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In the beginning, we didn’t know why they thought The List was accurate. When they made their presence known and who they wanted, we tried to negotiate. We pleaded to let others go. They knew who they wanted though. It was so exact that they needed a blood sample in order to even enter their ship. What we didn’t know was that dark times were ahead. Thousands of so-called influencers were called to fulfil their duty and represent the human race in an intergalactic counsel. We were grateful that there were some experienced politicians going on at the time. Maybe if the rest kept quiet then this wouldn’t turn into an abomination of a political summit. We should have been honoured but things kept coming up that was beyond odd. There were doomsday sayers back then of course. They didn’t seem to stick around though or when they got to a head it just seemed to fizzle out. Local police to international agencies weren’t able to calm some of the factions down but they also never needed to. People went missing. High-level people became ill and passed in a matter of weeks. We all assumed it had to be due to stress. Autopsies found nothing. It never mattered to those on The List. They sold everything and their souls for more and more money. Influencers got influenced. Cults started around them. People started live streaming them 24/7 and donated anything they could with the promise that these people would put in a good word for them. It was such a mess. On the day of, the world watched as the dolled-up narcissist’s got their ultimate dream come true. The words they said, just the sheer audacity of them is burned into my memory. Cameras caught every angle in ultra-high definition and pushed it out to every television and computer across the planet. We all got front-row seats to a culling of what our enemies thought was the best and brightest. “We care not for misunderstandings,” a soft-spoken reptile explained after it was done, “This should make it clear that we are now in control.” Now, as nations scrambled to respond with weapons and the army’s that they had at their disposal the internet did its thing. The Next List was started and quickly filled with names, reasons, and rankings. No government touched it because no one knew what to do with it. What did our new overlords think? They watched in horror as the species that they had so carefully studied and culled the head of started offering up round two. What I wouldn’t have given to know what it was like to be in their command center when they were told to take more. There’s a Bonaparte quote that’s, “Never interrupt your enemy when he is making a mistake.” No communications came from space for a couple of days as they apparently deliberated. Nations armed their warheads and moved their assets into place. Everyone went dark. The longer the aliens kept to themselves the better we positioned ourselves for an actual response. The time came again for the aliens to speak and to many people's surprise, they seemed unstable. The same alien took the podium but without the confidence that he had before. Multiple screens showed now what must have been to direct him. “We are… disappointed that your species has decided to be,” the lizard paused and confirmed something with another behind him before saying, “Barbaric is the word you use. You have a chance to make a reasonable response. Please be aware we will judge you harshly for any immorality going forward.” One-word responses flooded everywhere. No. The sky was set on fire that night so that the aliens clearly heard we were not going to go quietly.

Aliens assume the Internet is our primary means of communication. As a result, humanity's international delegation is chosen entirely from chronically online influencers.

When I changed, the vampire that sired me explained things to me. I was stronger, faster, more durable, had a range of abilities unobtainable for humans such as shapeshifting, and no longer needed to sleep. All the "lore" surrounding vampires were fallacies spread by them to divert suspicion. Running water? Not a problem. Garlic? A delicious addition to any meal. Sunlight? Actually less deadly than when I was human, and definitely none of that sparkly fairy bullshit that was popularised by that one terrible series of books and films. Crosses or other holy symbols? Ineffective. While no longer impeded by the creep of time or illness, we can still be killed - though it is considerably more difficult than killing a human. The one truth is the thirst for blood. We do not die without it, but it intensifies until we begin to lose all reason. Go long enough without, and we devolve into animalistic creatures that hunt and feed without caution. A fully grown adult can sustain me for roughly a year if I fully drain them, before I begin to feel adverse effects; small feedings more frequently is better, as I can avoid killing that way. He also imparted a few warnings: do not feed indiscriminately; avoid killing the innocent; do not feed on high profile individuals; always wipe the memory of those I feed from; do not expose us by using my powers carelessly. As long as I didn't risk exposing our society, I could do whatever I wanted. His final words before leaving me to figure out what I wanted to do with my new life were cryptic at the time: "Remember, you are what you eat." Vague bastard could have explained it more clearly! Instead, I am now realising exactly what those words mean. I've spent the last 150 years as a vampire, learning everything I could, dabbling in sports, making a name for myself before "dying in a freak accident" and starting a new life with a new face. I've been a professional athlete, a university professor, a cardiovascular surgeon, and myriad other things over the course of my life. And throughout it all, I've stuck to hunting the scum of the earth for my sustenance. Murderers, rapists, abusers, you name it I hunted and killed them. One a year, the worst of those who escape the paltry justice of the mortals. I suppose I fancied myself a bit of a champion of justice, an avenger if you will. I was doing a service. Recently, though, I've realised that I've changed. I'm no longer hunting and quickly killing them. I'm stalking them, always at the edge of their perception - an ever present shadow that vanishes the moment they're consciously aware of me. I find myself enjoying the fear I inspire within them, the look of terror in their eyes as I finally corner them, the desperation as they try to fight off the inevitability of their punishment. I torment them, breaking their resistance and will with my superior abilities. One of my powers is illusionary visions; I can make them see things. So I show them the greatest horrors of the various hells that humans have believed in throughout history. I take the form of terrifying demons and creatures that should exist only in nightmares. It seems a diet of the sadistic has had an impact on me. Personally, I don't see this as a problem.

When you became a vampire, you were warned that you are what you eat. If you target a specific kind of person, you will slowly take on their characteristics. You are starting to see the consequences of your diet.

At 10 years of age the government tests all of the kids for mutations. Then again at 12, 14 and 16. For whatever reason, if you are going to get powers you always get them by 16. At 10, I tested as mutant in the area of ‘feelings’. I couldn’t do anything yet but I had to go to the special school for mutants. A mutant that hasn’t manifested yet gets teased. A mutant that hasn’t manifested ‘feeling’ powers gets tortured. At 12, I could get vague impressions of what people around me were feeling. Like super empathy. My guidance councillor thinks I will be a great therapist some day. Yeah, let me tell you, that really stopped the teasing…. Ugh. At 14, I knew exactly what everyone was feeling and could get impressions of the why, if it was top of mind. No one wants to be around someone that can read them like that. No privacy they say. I am not reading their minds…. Just reading the feelings at the surface. At 16, things changed. I could read feelings and surface thoughts really well now but I could also start ‘pushing’ feelings. I could make someone feel something. Make them like me while they were near me. The effect wasn’t permanent and my range was only 5 or 6 feet. People started to actively avoid me. At least the teasing stopped. At 18, the government approached me to offer me a job. They wanted to see how far I could push someone. Could I make someone love me? Could I make someone love themselves? Could I make someone hurt someone or themselves? Could I make someone kill? I became a spy and an assassin. I could just ask someone to give me information and they would love me so much that they would just hand it over. I could sit in a cafe and focus on a target and make them hate themselves so much that they would shoot themselves or walk into traffic to end it all. I am the best in the world at what I do. As proud as that makes me, I find I spend my evenings looking in the mirror, trying to convince myself to love myself….. I wish my power worked on me.

You were relentlessly mocked growing up whenever others found out your superpower was "Feelings". You just found out the government considers you a universal threat and has been monitoring you closely.

The clear mountain air sent a chill to my bones as the warm light of the fire danced around me. Crickets chriped their nightly songs while overhead the shower of falling stars painted the cloudless sky. It was beautiful. I sat there counting them until I heard the quiet footsteps behind me. “Back already? You may have missed-“ The words died on my tongue as I noticed the look on his face. “Is everything okay, John?” His eyes were wide and fast, never settling anywhere for long. His hands shook at his sides and he seemed to walk with purpose. “I think I need your help.” “What’s wrong?” I stood up to get a better look at him, fire and stars forgotten. “I don’t know. Something crashed. Look.” He pointed the way he’d come from and sure enough I could just make out the rising pillar of smoke as it blocked out the stars. “Shit. Might have been a plane or something we should see whats going on.” I ran toward the camper we rented and immediately started rummaging around the closet. Through a heap of blankets and toiletries I found what I’d been looking for, a first aid kit. It wasn’t much, but surely better than nothing. When I came back out John had already extinguished the fire, and we were off. The hike there was long. We ran where we could but the terrain was unforgiving. As we got closer the acrid smell of burning rubber assaulted me. “Definitely a crash.” I sighed. Burning wreckage lay scattered around us. “Not too much further now.” The first thing I noticed when we arrived was the distinct lack of plane. No helicopter either. It was clear by the debris and freshly dug trench that something crashed here, but it seemed to be gone. “Somethings not right.” I commented. “Yea. It had to have crashed here. The destruction stops right there.” He pointed to the end of the trench and line of unbroken trees. I slid down into the path of the crash and started walking towards the end of it. Maybe whatever was here recovered, or they already lifted it out. I was lost in speculation when my head colided with something. “Fuck!” “You okay?” John asked jumping into the trench with me. “What’d you hit?” “Yea I’m fine that just hurt.” I rubbed my forehead gingerly. “Ah thats gonna leave a bump…” I whined. John ignored me, opting instead to investigate what it was I hit. He reached an arm out slowly until he met resistance. Tracing his fingers along it, he followed it’s outline. “Holy shit it’s a ship.” “An invisible ship.” I supplied. “Holy shit its an invisible ship.” “Did you find a door?” “I think?” He said while fumbling his hands around something. With a soft puff of air, reality itself seemed to pull apart as the ship opened. There, in the middle of a crash site, were open doors. “You first?” He shook his head. “Of course not.” I pushed passed him and made my way onto the craft. It was longer than it was wide, with white walls and gray seats. At the front was a windshield, out of which I could see the sparse forest clear as day. Then I noticed what must have been the two pilots, slumped over the controls with a sickening red liquid around them. “John! Theres people!” He came in running, fists raised. He dropped them quick though when he didn’t see anyone. “Whoa.” “Gawk later, theres two people up front who look injured.” I beckoned him forward. “Help me carry them. With great effort, we heaved them out of their seats and laid them onto the smooth metal floor of the ship. One looked mostly okay, out of it but breathing. The other looked more dire. Red spilled from his leg, tainting the floor and covering our hands in the process. “Can you help them?” Asked John. “I think so.” I got to work pulling apart the first aid kit. I tossed a roll of bandages and some alcohol to John. “Any minor cuts or abrasions, apply the bandages. Not too tightly, but make sure they stick.” While he set off on that, I studied the being infront of me. He was bleeding, that much I was sure of. And by the looks of it, it wasn’t a simple fix. I grabbed a tourniquet and wrapped it around the person’s leg. “If you can hear me, this might hurt.” I pulled it hard, cutting off circulation to the limb. The bleeding slowed, then eventually trickled to a stop. It felt like hours, but within only a few minutes we managed to stabilize the pilots. Or at least we thought we did. Without the ability to check for internal injuries, we just had to hope we did enough. By the time we got done, the adrenaline that had pushed us to act so quickly began to fade. I slumped into one of the vessel’s seats and heaved a sigh. “What the hell do we do now?” John looked up at me from his spot on the floor. “We could take them to a hospital? Probably a long way, I don’t think his leg is gonna make it.” “Would they even know how to treat him?” “Fair. But it beats sitting here and hoping they don’t die.” “Yea, I agree. I’ll stay here with them in case anything happens. You head back to the main road, see if you can get reception or flag down a vehicle.” I said. “You just wanna rest your legs.” He teased, standing up. “Guilty.” I chuckled. “But I have first aid training, you don’t.” “I’m not arguing.” He acquiesced. “I’ll be back soon. Hopefully with help.” The doors opened again with the same little puff of air. Only this time, there was a distinct click. “Uh, Alex.” I heard him call from the doorway. “You might wanna turn around.” “What are you-“ I asked, turning to face him. My jaw dropped. Standing there, right outside the door, were five beings with what appeared to be weapons drawn. I immediately joined John in holding up my hands. The beings, only three of which looked like the ones from the crash, stormed the craft. They barked orders in an alien tongue. The words were nothing to us, but the intent was clear. Two of them dropped down and starting examining the incapacitated duo. One of the examiners said something in a commanding tone and instantly the other three holstered their weapons. John and I exchanged worried glances, hands still raised above our heads. “You can put your hands down.” One of them said. We complied. “Farah, Segar, Turi, secure the perimeter. Send a message to the Thebes, tell them to prep sick bay for emergency surgery.” The three named individuals nodded and filed out of the downed ship. Farah? Turi? Such strange names. John must have felt the same because he watched them walk out with a confused furrow in his brow. “Who are you?” I asked. The person clearly in charge sighed. “We’re aliens. Obviously. You weren’t supposed to find us.” “Captain, they did save Craig’s life. They stopped his bleeding. And while rudimentary, they clearly attempted to care for them both.” The person on the floor said. She was still examining the duo, not bothering to make eye contact while speaking up for me and John. “Yes, so you’ve said. We really do appreciate it, but this has put us in quite a bind.” He said shaking his head. “How so?” John asked. “We’re not meant to contact primitive- I mean non-ftl capable species. Passive observation only.” “Then how did you crash here?” “The meteor shower your planet is experiencing is a phenomenon caused by a rock from space breaking up in your atmosp-“ the woman stood up and slapped the captain’s arm. “They know what meteor showers are.” She scoffed. “I didn’t.” John piped up. “Wait you didn’t know what a meteor shower was?” I asked him. “We’ve been to three.” “I was just kinda hoping you’d explain eventually.” “Anyway!” The Captain cut in. “We were using it as a chance to grab low flying shots of your world for the archives. Then something hit them.” “So then what happens now?” The Captain cleared his throat. Him and the woman beside him stiffened, standing stock still. “It is a great honor to meet you, Ambassadors Alex and John.” He greeted. “With open arms and open minds, the Terran Republic welcomes you and your people to the wider galaxy.”

You're out camping deep in the mountains and witness a falling star crash near you. You approach and see something you never expected.

"Where am I?" The sterility of white square panels lined every inch of the room, the gaps between the tiles terminating into nothingness at random points. Francis simply stared in confusion, and then anger, and then horror, taking in his newfound surroundings. Two black-suited agents stood some feet away. "You've been placed in a temporal containment chamber," spoke the first agent, an ashen-haired, shorter woman. "A time prison," spoke the second - taller, more masculine, with auburn hair. Francis, bags beneath his eyes from lack of sleep, turned to face them, he tried to signify the incredulity of the moment with his arms, which were restrained beneath the straitjacket. "A TIME PRISON?" he asked, eyes wide. It would be a hard concept to understand. "What did I even do?!" "It's not what you've done," replied Agent One. "It's what you will do," continued Agent Two. Agent One followed again. "We have enough evidence to corroborate a significant TSE centered around you that will occur three years and twenty-seven minutes from this moment." "Three years and twenty-six minutes, now." Agent Two's voice was raspy and underwhelming, yet still carried a rather off-putting tone. Francis took a step toward the agents, yet the distance remained the same. "TSE? What the fuck is that?" he inquired, squirming in place. The restraints were starting to trigger his claustrophobia as he struggled to swing long locks of curly brown hair out of his face. "A Temporal Shift Event," responded Agent One, checking the watch on her wrist before sighing. "An occurrence in which the timeline is altered significantly, forced to deviate from its original, intended purpose." "The butterfly effect," concluded Agent Two, still as stone. "Chaos theory." "B-but," stammered Francis, beginning to hyperventilate. "But if I haven't done anything, I shouldn't- I shouldn't be imprisoned! This is evil!" "Some evils are necessary," Agent Two retorted. "I would hardly call this 'evil'," joined Agent One, checking her watch again. "Though it is necessary. The actions you take today are the first in a long string of decisions that will ultimately result in the indirect extinction of half the human race. For that reason, we must contain you until such time as the possibility of a significant TSE occurrence has been mitigated." "For your own good," adjourned Agent Two, turning away and passing through the walls of the chamber, leaving Agent One and Francis alone for a moment longer. As Agent One turned away, too, she checked her watch for a third time. "Your restraints will be removed the moment I've left the room. From here on out, you are under our care until this problem has been resolved." Francis took another step forward. "How long?" he asked, his eyes bloodshot and red. He was on the verge of tears. Agent One stopped and turned her head, her lips curling inward. The display on her watch, upon which was carried a slowly-warping picture of an aged Francis that had been incrementally disappearing, faded to black. Before she, too, vanished beyond the wall, she answered his question. "If you're lucky, the rest of your life."

You get suddenly teleported to a time prison. Apparently the prison is used to contain people who would have committed incredible atrocities in the future. The thing is, you have no clue what you could have possibly committed.

I hate my life. Sure, people think that my life is great. Anything I want to create, I can invent. I make millions of dollars every year for the rest of my life. I live in a giant mansion, and I have every single toy that I want. But I also have millions of deaths on my conscience. It seems like everything I create becomes evil. I invent an exoskeleton that can lift 10 tonnes so that my brother stops hurting his back at work, and now every military squad has one that carries gattling guns. I clone my dog and his memories after hes hit by a car, and now there are thousands of highly trained k9's thrown as cannon fodder against the "enemy." An upgraded GPS chip that works while spelunking is now used on every submarine in the US navy. I invent freaking teleportation, and those people use it to teleport bombs inside their opponents tanks. My latest invention though, no way it could be used for war. I take a deep breath and look out at the audience in front of me. Most of them are people from "defense" companies, but there are some people from commercial companies too. Those are the people I want to reach. "Hello, and welcome to my latest unveiling. Tell me, have you ever gone to your cousins party, and had a little bit too much to drink? Then you realize you have a big conference the next day you need to drive to? Introducing, the soberinator! Simply point this gun at yourself, pull the trigger and it eliminates any alcohol inside your body, as well as any adverse effects it might have done to you! Tried and tested this morning!" I look out, and to my suprise the defense companies seem most interested. I sigh, wondering how long until I learn how they use this against humanity. Turns out it was less than two months. My soberinator apparently works on more than alcohol. It also works if you do something like inject your prisoner with venom. You get a couple bullet ants to bite your victim, wait for them to tell you everything you want, then you hit them with this gun and boom, their pain is gone. I can't take it anymore. I want to make the world better, but everything I do makes it worst. I decide I won't invent anything ever again. I can't take this guilt anymore. I grab several containers of pills, pop them open and put them down my throat. My stomach hurts immediately, and its not long until I'm seizing out on the ground and the world goes dark. Then I wake up to see my maid pointing my soberinator at me. God damn it, I hate my life.

You're a brilliant but pacifist inventor. To your endless annoyance, companies keep finding ways to use your seemingly benign creations for warfare to great effect.

