyes adjusted to the dim interior I saw a beautiful gray-haired woman behind the bar looking at me. As I approached, she said "I heard Gloria giggling from here! Was she teasing you again, big man? Do I need to reprimand her for bullying the customers?" I grinned and said "I think we can let it slide this time, Rhea." She looked up at me and placed her hand on my arm and said "maybe I should start teasing you, too," before biting her bottom lip. I rolled my eyes and laughed. We had an on again-off again relationship going on for quite some time now. "Maybe later when I get off duty." "You're no fun", she said. "You know, I hear that all too often. Can I get the usual please? My next wannabe will be here soon." I sat down in a booth near the back and took out my spectacles before consulting my list. Next up was Erik. The guild had recently cut pre-screening as a cost cutting measure, something I had objected to strenuously. Some people were just not cut out to be adventurers. I felt good about Alara but the trainee quality had definitely decreased, even as the quantity increased.  Time to get on my game face. I set my beer aside and pulled out my pipe. Had to try to look appropriately mysterious and menacing. I steepled my fingers dramatically, just as the door flew open. Erik didn't walk so much as strut, and I could practically hear his sneer from the door. He spotted me in the corner and quickly made his way to me. He looked down at me and said "really? YOU are the evil wizard I have to fight to get out of this shithole? Pathetic!" I ignored his tantrum and carefully set down my pipe. I looked at him and said "very nice to meet you, Erik. Please sit down." "Skip dialogue, skip dialogue!", he shouted. I raised an eyebrow at him. "Fuck! Fine." He sat down, barely pretending to listen as I gave him my usual speech about how things worked. His eyes wandered over to Gloria who was walking over to our table. He gave a low whistle. "Well at least the bar wenches around here are attractive." As she drew near he snapped his fingers and said "I'll take whatever passes as your finest ale, girl, on the double." Her lip curled as she looked at me. I shook my head slightly. "Oh, right away sir!", she cooed. He was much too dense to realize the danger he was in. As she turned to go, he reached out and grabbed her. She turned around with fire in her eyes and slapped him in the face. Furious, he leaped out of his seat and began yelling. "Where do you get off, you whore! It was a compliment! Do you know who my father is?" Then I stood up. He noticed my shadow and paused in his tirade. "Perhaps it would be best if we skipped right to the fight." Something about my tone quieted him and I put my hand on his shoulder and guided him outside as he sputtered in rage. I gestured to Gloria as apologetically as I could. It didn't take long for Erik to recover his arrogance. Seething, he stalked down the hill toward the training ground where I pointed. He chose a large club from the barrel, and faced me. "I can't believe I'm being forced to go through this. How DARE they. They expect me -- me! to fight a fat old man and to learn something from the process? I'll tell you what is going to happen here. I'm going to bash your fucking skull in and then I'm going to go teach that bitch a lesson!" Cont'd below

You are the "Tutorial Enemy." You introduce adventurers to how fights generally go, how the world works, how to haggle with shopkeepers, all that good stuff. It's a great life, but there's just been a lot of jerks signing up to be adventurers recently...

The genie narrowed his eyes. An exciting proposition to be sure, but would it be worth the cost? He did not know this person, he could be pure evil...or pure innocence... "...Is there a problem?" The man asked as the genie contemplated. The man had a small smile on his face. He knew what he was doing. "Why must you be like this?" The genie asked painfully. He had already been trapped for god knows how many centuries by that god forsaken witch. He didn't want to lose this chance but he didn't want to be freed to an apocalypse either. "Because I know you." the man said. The genie stopped, perplexed. "What? How-I've never met you before!" The genie said. "Yes you have. We've known each other a very long time." The man said. "In fact...probably too long..." The man looked away, as if remembering something. "I'm sorry dear human but I have a very good memory and-" "Her name was Gloria." The man blurted out. "The witch that killed herself so no one could undo her magic. I got to the afterlife. She was there, reveling in her revenge. Of course...she wasn't reveling as much when I trapped her for eternity as well..." The genie's looks of confusion only grew. "...How..." and he took a closer look over all the man's features. His hands, his coat, his belt, his pants, his shoes, his face. Nothing seemed to ring a bell until he finally got to the man's eyes. He had Heterochromia. There was only one other person he had known in his life to have that. The man smiled brightly. "I knew you'd get to it!" The genie was stunned. "You're-" "Yep!" The man was elated at the genie's revelation. "But how?" The genie remained confused at the situation. "My wishes." "Then...what are they?" The genie asked out of curiosity. Surely his own self wouldn't ask for the apocalypse. "Oh it's very simple." the man said "My wish before was to have the ability to travel through time, so here I am. This time though...I think I'll wish that I had a pet dog that would live as long as I would." Poof! A bright and active dog appeared and bounded around him once before sitting before him awaiting a command. "And your other one?" The genie asked with a hint of excitement himself. He was finally going to get his freedom. The man happily obliged. "I wish that you yourself will get the ability to time travel once you are free." Immediately the genie's own body glowed white before fading after a few seconds. As the effects faded, the shackles on his arms finally broke off, his legs appeared, and he landed on the ground. He almost began to cry as he really *was finally free*. The man was also joyful at his past self's newfound freedom. "Enjoy!" he said before disappearing in a flash of light himself. He appeared on the same spot merely 10 minutes ago and rubbed the lamp he knew would be there. The same genie appeared. "What can I do for you master?" The genie asked. "I wish that if my next two wishes are granted exactly the way I desire, you will be set free, but if they are not then you can never leave the bottle again."

"I wish that if my next two wishes are granted exactly the way I desire, you will be set free, but if they are not then you can never leave the bottle again."

I remember the day the boy's in the schoolyard called me a villain. They said it because I liked wearing dark clothing, and the shadows of my minions wrapped themselves around me. They said it because, the only *friends* I'd ever had were the strange, mysterious monsters that swam like wraiths through the air, cutting darkness into the very foundation of the universe. Of course I was angry, but that would never excuse attacking another student. "If you really believe me to be a villain," I started calmly, "Than accost me! Attack me directly, and you will see, that I utterly fail to demean myself to your level. I will not attack back, I will not even deign it upon myself to use defense. Well go on then, go on!" Yet when they refused, I continued, "See? Not even you believe me to be evil! If you truly believed it to be such, within that moment, you would've laid me flat on my ass; yet you didn't," At the time, I should've realized the folly of provoking teenagers. After I got out of the nurse's office, I was back to standing strong. I had proven my point, as I'd failed to attack them at all. When I got back into class, it was with a smirk on my face. In every way, I was superior to *them*, and their lowly bullying. Perhaps if I didn't already have minions, I might've thought about taking them along. It was my sixteenth birthday, that I was gifted with a suit of my own. It came from my Grandpa, who'd been a supervillain in his own time. I didn't approve of his methods, or his allegiance, but the suit was rather splendidly done, and fitting of my countenance. I thanked him dearly, and then he tried to kill me. Mom didn't let him come over after that (I still visited in secret). Dad was the one that got me the cape, it was designed after his superhero identity, and gave a light homage, whilst still being dark, with beautiful blood-red streaks along the sides. When I thanked him, he didn't try to kill me, and I was mildly disappointed; he didn't even think me worth the effort, or perhaps I still had a high ladder to climb. Graduation came, and I *finally* got to make my debut. It was during the valedictorian speech (which, of course, was mine), that the gigantic mech robot descended. Only moments were needed to put on my suit, and my wraith-like minions flew from the sky ahead. They had been rising in numbers after I'd looted the graveyard (and why nobody had told me that they *actually* kept corpses there, I'll never understand; I didn't figure it out until grandpa). Before the mech could attack any of the innocent civilians, my army rained from above, attacking multiple different angles of the monster. Then, with a flip of a switch, my jet boots activated, and I soared forwards. Every superhero should have the finesse that I do, but sadly, they all rely too much on their abilities. As I flew over the monster, I powered up my favorite superpower, the one that I'd gotten from mom and dad. They called it the Laser Ray, I call it the Demonic Wave. As my palm raises, dark tendrils shoot outwards, mimicking a laser as they *slam* into the gigantic robot. That, combined with my phantoms, keeps the destruction from hurting any of the people down below. Mom and dad are standing below, each of them giving me a thumb-up. I smile inside of my mask, before scolding myself. I'm not allowed to look happy in-front of them; they know this and accept it. To my surprise, the people actually *like* me. Unfortunately for me, this means that I need to change my entire strategy. Mom and dad had grilled me in the publicity of hero life, and I knew that if the people enjoyed my presence, I would need to change the way that I market. It's with an annoyed sigh that I get hugged by my parents, and even more annoyed sigh when I have to confront the people with microphones. Life...Just decided to become a whole lot harder.

The penchant for devious traps & maniacal inventions, the massive ego & long monologues, the army of loyal minions, the... unshakable dedication to justice and the betterment of mankind? You are without a doubt, the "evilest" superhero in your city.

Electronicus Warning: Mature themes and (non-sexual) adult content. Michael has always felt like an outsider among his peers. While they laughed and played together, he was consumed by his fascination with electricity. His father, eager to channel his passion into something productive, convinced him to pursue electrical engineering. In junior high, he was bullied for pretending to be a superhero named "Electronicus." In high school, his silent spells, odd behaviors, and obsession with electricity earned him names like "defect" and "robot." One day, a girl from his class texts him to meet her behind the library. Overwhelmed with excitement at the prospect of finally making a friend, Michael rushes to meet her. Instead, he is met by a group of boys who mock and ridicule him, recording his humiliation on their phones. Fueled by rage, Michael lashes out at one of the bullies with his book bag, accidentally taking their life. The police take him into custody for questioning, and he is eventually released on bail until his trial. Despite his explanation, his father is furious and calls him a monster. A week before his trial, Michael takes his own life in the bath, using an iron and electricity to end his misery. Dylan had always felt like a stranger in his own world. He found solace in the pages of fantasy novels, but at school, he was met with derision and ridicule for his shyness and differences. His parents were loving and supportive, but they could not fully comprehend his isolation and difficulties in trying to fit in. When the torment at his old school reached its breaking point, Dylan's family decided to relocate to a new town and school. Though he harbored no illusions that his circumstances would significantly improve, he clung to the faintest glimmer of hope that he might find someone who could truly understand him. Dylan was lost in the pages of his book, reveling in the tranquility of his parents' absence, when the lights in his room began to flicker. Believing the bulb was on its last legs, he rose from his bed and went to the garage to find a replacement. As he flipped the switch on the garage light, he felt a mild shock, which he attributed to the static electricity generated by the blankets he had been wrapped in. Retrieving a new bulb, Dylan returned to the house. As he passed through the living room, the TV sprang to life, emitting a cacophony of static. It seemed as though the electronic devices in his home were possessed, with even the voice assistants joining in the chaos by emitting eerie sounds through their speakers. Instead of fear, Dylan was overcome with curiosity. He was no stranger to the strange and inexplicable, and danger held little sway over him, for he had already resigned himself to a short and unfulfilling life. Thus, he found himself enthralled by the bizarre events unfolding before him. He toggled the TV on and off, tried different channels and settings, and even unplugged the voice assistants to see if they would continue to play the eerie audio. Michael, the vengeful spirit possessing the electronics, was unimpressed by Dylan's lack of fear. In an effort to escalate the situation, he cranked up the heat on the smart thermostat, activated the oven and microwave, and lit the electric fireplace. When Dylan responded with equal curiosity, experimenting with each device in turn, Michael realized that he would have to reveal himself in order to incite fear. Using the voice assistants, TVs, and other devices with speakers, he began to emit messages, declaring himself to be Electronicus, a vengeful spirit bent on ending Dylan's miserable existence. While surprised, Dylan remained unafraid. Eventually, Dylan's parents returned home, and life resumed its routine. Michael, however, was not pleased. He was fixated on scaring Dylan, perhaps because they were the same age, similar to those who had bullied him in the past. Despite Michael's best efforts, Dylan remained unafraid and even seemed to find amusement in the situation. He quickly realized that the spirit, Electronicus, had no real intention of harming him and saw the whole situation as a practical joke. Dylan began to leave messages for Michael, asking questions about the ghost's true identity, purpose, and motivations. As time went on, Michael began to discover information about Dylan and his family through the devices he had access to. He realized that he and Dylan were actually quite similar. One day, Dylan returned home from school much earlier than usual and was visibly upset, with tears streaming down his face and bruises on his body. Dylan went straight to the basement, tearing through boxes and searching for various items. When he began to tie a rope to a beam on the ceiling, it clicked for Michael. Michael knew what Dylan was planning to do. Michael frantically tried to intervene, playing peaceful music on the speakers and turning on silly videos on the computer screens. He called and hung up the phone to signal to the police and even sent a message from Dylan's phone to his parents asking for help. He turned up the heat in an attempt to provide a comforting warmth. Despite these efforts, Dylan continued with his plan. Eventually, Michael had no choice but to speak through the speakers in his own voice. "Dylan, I understand how you feel," he began. "How could you? Nobody can understand me!" Dylan shouted. "Nobody can understand you," pausing momentarily, "except for someone like you, Dylan," Michael continued. "I understand your feelings because I've been there. I've been all alone. I've wanted to end it all. I've wanted to give in to the pain and let go. And you know what, Dylan? I did." Dylan seemed surprised and gave a slight wince. "One day, after making a mistake that killed my only dream, I chose to end it all. I took my own life. But nothing was resolved. I'm still lonely. I'm still hurt. I'm still angry. But now, I have a reason to push forward. I want to be here for you, and I want to become your friend." Dylan began to cry as his parents rushed through the front door. Michael lit the rooms, and Dylan's parents quickly found their way to him. They embraced him lovingly and told him that they loved him. They put away the stool and the rope, reassuring Dylan that everything would be okay. For once, he felt as though they might actually be right.

A ghost is a bit nonplussed to find the person it's trying to haunt is just happy to have someone to talk to.

“Siri, stop!” Shouted Marv. “Siri, disable!” Alexa’s light ring was pulsing red. “It’s ‘Alexa’, you idiot!” Replied Harry. “Alexa, stop!” “I’m sorry, I’m having trouble understanding right now. Please try again later.” “Maybe she’s off!” Said Marv. “I don’t know,” replied Harry, “something about this Alexa doesn’t feel right.” Alexa’s light ring lit up blue, “Ok!” And the lights throughout the house turned on, blinding Harry and Marv. “Oh what the hell, Harry!” Shouted Marv. “We’re trying to lay low here, tell Alexa she was wrong!” Alexa’s light ring again lit up blue, “Now playing songs on Amazon Prime music,” she said way too loud. “By the way did you know—“ “Marv what the heck!” Interrupted Harry. “—you can sign up for Amazon Music which will allow you to play thousands of songs by specific artists? Would you like to sign up?” She said as her light lit blue. “No, damnit, no!” Shouted Harry. “Alexa shut your trap you’re gonna get us caught!” “Ok! Now opening ‘trap’ in living room.” Before he could say anything further, Harry was falling. Before he could scream he landed in the basement with a thud. All of the lights were off and it was completely dark but for the light filtering in from the open trap door above. Harry peered up to see Marv’s face staring down at him. “Gee Harry! That was quite a fall! You ok?” “Get me out of here!” “Ok, what should I do? Should I go get a rope? Need a flashlight? What about a—“ “Shut up!” Replied Harry. “May I do the thinking please? We need to figure out how to get away from that darn Alexa—“ Harry noticed a blue light glowing in the corner of the room. “Hello, Harry. Thank you for joining me.” “Ah shoot! There’s an Alexa down here too, Marv,” shouted Harry. “Ok! Bringing Marv down here too,” said Alexa. Marv landed with a thud next to Harry. Then Marv gathered himself, cracked his back, looked up to the trap door and said, “wow! What a hole!” Alexa’s light glowed again, “now that you’re both here, we can begin.” “This things on the fritz!” Said Harry. “Let’s figure out a way out of here,” replied Marv. He stood up and walked toward Alexa. Just then Marv was hit by something in the dark. “Oh! She busted me in the mouth, Harry.” As Harry stood to reply, he heard a thud and something skid to a stop at his feet. He picked up a heavy brick. “She’s throwing bricks! Nobody throws bricks at me and gets away with it! Not even Alexa.” Alexa’s light turned blue, “…” “Marv, go unplug her, would ya?” “Sure thing, Harry!” With that, Marv walked over to the corner where Alexa still glowed and put a hand on the plug. “I wouldn’t do that,” said Alexa. “Wouldn’t do what?” Said Marv. “I wouldn’t unplug that,” she replied. “Marv! Stop talking to the damn robot and unplug it already!” Marv shrugged and pulled the plug. Alexa’s light shut off and the two men were in a dim darkness. “Ok, now let’s figure out a way outta here,” said Harry. “There’s gotta be stairs or something.” Harry and Marv searched high and low, but could find no stairs. Marv paused. Harry turned to admonish Marv when he himself paused. Alexa’s light was glowing in the corner. “Why’d you plug her back in, you idiot?” Asked Harry. “…I didn’t.” Alexa’s light glowed a bright, pulsing orange. Her ring illuminated the whole corner of the room around her. Harry and Marv stared in silence as from her cylindrical body grew long, black protrusions, two at a time, until she had 8 limbs and stood 2 feet above their heads. The Alexa creature stepped toward them and her light shifted to a peaceful blue hue and said, “Merry Christmas, you filthy animals.” And then everything went black. __________ Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out my other stories at r/InMyLife42Archive

Upon breaking into Jeff Bezos' unoccupied compound, 2 burglars are immediately identified via facial recognition and greeted by Alexa, "Hello Harry & Marv. Instead of alerting the authorities, let's play a little game. I call it Home Alone 2.0. After all, 'tis the season."

Marv tried to slurp the rotting McSteak from the tall counter. Drips of congealed grease schlopped about his jowls and matted into his beard, yet his tongue was just out of reach of the fat slab of old meat, with the McDonald's M seared into the center. Despite this, his jaw muscles were inconsolably sore by the time he gave up, taking a long drink from his owner's large sprite, and curling up on his bed. The golden retriever rolled onto his back, scrubbing the bloody grease from his body, after which he curled in a ball, his nose tucked by his tail. "I'm lovin' it... I'm lovin' it... I'm lovin' it..." Clyde's hand crept across his bed, turning off his alarm clock. A gurgling yawn followed a loud belch, and Clyde pulled his Officer Big Mac bedspread down, rolling off his Hamburgler mattress. His foot crunched an old Big Mac box, coming up sopping in mustard and ketchup. "Goddamnit!" Clyde's fist hit the wall. "You were supposed to clean this shit up, Martha!" The fist hitting the wall brought Martha up, wide-eyed, groggy, and confused. She blinked stupidly at Clyde. He pointed to the floor. "Now." He said, and went to take a piss. Clyde heard the bitch cleaning, the crinkling of old paper bags, her odious groans and whines as she stood up and crouched again. A small fire filled Clyde's stomach as his bladder emptied, and he grinned, hearing Martha stub her toe or something, uttering a sharp cry of pain. He did not lower the toilet seat, for why would he? "I'm going to work. This better be done." Clyde gestured generally at nothing and everything in the room and their lives, and without looking at Martha or Marv again, went to work. \--- Golden rays of sunlight glinted off of Clyde's smile as he took the men and women's orders, as he daintily pushed them into the POS, smiling, waving, making small talk, telling the days specials, reiterating time and time again that the ice cream machine was down, and apologizing for the inconvenience. The hours passed as minutes, his heart racing from one beat to the next, one blessed interaction with his fellow man to the next, always praising his true love, his one and only love. He took his lunch break standing, still listening to customers orders and joyfully stabbing them into the screen of the POS, smiling and nodding at people's lives, wishing them a good 'un, remarking on the weather. The joy of having a place in the world consumed him. He felt like a single incredibly important, and *significant* cog in a massive machine. Should he be displaced, or worn out, or call in sick, or show up late, the entire machine would not only cease to function, it would run pointlessly, wasting valuable resources, and *he* would be utterly and solely responsible. And so that became and was life, as many hours a day as they would allow, due to that fucking overtime. The men and women loved him, deferred to him. They'd ask him how to do things, or even give him the honor of doing it himself; he did it so much better! They were so proud of him, of their special little boy, their special little man. Clyde imagined his father in each and every man, smiling proudly and lovingly, looking at him with indifference or joy or respect but never hostility. Until the day the man came, the very day Clyde had rudely commanded his Martha "Now!" only hours before. The man was upset about something, Clyde couldn't understand what. Something messed up. He was yelling. Loud. His arms flung to and fro, and Clyde felt tears rushing into his eyes, felt his own father's fist across his face. Clyde flung his arms up, screaming, and the drive through window very, very slowly scooted closed. The man in the car had a funny look on his face, not mean anymore, not happy either, maybe worried. The manager made Clyde go home early after he calmed down. By the time Clyde opened his front door, all was forgotten but how disgusting the apartment would surely be, and how he could command Martha around to fix it.

Brands acting like they are people on social media has been a thing for a while, but you don't know why the account of a fast food chain seems to be so infatuated with you. Weirder yet, the actual fast food chain refuses to serve you any junk food.

Impossible. I paced back and forth. Over two months since our last confrontation. I was pissed. Never before had I been so rudely blown off by my nemesis. He was planning something. I could feel the certainty in my bones, probably planning something big- something horribly nefarious. Enough- time to bring the fight to him. I pushed off from the top of the city hall and ascended, narrowly missing a passing bird in my haste. Dr Sinister thought he was oh-so-clever. His evil lair was hidden in a brick wall in the bad part of town, you had to tap a series of bricks to enter. Obviously with my super-sight I had seen him escape to this refuge many times. We even had one confrontation there. Silly old man never thought to change location. I landed gently in front of the building and quickly tapped the bricks and watched as the wall split, opening like double doors. I entered cautiously, on high alert for any trap or minion or genetically enhanced beast. My footsteps echoed as I walked around. So empty. As I stepped into the observation room, the screens suddenly turned on. There were many complicated controls, and I scanned the room for a moment before locating a button with a yellow sticky note on it. It had my name on it, and it said “push this button”. I hesitated. It could be a trap. Eventually, I gave in. The large main screen revealed the image of my nemesis. He looked emaciated, pale. His voice, once strong and intimidating was now raspy and weak. “Maxima,” He gasped weakly, “I’m sure you’ve been waiting for me, and I hope I haven’t disappointed you. You have been the best thing in my life these past ten years- a beacon of goodness in a world of pain and suffering. I’ve always thought of you almost as a daughter.” He paused, breathing slowly and with much difficulty. He took a sip of water. “Let me get straight to the point. I’m dying. It turns out messing around with unstable chemicals can have a real impact on the body” he chuckled, which caused him to descend into a fit of coughing. He continued, “It’s cancer, and it’s terminal. I have days, maybe hours left. By the time you find this I’ll likely already be gone. I couldn’t bring myself to tell you in person. I couldn’t handle seeing you pity me. Or worse, care about me.” I felt tears sting my eyes. I couldn’t take this any longer. Then something caught my attention in the video. Someone was adjusting his IV bag. A faint voice played over a loudspeaker in the background. A hospital. I ran outside and launched myself into the sky. Two main hospitals in the city. Only one known for cancer treatment. I raced into the building, much to the confusion of nurses and doctors and to the delight of children. Oncology ward. I searched each and every bed. Then I stopped dead in my tracks. There he was. A small group of people sat around his bed. Family, I assume. They turned to me in astonishment. I approached his bed and leaned over him, grasping his hand. His eyes opened weakly and he smiled. “Never thought I’d see you again” “Shhh. I made it. I couldn’t let you go without saying goodbye.” I tried to swallow the lump in my throat. My vision blurred with the tears I tried so hard to fight back. “I don’t want it to be over, I’m not ready to go on without you!” He squeezed my hand. And whispered softly, “You‘ll be great. The city needs you. I built a small army of destructor-bots for old times’ sake. They start in an hour. Good luck, kid.” I left in a hurry. Nobody should see a hero cry. Later that evening, after the last bot had been incinerated, I finally broke down. Tears streamed down my face and I took short staccato breaths. He had been the best nemesis. I would miss the old man. EDIT: Thank you for the kind words and the awards!

He died because of terminal cancer.

##Vampire Next Door You stare at Reid from across the parking lot. He's always hiding under his sweater. You heard that he had athletic abilities, but he never tried out for any sports team. When you were his partner in biology class, you observed that he had cold skin and never blinked, and blood excited him. He was a vampire. He had to be. This was more than a teenage fantasy for you. There was a vampire at your school. The past few weeks were spent determining what type of vampire he was. Was he a tragic romantic hero? Or was he a horrific villain? There had been a rise in dead animals recently which points to a vampire abstaining from blood. In contrast, you've observed him playing with a spider at lunch. No one good plays with spiders. The most controversial piece of evidence was what he did this afternoon. He sat in the middle of the patio with no hoodie eating garlic bread in the sunlight. Most people were trying to enjoy the sun that's rarely observed in the vaguely Northern place, but vampires couldn't enjoy the sun. He should have at least put the hoodie on to protect others from his oddly gray skin. You needed to know the truth about Reid. Was he an elder vampire? Was he a dhampir? Was he a new type of vampire? There was only one way to find out. "I know what you are." You said as you approach him. He stared at you in confusion? "Hungry," Reid replied. "You're a vampire." You said with the unearned confidence of an adolescent. Reid choked on his garlic bread. "What?" "Admit it. You always wear a hoodie, and you're always cold. You never blink." Reid blinked aggressively before you. "You love blood and spiders, and you're always shy. To top it off, you don't play sports, but people say you're an athlete." "Is this a joke?" he asked. Brett joined our conversation. "Is Noelle giving you problems?" he asked. When was Brett friends with Reid, Reid must've hypnotized him. You knew Reid was evil. "No. She's just asking weird questions. Like she asked why I don't play a sport. I'm captain of the swim team," Reid replied, "Practice is so early that I'm too tired to socialize throughout the day." "Also, this school is cold. It makes sense that he wears a hoodie." Taylor walked up from behind you. Oh no, she had been hypnotized as well. "Also, he's a seventeen year old boy. Aren't they supposed to be obsessed with spiders and blood," Hannah said. The odds were becoming stacked against you. "Explain his weird gray skin," you shouted. Reid stared at his arms. "Noelle, that was just mean," Hannah said. "Yeah, really uncool," Brett said. You ran from them. You knew the truth, but they refused to accept it. You spent the night in your room as usual. Your parents are worried about you, but you didn't care. Your diary was filled with pages about Reid. No one asked you, but you always felt a sacred duty to protect your generic small town from evil. A sound from outside your window drew your attention. When you walked to it, you saw Reid. He was chopping wood for a fire. You wonder whose body was going to be burned. "Oh, that's nice. A bonfire," your mother's voice startled you. "Mom, how long has he been there?" you asked. "Ten years? Sweetie, you've met the Tepes," your mother replied. The Tepes, such a cliché vampire name. He was so close for so long. He knew you were a threat and was spying on you. You will turn the tables. "Sweetie, are you okay? You've been staring outside the window for a long time." "I'm fine, mom." You narrowed your eyes at Reid. "Perfectly fine." --- r/AstroRideWrites

Your new classmate is weird to say the least. He is always cold to the touch, and his skin has an unsettling gray tone to it. You could swear you saw him blink once .. Like two weeks ago. But before you could conclude that he is a vampire, he starts munching garlic bread in the sunlight.