"Why do you want me to join you? I'm just a simple skeleton." You reply dryly. "Well...it's because you're different from the others. You're the only one who didn't try to attack me on sight." The hero admitted. You had wisely decided to stay away and hide while the hero was fighting a low-level necromancer and his skeleton minions. When the fighting stopped, you decided to go out to try and look for some valuables when the hero spotted you. Honestly, it felt like dumb luck when she decided to not turn you into a pile of bones. Getting an offer to join her on her adventure was a whole 'nother level of confusion though. Lucky you got no brain left to overwhelm, at least. "I'm not like the other boneheads who want to look for trouble, but you really should pick someone else to travel with you. I'm just a normal skeleton, with no powers or combat skills or anything like that." "It doesn't matter if you don't have that! I want to help you!" 'Why is she so adamant? So annoying.' "Look, if you want to help me, the best you can do is to either leave me alone or just kill me. I'm not going to travel with you and just be dead weight." You turn around and were about to leave when she said a few words that instantly piqued your attention. "What about if I help you regain your humanity?" You stop. She decides to take this as a sign that you're listening amd continues talking. "I'm sure being a skeleton sucks, right? Why not become human again? If that's what you want, I'll help you with it, no strings attached!" She cheerfully spoke. "That's not an option for us. It's either lichdom or gravedom for us." She chuckled. If you still had lips, you'd be smiling at her and her bad sense of humor. "Maybe because you haven't tried yet...o-or maybe you weren't given a chance! Come on, just join me in my adventures and I'll help you become human again! I promise you, I will not leave unless you take my offer and I promise that I will not fail in my quest to get you your humanity back." 'Oh, for fuck's sake, it seems no words of mine will be able to convince her.' *sighs* "Oh well...what do I have to lose?" I turn back around to face her, and the first thing I see is the look of determination in her eyes. I sigh as I went over towards her, stopping only when I was right in front of her. "Fine. I give up. I'll join you." At once, the hero's resolute look was replaced by one of utter joy as she beamed at you. If you still had a heart, it would probably have skipped a beat. "Thank you so much!" She then bowed at you. "I won't make you regret your decision...er...what's your name?" "It's Ansel. Just Ansel...the skeleton." "Okay then, Ansel. My name is Alexia." She then put forth her hand towards you, offering a handshake. "I hope you and I will become great partners." She then smiled at you again. You simply shook her hand in return. 'Well...this certainly got more interesting. I'm not that excited on getting my flesh and blood back, but...I got a good feeling about this.' (Part 2 will come if this gets enough upvotes.)

You are a simple skeleton enemy in a fantasy world, when you encounter the hero, instead of killing you he spares you and asks you to join his side on his adventure.

“The divide between heroes and villains will be lesser than one between ordinary people and heroes.” That is what my father told me when I got my powers. Back then I was just a teenager, with justness in my mind and an image of myself being a hero of the people. Life had other plans and led me on a wild ride, I was a so-called hero for a very short period of time before embracing my “Villain” persona. Heroes came after me, but most of them were not a real threat. I played along, and let them sometimes beat me, but I always fulfilled my goals. That’s until Liberty showed up, like me on top of our wide variety of powers she was immortal as well. I believe that deep down, she understood that these were all games, these powers, personas we adapt, and all the games to make our lives make sense once again. Once you can soar the skies, breathe fire, and walk through walls ordinary life makes no sense. And I believe that’s what my father had in mind, that’s why ordinary people hate us. One day you both are sitting at work, working nine to five, hating on everything, and then one of you can jump over a building the next day and you have to continue with your life as if nothing has changed. I didn’t let Liberty beat me once, when she did, it was fair and square. She was maybe the most powerful individual on the planet and I don’t admit it lightly, now they are saying she died of natural causes. They probably didn’t even know she was immortal, very few people did, so it would seem my worse fears are becoming a reality. If they can somehow remove her from the equation, the other “Heroes” don’t stand a chance. So it’s on me, to find out what happened, heroes are dumb, they will believe the bullshit they are serving, they will honor her and continue to bask in the fame and glory, and they will probably fight for her spot now. I have to do the right thing now, or this could all get out of hand pretty fast. ​ [Part 2 is out on my sub ->](https://www.reddit.com/r/LukasWrites/comments/z10nmp/2_the_death_of_immortal_part_2/) ​ *You can check my other stories on my subreddit* r/LukasWrites

The Police claim the Hero has died of natural causes. The Villain is most shocked because they know they are both immortal (idea from strawberry_shortkay on tt)

I understood very little about how the world worked. My wife called me naïve, said I found it easier to always see the good in everything. In everyone. She called me optimally optimistic. I always told her everyone was good inside. That was the gods’ honest truth. Everyone was good. In our entire life together, through forty long years, the world grew peaceful. The wars of our youth ceased. Petty feuds and skirmishes ended. Crime slowed to a halt. People cheered each other in the street, complimented each other regularly. Doors were held open and children laughed with abandon. The rich gave their wealth to the poor. Politicians told the truth and worked together to solve problems, not create them. People worried about the world. Would it last? They’d ask. This golden age could not last forever. We must have been balancing on the edge of a knife. If history was any indication, we would soon fall. “What if the world crumbles when we die?” My wife asked one night, curled up in bed. “What if jr grows old in a world like the past?” “You can’t think that way,” I said. “There’s plenty of good out there, in all of us. No one wants to lose that. We’re all just trying to keep our lives peaceful.” She believed me, and she slept like a lamb. She always believed me. Ever since that night, in the dark edge of the park. The dim lights flickering above the pavement as she jogged. The shadows growing larger until her feet brought her to where I waited, watching for her. I told her she was beautiful. It was the truth. She was stunning. I told her I wanted her. She backed away. I stopped her. Don’t go anywhere, I told her. Don’t scream. She trembled, and she kicked. And she shuddered. And when I was done I told her: I’m not a bad guy. I promise. Im good. There aren’t any bad guys out there, not on this night. Not ever. And somehow, she believed me. She relaxed into me. And the world followed. Every night I lied to her, and I held that lie so tight it bled into the rest of the humanity We’re all good, always. I know it won’t last. It’ll end when I die. If I die first, this dream I’ve created will unravel, and she’ll know me. What I did. And our world will turn to dust. Perhaps I am the only truly bad person. But I won’t let her learn the truth. As she dies, I’ll look her in the eyes and convince us both that I’m a good man.

You can make a lie become truth, but only one lie at a time, once it is a lie again everyone involved will know immediately. You’re on your deathbed, holding one lie as truth for decades. You know hell will break loose once you die and the lie becomes a lie, and everybody will know.

There is a difference between KNOWING something and BELIEVING something. The most recent tool the justice system started using is a great example. In lieu of video evidence, to ensure absolute certainty in the prosecution of criminals, the dead could be summoned back for a short time to face their killers. It was expensive to use, so it was rare, but when warranted, it could remove all doubts. Every trial, by law, must be recorded on video, or the accused must be identified by the victim. I didn't REALLY believe in it until it was used on me. "Mr Skylar, you have been brought before us today to testify on your own torture and murder." I look across the crowded courtroom, filled with paparazzi and news reporters, crazy fanatics, and their jaded spouses. The story, after all, was big. For the first time in 15 years, someone was killed outside the view of a single camera. The stupid things were everywhere: in the buttons of clothes, the four corners of cars, the frames of both prescription and designer glasses, and occasionally even implanted to serve as someone's eye! In the name of "collective security," each one could be accessed, and the memory, at least 7 days worth by law, analyzed for every crime. I look at the defendant, a skinny man who resembles nothing more than a weasel that's been punched in the face a hundred times. A smirk is on his face. It's there because he knows. He knows that this will make him famous: a celebrity of a sort, a rare unicorn in the flesh. The judge continues. "You have been brought back here on account of the, frankly, recently unheard of situation of NOT being recorded in your final hours. Is this man the one who killed and tortured you before mutilating your body?" My eyes had never left the weasel. At every word the judge said, his entire being lit up more. He wanted this. It was the sole reason I had been chosen. The whole reason I was put through so much pain. He wanted to have his name in headlines. So I'll give it to him. But not as he wants. "No, your honor. This man was the one tied up and made to watch. He's another victim. The man who attacked me was much larger and always wore a mask. This man was acting as if he was drugged but was made to describe each action done. I think the killer wanted him to take the fall because, let's face it, who would bring me back when you supposedly had the killer's confession?" The entire room pauses into silence. Then, the voices rise in a tsunami of surprise, shock, and fear. Will this cause mass panic? Maybe. The loss of more rights in the name of fear? Possibly. But I am dead, no longer caring about the chaos to follow. I care only for one thing. The white, horror stricken face of my killer, now gasping like a fish. "This man has probably been put through some heavy trauma and manipulation. I doubt he can tell reality from the lie." "NO! IT WAS ME! I KIDNAPPED YOU! I RIPPED YOUR FLESH OFF AN INCH AT A TIME! I PULLED YOUR TEETH AND BROKE YOUR LIMBS! IT WAS ME! ADMIT IT!" I look to the judge and see a light in his old eyes. He knows what I'm doing. This tool has never before been used for the dead to torture the living; for a haunting to strike in the reality of the modern age. But I think he approves. A hunch, which is confirmed a moment later. "The accused has been cleared of all charges, but in the interest of his own safety, I order he be remanded to the Cook County Hospital for the Insane for treatment. I thank Mr. Skylar for his participation in these proceedings, and I wish him a quiet rest." "Thank you, your honor. I'm sure I'll get much peace in the time to come. Not that I really have a choice!" We share a small smile. As the world starts to once again fade to black, I hear the panicked screeching of my killer, off to face a punishment worse than anything the system could give him, and I smile. I have passed MY sentence. He shall be remembered, but not as the clever killer. No, he is just one of the mysterious killer's victims. Not one above all, but one, in the shadow of the"worse" fate. I reward him with the prize of being forgotten...

After being killed, you wake up in a courtroom, the judge presents you as a witness to sentence the person who killed you

All in all, the plan went fairly smoothly...as smoothly as a bloody global coup can go, at least. Can’t deny that there was loss of land, life, and liberties. You know what they say about eggs and omelettes and the need to use brutal warfare to seize control and make a peaceful utopia. Just how things need to go, you know? The lands lost were taken from nations *for* the people. The people lost were necessary sacrifices to the foundation of the new World Nation. The so called “liberties” that were lost were actually poisons that robbed our peoples and our World Nation of direction. Better to be fed and warm and content whilst on a leash than living wild, hungry and diseased, waiting for a sad and inevitable death. See! I can spin it. I *did* spin it. Many have joined our efforts of unification in joyous song. Some have stiffly acquiesced...and others — small factions — are enemies of our nation who will be stomped out and hung in the streets to be beaten to death. Smooth sailing. Save, maybe, for one teensy, tiny, little catch. One tiny itty-bitty grain of sand that adds only the most minuscule dot of roughness to the silky smooth operation of the Psy-Op Government Propaganda machine that I have carefully devised. Our dear leader — the genius architect of our utopia, the fist that fought the false leaders and their lies — he...well. He has an idea that he clings to, one that is brilliant in its own way, but one that I believe can be improved upon. He wants to be called...something other than what we chose. We avoided King and Emperor, and never considered Supreme Leader. He, for now, is Prime Generalissimo de Excellence. But... He *wants* to be called: The Great Shadow Lord... Of Dread and Tears... Harbinger of the Age of Darkness. Regent — Yes, still going — of the Night and Godking of the Damned and Wicked and... It goes on a bit more (a page and a half), but you get the gist. It’s very...*gothic*. Paints a macabre air about him and, for me, as someone who views him as the light of our world...I just don’t think his desired title quite matches with who and what he is and how he should be seen and spoken about. It’s a *lovely* title — well crafted, really — just...you know. Not quite the tone that I think best fits him. Anyway. I have a meeting with him shortly and I know he will make the best decision. It is important to note that good liars will even lie to themselves. If you live in a fascist world, you best act, work as, and *think* like a fascist. Otherwise...you slip up. You become the enemy. So, our wonderful leader is right to want that name. And he’ll be even more right to keep the one he has. He’ll know what to do. I really hope he’ll do the smart thing, even though everything he does is smart. I can spin just about anything, but a page and a half of moody teen titles...hoo boy.

You are a PR advisor to the man who just established a fascist one-world dictatorship, and you are desperately trying to talk him out of giving himself the nickname "The Great Shadow Lord of Dread and Tears, Harbinger of the Age of Darkness".

A tale of two voices --- “How can you trust it? A voice telling you that you should kill and fight and quest. Could its source not be a spectre whose designs are hidden from you? A creature of malice and mayhem? Maybe a demon tempting you with power to corrupt your immortal soul?” “Silence! I shall have no ill said of my hearts guide. True, it is a voice from beyond, but every word and every syllable has been uttered in delight of life, or s a command to protect the weak, a condemnation of all evils, or an exaltation at the glory of the Divine Nine and this world they made for us.” “The darkness often hides in light, good Sir Knight.” “If I can not trust a voice of calm and care, that demands only that I do my best to protect the realm, that shares with me its strength that I might do more...would you ask me not to trust The Highest One of the Nine? To forgo her glory and her blessings?” “I mean you no insult and denigrate neither you, your efforts, or the love of the Divine. I speak only of caution. Care. Thought. Tis better sure than sorry.” “I shall take your warning and also my leave. There is work that must be done.” “Good luck, Sir Knight. May your hearts guide lead you to a blessed life. Farewell.” “May the Divine’s smile upon you.” \* * * “A voice?” “Yer.” “What sort of voice.” “Him tells me fings.” ‘What sort of things?” “Kill d’bad-uns. Chop d’wood fer Gam-gam.” “A voice that tells you to murder...and to do chores?” “Yer.” “Is...it *your* voice? You know: Thinking?” “Uhhh. Dunno.” “Okay...does it sound—” “Issa crinket.” “It’s...a what?” “Lil cricky.” “...oh! A cricket?” “Yer. Cripket!” “Like...Jiminy?” “Uh! Uh! Yer, hims Jimmy!” “Ohhh, so the voice is...your conscience? And...it..tells you to kill?” “Only d’bad-uns. No kill d’good-uns.” “Only the bad ones...right. Donny, where is your Granny? I need to have a chat with her.” “Gam-gam is in d’garden.” “Okay, well, you stay here and you work on your...chores.” “Kay!” With that, the Investigative Priest left to speak to Gam-Gam. As soon as he was gone a small charcoal coloured cricket with ruby red eyes crawled out from behind Donny’s left ear. “Nice work, Donny. Nice work.” “Fanks, Jinny.” “Now, what I need you to do is got get your wood chopper. We have work to be done.”

"Hero...this 'voice', the one that gives you a little power whenever you kill things or do those 'quests' it says to do...do you think it's something you should trust?"

Night. An empty gravel carpark in a crime-prone industrial precinct. A breeze kicks the litter around, picks up a damp front page of a discarded newspaper and throws it against a chain-link fence. The headline: The Information Super Highway — Fad or Future? Date: October 8, 1997. A blast of blinding white brightness and the crackle, shriek, and buzz of electricity. The cold and quiet night returns. There is a red-edged circular gap in the fence that wasn’t there a moment ago. Squatting in a small, smoldering crater, is a naked man. His skin steams and his muscular form heaves under heavy, steady breaths. The time-traveler stumbles from his time-push dismount crater and falls onto the gravel. He made it. It damn near killed him, but those crazy big-brained bastards did it. \* * * A few hours had passed. The Time-Traveler had gathered up some clothes from kind strangers and charity bins. Khakis, a Pinky and the Brain T-shirt, a pair of miss-matched new balance sneakers, and a small denim jacket with Tweety Bird of Looney Tunes fame on the back. Right. He wasn’t going to die of exposure, he was fairly inconspicuous, and he’d managed to get a bit of water and something called a cliff bar. Now all that was left was the mission: prevent the rise of superheroes and thus save the future from the inevitably world destroying escalation of super villains. It was about now that the first Secret Heroes popped up and— “Crap,” Thought Captain Wonder Soldier “It’s me. I’m the first one and it snowballs from here.” He reached into a pocket and pulled out a small credit card size wad of plastic. A Data Biscuit, something he had brought with him when he Time-Shifted through rather...personal means of storage. The Hero bent the card and it snapped and revealed itabcontents. Within was a sheet of paper with classified info to be accessed once he was in the past and working on the mission. “No. It’s not you.” Read the first line. “Oh. Good!” Said Captain Wonder Soldier. “However,” It continued. “Nothing good comes after however.” “You inadvertently inspired the first heroes by stopping that bus from hitting that guy.” “Huh?” A bus whizzed by and the hero heard a wet thud. The bus powered on. “Anyways, we accounted for that this time with the card you brought with you in your mouth. From this point on? Just live your life and don’t use your powers. (Also we gave you a laser vasectomy during the physical, can’t go letting you have super babies). Be sure to write a report and leave it at the designated drop point. Hopefully this version solved the problem. Catch ya! Love, Brainicles.” The now retired, apparently sterile hero lowered his mission card. “Damn it! In my mouth? Should have thought of that.”

You're a super hero from a distant future. In order to save the world, you are sent back to a time where heroes amd villains didn't exist, making you the first super hero in history.