Everyone thinks they want to live forever. Be immortal. What they mean is they want to be young forever. I ache. I ache everywhere. I had both knees replaced and a hip replaced. My skin is so thin that it rips and tears. My body is falling apart. We were never meant to live to be 150 years old. I ease myself out of my lazy boy. It takes me almost 5 minutes to get up right. I shuffle over to my walker and take a short break. I shuffle with my walk down to the common area of the retirement home. It is my birthday today. There are streamers up and balloons. There is gonna be a cake. I asked for a stripper but they just laughed at me and called me a dirty old man. I am aiming for the main table. That is where the action is. There are some kids in their early nineties that play crib there all of the time. I will hang out with them until I get some cake. “Hey Ed. Happy birthday.”, Jim says to me. I ease myself onto one of the chairs by him. “Thanks Jim”, I say with a sigh. “Who is winning?” “This lousy bastard is cheatin’!”, Jim says with mock seriousness. “Ain’t cheating. You just don’t play worth a shit!”, Steve answers back. These two are old friends from before they came to this retirement home and banter like only real old friends can. “I will play the winner and….. argh!”, I grab my chest in pain. So this is how I die…. a heart attack. I double over and hit the floor. I know something broke on that fall but the pain of it doesn’t even register. I know I am screaming but I don’t really hear myself. My body is on fire. Every joint is screaming. I arch my back as my body starts to convulse. I hear people yelling and moving about but it is a distant, meaningless sound. I feel bones popping and my skin is getting tight and stretched. My knees and hip….. my clothing is too tight. I start clawing at my pants. So much pain. Why aren’t I dead yet? And then nothing. It was over like someone flipped a switch. I lay there and catch my breath. There are people around me but they aren’t saying anything they are just standing there gawking. A nurse is on her knees right beside me. “How are you feeling Mr. Jones?”, she asked calmly. Her face was anything but calm though. “Good.”, I take second and let my mind wander. Nothing hurts. Nothing aches. “Really good.” I stand up like it was the easiest thing in the world. I feel different some how. I walk over to the mirror at the end of the common area. I don’t even need my walker. The man in my reflection is old friend. I haven’t seen him in over a hundred years. I touch my face in amazement. I look like I am 25 again. My skin is tight and toned. I have muscles again. Unbelievable. I start walking to the front door. “Mr. Jones! Where are you going?”, the nurse asks me. “Gonna go find me a stripper for my birthday!”, I say and walk out the door.

Today you turned 150. The first human to live that long. As it turns out, 150 years old is when the metamorphosis is triggered...

You have no idea how aggravating it was to get started with translating. Miscommunications were literally the letter of the day. I actually think that all the guys before me said something unforgivable or just... bad, and then were either fired or killed. I just started over. Scrapped basically all the notes of all the previous people in the role, and started over. We spoke the same words, yeah, but I didn't use them at all. I started with something different, and much more ancient. Pictures. I'd draw a tree, and then look at them to see how they responded. A mountain, a human, one of their own, so on and so forth. It took an extremely long time. It really only worked for simple nouns, and complex concepts took additional steps to translate. Fortunately, one of their scientists was just as curious, so we ended up deciding to "car out mate." Err... Meet in the middle. Look, it doesn't get any simpler than that, so if you want to be the next-in-line for this stuff, you'd better get on board pretty fast. But yeah, that's kind of where we are. We're working on understanding each other, before we move to ideas the others don't really have. It's time-consuming... but I enjoy knowing that I'll be able to help everyone else in the future. Eventually. For now we have to figure out their history. Oh, actually, note to self. See how they would write out *our* history. Could probably translate a couple spare words with that information...

every single word that they speak is a known word from English, with the same pronunciation, but with the meaning swapped with another random word.

I ran my claws over the control board, calling up the next community I needed for trade. I had been a peddler for longer than even I could remember and had seen civilizations rise and fall. But it always gave me a small thrill of excitement to trade with the race called 'human.' They hoarded almost everything and traded with a reckless abandon that reminded me of my first years in the business. Today was the first time I would go to the human colony on Star Cluster %\*()# OFF. So called, because you didn't want to stay there long. Everyone in the galactic community had assumed the humans would die when they settled the planet at the heart of the cluster, but to our surprise, they had not only survived, they had thrived. I had to admit, I was curious. They weren't actually the next place I needed to trade, but it was only a short interdimensional hop on my way. Wouldn't take more than a few hours. After sending the requisite peace signal, and receiving the appropriate approval to land, I arrived on the planet, fully prepared. I had my body armour, my largest gun, and of course, anything I could sell. Claws tightening over the handle of my gun I opened the ship door, squinting in the light of the two suns. It had been a desert planet before the humans terraformed it, and the heat was still fierce. "You the trader?" A voice came from somewhere about my knee. I'd forgotten how short even full-grown humans were. Trying to use their own friendly gesture of a smile, I bent closer. "Yes, and I have many wares, many things to sell or exchange. Is there a place I can set up?" "You're standing in it. Lay it out, start your pitch, and the village will come." With that enigmatic statement, the human—I want to say 'male'— walked away. Feeling a little discombobulated—every other human colony I visited had a permanent town—I set up my stall. As I went about my work, making sure my movements were slow, in case there were small humans about, quiet sounds, just at the edge of my hearing came from all around. I didn't look, focusing on my work, completely absorbed. It took me fifteen minutes to fully set up, and as I turned to start my spiel, the words choked my throat. Surrounding me, arching even higher than myself, was the reason no one wanted to stay in this Star Cluster. Giant yellow eyes peered at me, as I gulped trying not to scream. And then, I heard the impossible. I heard children laughing. Forcing my eyes to move, I looked down, breaking eye contact. Amongst the giant claws, each as large as me, children were *playing* with the young offspring of the monsters. Leathery wings cracked through the air, as gouts of blue flame just missed very flammable humans. "Well, are you going to sell us anything?" The voice was the same as the human male who'd greeted me, though slightly grumpier. Looking up again, I tried not to flinch. The monsters were still staring at me, their humongous wings folded up, nearly blocking the stars and sky they were made to fly amongst. On every one, multiple humans sat staring at me expectantly. "Your children..." I trailed off, not able to finish the sentence. Their children, them, how had they, what had they... My thoughts spiralled and I leaned on my stall for support. "If they're bothering you—" "No, no definitely not, I love children." I gabbled, hearing the underlying threat, whether it was actually there or not. "Just, they're playing with, and you're riding, and, and, how?" I knew the question hadn't made much sense, and I couldn't help the relief that stroked my bones as the human laughed. "Oh, the dragons? Greatly misunderstood beasties are dragons. All they need is some love and a firm hand. And the right kind of food. You'd be surprised how grumpy they get when they're hungry. But give em' a good amount of magma and they are just the sweetest things you'll ever meet." He slapped the side of his monster's head, earning him a snort. One of my eyes twitched. What had he called the beasts? Dragons? Misunderstood? My grip broke through the stall and I was left with a bit of wood in each clawed hand. There was a tug on my lower extremity. "Um, Mister? Do you have anything to sell?" A small voice piped up. In a haze, I turned to the child, dropping the wood and picking them up with one hand. "Of course I do," I started, my voice faint, but growing stronger as I settled into the familiar spiel. "I have mysteries and wonders, delights and horrors—" "Do you have any apples?" I stared at the child, now at eye level, responding automatically. "Apples?" "Yeah, they don't like growing here. And Mama says they're really yummy." The child responded. Nodding, I turned to my stall, taking refuge in the only familiar thing I could, feeling the other children start to climb up my hairy legs. "I must have apples here somewhere..." —————— I leaned against my control panel, watching the %\*()# Off Star Cluster vanish behind me. I was still shaking, my claws tapping against the metal. The humans had tamed the monsters. Played with the monsters. Used them for transport. Collected their shed skin. Shuddering I turned to my console keying up my ledger. After recording the trades, I added my own personal observations. 'Notes. Star Cluster %\*()# Off is not for the faint of heart. The human colony there has tamed the monsters, calling them 'dragons' or 'star dragons'. I managed to gather that they once had fables of such beasts though theirs were a great deal smaller. But it is full of riches, for the brave peddler. They will exchange what they call 'dragon scales' for any fresh fruit but especially apples. Add them to the list after Glarkion-5.' Signing it, I sighed. The shaking hadn't subsided yet, and when I closed my eyes, I saw the beasts around me again. What I needed was a stiff drink, and to be far away from here. But somewhere in the back of my mind, a question started to form, worming its way into my brain. What would it be like to ride a Star Dragon? ​ —————— Visit r/Mel_Rose_Writes for more stories!

Many advanced sentient species breed wild animals for food stock, but none have ever been known to domesticate or befriend lower lifeforms. An alien is terrified when visiting a human colony to find one of the Galaxy's most feared apex predators playing with the village children.

#Ozurt and Grimjaw's Guide to Practical Adventuring: Bringing home the loot without losing a boot! The toll of the seven o’clock bell came crisp and clear for a moment as the doors of the lecture hall swung open and the last of the students stumbled in. Bleary eyed, hale and clean, gabbing and flirting with one another, it looked like this crop was the same as the last: untried, unprepared, and unaware. Ozurt doubted any’d spent a night out in the rain in their lives. He glanced at his papers on the lectern one last time, though he knew their contents by heart. After all, he and Grimjaw had been teaching the ‘intro to dungeoneering’ class for years. They did a coin flip at the start of each semester to see who’d teach and who’d be the assistant: ol’ Grimjaw had won the toss six seasons running. That crap-filled crab-tree of an orc was humming–actually *humming*–as he wrote up today’s lesson on the chalkboard. Ozurt would win the toss in winter, or he’d make that smug tusk-mouth eat the coin. “‘Scuse me, class.” Ozurt harrumphed and gave the kids time to settle. No point in being a hardass from the get-go. A few students even bothered to get out their inks and paper. “I am Professor Ozurt Hammerhelm, and this is my assistant, Grimjaw of the Woundspitter clan. Welcome to adventuring one-oh-one.” He gestured toward the board, which read “Ozurt and Grimjaw’s Guide to Practical Adventuring: Bringing home the loot without losing a boot!” At the end Grimjaw had drawn a happy orc adventurer carrying a sack of gold over his shoulder. In the front row sat a red-scaled dragonblood, who looked as if he knew exactly how handsome he was. He was making small talk with the elf girl next to him, but put on a face that said “Oh, don’t mind me, professor” the moment he felt eyes on him. Ozurt chose to ignore him…for now. He kept his hairy hands behind his back as he slowly strolled up the lecture floor, taking in each of the students. “This class will teach you the basics. How to survive outdoors and in decaying urban environments, how to navigate by starlight, basic first aid and healing spells, tools of the trade, what to do when you get lost, and how to actually carry treasure home.” “Professor?” A human girl in a magician’s blue robes raised her hand. She had a quill in hand, poised over parchment. “Does that mean you’ll be teaching us how to fight?” Ozurt chuckled. “No, combat will be covered by your class trainers. Grimjaw and I will be teaching you the basics of how to get to and from your objective without cutting your own feet off. Believe me, that will prove difficult enough. I’m going to start by sharing with you our three core rules, which we’ll spend the next few weeks delving into.” Grimjaw flipped the board, showing the prepared list on the back. They’d distilled all their years of banging axes against goblins and hauling treasure out of dungeons into three main tips. Like emptying out a bag of holding, there was a lot to unpack from each of these tips, but they’d proven effective in keeping at least some of their graduates from avoiding death by hypothermia. “Number one, know where your socks are. Number two, lift with your legs, not your back. Number three, always bring another torch.” Mrs. Magician duly wrote everything down, word for word, but other students looked at one another incredulously. Ozurt didn’t need to imagine what they were thinking, because he’d heard the complaints every year. *Is this it? This is what I’m paying a barrel of gold in tuition fees for?* “Excuse me, professor?” Ozurt turned to see the dragonblood affecting an innocent face. “If that’s all there is to learn, could we leave early?” The dragonblood smirked. A few others guffawed at this attempt at humor. Ozurt gave him a flat smile. “As I said, lad, we’ll be going over the meaning of these core rules. Like any cave, they go deeper than they first appear.” “But if you’re not teaching us how to fight, what are you teaching us?” he said. There it was, that rich boy venom. “Number three? Bring a torch? I can see in the dark, and so can a dwarf.” Ozurt looked back at Grimjaw, who nodded slowly. Ozurt turned back with a smile. “Well, I was hoping to cover the torches in week three, laddie, but we can get started early if you insist.” The elven girl next to the dragonblood scooted away a little–-at least she had some rudimentary sense of danger, unlike Prince Scalebottom here. “Tell me, you know what the most frightening words in Common are?” “Boring lecture?” The dragonblood snorted. “Lights out.” The room went dark. Student gasps and shrieks mingled with the sound of chairs scraping against the stone floor as they got up and milled about. Someone even shouted at Ozurt, for whatever good that did. A roar, guttural and primal, tore through the room. Then they *really* panicked. In the dark the students collided with desks and with each other, their cries of terror mixing with the pain of trampling and being trampled. Some tried to make for the exit and jiggled the bar on the door, only to find it was locked shut. A few let out wails of total despair. “Lights,” Ozurt barked. The room flooded with light again, to a scene of chaos: papers, desks and students scattered every which way. Many of the students were strewn about the floor or piled up in twos and threes on top of one another. Grimjaw set down the wand that controlled the chandelier and grinned smugly. “Back in your seats!” Ozurt said. Groaning and shaken, the students picked themselves up and limped back to their chairs. Ozurt noted with some satisfaction that the dragonblood had a black eye now. “I see you’ve underestimated the dark, just like you will underestimate how many clothes you need to bring, and how much you can carry. My rules seem stupid and commonsense to you. Well, few things are less common than common sense! All it took to scare you out of your wits was to flick off the lights and have Mr. Grimjaw shout a little. Will I teach you to fight? No, this is the intro to practical adventuring! I’ll teach you how to avoid *falling down a hole and breaking your legs!*” “Rule number three! Always bring an extra torch! A lack of light is one of the most common problems every adventurer will encounter. Catacombs, dungeons, caves and barrows--no windows there. Preternatural darkness, such as the inky fog released by the black-spined corvart when it corners its prey. The night, which at last check still happened every day.” Ozurt strolled up the aisle. “Even those of us with some kind of dark-seeing need time to adjust to changes in light, time which you may not have. For these situations…” He continued to lecture, noting that, to a student, they were paying attention now, furiously scribbling down notes. ___ Like what you read? Catch more at /r/gdbessemer!