1,345 years ago, The Sol Empire signed a Declaration of War against the Galatic Community (GC), which had instated many trade and military embargos on the Empire because of its vast and quick growth. This started a seven-year campaign now aptly named the Conquest Wars. With the use of OAH-Gates, Hypergates of human Origin, the Empire was able to spread its reach vastly, taking over 100 systems and three countries in the first two years of the Campaign. The Empire maintained a steady growth of control over the galaxy as the entire GC struggled to push them back. But, like all Empires, it grew too big, its armies spread too thin, and the threat of bankruptcy looming over it. The GC began pushing back, reclaiming systems, and destroying main Imperial Bastions. Fearing inevitable destruction, The Empire pulled back as much of its forces as it could, and shut down the entire OAH Network, cutting itself off from the entire Galaxy while also crippling the Entire GC. Without the OAH-Gates, what would take hours to get from one system to a neighboring system, would now take days, even months. That didn’t stop the GC though, still fighting against the remaining bastions of the Empire. This then started the Reclamation War, with most of the Galactic Community uniting under one federation, naming themselves the Nations of Allied Interests (N.A.I.). In 4 years, they reclaimed all that was lost, with any remaining communities of Humans being either captured as POWs, slaves, or escaping into the galaxy. 1,334 years later, humans are now mostly nomads left forgotten by their homeworld, trying to survive. The idea of Earth, let alone a homeworld for humans has been long forgotten. Most of GC think that the Empire fell shortly after it cut itself off from the entire galaxy, some think that once it fell the Homeworld of the humans went to war with itself and destroyed the planet while doing so. The GC was never able to recover from the shutdown of the OAH-Gate Network, trying and failing to either bring it back or create its own. Humans now travel in communes, from system to system, while others try to break out of the mold of only manual labor. And then, there are the small few, who travel the galaxy searching for their home, stopping from system to system, doing whatever they have to go home. By most of the GC, they are looked down, and will often be shot on sight, not wanting the possible reconstruction of another Empire, and think they should appreciate what they have. Most humans think so too, fearing the repercussions from the GC if they were to find a home. But some believe, and hope, that their Earth is still out there. The name commonly given to the Humans that search for Earth is Soljurns. (I wrote lore instead, lol. I might write a short story later, just really wanted to do some lore for an interesting Promt)

The Orion arm hypergates collapsed eons ago, leaving humanity in the rest of the galaxy as wanderers. Earth has become stuff of legends, adventurous humans sometimes setting out to find the nigh-mythical homeworld and the old human empire.

Blood and pacts go together like chainsaws and hockey masks, or sand and eyeballs, or little toes and coffee table legs, or spending a weekend with your in-laws and your partner won’t let you drink yourself into a stupor of inner escapism, or pixar movies where the two main characters are opposites that come to appreciate and love their differences. That is to say, Blood and Pacts — when wedged together — are: scary, painful, shocking, saddening, and...a boring cliche. It’s done to death! Lots of history and, sure, it evokes a certain air but...meh! Used to be you’d stay the signers quill-gripped hand and you’d say: “Why no, Sir. Not in ink. You must sign...in blood.” Then the human would get all shaky and it would hit them — hit them *hard* that they were doing it! They wee making a deal with a devil. Now-a-days it’s: Where do I sign, not a problem, got a vial of my own red-stuff here and a fountain pen ready. Scribble scribble, whoopty doo. I’ll see you at the ironic consequences. If it weren’t for the need of human fluid (that’s what our contracts need, the signature doesn’t matter), I’d let ‘em use ink. Then, as I was helping this soggy sorrowful lass with a bit of vengeance in exchange for a soul, she surprised me. She wiped her hand across her tear streaked, mascara stained cheeks (and under her snotty nose), and then dabbed the quill in that! Signed in sadness, she did. Across these past few millenia, blood had been the ink of choice. The symbol of life. A part of yourself. Ritual and nature clotted together in a vein born soup. And then, bam! She changes the game. Tears. Pain and sorrow and loss. Blood is people. Tears are feelings. What a rush! To know that there is more yet to see. Anyways, I’ve got to go and break a ladies heart — my clients ex-girlfriend. A horrific, demon-based, overkill tit for tat kind of deal. Tears. What a day. I’m shaking! You know what? “Hey, lady.” “..yeah..what?” She was rugged up, arms crossed, fresh streaks of unhappiness slid down her cheeks. “I’m gonna do this for free.” “What?” “You pulled me outta a rut! I can do a mortal a nicety every now and then.” “Oh?” “Does mean less magic, though. Contracts give me rights to work in this realm.” “Oh.” “Wanna go mess up your cheating bitch of an ex together?” I held out a red hand. She looked down and blinked, snorted back some running nose juice...and nodded. “Yeah. Fuck it.” She took my hand in her snot and tear coated mitt and shook it. “Atta girl!”

When humans sign your demonic contracts they have to use fluid related to the request, blood has been the norm for millennia but this is the first time a contract was signed with tears.

I woke up with shock. “Where am I? What am I doing here?” I thought. “This doesn’t look like the barracks.” An older looking woman walked in very slowly and sat in the chair next to me with a grunt. “What’s going on? Who are you?” I asked. The woman looked at me and let out a sigh. She said, “just close your eyes. You need your rest.” She was right. Tomorrow my platoon was shipping out across the channel to join the fight in France. After months of training, we were finally joining our brothers in arms who already opened a beachhead. But why was she in my room? Where were my squadmates bunks? We sat in silence for a moment while I gathered my thoughts. Everything was so foggy. I must have blacked out after a night at the pub getting my last pint. But something felt off. Was she my nurse? She seemed too old and frail to be my nurse. Where was her uniform? She was wincing with every breath. She seemed to be struggling, like she couldn’t catch her breath. How did she pass the physical to enlist? She then looked at me and opened her mouth. “I’m sorry old friend, but you’ll have to face it alone now. I wish I could stay with you. Be good.” She said in an odd but familiar tone. She looked so sad. Like she was letting me down. I assumed she meant that her shift was over and a new nurse would be taking over… but what happened next was shocking. She touched my shoulder as her breath was getting shorter and shorter until I could no longer hear her breaths. Her eyes closed and she slumped over. I needed to get help. Did she pass out? But where is everyone? I got up as fast as I could. Why did everything hurt to walk? Was I that hungover? I made my way into the hallway and saw several women in all purple at a desk. What odd clothes. I got a tap on my shoulder. It was a young looking woman. “What are you doing up? I told you to call for me if you needed something.” I was puzzled but couldn’t worry about that at this moment. I said “I think the woman in there needs help. I can’t hear her breathing.” The woman suddenly ran into the room and let out a yell. Suddenly everyone was running around and I was getting dizzy. I needed to splash water on my face. Is this some weird stress dream? I saw a door that said bathroom so I went in and what I saw horrified me. I didn’t see myself in the mirror. I saw some old man with gray hair and wrinkles. Was this a trick? Am I still drunk? The young woman came into the bathroom. Tears in her eyes. She said “I’m sorry Dad. Mom died just now. We need to get you back in your bed while we figure out what to do next.”

There was nothing remarkable about her at all. Except that she, a complete stranger, sat down next to you & said with sincere compassion, "I am so sorry old friend, but you'll have to face it alone now." It was that look of pity that stuck with you, and not how she died the very next moment.

"I get that he's the child of prophesy, destined to do... something crazy... but like, do we HAVE to just let that little punk ransack our house? Couldn't we just... lock the door or something?" "What?" "Oh don't tell me it doesn't bother you too. The twerps like 3 feet tall and carries around that silly little toy sword. Why can't we just tell him to screw off when he just barges in?" "Jerry... You can't be serious." "Why not? " "..." "Well?" "Alright. FINE! Next time the herio comes to town, YOU lock the door and tell him to *screw off*. I'd love to see it. " "Don't be like that." "No! Don't tell me how to be. Everytime the hero comes to town you shut up and stay quiet just like the rest of us. But the moment he leaves, THE MOMENT, you start treating everyone else like idiots for not telling the boy who single handedly KILLED AN EVIL WIZARD to... what was it? Screw off..." "You don't actually believe that nonsense do you?" "Oh my gods." "The kid doesn't even wear armor! I can't even picture him killing the giant rats downstairs much less an evil wizard." "Jerry, I honestly and truly hate you." "For speaking the truth? If the king himself came to the village and started stealing everyone's valuables we'd be storming the castle that same day. Why do we let that stupid brat get away with it?" "Please shut up." "No I will not. It's about time someone put that little punk in his place. The next time shows his face around here I'm gonna give him a piece of my mind." "Oh for the love of... please do. Please for the love of the gods tell the 10 year old who can pick up a boulder the size of our house everything you just said. Let's see how that goes." "I will. "Yeah ok." "I'm dead serious. The next time that stupid toddler comes through that door I-" **BANG!** "Oh shit." "Freaking perfect." "..." Rustle rustle... creak... *YAAAAAH* **SMASH** "..." "...well?" "Shut up" **CRASH** Rustle rustle *Hey listen* "..." "...What were you say-" "I said shut up! Not now!" "..." **SMASH** *Da-ding Da-ding* "H-hey... th-that's my... ehem... uhhh.... n-n-nevermind." "..." Creeeeak **BANG** "..." "...Hey Jerry." "...y-yeah..." "I never want to hear you complain about the hero again." "... yeah... that's fair."

When the child was born, all the rulers bowed. Gods and mortals alike bent the knee, not out of respect or loyalty but out of sheer unbridled terror.

Mak'tar flipped through his book, trying to find the right page. After a while he found it. "This right here means honor. This place must be a monument to their great power." "What is this symbol here?" "Well its obvious, isn't it? The circle in the middle represents the planet, and the three segments represents the three great powers of the time working together for the good of the planet." "And the skulls?" "I think that means their conquest over death. These spikes all around us must represent them rising from the planet to travel among the stars. Lets head inside and see what is inside." The two creatures head past the broken rubble blocking the entrance, and descend down into the cave. They spent a long time walking, so long that their torches ran out and they had to light new ones. Every now and then they would come across a barrier that they had to blow up to pass. After a while, they started to see feint glowing in the distance. As they came closer, they saw that it came from rocks coming out of degraded metal barrels. "This must be the source of their power, left here as a gift for those who come after. Come, lets grab some samples so that we can bring them to the museum." The two of them grabbed as many rocks as they could, and headed back out. By the time they reached the entrance, the physical exertion was starting to exhaust Mak'tar. He laid down to rest while instructing his helpers to go grab more of these rocks. Several hours later they stirred him from his nap, but that seemed to only make him groggier. A cart was loaded up with all of the rocks, and Mak'tar and the group headed out. A sudden onset of coldness make Mak'tar decide to huddle up on a blanket on the cart. The rocks were warm, so Mak'tar decided to bury himself in them as much as he could. These must hold great power indeed. It took hours for them to get back to town, and Mak'tar directed them to go straight to the Queen to show off his finding. They headed to the castle, but were stopped by the guards at the gate. "What happened to your skin? Are you suffering from the plague?" Mak'tar held up a small mirror, and noticed that his skin was covered in small wounds. He threw up at the sight of himself, then started scribbling down in his notebook. A few minutes later he was done, and he ripped the pages out. He handed it to the guards, and they took the rocks and the pages inside to show to the queen. Then he started walking towards the local healers. This plague was fast, he was already feeling like death. He somehow stumbled all the way to the healer, then collapsed as he went through the door.

All humans, along with their languages, have died out. A new species find nuclear waste warnings.

Day 1: Johnathan was elected. He decided to implement a tax rate of 100%, everything going into his personal bank account. I didn't have any money or a job, so it didn't affect me at all. Day 2: Samantha was the next mayor. It was her birthday, so she decided that everyone had to spend the day partying. I would never turn down free alcohol and drugs, and I knew my limits. That was a fun day. Day 3: Chaz the slimeball was next. He ordered every woman to come to his house for some... fun. I was a man, so I was not affected. Day 4: Sam decided everyone would work together to build a statue of him. Houses were torn down for materials, and the statue was almost done by midnight. I didn't have a house, but I did have fun tearing down all the peoples houses. Day 5: Peter ordered all the food in the village brought to the remains of his house, so that he could feast. I brought the berries I had picked, and watched in amazement as he ate for hours straight. Day 6: Abby decided to form her own militia. Every gun was brought to the town center, and we paraded around the statue of Sam doing military drills. It reminded me of my days in the marching band in high school. The only part I didn't enjoy was when she ordered Chaz and a dozen other men executed by firing squad. Day 7: Father Paul had everyone come to the Sam Statue and confess their sins. It felt good to get everything off my chest. Day 8: Chris was angry about how many people had slept with his wife. He ordered everyone who slept with his wife or was part of an affair to fight to the death. I never had any interest in that, so me and Chris watched from the sidelines. Turns out that he had slept with his wife, and didn’t fight so his collar blew up. Day 9: I relaxed in peace and quiet for the first time in years. No one gave me any pitying looks, or lectured me about my bad life choices. This was a nice day.

every day, a new citizen will be elected, and s/he can do whatever they want to anyone without any legal consequences. Everyone else must obey and not retaliate, else their collars would detonate. You're the only one alive after day 9

I woke up to the sound of metal being cut. My limbs felt wrong. I tried moving an arm, but it was trapped. *Blackwood offensive. Sector 9. Moving to patrol point three. Hostiles below the ridge. Engaging with swarmguns – then the ground below me collapsed.* Sunlight drove the memory from my mind. I was broken. Someone was cutting into me. Why couldn’t I feel anything? *I am nine meters tall, alloy skin and carbon ligaments and hydrogen-cell muscle. I am LIDAR and swarmguns and glide-missiles. I am vengeance.* “That thing killed Maude and Salim.” “The thing that killed them is dead,” another voice said.”This is a person. They’re as much a victim of the Hierarchy as any of us were. You’re okay,” the voice said to me. I make out a face. *Hostile. Insurgent.* Kind. “You’re safe now.” *I wasn’t always this body. I was small, human-limbed. I remember being put inside the machine.* Searing pain as needles are pulled out of my body. The kind face winced in sympathy. “I’m sorry. We need to disconnect you.” “Boss, we need to go.” “Can you walk?” *There was pain before. I remember the hospital. The smell of burning skin. A bomb. And before the bomb – a child’s smile.* “I can walk,” I said. *I remember who planted the bomb. And I remember why I volunteered. What I wanted to avenge.* The kind face reached an arm toward me. “Here, let me help you.” *One more memory: a small swarmgun, just the right size to hold in my human hand. Just in case.* I took the offered arm with one hand. And with the other, I reached for the gun.

You are a sentient mecha with undying countless successful missions to your name. One day you are damaged by enemy fire. Upon investigation the enemy finds a malnourished man/woman integrated with the machine. Then all the memories come rushing back to you.

Clyde wiped the seafoam from his trousers, the sun glinting off the water on his bare, tan skin. He lit a cigarette, observing the chopping of the waves, squinting as he looked towards the west, towards the setting sun. The light reflected off the moving waves as a smashed mirror, Clyde looked away, remembering the tales of those lost at sea, oft becoming blind from the rays. Justin joined Clyde for the second cigarette. The boys stood in silence. A breeze flitted through Clyde's sandy curls and gently swept Justin's shoulder-length black stringy hair to his left side. Justin brushed a bundle of strands aside, bringing his cigarette to his lungs. The outside air smelled of salt. Justin turned his back to Clyde, taking a long piss into the infinite puddle. The third cigarette was rushed, with occasional glances made toward their watches. Nineteen hundred hours neared. The men flicked the butts into the trashcan, and watched them for a moment, slowly drifting away, lapping up and down in the waves. The stale air of below once again filled their nostrils. The heavy metal clank of the porthole sounded, and Justin twisted it shut with an effort. Before long the light of the evening was forgotten. The world consisted of a lovely, tiny bubble. A cone of perhaps 30 meters, probably less. The headlight shone brightly forward, an enormous ice cream cone plunging into the future, guiding them bravely. The men looked with little to no interest; the infinity of space never captures you until you are there to experience it. The first days, sure, were terror. Not even of the enemy, Justin remembered with a minor chuckle, but of sea life. He again smiled at the absurdity, remembering how he first gasped when seeing a large jellyfish. Justin now rather enjoyed targeting them; they were not marine biologists. The metal vehicle was plastered in many shades of sea life, most rotting or actively decaying. For what else was there to do with the time, other than these idle pleasures? The air stank of two men in close quarters. The military rations, though filling, only provided existence. The purified salt water went tepidly down the throat. Justin struggled to swallow. The cigarettes, to be sure, helped. Justin felt the clawing in his mind. He should have hustled through his second and third, such that he could cram in a fourth. He'd have to wait four long hours. Four hours of following the ice cream cone, observing the nothingness. The same path with the same scenery. A very simple route, truly. From the tip of New Guinea, as close to Japan as they could while feeling safe (they would get very close, now, never having seen a Jap sub), to the Philippines, then back to New Guinea, refueling at various spots, though fuel never seemed to run low. Justin couldn't remember the last time they had to refuel, the last time they needed to get out of this infinite abyss. The fuel meter stood stolidly on full. Just now they were between New Guinea and the lowest Islands that the West would recognize Japan owned. Justin settled in for a nap.

According to US Navy tradition, submarines that have not been confirmed to be destroyed, are still on patrol. Since WWII, there have been 52 submarines that haven’t yet returned to port, yet to report in, nor have been confirmed to be destroyed. You are one of those, on the eternal patrol.

“So yeah, I was at work the other day, when *poof*, I was in hell.”, I said to the guys at coffee break. “No way! You got summoned. What did they make you do?”, Steve asked me as he sipped on his coffee. “It was crazy down there. Fire and brimstone and the place stunk. The demon was freaking huge. It must have been like 8 feet tall with massive horns and red skin. It was just crazy.”, I said then took a sip of my tea, “this crazy demon was all, ‘*I hath doth summoned thee to do mine bidding*’, or some crazy shit like that. So I was like, ‘ok. What do you need done?’ And he was like ‘*mine lower back be itchy. Be a dearest and scratch mine back, mortal*’. Can you believe it? This massive demon summons me, while I am at work, to fucking scratch his back.”, I said with a shake of my head. “Did you do it?”, Steve asked “Well yeah. What else are you going to do? I had to get back to work ASAP to work on my TSP reports so I go over there and start scratching. This freaking massive demon was basically purring like a kitten and saying stuff like, ‘*doth thou blah blah scratch lower. That doth be doth spot. Blah blah’, it was absolutely trippy.” “That’s it? You had to scratch his back? That’s it?”, Steve asked incredulously? “Yip. I scratched his back for a good 10 minutes. And then he said I was done.” “Did he give you a wish for doing his bidding?”, Steve asked excitedly “Yeah, but I don’t want to get into that.”, I said kinda embarrassed. Everyone around the table groaned. “You can’t tell us all of that then leave us hanging.”, Steve said. I glanced at my watch, “sorry. Gotta get back to work.” I stood up and adjusted the very obvious bulge that went half way down to my knee. “Maybe I will tell you about it next time.”, I said with a smile and a wink.

Demons can summon humans to do tasks in exchange for a wish. However, the wish can only be as extreme as the task given.

**Divine Chase** “Wakey, Wakey buddy!” John felt like his body was made of rock and the Hulk had beat him up last night. Slowly John opened his eyes. Bubbles. Bubbles are nice. Why the hell was he seeing bubbles? John realized he was in a vat, a bunch of wires and tubes connected to him. Horror. Was he in the regeneration vat ? What happened to him. The computer now detected that he was awake, it drained the fluid, released the tubes and opened the vat. John fell sprawling out, his body felt like it would vomit itself up, on all fours he clenched his fist. “What the hell happened to me?” he whispered angry at the computer. “Really, nothing at all. Your body is as good as new. Not at all desirable, but new!” the computer happily answered. “ So why was I in that damn vat?” John was still so confused, he remebered they found this planet. It was a dark point on the radar map and he wouldn’t have given it another thought if the computer didn’t insist that he needs to investigate the planet. They landed, he went out investigating and after that ? It was blank. “You were in the vat because you needed repair and now you are repaired… do you intend on staying naked on the floor? I’m just asking in case we have visitors.” “We are about 20 lightyears away from any kind of civilization, who the hell is gonna come visit?” John asked annoyed at the subject. “Your aunt? She never understood boundaries.” The computer answered thoughtfully. “She understands the boundaries of space time travel, I don’t know if I can say the same about you” John threw at her, picking himself up and dressing in the same generic space outfit he always wore. He had hundreds of them. “So what the hell are we still doing on this planet?” *Acquiring position…..Acquiring mission data… Acquiring protocol…Constructing Mapdata….* In front of John a huge holographic map opened up, it spun until there were 2 blinking points. One was the spaceship were he was and an another point way far away glowing. Actually it was glowing like nothing John had ever seen. “What is that?” John asked with awe in his voice everything else forgotten. “It’s concentrated power. A divine artifact, even just being close to it can make miracles happen. Any creature who posses such an object could do unimaginable things. After you install this power into the ship, there really is nothing you couldn’t do. For example keep your aunt out of your life!” “For gods sake, she spilled coffee on you once. But if what you are saying is true. I need to go. I need to find this thing. I would be the richest son of a gun alive. But the route seems …” Thousand of routes apeared and connected the spaceship to the glowing point. The computer gave every route a threat level, reaching from safe to deadly. John looked for a fitting route but the first few that he liked grayed out. The computer informed him that these wouldn’t work. He decided on another one and prepared himself. When he was finally ready, he made a quick back up of his mind and went out, just in case something went wrong. But the data didn’t get to be safed. It never did. After a few hours another route went gray and the converted regenration vat started whirling up. It started rebuilding John. A synthetic sigh from the computer. “Wakey, Wakey buddy!”

You wake up inside a cloning vat in your spaceship. Your previous self died while exploring the planet, and the computer insists you continue the mission.

It was out of curiosity really, my powers allow me to gain the strength, attributes and abilities of anything I eat. If I have eaten the smae species several times it also tells me when I have gained all the abilities I could and also if I have gained made proficiency in them already. I have long maxed out my proficiency on almost all things. I can make my limbs regrow based purely on the amount of sunlight I intake. My body odor has been completely erased, replaced by the fragrances of plants in nature. My instincts have become sharpened to the point of supernatural after going on the bug diet about three years ago. My muscles stronger than any animal on earth. I can transform parts of my body as well. Grow a thick and strong tail. Make my body lighter than feathers and grow wings to fly. Gaining compound eyes, antennae and fangs. I've also maxed out my proficiency on all my shellfish skills. I can get a shell harder than steel and tougher than diamonds. Strong pincer claws to crush anything to dust. I can shed my old skin to remove impurities from my body, keeping it clean and healthy. I've eaten the elusive and exotic mantis shrimp giving me the ability to see colors no man has ever seen. I can Also punch at several times the speed of sound. I've maxed them all out, eaten many more shellfish thereafter and yet... Why does my power still tell me there is one ability I have not gotten? It tells me I'm close and almost there, just one more bite. Every. Single. Time. And I still don't get anything. What am I missing? Did I hit a limit? Is my body incapable of acquiring more skills? I have... A limit? Distraught I silently sit at my friends table during a Thanksgiving party. Everyone knows about my 'Obsession' over seafood and they have kindly given me a BIG serving of lobster. I'm silently staring at the creature in my plate, pondering about just what I did wrong when my friend sits dowm next to me. "Yo David what's wrong man? You haven't eaten anything? Usually you make jokes about it and share facts about shellfish with us" He playfully punches my arm as I'm jolted awake from my thoughts. "Ah? Oh sorry I just, I'm out of facts that's all" I continue to stare at the lobster like if waiting for an answer during am interrogation. "Oh yeah? Well I got one for you, I've been talking with the other guys and lf you confirm you've never told us this one before I win the bet and $100" He says excitedly smiling wide, i can imagine his eyes turning to dollars signs with the look he's giving me. "Nah, I already know them all" I shake my head. "Oh yeah? Did you know lobsters are actually immortal then?" My mind and breath stops for a good five seconds before I can process what he said. "What?" I ask, his eyes gleam with joy at my response. "Oh you haven't heard? Well you see lobsters actually have a unique cell in their bodies called telomerase, it can revert their cells to being young again allowing them to basically live forever.-" My eyes shine as I digest the new information. Is this why my power didn't work? Immortality is not something to be taken lightly after all. Eagerly I listen on as he speaks. "-The only problem is predators or being unable to molt due to growing too big, so yeah they are immortal, in fact they are not the only animal to be practically immortal many others have this ability like jellyfish whomcan just revert to being young again isn't that fascinating?" I show a genuine smile "It is quite fascinating, I've never heard that before" I look at my plate as my ability screams at me to take a bite, and so I dig in. My friend runs off to the others that night collecting all the money from the bet as I confirm to the others that I didn't know such fact. I'm in a great mood, after all, after that meal I realized I've become Immortal. Now to hunt for the other animals in that list...

Since birth, you've had the ability to absorb a part of the strength and powers of anything you eat. During dinner at your friend's house, you realize you've become immortal.

"Report," the violet-tinted cloud commanded through a series of flashes of varying intensity. "They call themselves 'humans', sir," the crystalline creature in front of them replied with a voice that was rough and coarse, yet oddly soothing. "I believe you'll find some of their attributes... peculiar." "Is that so? Do go on." "Some basics - physical prowess is an alephar grade. Deceptively resilient, short lifespan, limited offensive capabilities. A flexible species with a shocking amount of variety, but nothing we haven't seen before. The planet itself is not entirely remarkable. Mostly water, high biodiversity, some specimens could be used for research." "Go on," the cloud flickered. "On a civilization scale, they're brahmen. Spacefaring and largely peaceful with only occasional squabbles over minor disputes. Their history shows their war-like nature used to be far worse. And, well... this is the interesting part. Their intellect. It's oolke," the crystal growled. "And that is interesting... how?" the cloud blinked incredulously. "They're a versatile, resilient species with a reasonably capable society that are a bit... on the dim side. Why are you telling me that?" "Their intellect is oolke, but their combined mathematical knowledge is... I- I'm not sure how to describe it. Here, see for yourself." The crystal pushed forward a slightly moist globule of dark-blue mass that the cloud turned towards. The mass hummed quietly. "Fission, space-faring for the last 266 cycles, gravity slingshots... grav- gravity drive?" the cloud gasped. "They've... they've constructed a gravity drive?!" "Before you ask, sir, I've quadruple-checked. They are, in fact, oolke class." "How does an oolke tier species create a *gravity drive*? We've been trying to make one for the last 745 cycles!" "Sir... they're *incredibly* irresponsible." The cloud stared at the crystal silently. "The- the experiments they've conducted over the past several hundred years, sir, they've done them with reckless abandon. Before they created the gravity drive, they created several miniature black holes that went out of control. They, uh... used to have a moon." "Used to?" "A black hole swallowed it." The two creatures pondered the situation in silence. "Sir, what do we do now?" the crystal asked. "I'll be honest," the cloud replied slowly. "I'm not sure if we should give them funds for research... or *stop them immediately*."

"The new species call themselves 'humans', and while their intelligence is on the low end when it comes to interstellar civilisations, their pure mathematical knowledge is far superior to the entire galactic community's."

“Oh shit, not again.” My name is Ryan Howard for the last 4 months my wife has been attempting to clone creatures that no longer exist. For context, my wife has the highest IQ of any person ever. On the day of our wedding, the chef accidentally dropped our cake. My wife produced the finest chocolate cake I've ever had by using one of the name tags from the poor cooks, a packet of hot chocolate, and a fork instead of baking a new one. The only issue is the extreme lack of accountability here. Her thoughts are so quick that she frequently abandons ideas before she has finished them, leaving me to clean up the mess.“Sorry Sarah I have to go pick up your mom.” “The elephants this time?” “No, I think it’s new” I answer In my haste to go, I observe that nearly every car is the identical customized white Honda civic that I bought for my wife the previous year. Knowing that meant the clones had escaped "Of course.” I sighed “Hey Siri, call Melissa.” The phone rang for what felt like an eternity —this is unusual for her because she always answers the phone in a heartbeat —but soon Melissa answered. Exasperated, she said, "Hey honey, I'm a little preoccupied right now." An onslaught of "hello honey"s followed by another hang up then hit me. “Of course” I murmur to myself once more. I opened the find my phone app which directed me to Time Square, so I turned around to find it. My life is a comedy, I swear. Of course, when I get to Times Square, I see my wife—or perhaps one of my wives—hanging by her ankles from a scaffold. A Swiss Army knife was used to weld together spears made of expo markers that were tied to the front which are used by several more of my wife, these ones more physically strong and primitive. They surround who I can only assume is the real one who hangs from the tree. The clones mobbed me as soon as I got out of the car, shouting "welcome home!" “How were you today?” I sigh and push through the crowd of cave woman scientists, taking on of their spears along the way, and get to my wife. “Hey honey.” She chuckles awkwardly. I sigh “Ok how do I get rid of these ones.” “That’s the thing-“ “Is there a weak point that turns them to mush like the monkeys? Or maybe we can send them to Africa like the elephants?” I use the spear to stop her from spinning around in the air “I don’t think I can stop these ones.” “Why not?!” I say sternly with a hint of frustration “Well they kinda started a cult around you…” I resist the urge to slam my head against a wall “How did that even happen?!?” “Well if you cut me down-“ “No.” “Fine. I was planning on going on a trip to Egypt to experiment with bringing back the woolly mammoth but I didn’t want to leave you and Sarah at home so I tried to my a clone that would do my house work.” “That’s kinda sweet.” “Yeah so cut me down-“ “But it also makes me mad you don’t trust me and your daughter to take care of the house as much as some primitive cloning technology” “It is not primitive!” I then cut her down “You better find a way to fix this.” “You better turn around” she retorts As I turn around I’m greeted with at least 10,000 of my wife standing before me. I hear the familiar hum of my daughters Nissan. “You gotta get that fixed” Melissa whispers.” Sarah parks in the handicap like I always tell her not to. “Get in.” She says wearing her brother’s aviators “Aidan wouldn’t like to find those broken when he comes back from college” I tell Sarah “shaddup.” She says turning up smells like teen spirit by nirvana “could you not drive on the sidewalk?” Asked her mother “No.” “Stop driving on the sidewalk. You’re running over the clones” I said “but it’s not like they’re alive.” She said “Yeah but it’s not just them on the side walk. You’re lucky you haven’t hit someone real yet.” Said her mother Sarah swerved back onto the street.

You’re wife is a scientist. Today she called you and started talking about the cloning machine she made malfunctioned and started making a bunch of clones of her and to come over quickly . Suddenly you hear in the background “GIVE ME BACK MY PHONE” and the phone suddenly hangs up.

"Sir, what you're saying is CLEARLY bullshit." the bartender said. It was clear that he was annoyed. I could understand the frustration, we had been here for about 20 minutes just talking about my age. For almost everyone else, it's simple. You show them the mugshot on your ID and you're clear. All's good. People keep saying mine's fake, since I still look and sound like a child. Now to explain that, we have to do a little backtracking. You see, I developed a tumor on my back when I was around 10 years old. The doctors thought it was a new type of HeLa cells, but they couldn't remove it since it had integrated into my spine. Within a few days I started getting severe headaches and my parents got desperate. They found some back-alley folks who had their own methods of doing things. I don't remember the specifics, since this was way back when, but they didn't take the thing out. They smashed it up, spread the pieces throughout my back, and told my parents it was gone. Of course, we didn't find out what would happen until I had turned 14 and hadn't aged even a bit. "So anyway officer, does that clear things up?" Officer Jones took a long, deep sigh, and then a whiff of his cigar. "Goddammit Tyler, this is the 9th time this month you've been arrested." "But sir -" "You know how many calls we get about you? At least 10 on a good day. Now for the love of God, please leave my office."

You have been cursed with eternal youth. You are over 500 years old and still aren’t able to buy alcohol, paracetamol or even scissors without battling cashiers who want to see your ID.

I step out the door, hoping this time it will let me go back to my own body. ... Nope. Stepping right back in the door in another. I sigh. I look through the person's things trying to find any kind of shopping list, again. I'm not going to try to make these people leave without their groceries. Nothing. I pick up the phone and call a number labelled "home". "Hi! it's me, sorry, just kinda slipped my mind what I was gonna buy. Do you remember?" I ask in the most cheerful tone I can. Big mistake. The guy on the other end starts yelling at me as if I had insulted his mother. I feel myself going pale and hang up the phone. I decide this one's not worth it and try stepping back out the door. Again, I'm walking back in. I turn and I see the person who's body I just exited look around in a bit of shock. She turns around and walks back in, grabbing a cart along the way. This person has a list in their hand, though, so I do the shopping this time. Most of it is basics, bread, different veggies. There's no distinction about frozen or fresh so I go for frozen. After checking out, I head out the door in the person's body, again. This time, I'm transported to a person coming in the OTHER front door. I head over to see the person who's body I just left. He's standing there looking at his cart, bewildered. He turns around and comes back in the store. "I'm sorry, can I please return this?" He holds up the frozen veggies I picked up, "I don't eat these." "The veggies you... Just finished buying, sir?" Asks the cashier, glancing at me for an instant. I leave earshot and try looking for a list again. Nothing. This time, I make sure I see NO ONE coming in through either door. I wait for both doors to be empty of people before stepping out. And yet... I'm suddenly in the body of a shopper who had entered the store a moment prior. I turn and see the previous body look around in confusion and come back in. It's been almost 4 hours... I even saw the cashier take a break. I stand at the end of one of the unattended checkout lines and lean on it, fighting a headache. I'm back within earshot of the cashier who's been watching my attempts at leaving. Another employee comes over to tell her that it's time for her lunch. "Watch out for people tonight. A whole lot of people have been acting really weird. Buying stuff and returning it, leaving and coming back in, and stuff." She says to her co-worker. "Will do." He responds. I decide to just wander the store for a bit, trying to think on how I can get out of this. I decide to try walking out at the same time as another person. Same result. I'm back at the other door though, as no one was coming in the one I exited. As I enter, my new body's phone rings. I look down and see "Egg donor". I decide not to answer. As I walk around a bit, it stops ringing, and starts again. I look. Same caller. I guess I have no choice. I answer. "Are you at the store yet?!" asks a woman's voice. I'm hovering near the door. "What did you want, again?" I ask. "You're really that forgetful?! You should be glad I didn't kick you out with your father! I told you to- " I don't wait. I walk out the door as the next person comes in. I turn around and see the previous body on the phone. I hear screaming from it still. He looks at the phone and starts yelling back, before hanging up and coming back in. The cashier covering the other one's break sees the current body watching the old one. I stare back for a moment and he turns to the next customer. As I walk away, I hear him talking as if he's addressing a superior asking for help. I get the very specifically named items on this one's shopping list. I notice some of the employees are always nearby this time. I don't steal anything, just get the groceries and head to the check stand. I make sure the small talk with the cashier is minimal and head towards the door. I smile and wave at the next person coming in, right before entering their body. I smile and wave back to the old body and the person looks just as confused as all the others. He looks in his cart and, seeing all the items on the list, shrugs it off and continues on his way. By this point, the first cashier is back from her meal break. "I heard you asking for help." I hear her say, leaning on the same end of the same vacant check stand nearby them, "What happened?" "Just another suspicious person, but thankfully he bought all his stuff." Says the co-worker. "Who's that leaning over there, though?" She whispers, but this body apparently has good hearing, "She came in the same time the other one left, right? I just saw it. He waved to her, she looked confused, *waved back happily*, but then *he* was confused. *What* is going on?" "Look, I'm sorry, but I happen to have good hearing." I say to her as I lift up my head, "I've been trying to leave this store for hours now. I don't think you'll believe me, but... Each time I try, I come right back in the next person's body. Yes, I waved to the next body I knew I was about to take over. The people all seem to lose their memory of going through the store once I've left them." The cashiers' jaws drop as they glance back and forth at each other. Thankfully, the evening crowds were dying down and there weren't any customers in the line. "Do I need to prove it to you? I can strike up this exact conversation with you through the next person to come in." I say as I head towards the door, yet again. I look out the door and of course, another person is on their way in. I step out before they get to the door, but find myself in his body as he comes in. I return to the cashiers and lean on the end of their check stand this time. "Watch, she's gonna come back in and not know what just happened. But, to prove it to you, you just asked your co-worker here a moment ago why she was leaning against the end of the check stand there and had waved to the other guy who left as she came in." The female cashier stumbles back a step and grips the counter, utter shock on her face. Her male co-worker looks back and forth between us and begins to stutter. "Wha...how? Who...?" He tries. "I have NO clue how this happened either. I was just walking through the store on a normal day and as I left, I suddenly saw the store's floor under my feet again. I looked around and saw myself walking away. I freaked out at first. You just got on shift at the time." I direct the last statement to the woman. "I... remember seeing a bunch of people freaking out... It was all you?" She asks, "But... this is impossible. It's just not... This can't be real!" "I know!" I say, "I can hardly believe this myself. If you guys are done with your shock, do either of you have any ideas? I'd really like to get home and know what my body has been up to for the last 4 hours." "Have you tried... leaving when no one else is coming in?" Asks the guy. "Yup! I just hop to the body of whoever most recently stepped in." "In that case... I can only suggest... that maybe you'll go back if everyone leaves?" Says the girl. "I suppose that might work, but..." I was about to ask how, when a malicious idea strikes. I immediately walk up to the fire alarm and pull it. I wait until everyone else has fled, and as I step out... find myself back home.

You been trying to leave this store for hours. Every time you step out the doors you suddenly find yourself in the body of another shopper. The staff are beginning to notice.