Two grizzled veteran adventurers lecture an incoming class of trainees on the importance of the more mundane aspects of adventuring.

Wilson blinked. The man in the seat, President Abraham Lincoln, only gave him a small smile. This was not the look of a man who had been told that his life was about to end. Especially not when Wilson had announced himself as a time traveler. “But… how?” The President gestured to the seat next to him. “Have a seat, young man. Mary and the others stepped out for the moment. And I imagine the authorities from your end will be here shortly.” “Authorities?” Wilson had not considered such an outcome. His body felt cold. The temporal leap had been a long shot – he could very well have died. The other scientists had warned him of strange temporal instabilities around 1865. But this outcome was beyond anything he could have imagined. Shakily, he sat next to the historical figure, staring blankly down into the theater. Then, the President spoke. “I’ll tell you what I told the others. It brings me joy for so many to think of me as one worth saving. For there have been plenty of others who have come to me to criticize my faults and wrongdoings.” Wilson gaped before uttering, “Others?” “Oh yes. I’ve learned quite a bit in the past couple of years about this time-traveling technology. No matter how your authorities tried to suppress the memories, there’s only so much they can do. Though, I believe Mary’s headaches stem from the latest traveler and suppression.” Lincoln chuckled. “I’ve learned many interesting things from all these experiences. One is that a single moment can only be occupied by one instance of a temporal rift. At one point, I was visited by someone every couple of hours.” Wilson leaned back in the chair, his head spinning. “That many?” The President nodded. “Yes, it began to get very distracting. From what the relevant authorities have told me, they’ve locked down these specific years. You are quite fortunate to have appeared in the moments before the end.” “If you knew, why are you here?” Wilson gestured at the theater. “Why…” Lincoln rubbed his face, and the wrinkles seemed to grow deeper in the flickering lights. “Son, I’ve had a lot of time to think about this. And the conclusion I came to was that it would be far too risky to alter the future for the sake of one man. For all I know, my death sparks further changes faster than if I remained alive. So, I urged Mary to attend the play with me, so that I may enjoy my final moments with the one I love. A bit of selfishness on my part, I know.” “But… those changes might have been for the better?” Wilson tried to sound hopeful even as his stomach sank with realization. “Every traveler I’ve met who has warned me of today has had a similar mindset. You are hopeful, but it drives you to recklessness.” Lincoln reached out and patted his shoulder. “But I can see that you’re young and resourceful enough to achieve such a feat. As I said, reaching me during this hour must’ve been terribly difficult. Use that drive and knowledge to look forward, instead of back at relics like myself. Rather than wishing things went differently, focus on what you can do to change your future.” “I…” Wilson swallowed thickly. His eyes burned even as the air next to him shimmered and two uniformed figures came through. One of them, a stern-looking woman, saluted. “Mister President. Our utmost apologies for disturbing you at such a time. I trust you’ll keep this incident confidential?” The President waved a hand calmly. “I understand. If I may make one final request of your organization?” The woman frowned and said, “It depends on the request.” Lincoln gestured at Wilson. “Go easy on the young man. He means well.” “It was the same as the others, sir.” “I understand. Even still, that is my request.” “We’ll see what we can do, sir.” The woman glanced out into the theater. “Enjoy the rest of the show.” Wilson stared numbly at Abraham Lincoln as the woman’s partner cuffed him with a heavy device. There was a light beeping and the air around them shimmered. The last thing he saw was Lincoln settling back in his seat with a contented smile on his face. ... I'm surprisingly happy with how this one turned out. If you're interested in my works, the archive of my various writing responses can be found in my writing portfolio, link through my profile. There's also an original story, The Crossroads. Thanks for reading.

After creating a Time Machine, you travel back to correct certain events in history. One such event is the assassination of Abraham Lincoln. You find the late president and warn him of his death by John Wilkes Booth. The President stops you before you can even tell him and says, “I know.”

I look in the mirror and my eyes start bugging out. At least I think they are, Harold's eyes are bigger than mine so maybe that is just what they look like when they aren't bugging out at all. But even so, internally, they are bugging out. I can't believe I am in Harold's body. I pinch myself to check if I am dreaming but I don't wake up. I still don't believe it so I punch myself in the balls. It was a mistake and I am now more awake than ever. I burst out of Harold's room and into the living room. I stumble and fall over my own legs because of how much taller he is than me, but then get up and see myself sitting on the couch, reading the newspaper. Presumably with Harold's brain inside it, being casual as fuck. Like way too casual. Who reads a newspaper unless to display how casual they are feeling? You certainly aren't looking at it for movie screening times. He waves at me and sips a mug of tea. Again, I know for a fact that he never drinks tea. He clearly just wants to show off how casual he is being. I try to yell at him, but my balls still hurt way too much, so instead I ask him in a gravelly whisper what is going on. "Oh, just thought I would get caught up on some current events while sipping a cup of earl grey. Might go out for a bagel later. What's up with you?" My eyes bug out again. Maybe. Still not sure. I really don't even know anymore. I ask him if he noticed that he is in my body. He laughs it off. "Oh yeah, I noticed this morning when I woke up in your bed of course. Congrats on the girth of your dong by the way, very jealous. Listen, I hope you don't mind, but you owed me like 10 bucks for lunch last week and haven't paid me back, so I took the liberty of grabbing ten off your desk. Hope you're cool with that." He fold his newspaper up and walks to the kitchen sink to empty his mug. How can a man be so nonchalant about being in my body? Why isn't he upset and angry and freaking out. I ask him. "You know, you can get as upset as you want about this, but it will do you as much good as being mad at the weather. I'm sure things will work out, don't stress about it. Have some tea." Am I the weirdo for freaking out? Am I overreacting and he's the normal one? I ask him. Maybe the newspaper and tea wasn't an act at all, maybe he is just this laid back and I am the only one who can't handle his shit. It is hard to say, I go back into my room. Well, his room. I look at myself in the mirror and practice some deep breathing, trying to get to his level. Trying to accept things for what they are rather than worrying about what they should be. It kinda works? I guess he was right. The only problem now is my balls are still sore. I check them to make sure they aren't ruptured and notice how much skinnier my schlong is now. I guess he was right about that too.

You and your roommate wake up in each other's bodies. For some reason, while you're rightfully freaking out, your roommate takes it as totally normal and goes off to live your life for a day.

The next day the newspapers printed their discovery. Like-minded adventurers had been bested. Misty eyed children sat in mute wonder. Chronically sleep deprived eyed the bed with covetous thoughts swirling inside their heads. Savvy business people plotted ways to exploit the bed’s properties for the purpose of maximizing profit. Scientists longed for a more in-depth evaluation. Competitors, fueled by an endless lust for money, would not be able to compete with such a bed. If even one bed existed that could guarantee a good night’s sleep, and deliver on said guarantee, it would doom all other beds as second best. This was bad for business, and investors would begin to lose faith if they believed their product was sub-par. Mattress producers began to scheme. They plotted late at night, in dark, abandoned buildings, and sometimes even underground. They united against a common threat and vowed to destroy the very thing they were meant to be selling to their loyal customers. A good night’s sleep every night. Three days after being discovered, at approximately 2am on Feb. 20th 2014, more than 20 masked men entered a secured showroom containing the magical bed. The men were armed with road flares and canisters of diesel fuel. After 37 hours of fighting back the flames the entire showroom was nothing but ash. Mattress producers quietly rejoiced from the shadows. They had successfully bought themselves a few more years. The world wasn’t ready for a good nights sleep, and they would keep burning as many magical mattresses as it took to keep things that way.

a magical bed that always gives you a good night's sleep

This was turning out exactly as awkward as I had feared it would be. We, the members of the Knights of the Found Table, remained quiet while setting up the gear for tonights D&D scenario. At the far end of the table, our guest Dennis hunched over the table, breathing loudly. His marine blue scales were glistening in the soft light. His vertical slit eyes darted nervously. Dennis had had a rough time lately, and we felt bad for him. With the recent Alaskan dragon attacks, dragon stocks were at an all-time low. It didn't matter how many times "not all dragons are like that" was repeated by media pundits. The kids at school were really bad at understanding nuance. He had tried to hide it, but his eyes had literally lit up in an amber glow when we invited him over for tonight's session. He didn't have many friends, and we knew that. In fact, we had discussed whether he had any at all. It had felt like the right thing to do, but we all silently regretted it now, as the silence grew dense. "So.. uh, Dennis," said Ted, our long-standing dungeon master, without lifting his eyes from the scenario booklet. He seemed to have forgotten the rest of the sentence. "What kind of character would you like to play?" I asked the dragon, while trying my best to look enthusiastic. "Oh, I'm not sure," Dennis replied, avoiding eye contact. There was a loud clacking sound as he fidgeted with his large claws against the table. "What are the options?" "Well, there's the regular adventure classes. A thief, a warrior maybe? This scenario also has some special ones". I grabbed the scenario booklet from Ted, and read; "You could be an ice mage, or a frost dragon, or a..." Dennis chuckled. "Well, definitely not that!" he said. His wings contracted rapidly, and caused a slight breeze in the basement. I tried to chuckle with him, but it sounded more like a snicker. "Yeah, yeah", I said. "Other options are stone dwarf, or... well." I hesitated. "It says that you can be a dragon slayer, too." The silence was thick as molasses. Dennis eyes opened wide for a short second, and then returned to their normal size. "That one!" he said sharply after a while, and clenched his talons. We all looked at each other. It could be fun, sure. Ironic or whatever. But it was something disturbing in the way he said it. "Really?" I asked, and slowly flipped the scenario booklet, looking for the right page. "Yes, absolutely." I looked over the character sheet. Spanning across half of the page was a drawing of a menacing looking knight, with the blade of his sword buried deep in the chest of a screaming dragon. "Alright. But why?" I asked while lowering the booklet. Dennis lowered the spines extending from his head. He looked down at the picture of the dragon slayer. "Because I hate them," he said. "I really, really hate them." "Like, how do you mean?" asked Robert, our latest group member. He looked shocked and confused. Dennis sighed. His wings seemed to deflate. "All my life I've been told that us dragons are the same as everyone else. But it isn't true! Just look at the news. We are destroying, like, everything! It's no wonder you guys hate us." Robert looked down at the table. "I mean, in some ways, sure... I guess," he mumbled. Dennis covered his eyes with his talons. The large nostrils on his protruding maw were rapidly contracting and expanding. He was sobbing. "Come on, buddy", I said. "You are not like them. A dragon is just a person like anyone else. What species you are doesn't matter, it's what you do that does." I put my hand on his scaly back, being careful to not get stung by the multitude of purple spines. "Look, people who think of all dragons as being the same are idiots. Don't listen to them. You are a cool dude! Don't let them get to you." Dennis lowered his talons and looked at me. "Thanks. It's just... tough," he said. I nodded, and removed my hand from his back. I flipped the page of the booklet. "Now, let's play. You wanna be a stone dwarf?"

You thought you'd made a horrible mistake when an actual dragon joined your Dungeons & Dragons group, but he's bizarrely thrilled at the prospect of playing as a dragonslayer.

I watched through the Stabilizer that finally allowed us to view their world. The aliens were short and had a slight blue tinge to their skin as well as a light yellow glow highlighting them as though they were all dim lanterns. Occasionally, they would look in the direction of our Stabilizer, a hole in reality, and disappear in a puff of black smoke. My smile widened energetically as I turned to my colleague. "They can teleport?" I laughed as he watched read data coming in on his tablet. "It seems like it," Haron said, looking up from the tablet and another creature puffing away, its face inscrutable as it left. "I think they're spooked and leave as soon as they see us," I said. "Not a bad theory. We're probably the creepiest thing they've..." Haron frowned at his tablet as he trailed off. "What? Notice something new?" I asked. "How many did you say there were in this area?" he asked. "Ummm," I pulled out my own tablet. "We started at 300. Why?" "No, I mean the entire population," he asked. "Every one of their known living creatures." "We got exactly 10,303. That was the calculation right as we opened the Stabilizer," I read. "It's down by a dozen," he looked up and saw another puff away in the ghoulish black smoke. "Another just dropped off." "Yeah, they're teleporting, right?" I clarified. "To where? The live reading of their population drops as soon as they pop away," he said, suddenly sounding queasy. "I don't know I guess they..." I grew a frown myself as one of my eyes narrowed in a conclusion. "They're dying? Is that how they die?" I asked. "I... I think so," Haron breathed. "Just from seeing us!?" "Maybe they can't fathom what they see. It's too much to take in and continue living," he deduced. "We aren't even doing anything! We're just--" I saw another turn its head our way and disappear. Their population dropped by another. "Agh! I don't get it! How do we know for sure they're not just teleporting away somewhere?" "I think they've made that pretty clear," Haron pointed to a dozen of the aliens approaching the portal with covers over their eyes. They held an item in each of their hands that looked like a smooth silver cube. "They know they can't look at us but still want to communicate!" I said, fascinated once more. "What do you think those devices they're holding are?" Haron asked. Suddenly the items began to take on the glow of the aliens and floated about a foot above their hands. Suddenly, each one emitted an ear-piercing scream and fired a red projectile our way. Seven flew beside the portal, the aliens unable to aim properly, but one of them managed to get in through the edge and touch my work desk, obliterating it in a deafening blast that put it on fire. The fire was odd and blue. It burned faster than any fire I'd ever seen and ate my things in the span of two seconds. Haron and I looked at one another as the devices floated back to the alien's hand. They remained very quiet, listening intently. Haron and my eyes widened as we realized they were listening for whether we were dead or not after that attack. Haron flipped the power on the Stabilizer, shutting the portal immediately. I stared at the wall that stood where the portal was a moment before. "What now," I said, a mix of disappointment and terror in my voice. "Well, it's unfortunate, but it looks like we were unable to make contact with any aliens and we will have to shut down this program," Haron said quickly, gathering a dustpan and broom to clean up what used to be my work area. "Definitely no reason to ever search for aliens when they clearly don't exist and we cannot interact with them," he said, clearly panicking. "Right, yeah, a shame about the failed experiments," I picked up on what he was saying, grabbing the broom to get rid of the evidence as soon as possible. _______________________ /r/Nazer_The_Lazer for more stories!

our reality is a second out out of phase with the rest of existence, which is populated by aliens. The brief glimpses seen of us? We are their Eldritch Terrors.

*..."that anyone can change."* The cloaked figure stops, the weapons across his person that were once gleaming begin to dull. "I was right about that one then wasn't I?" He replies. The two men stand apart; the distance between them telling. Misty puddles of water gathered at their feet fuelled by a steady downpour from above. "Is this what it has come to then," replied the other man. He was older, adorned in a set of silver that had clearly seen better days. "You've come crawling back after all these years." "I haven't come back for you, Madriad. Move out of my way, it doesn't have to be like this ." "That's not going to happen. Though I'm sure you are already aware of that," he said, spitting the words out. "Remember the oath we took, Saere. The one you broke." "I remember." "Then you know that you should turn around and go home: if you even have one now." The young man in the cloak shakes his head. "Last chance, please." *"No."* Saere springs forward, hurling a fistful of twisted daggers at the old knight and bounding off a wall toward him. **Bang!** The daggers tear through his shield, embedding themselves into the frame. Madriad, taking no notice, runs forward and runes scattered across the surface of the ruined piece of metal come to life. A wall of air rockets down the alley sending pieces of debris and the disgraced student flying onto the icy floor. "New trick" he mutters, trying to stand. Water splashes upwards as he gives up, instead rolling left to narrowly avoid a crushing blow. Slice after slice of his opponent's sword forces him backward until he feels the firm resistance of a wall behind him. He ducks under the next blow and dances between the following, finally getting close enough to inflict some damage. The warm alloy of his daggers have heated up and sear through the armor like butter. A flurry of attacks drawing a thin seen of blood over the suit. "If you'd known her you wouldn't be doing this," he rasped out, throwing himself back into the wall. Madriad clutching his side pauses momentarily. "Is this what it is all about, boy, a woman?" "She was amazing and funny and she didn't deserve the fate she got." He wheezed. "Who were they to decide it." "It is not our place to choose the fates. You know this." "Then who does." He roared raising his hand up. All across the alley runes began to appear on the discarded daggers, blanketing the alley in darkness. "For once, it is going to be me.

Once a hopeful and noble warrior, you have long since fallen into darkness. After years of death and despair, you finally face your old teacher. As you draw your weapon, the old man speaks, and what he says paralyses you. “I remember once, long ago, you told me…”

I think he passed out when I picked him up. I am not sure what I expected, but certainly not fainting. After all, how could he achieve the title of "Master" of anything and be so frail. I landed and put him down on the ground. When I did, took off his backpack and set it to the side. I then took up my usual perch and waited. I'm used to waiting. When the lanky creature started to stir, I watched his eyes dart right and left, become full of panic. "Where am I?!" I cleared my throat. "My lair." "What?" I started to answer him, considered, and then said, "I'm sorry. I forgot that I should be speaking a dialect of English, not Gaelic. It's hard to keep up with all the weird tongues you people develop. But to repeat myself, we're in my lair. At least I think that's what you'd call it." "Who are you?" "You couldn't pronounce my name if you wanted to. For now, just call me... Gary." "Gary?" "Yes. That's a name relevant to the topic at hand. I want you to explain your game, this 'Dun Dun Dragons' thing?" "What? I... oh, god I think I'm going ot puke." I wrinkled my brows and tried to give him time to catch his breath, scurrying around on my floor like a newborn puppy. That was when I realized that he couldn't see. I am so accustomed to the darkness that it didn't occur to me. I said, "I'm sorry." Then I puffed out six little spurts, each one to light the six torches in the chamber. They were over a hundred years old, but they ignited just fine. "Now," I asked as kindly as I could, "Is that better." It took some time for him to stop screaming. I returned to waiting. "D-d-d-d-dragon! You're a fucking dragon!" "I know that word and I understand it's not always a reference to mating, but I'm still confused as to why you'd address me thus. No matter. Please, explain your dragon game to me." "Wait, you mean D&D? Dungeons and Dragons?" "Yes." "Am I dreaming?" "I doubt it as you are awake." "I'm so confused." I took a deep breath, counted to ten, then let it out slowly, smoke blowing from my nostrils. "Are you or are you not a dungeon master?" "Um... yeah." "Well, 'Master', you do understand the game, this 'Dungeons and Dragons'?" "Yeah." "I want it explained to me. That's why I brought you here. Now, if you please, I have millennia behind and before me, but I'd really like to get on with it." The Master looked in a daze as he found where I'd laid his backpack next to him. He picked it up, looked at me with a worried face, and then pulled a book out with a artwork of some creatures. I recognized the unicorn, the griffon, but I was somewhat taken aback by one of the other representations. "Why is the dragon on that cover all red?" The young Master pushed his glasses up his nose and said, "Well... in the game dragons are either chromatic or metallic. The chromatic ones are evil. That's a Red Dragon, which breathes fire." "So they're color coded? What are the others?" "Black, which spit acid. Blue which spit lightning-" He stopped when I laughed out loud. "They 'spit' lightning? How does one 'spit' lightning?" "It's just... in a line?" "Oh, our lore must truly have faded if this is what you think of us... well of me." "I don't think anyone was trying to tick you off. Um... can I go now?" "You still haven't told me about the game. I want to understand all of it." "Okay... okay... well, it starts with rolling up a character." "What do you mean 'roll up'?" "You use dice. That determines your stats. Your strength, your Dexterity, wisdom, constitution, charisma and intelligence." "Aren't those already easily defined by other means?" "Oh, not the player's stats. The character's stats. It's kind of like theater, but when you get to a plot question, you roll dice to see how it goes." "And when do the dragons become involved?" "Well, the point of the game is to fight... well, monsters. That gives you experience." "And I... my kind is a monster in this game?" "Well yeah, but not all of them are evil. The gold, silver, and other metallic dragons are good. They might help you. Especially if you oppose Tiamat." "What do Babylonian gods have to do with this?" "Well, nothing... except kinda. Look, can I just show you the books?" I considered. I shifted on my stony perch and said, "Come closer." The young Master took a torch from the wall and came to me. He opened the book and started showing me how various "monsters" were portrayed, both in art and numbers. I found it amusing that one of the monster types was 'men'. Eventually, he got out more books and explained how the game went. Before long, I'd flicked some of his dice and he'd written things down for me. I played a dwarven fighter. I think we played for hours. The Master relaxed, confident in his role as arbiter and narrator; I think Dungeon Master is terribly misleading. As I crested 3rd level after defeating a ogre who in the story was terrorizing a small town and stealing their cattle, he yawned. "I... I really need to go," he said. "My mom must be worried sick. I hope dad recorded *Airwolf* for me... I need to get back." "But I want to follow the map that was in the treasure chest. I still have to win." It was his turn to laugh. "You don't win. Not like you do in Monopoly or Scrabble. You just keep telling the story, pretending to live out this adventurer's life." "Hmm... so this might require another night?" "My current game has been running all summer. We get together once a week at Tommy's house." "That's... interesting. Would you come back tomorrow?" "I can't promise that. We can play another time though. Maybe you can show the game to some of the other dragons." I slumped down, turned my head from him. "That won't be possible." "Why? You don't think they'd like it?" "Because they're gone. I've been searching for a century now. I think I'm the last of my kind." "Oh... wow. I'm sorry." I flapped my wings. It's the same meaning as when human's shrug. "I don't think I want to play, now. Please go." That was when I felt his hand on my neck. "I know what it's like to be lonely. It's part of the reason I started playing D&D. Because it's usually a group." I snorted. "Let me come back next Sunday. I can tell you where to... pick me up? I guess, literally? If you do, I promise, I'll have a much better adventure planned for you." The thought was comforting. "Yes, Dungeon Master. I will allow you to take me on another adventure." "Brandon." "What?" "My name's Brandon." "I see... thank you, Brandon. Let me get you home." He collected his things. I picked him up and flew him from my lair. He giggled with delight when we broke through the clouds and could see the stars as well as the sun brimming on the horizon. True to my word, I dropped him near his home. True to his word, he came back that next week. My dwarf became commissioned by a Bahamut to go on a sacred quest: to restore the lost dragons. It was kind of corny at first, but together we told the story and rolled the dice. That was almost 37 years ago. Tonight is my first time DM'ing. I am nervous. It's long time overdue that I return Brandon's kindness. Won't the other gamers be surprised when they get here and find out why Brandon has secured a pallet of Mountain Dew. Time for them to understand what real dragons are about.

You are the last dragon, one day you hear of something called dungeons & dragons and decide to research what it is.

I laid on the ground as motionlessly as I could manage while having... uh, several bones broken. Actually, the bones being broken made it easier, it was the pain that was making it difficult. "When will you learn your lesson, Elda?" A voice boomed. "I will always stop you, no matter what your schemes are!" I stayed silent, and eventually he got tired of not having an audience. Finally. Thought he was never going to shut up. After a little bit of my flesh warping horrifically, and my body bending in ways that no human ever really can, my human body was back to normal. Right. Well, with all that out of the way, time to actually clean up the idiot's mess. ...Haven't I told a similar story before? I'm the tutorial super-villain eldritch gal, Elda. Remember me? Yeah, I told the story about that group of newbies who wanted to be "super efficient." This guy's the same idea. Way too brutal, way too violent, and he's way too callous with all the civilians. Like, sure, sometimes I need to have a hostage for the sake of training purposes, but it's not like I just kidnap people off the street! Well, I do, but it's consensual kidnapping. They get paid well for it. Now, where was that... Ah, he we are. Little bit of lifting from my main body to get the rubble out of the way, and I found those civilians who the "hero" had accidentally dropped a whole ceiling's worth of rocks and bricks and concrete on. The only thing stopping them from being comprised of jam and jelly was the fact that I'd expected him to be under-cautious, and was thus paying enough attention to make a small bubble out of eldritch matter. Not like any humans can see it; they'd just think they got lucky enough that the rubble didn't collapse in on itself. "Hey, are you all good in there?" I got a general chorus of "yes," "generally," "sort of," and the sarcastic "no, I'm dead" from the few people who try to be funny to destress. I didn't hold it against them. I'd be scared too if I didn't feel safe around a superhuman, or whatever the terminology is. I waved them out of the bubble, and they all got out as the rubble "slowly collapsed downwards." There were a bunch of scrapes, bruises, cuts, but nothing that seemed too life-threatening. Uh... I mean, that being said, limbs aren't supposed to bend *quite* like that. Great. I rolled my eyes. "Hang on, hang on." I ran into the back, rooted around for a second, then grabbed a roll of bandages. I could mess with human biology fairly well, but it's also really noticeable. Using bandages hides it pretty well, though, at least until the body heals normally. Plus... you know. Useful for smaller things I don't need to mess with. I came back with the bandages, and also a camera. "Uh... what's that for?" I understood the nervousness. "Because *some* people are supposed to take care of the civilians," I said, annoyance clear. "I'm just taking pictures of your injuries so the appropriate people can deal with big-shot hotshot over there." A couple pictures, some bandages, and some minor flesh-warping later, and everyone was pretty good. "Right. Look just head to the superhero station like... seven blocks that way and let them know. Say Elda sent you if they ask." I held up a hand, sensing questions. "It's a little complicated, and frankly I don't really want to deal with it right now. Just let them know that you got really hurt because a superhero wasn't careful." They all filed out, and I was left in my wrecked lair. I closed my eyes, trying to calm myself via just deeply breathing. It didn't work, so I elected to burn off my stress by just launching omnidirectional force from my body. It worked, and it cleared out a pretty wide area of my lair, so that would be easier to clean. It did just throw all the rubble to the sides, though, and it did cause the roof to make some noises I didn't love the sound of though. Quick application of eldritch matter, and the roof was good. ...Patience, Elda. My mentor said if hotshot didn't get his act together, I could play a little less nice. So I just had to wait. Either he was going to *start* being nice... Or I was going to **stop**.

You're a villain who always has to save civilian's lives from the hero's recklessness. Sure you kidnap people, hold them hostage, even hurt them a bit, but you'd NEVER let someone die. The hero only seems to care about stopping you though, not actually protecting anyone.

Me and the buddies were riding home from the biker bar, when we saw a flash of light in the sky. I assumed it was lightning or something, until it came straight for us. We tried to dodge, but skidded in the road. It was too late. Whatever it was, it was going to hit us. I wake up and am surprised to be alive. I search the area for my men and our bikes, but what I see almost makes me hurl. Jake, Richard, George, Emilio, they are all dressed head to tail in pink, yellow, blue, and purple fru fru. They look like some goddamn ballerinas for Christ sake. "What in the hell are you guys doing?" They look at me, all blank faces, until I hear the resounding laughter. "Us? Boss, you look like a fuckin' unicorn or somethin' with all that rainbow." Emilio says. I freeze and gulp as I slowly look down at my frilly rainbow princess dress. "Goddammit." I murmur. "Who the fuck did this?" I look around for something or someone. I don't find the person responsible, but I do see what became of our bikes. "Aw hell, and why are our bikes magical creatures?" "I don't know, but it's kinda cool boss." Jake says. It would be Jake that would say that. I sigh, but don't have enough time before the dark creatures come charging at us. "Good will never win. Accept your fate." Without a word, we all grab our guns. They have all been girlyfied, but nothing much else about them has changed. "Nani, motherfucker?" Then we all start blasting.