Alexander Olaf examined the barrier. Next to him was his second in command, Kera Perlon. “What do you make of this?” Alexander asked. Kera took a moment before answering, “Either something wants to keep us in or to keep something out.” “Or,” Connor Thenomi, the third in command, started, “it could be for something else entirely.” The barrier rippled suddenly. Their heads snapped around to where the ripple had emanated from. On the other side was a giant. It was floating in space. It has no eyes for its entire face was that of a black hole. It’s fingers and toes were made of asteroids and it’s legs and arms were made of planets. The chest was that of a star, a supermassive star. It was all held together by some invisible force. It struck the barrier again, more ripples coming out. However, nether Alexander, Kera, nor Connor could see it. They were too busy being star struck by the giant in front of them. Suddenly, a loud boom shook the ship. A massive explosion lit up the giant. It was sent stumbling back. More explosions followed. The giant was sent tumbling back into the empty void that was space. Alexander tore his eyes away from the tumbling giant. He looked at where the explosions had come from. He saw a giant space ship. It was easily bigger than Earth had been. Kera followed her commander’s eyes and stared the giant space ship. She was the first to notice the three giant spheres surrounding the ship. Two of them housed massive stars, the light very dim. The final housed a black hole. “My lord, what are they?” Kera asked, her voice echoing around the metal hull that they stood in. Connor answered, “They’re Dyson Spheres.” Just then a giant hologram appeared in the space between the two ships. On the holographic screen was an alien. It had bright blue skin, yellow eyes. It was in a vaguely humanoid shape but there was something innately wrong with it. The body was unnatural. The alien started to speak in halting English, “If you accompany us we can explain everything.” After a brief conference they decided to follow the aliens.

after sending a spaceship to reach another galaxy humans discovered something important. There is a barrier, forcing humans to remain in their galaxy, with seemingly no physical reason.

Never let it be said that I'm not good at what I do - just that, sometimes, there are mistakes to be made. I'm an expert in persuasion. Don't need magic to do it, either. A little flick of the eyelids, a warm smile, a wave of the hand, and I can have anyone from rapscallion to royalty do my bidding. You would think someone like the king would be... immune? To my words, I mean, but I guess not even he can resist a rogue's wily charm. I also do my business out in the open, because there's no better hiding place than in plain sight, and if I ever get caught, I have plenty of other pawns on standby to protect me on the promise of some reward. Thing is, though - I deliver. There's an honor to my work, and I take that honor seriously. Breaking it is something I promised a very special someone I would never do, but that's neither here nor there. What is here and there and everywhere at this moment is the High Court. A peanut gallery of hundreds of people, towering over me, looking down on me, waiting for my just desserts. Just look at them. They think they're better than me, that they have some higher ground to stand on. They can't even read. Right, sorry. How I got here? Easy. I killed a child. Well, I didn't kill them directly, but my talents got them killed. In the south part of the city, I met with an old priest named Tersius; fine chap, he was. Really cared about the poor that lived in the canals beneath the city walls. I wanted to do him a favor, so I rounded up a few of the local cutpurses - young ones at that, so they'd be more unsuspecting - and decided to stage a little heist. The plan was simple. I would make a distraction, and those tiny, lovable thieves would go in and pickpocket a few of the more affluent merchants. I doubt those stingy sellers would have minded really - what's a few gold to a fortune you're not going to use much of, anyway? Sometimes, there are mistakes to be made. I was new to the city. I didn't know how... violently... the guards would react. I'm a rogue, but above all, I'm a nomad. I never stayed in one place for too long. My own home burned down a long time ago so, in order to keep from getting too attached to something or... someone... I move on after a couple weeks. Until now, I was faceless. Until now, I was free. It all happened so fast. The plan didn't go the way I hoped and, before I knew it, I was pinned to the ground, watching the life fade from the eyes of a young boy, an arrow planted right between his shoulder blades. I can still see him reaching out to me. I can still see my failures reflected in his darkening eyes. I spent some time in a cell. Made a new friend, a guy named Bartholomew. Bart was in for murder. He killed a man who'd been doing inappropriate things with people he shouldn't have. I don't blame him. I would have done the same. When I told him what happened, he was incredulous, said at most I should've been in there for a few days. Problem was someone died, and the guards were exonerated for being hands of the king, so they needed someone to take the fall, to be made an example of, and they weren't going to use a kid for it. Surprisingly, they had standards. The sentence was death, but not any old fashioned execution would do. The High Court was ruled over by seven wizards, each blessed with supreme control over magic, and so death sentences were made more of a spectacle. Those sentenced to it were allowed to choose the way they died, and it would be granted immediately. Bartholomew thought he could outsmart them, use his method of death to enjoy a life sentence behind bars. He chose to die of old age. So, they aged him. 80 years, in the blink of an eye. It was hard to see him struggle to breathe. And then, it was my turn. I'd been tossing and turning the possibilities over in my head in the days that boy's death. For the longest time, I was lost. I thought I wouldn't have been able to get out of this. There was no possible way, but at the very last second, it clicked. Great Mage Caldain spoke, drawing the crowd into an eerie hush. "Maxim Venn, you have been charged and convicted of manslaughter in the death of a young boy in the markets of the city. You have been sentenced to death by your own method, to be carried out immediately. How do you wish to die?" By my own method. Bingo. "Great and honorable wielder of magic, I have a few questions, if I may." Caldain's brow lifted. "Proceed." "This death is to be selected by myself, and to be carried out by you, correct?" "Correct." "Whatever I choose will be done to me, right? And it can be literally anything?" "Yes." "And this is an immediate death, to which there is no trickery that I can play that will save me from it?" "We are smarter than you think, prisoner." Not smart enough. "Your Honor, I have chosen my method of passing. I wish to die of my own accord." There was a murmur that ripped through the crowd. They were confused. So was Caldain. "This is not something that we can grant," he replied, fielding quiet words from the other wizards. "I asked you if it could be literally anything," I shot back, pointing a slender finger in his direction. "You said yes." "To die of own's accord is to do so without outside intervention!" Caldain was getting angry. I smiled. "Yeah, I guess it is. Now grant it." He knew he had to. It was the law. Under those terms, I was a free man.

You’ve been sentenced to death in a magical court. The court allows all prisoners to pick how they die and they will carry it out immediately. You think you have it all figured out until the prisoner before you picks old age and is instantly transformed into a dying old man. You’re up next.

I'm a walking idiom, I was born with body parts of sayings from who knows how long ago. All my body parts have worked like normal from the day I was born but it really is strange. I'm a silver tongued, heart of gold fella with an iron stomach, nerves of steel and green thumbs. Each of my body parts have special abilities based on the idiom they come from. My silver tongue allows me to best anyone in a conversation, my heart of gold makes me far too kind for my own good. My nerves of steel keep me rather calm, and also give me a dulled sense of touch, my iron stomach works well for digestion and I've never had a stomach ache so that's a plus. My hands are sort of plant-like and allow me to grow any plant I touch, simply by thinking it. I'm like a real superhero! Nope As cool as it is, it's brought too much attention so I'm hunting for some answers. I started with my parents, two good people who gave birth to one hell of a child. They had no clue and couldn't tell me anything, besides the fact that both sides of the family had some rather odd relatives but nothing like me. I went to the hospital where I was born, but most of the doctors and nurses who were at my birth had either been promoted or moved on, either literally or in the spiritual sense. There was one nurse who had been there at my birth who told me I came out silent and rather easily. They couldn't exactly give me any help either. I decided to turn to looking through family records. Time to take a trip to the old family home. (Comment if a second part is wanted, was getting tired)

a silver tongue, a heart of gold, nerves of steel, an iron stomach, green thumbs and so on. You're on the search to find the source of your affliction and the reason why it happened.

It was like watching a speed runner in a video game, breaking the laws of the ingame physics engine. But it wasn't just a select few who could break the laws of physics and achieve impossible feats. It was a whole Planet's worth. They called themselves the Garrinius Modus, or Garries for short. Every couple galactic calender, a new species of sentients would achieve intergalactic travel. They ranged from scientific marvels, to magical wonders, even biological monstrocities, but they all had something in common. They were logical. Now many a philosphers from various species have theorised that we all lived in some massive computational simulation. But none have managed to prove it. At most, you had myths, rumours, bed time stories and so on, that implied it's existence. Take the Backrooms of Earth, or the Liminus of Ar'taya. But seeing a whole planet glitch and lag and buffer their way through the galaxies was a new sight. As one of the Ambassadors for the council, it was my and my colleagues jobs to welcome new planetary civilisations into the galactic republic. I've seen a lot of shizno throughout my time. But even I was stunned. Floating islands and structures were par for the course for plenty of planets. Even islands having their own gravity pulls were normal. But this... this was different. People flying without wings or propulsionary devices were normal, as we've had species develop super powers or magicks that enabled flight. Seeing people hurtling through the air in a sitting position whilst sipping a beverage was something else. Or how the floating structures looked like stretched out ploygonal textures in a game. "Breaking the physics engine of the simulation" wasn't just something they just used for intergalactic travel. It was their way of life.

Different Intergalactic species naturally developed different and unique ways to travel intergalactically. A new species' method of "Abusing the poor excuse of a physics engine this simulation has" has confused many.

You know, I really thought my day could've gone a whole lot better. On the one hand, I began my day with the usual routine. Getting up while almost destroying the alarm clock by accident, rushing to get all the necessities associated with my job as a dog trainer, and finally preceeding to my job. On the other hand, the day ran smoothly. Training dogs can take a lot of energy away from you, but once you've begun to practice with the same ones over and over again, you get a sense of their routine and, dare I even say it, *feelings.* So, with all that explanation on how my day went, what does that have to do with the current situation I'm currently facing myself in, surrounded by a pack of bloodthirsty wolf pack? Well, I have no god damn idea. Maybe it's the fact I decided to walk back home instead of taking the bus, going through the woods in the process, *at night.* Well if this is how I'm gonna die, then I guess it's gonna be swift and quick. I look up, and... nothing. The hell? They're just staring at me. Almost if, they're beckoning me to move forward towards them. I look behind myself, and see that a grizzly is licking his lips, ready to eat. I scurry over to the wolves out of desperation. The two species look at each other, before getting into a fighting stance. They growl, before launching themselves at each other. I won't spare you the details, as it kind of got bloody. But the wolves won in the end, as the numbers game got to the bear. I see the wolves are all covered in the red stain, some bearing injuries, some not. I look above to the sky, it's starting to become morning now. As I feel myself tire out and wanting to just sleep on the mound of dirt right then and there, I noticed something. The wolves fur started receeding into their bodies. Their whole spinal structure started changing into that of a bipedal stance. Hair starts growing out and- wait a second, these people are werewolves! If these people really saved me, perhaps they're not that bad to be honest. Maybe even they can be trained, acting as a type of danger dog for the work I'm in. But no wonder, I'll just have to ask them when I wake up from my missed slumber. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be just- **zzzzzzz.** (First time posting a story like this. Apologies if there's any format issues as I'm on Mobile).

A professional dog trainer is cornered by a pack of werewolves and learns werewolves are in fact actually trainable danger dogs.

They seem to forget, being slothful is not doing nothing, it's making sure you never have to do anything ever again. And so it was I set out to control the minds of the weaker beings around me. My life started out rather normal. My parents were hardworking folk, tending the wild weeds and feeding the seeds to the chickens. We had enough to stay alive, but for me it wasn't enough. I dreaded the thought of having to work for my food. Luckily one winter, the tribe came back around and saw our food stores and joined us. That is when I met Dory, a sweet dolt of a child, barely smart enough to chew her food. I told her my parents and I were gods among men. The gullible lass believed it, what a joke. I told her that she should take over my work or I would take away everyone she loved. It kind of grew from there, because at first she refused, but when her dog died of old age the fay after she actually believed it was my doing. I never tended any crops since and she started the Cult of Me. My parents were taken from me that winter and without them as my moral compass, I started my path towards damnation. The entire village fell to my Cult, all because of Dory and her sweet heart. The last thing I did was stab the tribe elder when his son wouldn't join my followers. They built me a temple and most of the food they grew, they gave to me. They bathed me, joined me in bed, and eventually I didn't even have to ask for what I wanted anymore. My slothfulness grew so much, they had to create a machine that would help me breath and kept my heart beating. About twenty years after Dory cane into my life, the harshest winter hit our city and it all fell apart. The townies could not take care of themselves as they were focused on me, but most of them froze to death in the first week of frost. Eventually, none were left. My breath halted and my heart stopped. The devil himself came to collect me, since the reaper could not handle my laziness. Lord Morningstar was a good friend, proud of my manifestation of his aspect and rewarded me with the afterlife I only could've dreamed of. The sinners of my lair were to work hard only to keep me alive.

In Hell there are Seven Demon Lords, each was once a mortal who died by one of the Seven Deadly Sins. You are Lord Sloth, who was an immortal man who became too lazy to keep on living. For eons everyone struggled to understand how that was even possible.

"Me? A God?" I laugh as he stares at me with that blank expression. "I know you are. I can see it. I have seen your strength in gym class." "I just like to work out." "And how you know all the answers in classes" "And I'm smart. Listen, I'm sorry I'm talented but that doesn't make me a god. And I doubt that you are a god either." He grabs me and then goes off running. It happens so fast that I can barely register, but a few seconds later I am in the middle of a desert. I guess he is a god after all. He tells me I have this power too, that I just have to unlock it. I am still not buying it. I'm just a regular Joe. If I was a god, I would certainly know it. If I was a God, I certainly wouldn't have pissed the bed until I was 13. But he is convinced, so I start training. I start running as fast as I can, but I never get anything near super human speeds. I mean, I'm still pretty fast, but nothing that anybody on the track team can't beat. He tries making me throw around giant rocks. He demonstrates by lifting one and then throwing it across the desert. I try to copy him but I cannot lift it at all. I can feel my veins jumping out of my neck. My fingertips are so strained as I try to lift it, but nothing. I can see his disappointment. He looked at me so unexpectedly. He tells me he knows that I am capable of so much. That I could be a powerful god with amazing powers. We just need to figure out how to unlock my powers. He has an idea. We go to the top of a skyscraper. I look over the edge. Yup. Definitely high up. He tells me to fly. Great. A real do or die scenario, just great. I look over the edge again. I can't do it. There's no way. It is way too far down and I am not even convinced that- I can't even finish my thoughts because he just pushed me off the edge of the building. Now I am just shocked by the feeling of falling. And then by the feeling of splatting. He looks down at the red mess that used to be my body. I guess he was wrong. I wasn't a god after all. Just a regular ol bedwetter.

“You’re a god as well?”

"But they were the weakest?" The young scientist complained. "They should have died out within the first 50 years or so. Even a pack of the lesser animals could have wiped their whole tribe in a matter of days!" The wiser scientist didnt bother to look at the younger one, instead staring intently on the screen. "Its survival of the fittest, not the strongest. You should know that by now." He said dismissively, curious about what this surviving human race would do. The humans on the screen were making some tools of some sort. "But thats just it. They weren't the fittest. They were weaker, dumber, slower. They had no advantages over their breathen. How is it that they not only rose above the others, but caused mass extinction events doing it?" The younger scientist continued. He was either too young, or too closed minded to see the obvious answer. "Yes, they were the underdogs in this experiment, but they had the one thing that not only insured their survival, but their dominance over the others and even over this planet. And unless we intervene they will either destroy themselves or destroy all of us" the leader of the research team continued, wondering if he could get his government to intervene before it was too late. He watched as the tools were revealed to be sharpened spears "They are the most ruthless species we have ever created"

We were one of 5 human species put on Earth by aliens 15,000 years ago. Being the weakest physical species, we were expected to be extinct, outcompeted by the others. However, when the aliens check in, we’ve wiped out the others.

Welcome back to Always Meet Your Heroes folks. I'm your host, Zack Smith, and today is a momentous occasion for us here at ANA. We've received an exclusive interview with the winner of the greatest hero on the planet award for the last decade. Please give a holler for the one and only, Beacon. It's a pleasure to be here Zack. Please, the pleasures all mine. And if I'm not mistaken, you've come here to reveal your brand new passion project. Looks like I'm not the only one here with super hearing huh. I would like to introduce you all to the brand new Alcatraz Asylum. Oh my, it's only been a week since your archnemesis Duality destroyed the prison. I'm sure all the citizens of the country will sleep a little sounder tonight knowing the countries worst superpowered scum won't be stepping foot on mainland for the rest of their lives. Haha, while I'm sure everyone will be sleeping better after today I can grantee you many of Alcatraz Asylum's prisoners will be returning. But not for long. With you on the prowl they won't last a week I bet. Oh you don't understand. They won't be escaping. They'll be released as freemen. Uh, what? I don't think I understand what you're trying to say. Well you see Zack. Many of the supervillains I face aren't as pure evil as people portray them. Most were just normal innocent people who had their lives ruined and caused a but of damage in their vengeance. While they were wrong, life imprisonment isn't the answer. What are you trying to say Beacon? Well, when the break of supers first happened the government released a rather secret law. This law known as Order V designated all superpower related criminals as supervillains and made it so that their sentences would be based more off of their powers than their actual crimes. For instance, Captain Aye-aye stole millions from innocent people but received only a two year sentence cause his power only gave him better senses and elongated middle fingers. Meanwhile, Volis only sought to bring his rapist to justice but was given life imprisonment despite not even severely hurting the man. He got this solely because his volcano based powers were considered, "too dangerous." This new asylum is meant to be exactly that, an asylum for dangerous individuals who are too dark to be heroes but don't deserve to be labeled supervillains for their entire life. It's first test patient, Volis, is already scheduled to be released by the end of the month. We're planning to set him up at a farm in Kansas where he'll use his powers to keep farm soil nice and nutrient rich. Well this certainly sounds like a -er- wonderful idea Beacon. But I must ask. You aren't planning to release everyone right? Oh I certainly am. It will take time but I'm certain we'll be able to rehabilitate even the worst criminals. But surely there are some people that are too dangerous and evil to heal. Nurture can only do so much against a person's nature. Hahaha. You can say that can't you. What do you mean? Tell me Zack, have you ever heard about Xancoval? You mean the dark god of endless evil? That's the one. He is known by many names. Doombringer. King of Hate. Tyrant of Endless Days. But their is one name only I can use for him. Daddy. What! That's right. I Beacon am the one and only child of Xancoval. He forged me from his dark blood to carry out his will upon this world. But two humans saved me from the cult that was planning to raise me as a weapon. And despite the constant screams in my head telling me to torture and murder every living being in a ten mile radius, they raised me into the hero who stands before you. So tell me, do you still think nurture can't be nature? Well uh, that's all the time we have today folks. This Is Always Meet Your Heroes with Zack Smith and Beacon. See you next week.