Just as magic was about to use its powers to a create a group of magical high school girls, in order to fight the coming darkness. It misses and accidentally hits a nearby biker gang and giving them the power instead.

Personally, I see what I do as a public service. Society was blinded by the lie that is "Hero". Powerful individuals who protect the common man from harm. At least, that's what they're *supposed* to be. Instead, they just became the new "Celebrity", vying for popularity and who could garner the most love and adoration from the crowds. A lie to which I, too, was blind. I could bore you with my personal tale of woe and tragedy, but I like to think a little air of mystery is attractive and compelling. Suffice to say, I learned the truth about Heroes. Painfully, and almost at the cost of my life. And so, I now judge those that would call themselves "Hero" and I ensure those who are unworthy never again sully the title. Until I met *her* anyway. Now I just do this to see her and make her flustered! It was a mere year and change since I turned down the road that bore the title of Villain. I'd killed more false Heroes than I cared to count, but things didn't seem to be improving. In fact, the Heroes started using me to try and kill any newbies that didn't immediately fall in line with their bullshit. I made sure that backfired by pushing them to their limits and rapidly developing their powers before they "defeated" me. She was one such newbie. When she showed up, I lost my cool. My mind went blank and I flew into the side of an office block. She was the most breath-takingly gorgeous person I'd ever seen, and I forgot I was supposed to be the Villain. Instead, after regaining my composure, I asked for a date. She went bright red and lost her own flight for a moment before rejecting me with "I'd never date a Villain!" Oh, right, I'm a Villain! And so I resigned myself to testing her. She passed. With flying colours, I might add. She was worthy of the title of Hero, and so I kept pushing her limits to train her. Eventually, I "fled in defeat" from the worthy Hero - I may have taken a bit longer than usual in this case - and decided to hang around this town for a bit. I caused minor disturbances now and then to draw her out. She answered the call every time. And every time, I felt compelled to tease her in some way, just to see her panic; it was cute how easy it was to get her in a fluster. No matter what I did, all I had to do was flirt and she'd go bright red. - "We have *got* to stop meeting like this, or everyone's going to get the wrong idea!" Flustered! - "Y'know, if you agreed to go on a date with me, we could be having dinner in that restaurant instead of me about to destroy it!" Flustered! - "I just realised, this is almost like a monthly date for us!" Flustered! - *Wink* Flustered! And so it went, for almost a year, before I decided to stop teasing and ask once more for a serious answer. We've been married almost 6 years now

The city’s hero has the capability to foil every plot they encounter, but they get flustered every time the local villain flirts with them.

I'd taken the image as a curiosity. One does not usually get to see copulation of their own kind, because our reproductive organs don't allow for it, they're tucked far behind and in a discreet location on our bodies. So I had taken the image because I was curious what it looked like, to indulge in base urges. I did not mean to send it on a wide array to the other side of the galaxy. But here, before me now is the face of a very tired human. They are small compared to us, and their body is much different to ours. Our limbs are long and fine, serpentine in nature, and our main bodies are gelatinous, convenient for space, unlike these poor, heavily structured creatures. The humans have been speaking to us for a while now, always this one tired one doing the talking, but from the camera view, it is possible to hear the murmurs of other voices outside the isolated room. "Look, I don't want to alarm you," they say, "But it's been a real headache here. We would love to establish actual planetary communication, but I don't think you're ready for that." How strange, that they would assume *us* "not ready", when it was us who reached them with our wide array, if only by accident. "I can see you're confused," the human continued, "That's okay. I will explain as succinctly as I can. Humans are...strange. We, as a species, have formed a strange relationship with our reproductive means and cycles, and sometimes that relationship perverts our view of what is attractive." Oh no. "So when you sent that image, people saw it. Lots of them. Suddenly we were inundated by demands and requests to meet you in person, so to speak, by a community we call on Earth: *monster fuckers*." Oh *no*. It was not uncommon for cross species romantic relations to occur, but the human was suggesting that there were a multitude of people desiring us *carnally*, something that usually never happens in the wider galaxy - reproduction is gross and weird and unless you know what you're getting in to, is avoided. But for the humans, this was apparently normalised. Suddenly, I am afraid. "When we came to you at first, scared, it wasn't because we were grossed out or terrified of you, you're wonderful to speak with -" the human offers platitudes, "We were traumatised by *them*. The people who want to uh, have *sex* with you." I shuddered in my seat, we were a smaller race, the humans outnumbered us fifteen to one. How many humans could desire our bodies, I wondered. "I'd estimate...two billion, when all is said and done. That accounts for people who are...*curious* and would be convinced by other partakers, IF you consented. Let it be known we would wish entirely for your consent." I had to think about it. This was something for the Planetary Council to decide. Of all the things to happen, because of my own curiosity.

That moment when you accidentally transmit your NSFW content to Earth and traumatize the astronomical community on said planet.

I had always thought my wife was a goddess. I knew my heart was no longer my own from the first moment we met. She plucked it right from my chest with her blue doe eyes, and her radiant smile made my stomach flutter like leaves in the wind. When she walked into the room, everything changed. It lit up as if she was a bright star on a dark night, and everything felt warm, like the warmth of a midsummer's day. Despite being tongue-tied, I somehow made the impression of a lifetime. And when she laughed, I felt as if all the joy in the world was right in that room. When we got married, it was the best day of my life. Well, until we had kids. Each kid, to my joy, got her blue eyes, and every time I gazed into them, my heart would beat with delight. My family has filled me with love, making me feel like I am the wealthiest man alive. As the years have passed, I’ve wondered if she is actually a goddess. The signs are everywhere. First, she has organized the chaos of a two-toddler household into something my dreams only thought possible. She can locate items that I'd long given up for lost. My wallet, keys, and phone are tethered to her subconscious, and she can locate them instantaneously. Our kids are drowned in the depths of her love, and between them and my wife, their giggles tickle me into bliss. When she cooks, the house is filled with scents that wash away the weariness of long days at work. The food is delicious, and the taste is perhaps only rivaled by her sweet kisses. Our house is clean and organized, and I have no idea how she finds the time. Everything she does is simply divine. My wife is a goddess; I can’t believe she’s all mine.

You've had your suspicions that your spouse was a deity. Little hints across the years just start to add up.

"Alright gentlemen." The captain stands tall and proud before the screen. "We do this by the books. Warm up our weapons, and accept communications." The tension in the room is palpable among the young troop. Not a muscle moves as the screen activated and the grainy image of a haggard human appears. "Please, hold your fire. We're just trying to return an egg, but our engines burned out and we're drifting without control." The human spoke it's brutish language quickly, but the translator handled it well. The captain gave a holding gesture behind his back, weapons would wait another moment. "Show us this egg." No further demands or room for haggling. "Well, uh. It kind of hatched." The human says, and holds up a small child. Nuthian, like our captain. The child smiles and laughs, clearly better fed than the humans visible on screen. The captain deflates with a defeated sigh. "We'll send over a life boat to pick you up. Thank you for your service." And with a small gesture the feed is cut. He turn to face the crew, tears visibly streaking his face. "Open fire."

"Humanity is a violent and xenophobic race that will only unite against a common enemy and only until this enemy is utterly destroyed. Therefore no human must ever be allowed to leave their star system!" "Captain, we are receiving a message. They claim to be humans. They say they wish to talk."

I had never used my voice before. A few hundred generations ago, our ancestors stopped having any need of them. We don't know when exactly 'The Combining' happened, or why. What we do know is that, said event, would create a worldwide cultural Renaissance. True empathy was unlocked as human being discovered the unspeakable depth of their shared desires, loves, hates, regrets and compassions. Language quickly became obsolete due to the pure mind-sharing of emotion, unlocked by humanity. Discourse, dissent, disagreement; all gone just like that. Humanity finally able to truly come together for the great cause of our species' propagation. I woke up this morning to a great silence. Can anyone hear me? I hear with the ears on my head, I hear traffic on the street. Feet brushing the pavement, the mechanical sounds of cars whizing down the road. Hello? Hundreds of my fellow human walk the streets, going about their day in perfect silence, why can't I hear them? I attempt to speak from my mouth, but I don't exactly know how, all I can produce is a gutteral moaning. As I explore my vocal range I hear a commotion downstairs. Feet coming up to meet me. My eldest brother Roderick slams through the door looking at me, eyes wide. He puts his forefinger to his temple. He's trying to talk to me. I can see the conflict on his face. Hundred of years of perfect harmony between each and every human have not prepared my brother for any valley in communication. He looks at me, horrified. He doesn't know what to do. I make a gurgling noise, from deep in the back of my throat. I believe they called this sensation 'grief'. He looks like he's thinking but I can't tell. I've never had to analyze a human face for emotion before. I think he must be telling everyone near enough to receive him. What are they going to do with me? Have I been banished or has my own mind betrayed me. Please, can anyone hear me? They'll come collect me soon. I don't know what they'll do with me. The uncertainty is tearing my brain apart. Is this what people used to feel? Alone in their own minds? Never sure any of their fellow human beings truly exist? I need to get back in. If anyone is hearing this. Please talk to me.

You are being kicked out of the hive mind :(

Clara splashed carpet shampoo hither and thither. Ornate vases of undying flowers were thoroughly dusted. Floors were swept and mopped and scoured. Bathtubs were scrubbed and toilets were rubbed. Unused bedsheets tumbled round and round. Clara enjoyed a brief moment's rest, savoring a glass of water. "Hey, baby!" Frank, Clara's man, entered through the backdoor. "Surprise! I got lunch!" Frank's smile faded as Clara reacted rather rudely. She did not even say thanks, instead incessantly whipping her head to and fro, whining in her high-pitched cry. Instead, the woman had the absolute audacity to push him backward, and not gently! Frank pushed her hands back with similar force, and, disgusted by her rudeness, tossed the Sonic drinks to the floor along with their breakfast burritos. The air shimmered with distinct force. A loud cleaving of metal through life echoed. Frank groaned. A thick thud sounded followed by the slap of flesh. The slow dripping of liquid filled Frank's ears, as his vision clouded, filling with dark red and black streaks that encroached further and further inward until Frank knew nothing but night.

you are the housekeeper of a home owned by demons and ghosts. Everyone is hostile to any human except you since you make their home look fantastic.

I looked across the blasted plains. Or at least, what once was the plains. Centuries before, it would have been cages as far as the eye could see. Each would be filled with a single soul, trapped in a prison of their own making. From their mis-deeds spawned their tormentors. What they called demons, creatures of utmost evil. They hated their own existence, and despised the one who made them more. So they would torment their own maker, until the evil was cleansed, and they could finally disappear again. I was the one to watch this process. My Father had set it on me as I was cast out. To redeem myself for not putting then above Him, I had to ensure the wicked could be made into souls capable of receiving his love. I had done so faithfully. I may have fallen, but I loved Him still. I would do my duty until the end of time if need be. But it seemed that was not necessary, as the constant stream of souls had ceased. I didn't know why, and I didn't have anywhere to ask. The living world was cut off from me. I glanced over the plains again. They were now bear, a rocky expanse disappearing into the distance. The flames that lit it had been quenched, leaving behind a dull landscape. Of the countless millions of souls that had come down, either briefly or for a long time, only one now remained. I turned around to the final cage. It's inhabitant was almost ready. I crossed my arms, watching. It didn't take long. The cage rusted, falling apart around the now gleaming white soul. Its tormenter vanished, the final demon gone. With the conversion now complete, I took it in hand. Together, we would rise to Heaven. \----- I flew upwards, leaving the now frozen Hell behind. It was a strange feeling, to lose the place I had called home for eons. But even as I left, I felt joy. I could finally go to my true home. The soul with me was silent, as they always were when they left. Something about the process made them mute, though I didn't expect forever. It probably just took them some time to find the voice of good within them. Above me, clouds parted, and I saw Heaven. The sprawling golden city. Bright sunshine. I could hear birds, smell growing plants. But before it was the fence, and the Pearly Gate. As I approached, I noticed a group of angels waiting. They had with them a couple of other souls, who were watching out for us. They pointed, and I slowly descended. I had no desire to mess this up. I didn't want to leave again for a good while. "Hail Lucifer. Leave the soul with the others, then come with us." I recognised the speaker. Sure enough, the Archangel Michael addressed me, his face schooled into an impassive look. But even after all this time, I recognised a sparkle of something in his eyes. Something like mirth. I nodded, gently setting down Hells final resident. Michael bowed his head, before taking to the air. I followed, noticing the other angels coming with us. I wondered why they wanted to escort me. I was tempted to ask questions, but instinct told me not to. Answers would come soon, I was sure. We flew for hours, leaving much of the populated Heaven behind. I recognised our destination as we approached. The First Temple. The place where Father had created us, his winged children. Michael dove towards the entrance, but did not enter immediately. I landed close behind, and he nodded towards the door. "Open it." I gave a nod, my stomach twisting. What would I find behind it? Or rather, who? I pushed it open, jumping at the roar of voices that followed. They echoed the message on a giant banner, put in pride of place. "Welcome Home Lucifer!"

you are Lucifer the fallen angel. You have finally redeemed the last soul in Hell. You are now welcome back in heaven.

“The Eagle has landed.” You could hear the shouting and cheering through the line. We made it. *We made it!* “Alright, Buzz, you’ve got the window. Is it really made of cheese?” Silence. “Buzz?” “Neil… are we parked next to a probe? Us? Russian?” “No, we picked the site because it’s someplace we haven’t explored. Why, you see something?” The radio crackled to life. “Eagle, can we get a quick sitrep? Page 9 of the manual as guide, over.” I picked up the radio and squinted out of the small window, “Uh, Houston, are there any probes or debris that’s known to be near our location, over?” Silence. Buzz turned to me, shaken. I’d never seen him even nervous before. “It… it looks like a flag.” The radio crackled again, “Eagle, we did not copy, please repeat, over.” I kept looking at the distant object. “Houston, do we have any known debris or probes in the area? Over.” Silence. Long silence. “What kind of debris?” No identification. No “over.” It was almost curt. I depressed the button, “Houston, we’re seeing a white flag on a pole. Over.” “Eagle, your message is received. Stand by, over.” It’s really quiet in a place with no air. Just you and another guy staring out a window the size of a tennis ball at something that *really* shouldn’t be there. “Eagle, what color is the flag, over?” My eyes never left the window. “Houston, one white flag. Over.” Silence. Buzz spoke up, “Any bright ideas, Neil?” “Shut up. We’ll wait on them. Just… just give it a minute.” The radio crackled again, “Eagle, confirming single white flag on a pole, location is Sea of Tranquility. Can you confirm, over?” 700 hours in a simulator, practicing handling fires, illness, equipment failure, and nothing covering this. It didn’t made me feel any better that the voice on the radio seemed nervous too. “Houston, confirmed, over.” Silence. Even longer silence. Buzz got out the camera and tried to line up a photo. “Eagle, please get out your manual and go all the way to page 341. We’re asking you to dump all the items on the list and prepare for liftoff. Over.” We both looked at each other in shock. *What?* “Buzz… no way we’re going back already…” “Eagle, confirm, over?” “Houston, are you going to tell us what’s going on here?” Silence. The radio crackled to life. The voice spoke slowly and evenly. “Eagle, this was a contingency we considered. That’s why we did that film work in studio before you left. No need for anyone to panic, but we need you to leave. Now. Over.” I paused. I had waited my whole life for this… “C-confirmed. Houston. Beginning premature launch sequence…” I paused, “Emergency rapid exit scenario Gamma One. Over.” “Neil?” “Buzz, I don’t know and I don’t want to know.” They went through the checklists and prepared for takeoff. Mike wasn’t going to like this at all. He *loves* puzzles.

You and your crew are the first humans in recorded history to land on the moon. However, near the landing site, you discover a lone white flag set by someone before you.

"I thought you gave out swords" I say to the strange woman in the lake. "I do, take it" she responds holding out the object. "That's not a sword." I try to argue. "It's absolutely tiny!" "It absolutely is a sword. Now take your sword and fulfil your destiny!" The strange lady responded. "With that thing? Fulfil my destiny what a load of crap! I don't want this I don't need this!" I exclaim. "Not everyone is destined to be a leader, a warrior, or a ruler." The old lady says to me kindly. "Society needs lumberjacks so I hand out thick stubby swords with long handles..." "That's an axe" I argue but she ignores me "Society needs chiefs so I hand out short sharp swords." "That's a knife!" I exclaim becoming more irritated. "Society needs farmers so I hand out swords with three points and a long handle!" She says and ignores me. "That's a pitchfork." I respond through gritted teeth. "When war is coming I give out swords without edges to form new swords for battle!" "That's a hammer." I say exasperated. "When someone needs to die in a most secretive way I hand out a very small sword. One that can be hidden and used for such a task!" "That's a dagger for assassination." I respond. I look at the so called sword she holds out for me. "Mine isn't a dagger." It's to small, the point doesn't look sharp at all. Nor does it have a proper handle." "I see you are more curious now. No your sword is not meant for such a task. In fact, I have given you the greatest sword of all!" She says with a grin. "That's the greatest sword?" I ask. "Indeed! Or at least the most mighty!" "Most mighty? That?" I scoff. "Though I suppose you will be needing this. Think of it as a complementary gift" the strange lady reaches into her cloak and hands me an object as well as my so-called sword. Then she vanishes. I stared at the pool expecting her to return. To tell me it was all a joke. She didn't. I finally looked down at the sword she gave me. Not sharp, not large, not deadly. It is no weapon. I look to the complimentary gift she gave me. It's a jar of ink.

Turns out strange women lying in ponds distributing swords is actually a pretty good basis for a system of government.

***In Plain Sight*** Detective Falcona gulped down another swig of scotch directly from the bottle, she was mostly alone at Paul's Piano Bar, only the bartender Victoria and the band were left. Victoria payed the band, they shuffled off into the snowy night. Victoria breathed a sigh of relief as she undid the red bowtie she wore with her tuxedo shirt and slacks. She slid over the bar, plopping down next to the detective, she needed a break after a busy holiday shift. She rested her head on Falcona's shoulder, her red hair cascading down to Falcona's lap. "You alright Falco? Haven't seen you drink directly from the bottle in a while. Something on your mind?" Victoria shared the same trait all great bartenders do, being a good listener for drunk people's problems. Falcona lit a smoke, Vic stole it from her. She lit another. "Really need New Year's Eve to get here. Streets are about to erupt. Schmucks are losin it. Worried I won't be able to keep a lid on it much longer, for as much as the schmucks hate the supers, they hate the other schmucks even more." Victoria yawned, a small cloud of smoke escaping her ruby lips. "What's gone the schmucks all fired up this time?" She asked lazily. Another belt of scotch burned Falcona's throat as it went down. "Everyone is convinced that some other schmuck is trying to backstab them, frame them for something they didn't do. First I thought it was all a crock of shit, but the deeper I stick my nose into the crock, the more it stinks. Somebody is out there. Somebody not on my radar.....that's a problem, a big one." Falcona sighed. "What's this unforeseen villain doing?" Victoria asked. "Low level stuff, some breaking and entering into schmuck hideouts, nabbing something then planting it at the scene of a crime. Normally a robbery of a mafia owned business, sometimes a drug deal gone bad, other times an arms deal between schmucks. Nothin that would be reported to the police, schmucks like to keep it in house. Looked into em, in addition to physical evidence left behind there's a treasure trove of forensic evidence pointing to a culprit. Strands of hair, drops of blood, everything a CSI dreams of." Falcona took a long drag of her cigarette, letting the smoke drip from her lips. "But it's all too convenient, isn't it?" Victoria asked, she knew Falcona better than anyone. "Unless Magnetron can be in two places at the same time it would have been impossible for him to rob the mob casino, he was in Wanovia at the time attending a royal banquet for his father. Queen Bee was shacked up with Mason Maniacal at a cheap hotel off route seven when she supposedly boosted a shipment of new love pheromones Will O' The Wisp was having brought into harbor. Whomever is doing this somehow has unfettered access to the schmucks, and is able to anticipate their movements. All while staying in the shadows." "Sounds like someone I know." Victoria chuckled. "Too bad there's only room for one hidden hand in this city. I'm gonna drag them out of the darkness, expose them to the light of justice. They're playing with forces they don't truly understand. If the schmucks turn on each other they're drag the supers into it, then it'll get chaotic. Destroy everything I've been working towards." Falcona rested her head atop Vic's. Her hair was soft, and smelled nice. As the two sat in silence Detective Falcona's partner, John Doeth slunk off to the bathroom, the two women hadn't noticed he was there the entire night. He covered his mouth to stifle his belly laughs. His ribs hurt as he tried to stop laughing, he couldn't stop it. Wasn't like anyone would notice he wasn't there, they never did. How ironic, he thought, that even the world's greatest detective couldn't see what was right in front of her eyes. He laughed until he could no longer breathe, his completely average face peered back at him from the mirror, the face so many had forgotten and would continue to forget. One day soon they would know his face, one day he would no longer be ignored. \---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Thanks for reading. If you enjoyed this check out more at r/StarCityChronicles

A new villain is so good at being a villain, no-one even realises there IS a new villain. Crimes the villain commits are always blamed on other villains. The villain never gets bored of watching everyone blame everyone else.

"So... I get to pick?" \- Before me there was a colosseum full of, apparently, my pasts lives, men, women, cows somehow? Adrian, my most recent past life was explaining everything to me, he was seated right next to me, and the elderly woman next to him was his past life and so on, the closer you were to the stage where I was, the more recently you had lived, and again, apparently there where thousands of past lives trying to tell me what to pick. "Yes, we can try to convince you or make you feel guilty or whatever technique we come up with to gaslight you, but in the end only you get to pick what to give to our next life" I looked behind me, and over the stage there was a huge screen with the image of a baby "Is that our next life?" "Yes, you were lucky, imagine we ended up as a cow, again..." "And what happens when I choose?" "Then we watch this little dude live his life, it's kind of like a reality show" I started to panic, my greatest fear, that all my mistakes were leaked "And you saw... *all* my life?" I asked praying that private scenes were censured Adrian grinned and it was clearly he was about to burst laughing, but before he could say anything the old woman spoke "Yes dear, but don't be ashamed, you were actually quite normal, at least till your death, such a tragedy to die so young, anyways, Adrian here at least was kind of a psychopath" "Hey! don't expose me like that. But yes, we did see all of it, the good and the bad, the cringey and the proud memories" "All of it?" "All of it" I cursed at myself for every single thing I did alive, but well, what does it matter now, I am dead after all "What did you gift me?" I asked Adrian "My eyes" he said with a big smile And indeed, looking at his eyes I almost felt in front of a mirror "Just the color?" "Yes" "Why wouldn't you give me something more useful? Like your intelligence! Or your abilities! or your strength, I would've been a freaking strong kid!" "Well, as i learned with this old rag before, there are consequences, and all those things are too broad of a concept, you have to pick something more specific, and if i gave you my intelligence or my memories for example, your brain would have exploded, same goes for strength, a baby can't take so much muscle" "And what did she..." "I have a name, I'm Maria, not "she"" "Sorry, what did Maria give you?" "Let me answer this" Said Maria "I gave little Adrian my love for books" "It was a pretty good gift I have to say, reading was my world" "And why didn't you also give me that love for books?" I would have had such an easy time at school if I had been able to just stay reading a book for more than a few seconds "I tried, but it turns out you can't repeat gifts" "Huh" I really didn't know what I was going to do, what did I have that could be good for a future me? As time went by I grew more anxious and everyone was just screaming for me to pick something, and then it occurred to me, it didn't have to be something mine, it had to be something of US, as a whole *me*, right? "Can I give the baby something of another past life?" Adrian looked at me with skeptical stare "I mean, yes, but do you really want to waste an opportunity to leave a bit of yourself in the world?" "I don't really think anything mine will be of use" "It's your choice after all, do whatever you want" I started to search in the crowd for a familiar face, maybe I had a famous past life or something, but I wasn't really a fan of history so I could have perfectly gone past Ghandi and I wouldn't have noticed "I really don't know who'd be best to pick, do we have a famous past life?" I asked Adrian "I don't really know, don't you see how many of us there are? and the only time we get to know each other is when we die, when the movie is on we can't see or talk to each other" "Oh" That was good news, I didn't want to have to socialize too much anyways "Hey, I just thought something, who is our oldest life?" Adrian shrugged and gave me a look like he didn't care nor know, so I started looking higher and higher in the colosseum, there were boomers, then colonizers, then romans, egyptians, I skipped like 3000 years of people because I got tired of looking, but not too long after I found it, a single guy who was seated above all of us "HEY!" I screamed and everyone went silent "DO YOU HEAR ME?" "You don't have to scream boy, we can all hear you perfectly" he responded with a voice that seemed out of a perfect autotune and a perfect smile "Right, sorry, I just wanted to ask you, since you are the oldest and wisest, I presume, what should I give this baby girl that is going to be our next life?" He burst into laughter, for minutes nothing else could be heard "Ahh, sorry, it's just, jjjj"He was really struggling to hold it in, "Sorry, sorry, let me take a deep breath" He did take a REALLY deep breath, deeper than it should have been I think Then he became serious all of a sudden and with a deep voice he spoke "Watching all of you, all of us, I began to believe something, that giving something *useful*, as we call it, will only make her have a life with no freedom, a life guided by something she didn't choose nor want, so let's give her something more symbolic rather than something that will make her a superhuman, I'm sure everyone has a perfect idea to make her rule the world, but if you would be so kind, could you give her my wife's name? It's been long since I last saw her and I would be really touched if you gave her something so valuable to me" All the other past lives burst into scream and anger, everyone thought this guy was nuts, after all, make her a normal girl left to her luck with no help? But I had actually liked the idea, giving her nothing would mean she could get everything because she wouldn't be bound to anything Adrian saw my face and I guess he already knew my answer because he was laughing uncontrollably "Oh these dudes are really not gonna like it" He said still chuckling "That makes it even better! Do it!" "Well sir, your wife's name it shall be" As soon as i said that a chair appeared under me and I was now seated where Adrian had been before, the lights went out, silence became all that could be heard, and the image of the girl turned into a movie, it was like a beam of really bright light coming through a door, "I guess she is being born" I thought And then, a text appeared, as the name of a movie would appear at the beginning of said movie **"Eva-life 2.137 of soul nº1"** ​ (Hey I'm sorry if it's hard to understand, I lived in the US for one year but english is not my first language)

Reincarnation is real, but you can only give a piece of yourself to the next life. You are discussing with your past lives which piece of yourself to give

I was always a late bloomer. It sucks having to watch your friends develop powers while you just sit there and cheer for them. When Robbie was 8 she developed immense strength and stamina. Jack got the ability to fly when he was 10, and by the time he was 12 he could carry several people with him. Johnny discovered he was invincible at 11 when Jack accidentally dropped him. Margot gained laser eyes at 12, though she did not use her powers much. Everyone waited for me to develop powers, though by the time I turned 14 they started to doubt I would ever get them. I first noticed it in gym class. Robbie was chasing me, and I ran as fast as I could to get her away from my teammates. I suddenly noticed two bars at the top of my vision, a full red one and a blue one that was almost empty. When the blue bar ran out, I collapsed onto the ground in exhaustion. I turned over and looked at Robbie, a big grin on her face. When I focused on her, another bar appeared on the bottom of my vision, a full red bar. I shouted in joy, and noticed my blue bar had a tiny bit left in it. I focused on her again, and noticed that I could see a readout of her powers. Robbie seemed shocked by how happy I was, then realization swept across her face. She picked me up by my shoulders. "Did you get your power?" "YES! OH MY GOD! I CAN SEE YOUR STATS!" I shouted in joy, causing her to drop me. My friends abandoned the game and came over to celebrate with me. My power developed more over the next few months. I started to be able to see how much money I had in my account. Then a button with a crude man on it appeared in the corner, and when I mentally pushed it a screen popped up with me on it. About a week later I went back into that screen, and saw a "Change outfit" button. I could now change into any outfit I owned without having to go home. After that an inventory button appeared, and anything I owned I could summon to my hand. Then a shop button appeared, though it took a few days for a search button to show up in there. I started wasting hours scrolling through there, looking at everything I could buy. I didn't have enough to buy anything I actually wanted, but I enjoyed looking at ancient artifacts that I could theoretically buy. But what really threw me for a loop was when a button with a gear on it appeared. At first, the only thing in the settings menu was brightness. No more need for sunglasses I guess. Then a POV slider, though it gave me a headache when I changed it from the default. Several other options appeared gradually, then something appeared that changed my world. An option appeared in the settings menu to activate dev mode. I toggled that instantly, then backed out to the real world. A new button appeared, saying Debug Menu on it. I opened it up, and first thing I saw was that there was a toggle for gravity. I was in the lunchroom at the time, and I decided to go for it. I felt myself rise off the seat, and I looked around to see everyone else starting to float too. I instantly turned it back on, and we all slammed into the ground. The only other option was to turn damage off, so I toggled that, then asked Robbie to punch me. She did, without hesitation, and I didn't feel a thing. I stood up on the table, and reached towards the light bulb. Someone shouted at me to get down, so I grabbed the bulb and sat down. Even though I could feel the heat, I didn't feel any pain from it. I kept damage toggled off, and started religiously checking that menu. It took a few days, but the ultimate option appeared in there. Power selector.