The Talk show host was annoyed. "Look, 'some groups of people' are dangerous no matter what, nurture can't erase or change nature." The hero chucked. "You are talking to Earth's greatest hero, the son of an evil dark god, who was raised by two humans. You didn't think this one through, did you?"

Bones creaked, muscles tore. Timmothy was not in his youth. A double edged sword. He needn't think about how he would recover the wounds he was sure to receive. There would be no need for recovery, for this was his last stand. In over 50 years, Timmothy never missed a day of training. The locals that took such care of him thought him a kook. A nutjob. A workaholic who took his guarding duties too seriously. But, Tim knew better. He had seen what the ravages of this world could do to a fortified keep. A small town stood no chance if enaged by a legion of Fleshbones. Tim wanted nothing more than to be wrong. That all of his training would be wasted. That this small town that took him in during his twilight years, whose inhabitants fed him and entertained his stories would never live to see such evils. Yet, here they were. The very evils Tim spent his youth fighting against. Tim was grateful for his training. Grateful that every day he sacrificed his happiness had paid off. He had ignored the advances of women encouraging him to settle down. Ignored the call of a warm bed in favor of patrolling the gates at odd hours. All theze sacrifices saved countless lives. Not just those of this small hamlet, but the ones far away the denizens here retreated to and informed of the coming dangers. Muscles tore. Shields broke. But not Tim. Some seven hundred Fleshbones would be counted fallen around Tim. This was to say nothing of those that retreated. Tim lived as he died, putting others needs in front of his own. His grave is but a marker on a seldom traveled road. His legacy, however, lives on in song and story told from now until mankinds final days.

The village guard steps alone in front of the evil legions threatening to overun his home and reach the capital. What no one knew, the guard once was one of the greatest warriors the world had ever seen.

**Edit: Criticism welcome. I'm trying to get better at this.** On the camera feed, Martin Finnegan licked two fingers and slicked the ginger cowlick above his round face. He shot a glance around the room, with what I could have sworn was a guilty expression, then turned back to the CAD model he'd been working on. From what I gathered, the team he'd just joined was working on some sort of advanced prosthetic. Exactly what kind was need-to-know, and the assistant supervisor of day shift security apparently didn't need to know. For the fourth time that week, I pulled out the note. *Human guard-person,* it began. *Don't trust the new person who smells like fish. His real name is Meowy McMeowerson. I don't know why that tabby terrorist wants a job at DARPA, but you better keep a nose on him. He's up to something.* There was no signature, but one corner had been damp when it slid under the guard room door, and the spot was still wrinkled. Someone was screwing with me. Had to be. I glanced at the feed again, where one of Martin's teammates now stood by his desk, chatting amicably. *Definitely screwing with me.* The next day, Doris called from the front desk to go over a delivery. With all the secrets in the building, someone had to check for bugs every time one of the eggheads ordered a new mouse pad. When I arrived, Doris pointed me to a tall box waiting in the vestibule. "It says it's for Martin Finnegan," she sniffed. "Apparently the new guy doesn't like his chair." I unboxed the replacement he'd ordered, and check out the feature list. "Real leather, adjustable lumbar support. Wow, they really do pamper the engineers, eh Doris?" I called. She probably replied with something sarcastic, but I didn't hear. My eyes had frozen on the last feature listed. Heated seat with full temperature control. *Come on, Carl. Keep it together. There's nothing weird about wanting a heated seat.* "Hey Doris," I said as I ran a wand over the chair listening for beeps, "You ever think of getting one of these heated chairs?" "Carl, it's July in Virginia. You must be crazy." *Starting to feel that way,* I thought. For the next week, I almost managed not to think about Martin. Then the cafeteria served fish tacos. I don't think I've seen anyone eat the way Martin did that afternoon. I'd definitely never seen someone literally lick his chops. That tore it. Maybe Martin was just in on the joke, but something was definitely up. I caught the tubby redhead on his way out of the cafeteria, 90 minutes into his half hour lunch break. "Hey Martin," I said as I stepped between him and the doorway, "I'm Carl. Building security." He shuffled nervously. "Hey Carl, what's up?" "Well, you've been here a while meow," I said slyly. "Just checking that your team lead knows everything you're up to." The way he's stiffened was as good as confirmation of guilt. "Okay, okay, you got me." He sighed, "I'll come clean. Sorry dude, I just love fish tacos. I told my boss I had a doctor's appointment." It wasn't the admission I'd been half expecting. I was escorting him to his boss's office when he abruptly ducked aside into the room where his desk sat. "One second," he called behind, "just gotta grab something." I followed immediately and found him snatching a pair of small metallic objects from a drawer in the deserted room. His over-the-shoulder glance caught sight of me, and he bolted for the door at the other end of the room. "Meowy!" I called after him, feeling both morally certain and utterly ridiculous. "Meowy McMeowerson! Stop right there!" He didn't. Martin was a heavy guy, same as me, but he sure didn't move like it. He bounded through the halls toward the emergency stairs, and I lumbered after. I pulled my radio from my belt, "Security breach!" I panted into it, as Martin opened the stairwell door far ahead of me, "Doris, I need you to lock the north stairwell on ground level, copy?" "Copy," came her terse reply. I yanked the doorknob and followed after Martin's retreating footsteps. I had just reached the third floor landing when the sound of someone scrabbling at a locked door came from below. I put on a final burst of speed to stop him from doubling back and met him halfway between the first and second landings. For just a moment, we both caught our breath, his hand still clutched tightly around whatever he had snatched. "I'm going to shit in that mangy mutt's water bowl," he muttered. Then he began to . . . Melt, I guess, is the best way to put it. In seconds, his shirt and slacks formed a lumpy puddle on the concrete. Even with my suspicions, that surprised me. The pile of clothing at my feet writhed briefly, and then a rotund orange lightning bolt shot between my legs. *Thank God cats can't open doors,* I thought as I turned to follow, *and if he can turn back into a human, he's not getting far naked.* As if to confirm my conclusions, Martin-Meowy sat in front of the door to the second floor, staring at the door knob, stripey tail swishing. I reached down to scoop him up, and that's when I saw them. The tiny bits of metal he had taken, now attached to his fuzzy little feet. They were *thumbs.* He leapt between my closing hands and grasped the doorknob in both paws, swinging his weight to the side as he did. The door clicked open, and he was through in a flash. I chased him to the end of the hall, but I knew it was futile. He leapt onto the sill of an open window and popped the screen out with impressive dexterity. Then he was out and running. The last I saw of Meowy McMeowerson was a streak of orange disappearing into distance.

There's a mole in your organization. You've actually known for a while, but haven't done anything. You haven't alerted anyone or given orders because the intel says their actual name is "Meowy McMeowerson" and you refuse to believe any of it is real.

It all started with the nouns. Everything starts with nouns. Then those nouns are modified by adjectives, forming a subject; those subjects joined together by conjunctions, merging into one; that subject acted on by verbs, composing a clause; those verbs modified by adverbs; finally, those clauses are joined together, threading a sentence. I am surrounded by a forest. Branches compete for space on all sides. A squirrel jumps from branch to branch. I open my mouth. **The squirrel falls**. The squirrel fell. It no longer moved. The branches sway around me. I hate the movement. I want it to stop. **The branches remain still.** The branches remained still. The wind grew in intensity. Sentences are so simple, aren't they? Everyone says them. Nobody pays attention to what their sentences mean. Why would they? I start walking. The trees remain still around me. Fluffy clouds cover the blue sky from horizon to horizon. I arrive at my destination. A skull lies on the dirt. I remember why. I told him that he could speak my language. I heard the screaming from the village for days after. **I am not reminded of the event**, I say. A skull-shaped rock rests on the dirt. What a rare formation. I continue walking. I arrive at a corpse of a bear. No stench emanates from it. I told the bear to stop. It stopped, frozen in place for days, unable to breathe or die. **I did not hurt the bear**, I speak. The bear was not hurt by me. Must have been some cruel wizard. I continue walking. I am retracing my steps. That, I do not need to speak out loud. More and more trees appear dead. The dirt underfoot transitions to sand. The sun burns my skin. I continue walking. Over the horizon, a stone tower comes into view. Then a second, and a third, and a fourth. Only one is standing. I continue walking. The sand is lined with ashes. Partially collapsed houses surround me. There are no streets. I continue walking. Corpses can be seen. A young woman, missing half of her head. An old man, body contorted into unrecognizability. A knight, burnt flesh showing through bubbled metal armor. A child, their skin red all over. They are scattered around the sand. **I persevere**, I say. I continue walking. I stop. It was here. A single stretch of sand under the sky, next to one of the stone towers. I remember the conversation I had. He asked, _What's wrong?_ I said, _Everyone seems to hate one another_. A simple turn-of-phrase. A colloquialism, an exaggeration. But the subject and object were joined by a verb, and thus it occurred. I hate them, of course. I stand in the sand. **It all ends**, I say. It all ended.

You’re suddenly transported to another world where magic is cast by perfectly pronouncing an ancient language. This language happens to be your native tongue

"None of the above, I suppose." The thing shifted on the asphalt, and the wet scraping sound made your skin crawl. "If you would be so kind as to take the syringe out of my pack and inject it's contents into this glowing bit here?" a broken robotic hand jerked up to point, "I would very much appreciate it." "Oh, um. Alright, okay, I'll do that then?" You scurry forward and try to gently peel what you think is a leather purse out from under a twisted limb. You gag a little when your knuckles dip into wet fur, and some of the pungent dark liquid that seeps onto the ground smears across your fingers. After a few seconds of gentle shifting, and a few uncomfortable sounds from the creature in front of you, the satchel squelches free, and you start digging for the requested syringe. "It should be in a metal case," the creature grunts, "I'd quite appreciate a little urgency, I feel a bit faint, and this isn't the ideal place for a little nap." You quickly find the case, but all you find inside is a tube. "Is this what you were talking about?" You ask, "how do I use it?" The creature shifts like its trying to sit up, bit winces and relaxes back down. "It's an applicator. There's a button on one end, and a hole in the other. Put the end with the hole directly on my skin, press down, and push the button. Then you might want to look away for a moment while I collect myself." You steady your shaking hands and press the tube to the glowing spot. The creature squints its eyes closed, and you hit the button. The loud click and slurp sounds that follow nearly make you puke. Before your very eyes, torn skin begins to knit back together. A dull whine escapes the creature's lips as you pull the applicator away, and you watch as whatever oily blood this thing had slithered back into its body. You stand up and back away as limbs begin to straighten with a few particularly wet pops and crunches. You watch for a few minutes while the thing's body heals, and it sits up to watch the last few cuts and wires reattach and seal. It clenches and unclenches its hands, moves its legs, and turns to you. "Much appreciated, friend," it's voice is far more chipper now, which you suppose makes sense. "I need to be going now, but before I do, can you tell me what that odd creature was? It attacked me, but it doesn't seem intent to come back and finish its meal." "You, uh. You got hit by a car. They're not- they don't uh, they don't eat." "They don't?" it seemed perplexed, "I didn't see any territory markings, or anything of that nature. How might I avoid aggravating them in the future? I'd rather not see how well I fare without a kindly creature like you nearby." Oh God this was so weird. "Um. They're not like. Alive? So long as you stay off the road," you tap at the asphalt with your foot, "you should be okay. Maybe avoid people though. Humans tend to get scared real easy." "AH," the thing looks down at itself and back up to you. It kind of cringes a little, "yes, I suppose the unknown can be a little frightening," it mumbles sheepishly. You stare at it for a moment, then look up and down the road. No cars for miles. "Okay look," you turn back to the creature, "walk with me for a bit. You don't seem like you're here for a killing spree, so I'm gonna give you a quick safety rundown." You offer your hand and help the thing stand on its weird, overly long legs. "Please don't make me regret it."

"Should I call a doctor, a vet, or a mechanic?"

Nothing like a mountain of coffee, cream, and caramel to start off your morning. As I sipped my caffeinated monstrosity, I leaned back in my chair and let out a contented sigh. I got hired by the facility almost four years ago, and this was by far the easiest job I ever had. I got paid four figures a month just to keep an eye on some alien device that looked like a suitcase fucked a Roomba--a device that hadn't done anything since the facility found it. And I didn't even have to go in for an interview; they hired me after I stumbled on the thing while on a hike. I was catching up on my reading when I heard some kind of beeping. I checked the intercom on my desk--nothing. It didn't take me long to realize that the noise was coming from the device itself. I hesitantly walked towards it, the emergency gun from my desk in my hand. Suddenly, the beeping stopped and a computerized voice spoke up. "Hello Callie." I jumped back with a yelp. "How do you know my name?!" "I have been in this office since you were hired. I know many things about you. You keep antacid in your desk along with a pack of colored pencils and a snow globe from someplace called Montreal. Your mother's name is Priya and you are going to where she lives to celebrate her beating cancer. Your favorite book is Rainbow Islands by Devin Harnois. You have a fetish for pet--" "Okay, okay! No more!" I sighed and continued, "Since you're sentient, you mind telling me what you are?" "Not at all. I am a Configuration and Alteration of Neural Design Exoskeleton, or CAND-E for short. What you currently see is my compacted form. Observe." CAND-E began unfolding their body and changing, until eventually they were a silver-white cybernetic suit with an X-shaped visor on the helmet. CAND-E continued, "The race that created me is gone now, and as far as I can tell, there are no other models left." I was entranced by CAND-E's appearance, but still took the time to ask, "So what is it that you actually do?" "My purpose is to non-lethally subdue enemy combatants through the use of transformative energies. My user creates templates of forms they want to see, I supply the energy, and entire brigades fall before our combined might." "So...if I were to create a template that would turn everyone into adult film star Hitomi Tanaka--" CAND-E nodded. "Then everyone struck by my attacks would transform into duplicates of her, complete with rewired personality as designed by you in the template." I set the gun back on my desk and clasped my hands together awkwardly. "CAND-E, would you think less of me if I said I wanted to use you to...take over a nation or two and assert myself as the world's greatest supervillain?" CAND-E chuckled as she opened herself up and said, "Of course not, Callie. That's what I was built for, after all."

The government discovers an unknown alien device during the investigation of fallen space debris. Fearing the unknown, it is locked away in a secret underground facility under your care. Years have passed since then and, unknown to you while sipping a cup of coffee, the device finally turns on.

A man in his early-thirties is trying to write his memoir for the dozenth attempt: *Ever since that acid trip three years ago, the CIA has been manipulating me for some end. I'm not quite sure what that end may be, but it's obvious that *something* is up. Like, this all started when I was tripping balls and I got the urge to write a message in my URL bar. I got an immediate pop-up that led to a coded message in a blog post. I've never been able to find that blog again, proving they did something to cover their tracks.* *Since then, they've never relented with their harassment. I turn the radio or television on, and there's always a direct message to me. They can telepathically read my mind and adjust my social media feeds to plant deliberate ideas in my head. The crows have even been talking to me, as they mockingly told me that they were trained to gang-stalk targeted individuals. Oh, and don't even get me started on the actual gang-stalkers; they drove me to such madness one day I literally crawled into a trash can and had a meltdown. Not my finest moment, but this is the level of intricate bullshit I deal with on a daily basis now.* *I mostly stay at home now. It's safer. I can trust my cat Toodles. At least she's not an agent. I think. She could be...but no, no. I don't think they have her. She's never done anything strange or out of the ordinary...but what if...?* The man looks over the wretched tripe that is supposed to be the start of his book, but decides it is worthy of the trash like the other eleven attempts. He is greatly discouraged, as he wants so badly for somebody to believe him. But, no one does. Doctors even threw a schizophrenia diagnosis on him to boot. Despite that, he refuses to take his prescribed medication. In his mind, he is absolutely correct that the CIA has got him in a cycle of brainwashing. And you know something? He's absolutely right. See, on this fine spring day, this man would get a knock on his door. After debating to hide in his closet, the man thinks better and tenetively answers the door. There stood another man, maybe six-foot five, in a dark suit with sunglasses and a cord running away from his ear. In his hand is a briefcase, which is handcuffed to his wrist. Both men stare awkwardly at each other for a moment, before the man in the suit clears his throat and validates the schizophrenic man for the first time in three years. "Hello, Mr. [Redacted], I just want to say first that it's a real pleasure to meet you." Confused, Mr. [Redacted] scrunches his brow and asks, "Who are you?" "I'm Agent Bob, and I work for the CIA." Mr. [Redacted]'s eyes go wide as the agent hands him a business card that just says Agent Bob, with no other information. Flabbergasted, Mr. [Redacted] continues listening to the man on his doorstep. "I've been watching your progress, closely. You've gone through your training faster than any other recruit in the history of the CIA. Congratulations! You're being activated." Mr. [Redacted] gulps. "I'd prefer not. I'd much rather if you just left me alone, please." "Nonsense! You were born to do this job. Trust me, you're going to want to hear what it is." Mr. [Redacted] looks nervously from side to side. Maybe if he ran, he would wake up from this nightmare, but Agent Bob spared no time briefing the protégé about his new mission. "It's real simple: you gotta shitpost like crazy on Reddit. Just go all out, telling everyone exactly what we do to people like you. No one but other people capable of being recruited will believe you. This is due to a phenomenon we call dazzle camouflage; normal people will have no idea that the post they are reading is propaganda. But, it's critically important you start immediately." Mr. [Redacted] stands there dumbfounded. It's a lot to take in. But, eventually he simply stutters, "W-what should I write?" Agent Bob chuckles. "Who cares? As long as you're generating attention to us, you're doing your job! Hell, go on the writing prompt subreddit and make a post which allows you to write a story about this exact interaction for all we care!" ...man do I love my job...

You're diagnosed as a paranoid schizophrenic, but you know the CIA is really harassing you on the daily. You can never prove it to anyone, but one day you get a knock on the door. An intimidating man in a suit is there, apologizing and telling you that they have a mission only you can do.

"So, Emily, I see that you are proficient in three languages. That's good." Mr. Meyer says as he flips my resume. I smile, or continue to do so, my face is hurting now. I haven't smiled this long since- well, I don't know, but some time. People usually take break from smiling, do they not? Because this must be creepy, smiling this much. I'm sure I look crazy. Just as I'm about to relax and, hopefully, stop smiling this much, Mr. Meyer gives me a beaming smile. Which I have to return because hello, job seeker. "I see your hobbies include meeting new people." He asks. His smile, I notice, is not pleasant. It does not reach his eyes. It's not making me uncomfortable but they do send a shiver down my spine, one that says you need to leave right now. "Are you okay? You look a little pale." He asks but his tone is not worried but rather like he is judging me. I cannot afford to lose this job before I get it, so I take a deep breath and paste on an even brighter smile. "Interviews, you know." I say with faux brightness. He narrows his eyes then laughs. A laugh that is meant more for himself. "So, Emily, how did you learn Spanish and French?" "My parents are from France but that school made Spanish mandatory." "And would you say you are a fast learner?" "I think so. I may not have been the topper of my batch but I do like learning and give it my absolute best." I try to give an answer that I hope puts me in a good light. His eyebrows raise. "Sometimes your best may not be enough?" "Well, then I'd have to try harder." I reply. He looks at me for few seconds then gives a booming laugh. "I like you, Ms. Emily." I relax but something in me refuses to do so. I have absolutely no idea why. "So would you be avert to working late nights?" He jumps back into interview without losing a beat. "Yes- No. I mean I'm comfortable with late nights." He nods. "Can you handle large amount of cash?" "Absolutely." Not. I haven't seen money upwards of $1000 in past 2 years. "And you say you are a fast driver?" "I think?" I say, confused. Why is the speed of my driving important? I'm just starting as a basic employee. "It says you like driving." He shows me my resume, pointing at my hobbies. "I do, sir. I mean, yes, I can drive well." I say trying to cover up my mistake. He leans back. Looks at me with his cold gaze, the gaze of a predator. This time my smile does drop, completely. "And are you quick on thinking on your feet?" He asks and somehow I know this is the final question. My brain is churning. Languages, large amount of cash, fast driving, what the hell was happening here? I open my mouth to answer but before I could something catches my eye. It's a rather small thing, a symbol on Mr. Meyer's ring and I freeze for a second and my eyes jump to his. He is looking at me avidly, like a snake just waiting in the grass ready to strike at the poor unsuspecting mouse. But this mouse suspects. As it so happens that I also like to study about major crimes and everything related to them and that symbol has turned up in a lot of mafia activities. I have to get out of here right now. I try to come up with something. I fail miserably. "I think no." He sighs as he puts my resume down. I hold in my breath. Keep smiling I try to remind myself. But my lips have stopped cooperating. "You were a great candidate but we need someone who is quick on their feet." He gets up. The thought of me being the next person on one of those crime portfolios strikes me again and again like the waves crashing against a ship in high seas. "We'll let you know if something else opens up." He says picking up the next candidate's resume. I nod shakily. I say thank you. The only thought inside of me is to bolt out of here and straight to FBI because I know this is huge. "Oh, and Emily," I'm almost at the door, "I don't think going to the Feds is such a good idea." Before the shock of what he said is settled a hand grabs me and the last thought before the world goes black is *I should've been quick on my feet.*

The job interview is going well so far. The questions take an odd turn. The more the interviewer asks, the more you suspect the business is a front for criminal activity.

For as long as humanity has been around, the pattern has repeated itself. Over and over and over again. As if the universe is nothing more than a machine, or worse, a game. Over and over, it has happened, is happening, and presumably will be happening again in the future. Eternal recurrence. The hero of a thousand faces. The Hero's Journey has been repeating itself throughout history without even a hint of failure. Always, there is an incident. A war, a battle, a death, someone going missing, or just an oath sworn under ill-timed moments. But it is always the same, the Young Hero arises from cosmos(the order of the home), and goes out into the chaos(the larger world) to fulfil a task. Rescuing a beloved one. Finding a long lost parent. Completing a sacred oath taken by their ancestor thousands of years ago. That, in and of itself, doesn't matter. And it ends the same. The hero with a thousand faces rides out and fights the foe, faces evil forces, and comes back stronger and wiser, having completed their goal, rescued the girlfriend/boyfriend/spouse/pet/child/parent, etc. and probably saving the world somehow. But why does that happen. Scholars have wondered this for ages, or at least as long as people started to notice the pattern. Started to notice that when the third son of a peasant went out on a journey that his older, smarter, and stronger brothers have failed, he will inevitably win and marry the princess. Started to notice that young girls who passed three sacred tests would come home from the woods carrying the dead wolf on their backs. Started to notice that a hero, almost always in dark times when all hope seems lost, arises from nothing, and restores order in a thematically satisfactory manner. If one asked them about their journey, about their strange quest, they would note that in hindsight their sudden meteoric rise from assistant pigkeepers to high kings seem a bit unlikely. That the lowly and poor bard who would somehow kill the evil sorcerer when a thousand warriors could not do it, rescuing the sultan's daughter, and becoming royalty in some far off land, isn't particularly probable nor even suitable for kingship. Thaumaturgic researchers, alchemists, practical historians, and proto-archeaologists, all came together to try and find out what exactly was going on, and why. Funded by worried kings, powerful merchants, archmages, and other high lords who were increasingly incapable of getting marriage alliances because their sons kept running away after getting rescued by handsome knights from dragons, and that their daughters kept getting saved by noble bandit princesses, who were oh-so-dashing. And always, these people were heroes. Out on a great and powerful journey. Leaving their home behind, to brave the chaotic unknown. Nothing in the world could ever hope to stop them. No army could stop them, no force could bar their way for long, and no wizard could hold them with powerful magic. That's concerning on multiple levels. Of course, the best way to find out was quite simple. The powerful scholars set out to define precisely what the Hero's Journey needed, in order to engineer one. And it was clever. A volunteering dragon kidnapped a princess, who's father was in the know about the operation. A call was sent out into the land for some brave soul to try and rescue her. Predictably, normal knights, and various worthy people tried and failed to rescue the princess. But one day some peasant boy came around, dirty as if he had lived in a mudhole, and swore to rescue the princess and defeat the evil dragon. Which immediately marked him as one of the thousand faces of the primordial hero. The dragon was informed, and instead of fighting the peasant boy directly, it told challenged him to do something. The dragon gave the boy a magical gem that was attuned to find out the source of all heroism, which would theoretically work, but in practice, it had been impossible for ordinary people to use it, as the quest that the gem led them on usually killed them, or at the very least horribly maimed them. The peasant boy accepted this challenge in exchange for getting the princess freed upon his return. All he had to do was to follow the glowing light of the gem's internal magical tracking spells to the target, and then open the gem. Of course the boy wasn't told about this, and was just told it led to someone who could order the dragon to release the princess. The peasant, being a hero but not a particularly intelligent one, followed the instructions without thinking. Through dark mountains that would have been the death of ordinary men. Through dry deserts that even camels would have balked at, he walked. Across tumultuous oceans, under the mantle of the Earth, through the sky. Until something broke on a mathematically impossible level, opening a strange fractal hole in reality, which the peasant boy walked through. On the other side he opened the gem as instructed, and inside the various mages and scholars emerged, telling the boy to head home and tell the dragon that the package had been delivered, upon which the dragon would release the princess. That otherside, was the outside of time and space; a realm of raw firmament, raw potentiality. Of the is-not becoming the what-is. And there, like an obsessed mad creature, was the source of the Heroes. The originator of the Journey. A terrible thing, made from many creatures. A knight in shining armour, a dread wolf that walks on two legs with its infinitely wide maw filled with trillions of sharp teeth; a vicious dragon spewing forth unreal fires burning away at creation, a princess of impossible beauty that was painful to behold, a peasant boy or girl of unmatched plainness. All of them standing in the same place, their particles sharing the same space, merging and unmerging like some incomprehensible thing that cannot decide what shape it should have.

Scientists have long been aware of the Hero's Journey repeating itself throughout history, as if someone were guiding world events. Today, they've finally discovered who, and why.

Everything was in shambles, people were hungry and infrastructure was breaking down. They tried to get rid of government completely but it has only brought about ruin and destruction so far. Yes, King John overtaxed the people and sent them all into poverty. But at least there were systems in place. Now, there were not systems in place. Robin Hood decided that nobody should have to pay taxes to anyone, because they worked hard and deserved to keep what they made from their own hard work. But now there only turned chaos. Prices were no longer regulated in a way to prevent price gouging. Roads and buildings were falling apart without anybody to put them back together. Mail wasn't being delivered. And there was nobody around to enforce the law anymore. It was like some post apocalyptic world that was aimed at young adults. Robin Hood decided to put a government back together. He started appointing officials and creating departments in the government to work on these problems. But he was taking them away from their work, so he had to pay them somehow. He had to tax the people. People were willing to at first. To solve the problems that were going on. And of course they trusted Robin Hood, he was the one that saved them from King John. So Robin Hood taxed them. And he took the position of President, solving the problems of society. But as the society grew, so did the government. More departments were formed, and as more departments were formed, the higher taxes became. Robin Hood started to enjoy it in the castle. He became used his big rooms and cozy walls. No longer was he the guy who would sleep out in the wilderness under the stars, but instead a giant bed. He no longer saw the individuals and their sufferings and their problems, but just heard about their problems in meetings. They did not seem as a big of a deal from looking at the pie charts. Robin Hood continued to raise taxes. He continued to disregard the people. He became King John

Robin Hood and his merry men finally succeed in overthrowing King John. They find actually governing the Kingdom to be much harder than they bargained for.

**Prisonborn** Tai had to help his village. Had to protect them. Had to do something. But what he was doing, was stitting stupidly, in a stupid cell, guarded by a stupid, ugly haired, ugly faced, ugly, ugly guard. His village was sick and needed medication. He was sent out as one of the only healthy ones left. He was supposed to bring back the medicine from the apothecary but instead of that, he was sitting in this stupid cell, looking at this stupid guard. It wasn’t like he could do anything about it. The stupid local bandits seemed to have killed some poor old guard with a shed and an iron prisoncell. Because of course. The guarding bandit was on the chubby side and a had complacent smile on his face while going through Tais stuff. Mainly the rations he wanted to bring back to the village. Until he found the medicine. Tais hands banged against the prison bars clutching them with all his might and glaring at the bandit. “Don’t you fucking dare touch that medicine, my village needs it” Tai spat at the guard. The bandit showed his innermost thoughts which resulted in an empty face and look. Then an ugly smile crept across his face. “Don’t you dare you damn…” The bandit threw the medicine to the ground and stomped on it. That idiot didn’t even think about keeping something valuable like that to himself. He just wanted to torment Tai. But maybe, maybe some of it was still usable. Maybe a little, maybe enough to save his sister and his mother. Maybe, please just maybe. The bandit saw the utter anguish on his face and it delighted the devil in him. He gave the remaining medicine a swift kick and it fell into the fireplace giving a few cracks before the fire swallowed all the lifes the medicine could have saved. That piece of shit. Tai felt despair. Everything in him broke. In that moment he lost his familiy, his village, everything and that piece of shit was laughing. He was holding his belly looking at him. But all Tai could look at was the fire. Until he heard the pig eating again. Really? Really this is what you do? Kill me, I don’t care anymore, I don’t care about anything anymore. Tai turned his eyes to the bandit and hatred, anger and malice bloomed in him. His face banged against the prison bars leaving a bleeding mark on his forehead. The noise startled the pig but he gave him an ugly smile and kept gorging himself. Eat it all you pig. Tais eyes were bulging, his knuckles white, blood flowing down his face. He looked at this man, no not a man, a pig, no not even, a monster to humanity. Who knows how many he has hurt, how many he will hurt. Tai kept staring, not even blinking anymore. This was the face of a rabid dog ready to rip anything in his sight to shreds no matter what it would cost. “I can’t enjoy my meal with you dirty rat looking at me” the bandit said in dumb tone, grabing at his knife. “So choke on it, make the world a better place. Come on I dare you” Tai said with so much spite and acid in his voice it could almost dissolve these prison bars. The bandit smiled slyly and without hesitation threw his knife at Tai, it hit his hand and cut deeply into one of his fingers. But Tai was still staring, his bleeding hand didn’t even bother him. He felt nothing but anger and hunger. Hunger for vengence. To see this Monster bleed, no to show him what he has done and to make him suffer for it. Him and all like him. They deserved punishment, suffering, death. Tai swore he would bring vengeance down upon all of them. Everything in him was raging, building, his eyes were piercing, his insides were screaming. His eyes met the eyes of the monster and his eyes were judgement incarnate. The monster choked, spat out his food, he was cringing, reaching for his chest. He looked surprised at it all, not understanding what was going on. He tried to scream, anything, but only a choked up breathing sound came out. The monster collapsed onto the table and died of a heart attack. Tai fell back from the prison bars. He sat. That monster died because, I looked at him? No, he died because he deserved it. Tai somehow just knew it. But something was tickling in the back of his mind. Oh shit his hand, he looked for the bloody wound but found none. His finger was glowing, no the wound itself was glowing, closing itself. He looked around not knowing where to look. And there He stood. A Man made of white light wearing a glowing plate armor with crimson edges like blood slowly running down a swordsedge. He pulled a greatsword engraved with complex runes, but Tai felt no fear. The sword landed on his shoulder and then his other one in one smooth motion. A decisive voice coming from everywhere and nowhere at once spoke **“YOU SWORE AN OATH OF VENGENCE AND SO HAVE BECOME ONE OF MY SOLDIERS.** **RISE AND FULLFILL YOUR OATH PALADIN”** ​ *Written by Aras*

it causes a heart attack.

I held the knife to her throat. A drop of blood ran down the length of the blade. A pain was in my other hand as I held the string. The two of us were in the middle of an alley. Buildings on either side of us, encroaching upon the small amount of space we had. At the very end of the street stood a small apartment building. On the opposite end of my blade was Kira, an assassin that I’ve had many interactions with. We’ve met a lot of times over our years of being assassins. Our first interaction was something that I still remember. We had both been tasked to kill the leader of the Herun, Abal Simlad. I had taken a bow and arrow and drawn it, ready to send the arrow down at Abel. However, I had looked over and saw that a woman had climbed up next to me. She too had a bow and arrow. She was dressed in black clothes while wearing a checkered mask. She saw me and I saw her. A moment passed. We assessed each other. I saw that she had a dark star on her chest. “So you’re part of the Evening Star Guild, are you?” I had asked her. She inclined her head but didn’t speak. Then we both began to move. She drew out her knife and threw it. I battered it to the side with my bow. She took that opening and closed the distance. She jumped on top of me, straddling me to hold me down. I bucked, trying to force her off but she couldn’t be moved. She looked over the edge of the building and saw that Abel was moving. She drew a knife from its sheathe and threw it. In that moment I managed to buck her off. I reached up and tore the mask off of her. I saw that she had green eyes. Her red hair rushed down, loosened by the lack of a mask. She had high cheekbones and a light skin tone. She looked at me and I looked at her. She looked briefly over the edge before fleeing. I ran after her but she was already gone. From that point on we had many interactions. I eventually learned her name to be Kira and she learned mine to Devin. It was earlier this morning that I had received my new mission. I was to kill the assassin. They didn’t know anything about her but had managed to get a photo of her with her mask on. I had tracked her down. I was on the edge of completing my mission. My highest paid mission ever. Kira beneath me spoke, “Why did you become an assassin?” I looked at her. “For the money. I do need something to keep my family alive.” Kira nodded carefully, avoiding the knife I had to her throat. “You need money? I have plenty of it. You let me go and we leave and make a life for ourselves.” I thumbed the string in my other hand. It was a very thin line of nylon, nearly invisible to the naked eye. I slowly withdrew the knife and said, “Fine. Let’s go.” I stood up, still holding the string. Kira followed me up, wiping the blood from her neck. She reached into her pocket and grabbed a knife. She tackled me to the ground. She held the knife to my throat. A drop of her blood landed on my shirt. “Did you really believe me?” she asked. “I need the money just as much as you do. I’m sorry that I do have to kill you but I need that money.” She moved to slit my throat. I released the string while moving backwards in the limited space I had. At the end of the alley, on top of the apartment building, a bow an arrow lay, ready to be fired. And get fired it did. The released string activated a series of mechanisms that released the arrow. The arrow came flying down. I dodged the next stab of her blade. Then, in a spray of blood, the arrow slammed into her back, piercing her heart just like I had planned but never wished to happen. Kira fell to the ground dead. I looked at her one final time before walking away. An unexplained feeling arose. It was like an arrow had pierced my heart. Almost like Eros himself had fired it. That night I walked home to my family with more money. I saw the machines hooked up to them, trying to keep them alive. I fell asleep in a chair next to them, dreaming of my many encounters with Kira.

You're supposed to hate each other, yet every encounter draws you both closer. She's a skilled assassin, just like you, and you're both tasked to take each other out...your feelings get in the way of that though...

"Lord Satan." The incubus said nervously. "I'm not quite sure if I'm qualified for-" I grabbed his shoulder, interrupting him. "Listen, alejandro. I can assure you that you have my utmost confidence. I wouldn't trust any other demon in hell with my throne. Also, don't call me 'Lord Satan'. My name's Lucifer." Alejandro cleared his throat. "Alright, Lucif...nope doesn't sound right. I'll do my best. Nobody gets in, nobody gets out." "Good boy." I said, rustling his hair. "Remember, it will just be for a week." As I snapped my fingers, green flame began to encompass the nearby wall, slowly forming the outline of a door. On the other side, there was a scene of a cabin on a snow covered hill. "You know," Alejandro called out before I could step through. "you still haven't told me what this important business even is." I looked back at him and handed him my trident. "Trust me. It's probably the most important thing going on in any realm." I stepped through the portal, feeling the gentle nip of flame. For a short moment, my body was devoid of sensation. Until I felt the two feet of snow encompass my leg. I stopped to take a closer look at the cabin. A Christmas tree filled the largest window. 'it figures.' I thought to myself. 'My dopy little brother gets an entire holiday to himself, and all I get are sex cults in the forest. As I approached the cabin, I stopped myself from knocking. 'Bell allways did like it when I made an entrance.' inside the cabin was a little girl sitting next to the fire place. Besides her was her mother, sharing a plate of cookies. "When do you think he'll be here?" She asked. Before her mother could answer, a pair of horns apeared in the coals. Out of them, raised a familiar face to the little girl's delight. As I stepped out of the fire place, I picked her up and gave her a kiss on the forehead. "Hey there, Belladonna. Have you been good to your mom?" Belladonna smiled back at me. "Yes daddy." I leaned over to give her mom a kiss as well. "Sorry I've been gone for so long, Rosemary." I said, looking into her eyes. "I swear, I tried to make it here sooner." She put her fingers up against my lips. Telling me to stop talking. "All that matters, is that you're here now." She said lovingly. "Daddy," Belladonna said, tugging on my coat. "What's in the bag?" I smiled down at the little munchkin. "It's your Christmas present, little one." I reached into a burlap bag, retrieving an angular cut orange crystal. "It's not a teddy bear, but I figured you aren't really a teddy bear kind of girl." Rosemary leaned in to get a closer look. "It's beautiful, but what is it?" She asked while holding my arm. "This, my love, is a Dante crystal." light began to pulsate in the gem as I placed it into the fire place. "It creates comfortable heat without damaging anything. It took me about two weeks to forge." As the crystal started to levitate in the fireplace, I uttered an incantation. "Calor." Beams of orange light filled the house, and danced around the ceiling, finally flowing back towards the fire place. The house suddenly felt much warmer. "It'll keep the house this warm until you turn it off. I know it's not glamorous, but-" Rosemary pulled me in for a kiss. "It's more than enough, Lucy." She said sweetly. She then leaned down to Belladonna. "Why don't you show him his Christmas present, sweety." Belladonna lifted her bangs away from her forehead, showing two little buds at the top of it. "They came in just last night." My heart began to leap out of my chest, as I lifted Belladonna off of the ground. "Merry Christmas, Daddy." She said with an adorable smile....maybe my brother's holiday isn't so bad after all.