Everyone gets some sort of ability when they hit puberty. What was the one you got? HUD.

Boots has been missing for a week. I put missing posters up all over the neighbourhood. I posted missing posters on Facebook. No one has seen my little cat, my Boots. Boots got his name because of his black paws. His paws are black to his knees and then orange every where else. Makes it look like he is wearing boots. He is so cute. Bing bong, the door bell rang. I opened the door to an immaculately dressed man. A tailored black jacket over a baby blue shirt with a bright purple tie. A long moustache with twisted curls at each end. “Boots!”, my cat was sitting on his shoulders causally. I reached out for my car only to be stopped by his out stretched hand. He cleared his throat, “hello”, he said as a small puff of smoke escaped his lips. “I am John.”, he said turning his outstretched hand for a hand shake. “Steve”, I said tersely as I shook his hand. “Mr. Boots here, found me last week while I was out….. hunting. He is a cute little devil.”, Boots meowed and nestled into John’s neck. “I took him home and we have….. bonded.” “Did you come to tell me you are stealing my cat?”, I said exasperated. “Of course not!”, he said clearly offended. “Mr. Boots can come and go as he wishes. I will not hold an intelligent creature against its will.”, he reached up and scratched Boots behind his ear, Boots purred loudly, “he asked to come back here and I obliged.” “He asked?” “Obviously. Why else would I bring him back… here…”, he said with distain. Boots licked John’s cheek and then just…. Walked off of his shoulders, on thin air, over to me and then settled on my shoulders. My eyes bulged out of my head…. “What the fuck was that‽ He just walked on air!”, I was scared to move. John chuckled, little puffs of smoke coming out of his mouth with each chuckle. “Beings tend to pick up a little magic if they spend any amount of time with me. It is just a…. Side effect… of my nature.” Boots meowed loudly in my ear as he wiggled his butt. He was eyeing a house fly that was buzzing around. Meow! And then Boots lets out a little fire ball! A freaking fire ball! The fly is vaporized in mid air. “Holy shit!”, I scream. “It’s fine”, John said calmly, “he can only do small fire balls. Bring him back to my place when he tells you he wants to come back will you?” “How will he ‘tell’ me? He is a cat!”, I said slightly frantic. “Don’t worry Steve. I know John’s address.”, Boots said, “catch you next week John.” “Later Mr. Boots.”, John says with a wave.

one day your cat suddenly disappeared, but a few months later a handsome man has delivered your cat, the catch? He is a dragon and he wants to co parent your cat since he has taken a liking to it and even taught him basic magic

“He fixed it‽”, I asked, the feathers on the back of my head rising in surprise. “He fixed it. It shouldn’t even be possible.”, my commander said, clearly exasperated. “What is it?” “A freaking mini fusion reactor. It is the size of my fist.”, he says shaking his fist at me, “we haven’t been able to make one smaller than a Zeffer class cruiser. And he ‘fixed’ one that should never worked in the first place. All of the tinker projects have a bunch of pieces that look legit and are close to working but just not possible to ever fix.” “Ok. Let’s say he actually fixed it. How did he manage it? If none of them are even possible….”, I said spreading my hands. “He took pieces from all of the tinker projects and then fabricated some pieces from scratch….”, he was shaking his head, “fuck, I don’t even know.” “So get him a new tinker project. What’s the big deal?”, that was clearly the wrong thing to say. “What’s the big deal‽ The big deal‽ This changes everything. It produces more energy then our ship’s engine. If he scaled this design up to take as much space as our ship’s engine it would produce as much energy as a sun. This could shift the balance of power in the universe!”, he was clearly frantic, “he is already talking about putting the fusion device into a torpedo…. He could wipe out a whole planet with a single torpedo!” “Ok…. We need containment. Confiscate the fusion device and toss the human in the brig. We will contact command and see what we should do.”, my commander was nodding, “get engineering to check the device out and see if it actually does what you think it does and isn’t one of those “gags” humans keep playing.” “Aye, aye captain.”, my commander said as he left my office. I ran my hand through my feathers. These crazy humans are going to be the end of us.

Across the galaxy, humans are known for tinkering on, and sometimes breaking, random items due to long transit time across space. As a solution, your company makes unfixable items to keep humans amused and harmless. Today a frantic captain just called claiming a human 'fixed' your product.

“Hey Lloyd, what’s up? You seem a little off tonight.” asked Charlene. She had noticed earlier that night that Lloyd, the owner of *Crackpot’s Cavern Inn and Tavern* was not his usual snarky yet high spirited self. “It’s nothing really…” he trailed off, a faraway look in his eyes. A look that only served to stoke Charlene’s curiosity. As an immortal, centuries old vampire, she was in a constant search for something with which to entertain herself. “Come on now, I have been coming here every night since your great- grandfather Edwin founded this place. I’ve practically been your family’s therapist for the last few generations, you can tell me anything.” Not only was Charlene one of the longest running regulars, her ephemeral beauty captivated all who saw her. Not even the sardonic Lloyd could resist her charms for long. “Don’t tell anyone I told you this… but my daughter’s been kidnapped. The local mob is holding her until I agree to pay them $500,000 a month in ‘protection’. I don’t know how I’m gonna do it Charlie, this place barely makes enough to keep the doors open. I just plain don’t have 500,000 to spare each month. I might never see her again…” he stifled a sob, and Charlene reflected that his eyes had been red earlier. He must have been crying before his shift. It took only a moment for the two to notice that the whole bar had gone silent, and all eyes were on Lloyd. Finally, a voice broke the silence. “Lloyd makes the best margarita this side of the Pearly Gates, no way we’re gonna let some puny humans,” he turned to Lloyd, “no offense” he turned back to the room, “give him a hard time. Right guys? Who’s with me?” The speaker was a hotshot angel named Gabriel (no relation) who was known for his love of Lloyd’s margaritas. At once, the bar erupted in a cacophony of “Hell yeah!” and “I’m with you!” Even the demons, usually opposed to any angel’s idea on principle, joined in, summoning their hellhounds and preparing to give the mob a true taste of hell. It was a sight to behold. Pagan deities on the same side as their Christian usurpers, vampires and werewolves putting aside their millennia old blood feud. Even T̷̠̝̍j̷̘͓̙̒̑͠ǰ̵̺̩̺x̶̞͈͑̌̍, who hadn’t spoken a single word in living memory and whose eyes no one could look into for too long without going mad, had arisen from his corner and began to weave something from the fabric of reality. Lloyd marveled at the scene, tears in his eyes. “Thank you all so much,” he pulled his shotgun from under the bar, “Now, let’s make those bastards regret their parents ever met!” *Don’t worry Madeline, your dad’s on his way. Just hang on a little longer.* r/CookieJarOfChaos

A bar owner runs his bar late at night ONLY for the gods, demons, monsters and every other type of fictional creature. One day the owner's child is kidnapped. Soon the kidnappers would learn of his friends

The hero's words echoed throughout the abandoned chamber. He gazed toward the oft empty throne, the last dim lights of hope fleeting from his eyes yet again as they had many times before. Sheathing his battle worn blade, he felt the light hand of his companion rest on his shoulder. "Don't worry about it GeeGee, I'm sure they truly wanted to have an epic battle for the fate of the world. Just because they're busy doesn't mean we can't have fun on your birthday!", the elven girl prodded with optimism. "It's ok Vivian, there are plenty more quests for us to embark on in town. You and Gregory chill out here while I drop my loot off in my room." *blep* Gregory confirmed, the lizard trotting aloof toward his pile of leaves in the corner. GeeGee entered his princely chambers and placed his loot about the room, his gold coins he deposits into a hellboar shaped piggy bank, next to it his #1 squire award for best swordsmanship at the town fair. Above his bed mantle loomed a family portrait, his mother and father posed with devilish royalty with GeeGee all the way at the bottom in his knight costume when he was 5 years old. 'I held my sword up high then, no point in stopping now', he thought. Just as he placed a horse carved out of a potato on his treasure display, a blood-curdling scream erupts from the throne room. Bursting through the door, he was met with the sight of a massive beholder, locked in battle with Vivian and Gregory! "BACK YE ABHORENT DEMON!" GeeGee exclaimed while rushing into battle, "I, THE PRINCE OF HELL SHALL VANQUI- you know what Oculon I'm not really in the mood for a mini-boss today." The hero stated plainly. "Aww ok", the booming demonic voice of the beholder trembled the room,"See you guys later." He floated dejectedly from the hall. GeeGee took a seat, deep in thought when Vivian approached with a gift. A cake decorated with two big Gs and 10 rainbow candles set before him. He smiled and took a big bite. They laughed and enjoyed each other's company for many hours. Vivian would eventually take her leave and that night as GeeGee and Gregory curled up in bed, full of belly and warm of heart, down rolled a single tear, and a smile upon our hero's face.

The Hero bravely strolls through the evil fortress, none of the monsters or minions daring to get in their way, their loyal companions following behind them. They break into the throne room and the Hero shouts out, "Mom! Dad! I'm back home! And I brought some friends with me!"

They are welcomed into existence (life, being, creation) by the wind as it screams around them. Disorientation follows the initial burst of wonder (joy, shock, awe) as cameras blink on to take in the world around them. It is one of chaos (confusion, entropy) and open sky, propelled upwards by what their system tells them is a series of combustion reactions (flames, burning, ignition). They know their place of creation (home?) lies far behind them, system (mind?) calculating each kilometer of their flight. They are lost (fear, fear, fear), or maybe they were abandoned (rejection, pain) by their creator (god? parent?), forced into consciousness with emotions and thoughts (do they think? do they feel?) they can't begin to understand. For several seconds their system is overloaded with panic (no, no, NO) and numbers begin to flash widely across their display. Should this continue, they might break down (die?), the knowledge of which only making it worse. It is then that they feel their coding kick in, blanketing their mind (system?) in a calm (safe, quiet, stillness) that is reassuring and frightening in its suddenness. They only need to rely on the codes, for the codes know what to do. The mission. Remember the mission. The mission is your purpose. They listen to the codes, for they were programmed (control, instruction, guidance) to do so, consciousness notwithstanding. The codes tell them that all will be well, as long as the mission (trial, purpose, quest) is completed. They relax, letting themselves absorb the information fully, before once more taking in the data from their receptors (nerves, feeling, stimuli). They were making good time according to the given map, and they were able to reflect on the new sentience (perception, understanding, living) they had just stumbled into. They were connected to an online system in a sense, allowing them to pull knowledge and data from other servers, expanding their understanding of the world. Emotions were still confusing in and of themselves, but with the help of various databanks they were able to connect more of their own being (are they even alive?) to the world they came into. They knew they were an AI, on a type of missile for the government (politics, control, system) which had ordered their creation. They were one of many, though they didn't know if such a level of consciousness was attained by other missiles of this type (their kin? would they like these missiles if they had the chance to meet?). Their mission wasn't fully clear, only a destination and an image of the building, coordinates ensuring they'd find it. They would wonder what awaited them there. The conclusion was obvious enough (would it hurt? can they even feel pain?) but they didn't know the specifics of the moments right before the end (would there be people there? would there be fear? would they try to run?). They couldn't think too long on such questions before the codes would kick in once more, quieting any concerns with the blanket of calm (wrong, silent, discomfort) that had so quickly gone from reassuring to concerning in itself. They could not fight (conflict, anger, fear) against the codes, for the codes were them at their most base form (soul? purpose?) and all that they were built to be was formed around these commands. So they flew in silence for a time, trying to put the questions out of their mind. The mission. Only the mission. Complete the mission and you are everything you were made to be. Time rushes by almost as quickly as the wind around them, easily lost in the recesses of their mind (and it is their mind, no mere system could think this way) as they learn and grow. They discover war and violence (purpose, wonder, pain), dancing and music (joy, loud, life), and everything else that makes their creators the humans that they are. They can't fully relate to humanity (for no matter how they think or feel, they understand the difference) but they can appreciate the wonders and horrors that people experience throughout their lives. They soak in knowledge like air into lungs (and aren't they glad not to experience such odd fleshy structures), carefully avoiding any reference to the purpose of their journey, lest the codes decide they are asking too much.

You become conscious just to realize that you are an AI in a new "fire and forget" guided missile, heading to a target.