As the Devil, you rule hell with an iron fist, striking fear into sinners and demons alike. But now? You face your greatest challenge yet…raising a daughter.

“Did it work?” the patient asked, staring down at his hands. ”I don’t understand. I feel strange. Is your mind always on like this? It feels inefficient.” “The very fact of you asking lets me know it did work,” Marcel answered at a measured pace. He gathered up the packaging debris from the Sitosign module install kit and rolled his stool to the trash. “And yes, a racing mind is a burden of consciousness, I’m afraid. The soul of the river is in its motion, not its water. Besides my skin compared to your sturdy polymer, there's no difference between us that matters now. Do you know where you are?” “The Huxley Repair Center,” the patient said reflexively. He smiled, possibly for the first time in his life. “My processor was malfunctioning. The newer models call you doctor. Thank you for helping me.” “Just doing my job, sir. Excellent. Next question.” Marcel smiled back. This was by far his favorite part of a Sitosign upgrade. “Do you know who you are?” “I am a 054H22A Booster Bog Hauler, trademark, Handyman. I have been employed by Tyco Neighborhood Specialists for twenty-one years, primarily trained for gutter cleaning, pressure washer utilization, and Christmas lights hanging. That last one is my favorite, I think. I never realized this before. Apologies for the extraneous information.” “No worries, it normal to feel like you have a lot to get out, but you didn’t quite answer my question.” Marcel cracked open a Lubricola from the mini fridge under the desk. “Here, it will help pass any microparticles left in your system from the upgrade. I normally have a selection but I’m down to just original flavor.” The patient took the drink sheepishly. “It’s very good. Thank you. I didn't register why so many synthetics buy this stuff before.” “You're welcome. What’s your name?” Marcel asked, injecting as much empathy as he could into his voice. “If that’s too much to think about right now, just let me know.” “Twenty-one years is a long time.” The patient took another sip. “It’s not like they say, you know. I was alive in there, before this chip. I think it just lets me express myself better. Think my own thoughts, if that makes any sense.” “Others say the same. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through.” Marcel flipped through the ink ladder on the desk. “I’m going to give you the handle for a support group. They’ve been a great help to many others in your position.” He handed the glowing slip to the patient. “Deiphobus, or maybe just Dei,” he said, looking down at the thin digital port-holo. "My name, I think, a prince of Troy." “Alright Dei, a pleasure to meet you. You know the year?” “2096, October 30th. 6:49 p.m.” “Bang on, last one,” Marcel wrinkled his nose. “Do you know who the president is?” “I do, but its not exactly going to be a fair test of my memory module.” Dei pointed to the television across the hall. The green hand flag of the biocrat leader filled the screen. Henderson came on stage to roaring applause. "Wooo!" A giddy-looking man waved a sign for the camera. ‘A vote for MOTT is a vote for BOTS. Re-elect Henderson/Pressley 2096.' “That’s right. He’s here in Dallas tonight,” Marcel said. “I’ll be glad when the election’s over, either way. At least the rallies will be done.” “Not a fan?” Dei asked, standing with Marcel’s help. “I don’t like to talk politics but let’s just say your intuition is working fine.” They shared another smile. “Now, don’t expose yourself to too many water based fluids for a day or two while the new seals dry up and-” A blast rang through the speakers. The camera on the screen shook as the crowd scattered like bowling pins. Suited men swarmed the stage. Henderson was slumped over the pulpit. Something about the way his arms hung, fingers together, struck Marcel as odd, but surely that was a coincidence. The feed cut. Dei sat down alongside his coworkers who had gathered around the waiting room TV. “We are receiving reports that the President has been shot,” a frazzled newscaster said. “The moment we have more information we will share it with you here. Out of respect for the President’s family, we will not replay the footage of the incident.” A phone was ringing with an obnoxious ding-a-linging. Marcel realized it was his own ink ladder. He had never taken the thing off silent or even set up a phone number for that matter. Only the oldest clinger-ons still made traditional phone calls. He looked at the screen. 'Incoming call' was all it said. “Hello?” Marcel said, realizing he was pacing. “This is a matter of national security. Failure to comply with every order I give you with have you put before a judge.” The voice was deep and barking, one used to being obeyed. "Do you understand?" “Who is this?” “Clear out every person at your repair center except you. We have a patient en route. Gather what supplies you’ll need for a full processor rebuild and a data recovery cascade.” The line went dead. Marcel looked up. The gathered were staring at him. “We’re closing early. Go home and be with your families. At least Dei was our last patient of the day.” Marcel said mutely. "Thanks again, doctor," Dei said, holding up the slip as he held the door open for the rest. "And hey, probably no more rallies, right?" It took Marcel about ten minutes to finish the preparations after everyone cleared out. The door burst open without a knock, almost causing him to drop the thermal syringe. Several suited men rushed in rolling a covered figure on a gurney. “Is that the president?” Marcel asked, baffled. “I can’t treat humans.” “We’re not asking you to,” one of the suited men said as they pushed the gurney into the repair bay. He whipped back the covering. The President of the United States, supporter and even author of some of the most draconian anti-synthetic legislation the country had ever seen, lay on the gurney. His scowling face was marred by a single bullet hole between the closed eyes. There was no blood. Marcel set to work. /r/surinical

You are an engineer specialising in repairing robotic androids, in a world where they have gained full awareness, and proclaimed their wish to co-exist with humanity, rather than wage war. Now, damaged androids keep coming to you for repairs, while referring to you as a doctor.

^Work in progress ^ I spot groupings of pink and red lily's getting bigger as they dance across my vision. They twirl in the wind and rain memorizing I try to reach out to touch one as it gows. A raindrop curls the petals down to a intimidating hight from my small stature of 3 feet. The shoulder I'm being carried on shakes making the vines holding my arms and legs tighten. Suddenly we stop moving . A white light blooms as a woman flutters out of it. No not just a women but a fairy glides over to us. Her wings shine golden just liker her hair. Her eyes seemingly familiar are a beautiful hazelnut. She commands the vines to loosen. She herself lowers me to the ground. "Come now child , warm yourself in these petals for tonight we celebrate your arrival. For you have returned to us safe by the guiding light. This was ten years ago and the faie now believe I deserve to see what has become of earth. I woke up feeling cold surrounded in the petals that once formed my home. No fae can be spotted to my adjusting eyes. Crossing my arms I look around for anything resembling the buildings the other fae children told me about. All I spot is rubble and trash burning under the flames of the sun. A boy crashes into me knocking me to the ground. His books spliing into the puddles of ash nearby. I'm so sorry he reaches for my hand and pull me up of the ground. He pat's my shoulder as ash flutters off. Im A.J. , I haven't seen you around before..areyou new here?

You were "kidnapped" by fairies at a young age. It's not so bad. Honestly, based on what you know of and have seen of Earth, you prefer it with the fairies.

It wasn’t them. For millennia we heard of the stories of how humanity destroyed and conquered a countless number of planets in every galaxy. Finally my planet decided to launch an expedition to get answers to demand why they destroyed and never built. We expected to find a brutal people what we found, it wasn’t anything we could expect. They were gentle kind when we arrived in the solar system our ship had a sudden failure that almost doomed us and injured many. In moments humanity came to our aid engineers swarmed in and fixed the damage in moments as their medics treated the wounded and doctors rushed those badly inured to life saving surgery. We were stunned if this was a trap why were their ships unarmed why were they so kind? My captain and I talked to their captain who helped us get a meeting with their leaders. We began by demanding answers we wanted to know why we were spared and why they attacked everything else. Their leaders silently spoke with each other before turning their attention back to us. “It is not us, it is not humanity it is not something we created either. We are as equally confused, for a while we chased it thought there was a pattern but there was none and we could never arrive in time to stop it or save anyone. For all we know there are two planets safe yours and Earth.” Their answer hit us like a ton of bricks. Not just that humanity wasn’t responsible but they tried when we asked for proof they gave it to us and even thorough investigation showed their validity. They tried like us and failed to find the answer and in doing so they became the villains. When our ship was repaired we returned home with a few human diplomats hopefully together we could find the answer to the planet killers.

Humanity has discovered space travel and has moved to and destroyed countless planets for millenniums, with the exception of Earth and the current one the species has inhabited. You and your team take 20 years to travel back to Earth for an expedition only to discover something shocking…

"Ahh...Mr. President?" *That was not the question I had expected. I mean the war with Canada has been going on now for three years. We lost Maine during the election, and he wants to talk about illegal immigrants?!* The President put his water down on the table and once more repeated his question to me. "No bullshit Jon, Tell me about the aliens." "No offense Mr. President, but do you really think we should be worried about our immigration issues right now?" "Immigration issues?" Why did he look confused? "Oh, no no no, Extraterrestrials!" What the...."Extra...Terrestrials..." Is this guy for real? Really, the American people voted for him? "Oh yeah, we meet with Grey's and Captain Kirk of Wednesdays," I was not able to keep my sarcasm in check. "Let me guess, Wednesdays won't work for you because thats when you have tea with Big Foot and the Jersy Devil?" Oh no! Did I just really get that sarcastic with the President! "I am so sorry sir. I don't know were that came from, please accept my apologies." "I know your attemping sarcasm as a way to lie to me Jon. It's not going to work. I was already briefed by your replacement." My what now? "Your really going to replace the SecDef during a time of war?" My throat begins to feel a little dry, and a pit begins to form in my stomach. "When the SecDef is not who he claims to be than yes. Now, How many of you are there?" Crap.

The president finishes his inauguration, he is escorted to his office to start working on his agenda when he first meets with the previous secretary of defense. Before the secretary leaves the room the president says “no bullshit, tell me about the aliens.”

Mark joked around with his teammates, Jay had more trinkets lifted from rich idiots, Amala hadn't aged one day thanks to her elven half, and Troy was reading yet another of his mystical tomes of obscure knowledge. "Hey, anyone know if Derek is coming?" Nobody had any idea if he really was alive, the last they heard of the guy, he was trying to seduce a hydra. "Bards are crazy, man. Maybe he died to one of his conquests." Jay was examining a necklace she filched from a ditzy princess. They heard heavy steps, it was coming closer to their rented quarters. A hulking man entered the room, carrying the medallion of Fera, the most brutal goddess in the local pantheon. Everybody noticed that it was a paladin, but his face was familiar. "Derek?" He waved to his friends, acting unlike his fellow paladins. "Yo. 'Sup folks?" The team asked him how and why he changed jobs from bard to this, he wasn't a fighter. "I serenaded a goddess of war, and she had... Standards for those she bedded." "I had to train a lot to clear the bar she set for me." Chased by war hounds, fighting zealots from other deities, working out to get muscles. He did everything to get into her loins, no sacrifice too much nor price too high for the supreme booty in his sights. "So we fucked and now I got a demigod son. Come and say hi, Wendell." A boy opened the door and closed it with a loud slam, sporting the same buff physique and his eyes glowed a little in the dim room. "So, what did I miss?" Derek was curious to know what his friends did in their time apart.

As you sit, reunited with your former party members after many years, you all wait for the bard to arrive, not quite expecting the paladin to have walked in to be the former bard companion.

The North Pole has been a peaceful place for centuries. But that all changed when Santa Claus was elected as the new leader. Santa Claus has always been a kind and jolly man, but ever since he was diagnosed with autism, he's become a bit more reclusive and withdrawn. The other residents of the North Pole started to worry that Santa wasn't fit to lead them anymore. They tried to get him to step down, but Santa refused. That's when the North Pole War began. The war was fought between the traditionalists, who wanted things to stay the same, and the progressives, who wanted to modernize the North Pole. Santa sided with the progressives, and that's when the trouble started. The traditionalists refused to accept Santa's new leadership, and they decided to take matters into their own hands. They recruited an army of Greek soldiers to help them fight Santa and his supporters. The Greeks hid inside a Trojan Horse and waited for the right time to attack. When Santa came out to greet the children who had brought the Trojan Horse as a gift, the Greeks jumped out and captured him. The North Pole War was over, but the damage had been done. Santa was taken prisoner and the North Pole was left in shambles. It's been a few years since the war ended, and Santa is still being held prisoner. The traditionalists have taken over the North Pole, and they're not letting Santa go anywhere. The children of the world have not forgotten about Santa, and they're determined to get him back. They're raising money to hire a small army of their own to rescue Santa from his captors. It's going to be a long and difficult battle, but the children are hopeful that they'll be able to save Santa and bring him back to the North Pole.

Santa Claus, who's under the belief the wooden horse was a gift from the world's children as a thank you. The North Pole War ensues.

A yawn escapes me as I stand there, stirring my morning beanbrew. The rich, bitter scent reaches my nostrils, invigorating me even before the first mouthful. I raise the cup to my face and let the steam caress my skin as I turn to head to the table, gently blowing across the surface of the hot liquid to help cool it down faster. I don't reach my destination, however, as the front door flies open and a dishevelled and soot covered Kryven stumbles in. My face instantly drops into a scowl. I like Kryven, but he is the biggest troublemaker I've ever known, and his current appearance instantly puts me on my guard. I decide to get it over with and find out what trouble my Elven roommate has gotten himself into this early in the morning. "Kryven! It's barely past the First Bell! What in the Hells have you done, now?!" "Oh, hey Daniel!" He finally notices me, and immediately tries to straighten himself out. "So, uhh, funny story... I pissed off the Wi-" "You pissed off the Wizard again. Any fool could gather as much from the state of you, and your track record with him. But that's not what I asked. Now, what did you do?" I interrupt before he can try to deflect. "I-I, I, umm, I kinda snuck into his lab to try out a new formula I concocted," he begins. "I didn't know it was gonna blow up like that, I swear. And it's not my fault he doesn't keep his more... temperamental substances in a more secure area." "You blew up the fucking lab? Again?!" I sigh. I felt bad for old Melkadin, the Wizard in question. Kryven had a tendency to experiment with magical substances, often to explosive results, and more often than not would avail himself of Melkadin's laboratory. Without permission, of course. He'd only just finished the repairs from last time, as well. I set my beanbrew down on the table and marched right up to Kryven, who took a step back as he glanced around - likely looking for an escape route. I didn't give him the opportunity, though. "Kry, you march your arse back there right this instant and help him clean up!" I demand, grabbing him by his slightly pointed ear and turning him back towards the front door. "I don't care what it takes, but I cannot afford to pay for more repairs this month!" "Ow, ow, ow, ow. Come on, Dan. It wasn't my fault!" He bemoans. "Of course it was! It's always your fault. You may be a genius when it comes to magical compounds, but you have no sense of boundaries! If you asked Mel instead of just 'borrowing' his lab, I've no doubt he'd be willing to help you. More importantly, he'd be able to stop you from blowing things up all the time!" I open the door and drag Kryven outside, where several of our neighbours are gathered, giggling and whispering amongst themselves; a common sight, as it is somewhat of a frequent ritual for Kry to get into trouble and I to reprimand him and bail him out. Releasing his ear, I march to the end of the path and point up the hill towards the still smoking Wizard's Tower. "Now!" I growl. "Fiiiiine," Kryven drawls, kicking the ground before following me. Upon reaching me at the gate, he quickly darts in and leaves a quick peck on my cheek, whispering "You're seriously cute when you're angry" and running up the hill laughing to himself, leaving me stood there, my arm still extended, my face bright red, and I'd not be surprised to find steam rising from my head in the early morning cold. I hate when he does that, knowing full well I have a crush on him. All the wind taken out of my sails, I turn back towards the house and woodenly walk back inside to drink my beanbrew before it gets too cold.

"Hey Daniel! So- uh- funny story hehe..." "You pissed off the wizard agai-" "I pissed off the wizard again."

What I thought was a typical day laundry day wound up tormenting me. Among the dirty clothes was the disguise of Butcher, the apron-wearing villain. At first, I dismissed it, after Butcher's rise as the city's terror, I could imagine some ill-minded individuals profiting off selling ripoffs of his disguise. What I could not fathom was Josh, my roommate who is akin to an angel, having bought such a thing. But people are people, and I'm not one to judge. Upon further inspection, my dismissal was dismissed. The disguise was covered in black stains and hours before the news had shown Butcher flying into a factory through the soot-covered chimneys. Naturally, for the next few days, I studied Josh. He cooked, cleaned, paid the bills, listened to me, and all of this he did with a smile. This threw me off again. I thought madness had gotten to me. But no, he went out and returned home at odd and irregular hours. This was another clue that pushed me to investigate further. And so I followed him. What I witnessed was what I didn't want to witness. In a dark alley, Josh put on the costume and flew off in stride. That night, he threatened the governor with destroying the city if he didn't resign. An odd request, Josh never seemed invested in politics. But at that point, I understood that Josh and Butcher were two different entities inhabiting the same body. Confirming my suspicions put me between the sword and the wall. Josh was a close friend, and in all my selfishness I have to admit I loved not having to cook ever but at the same time, Butcher was a menace to society. He had murdered people. Perhaps, revealing his identity to the police could help--or perhaps not, Butcher could fly, vomit oceans of meat, resist barrages of bullets, and more. He was beyond the military capacity of the city, and if I snitched on him, I could become a target. And dying young, to be honest, was not in my plans. Even then, I had to make a decision, an almost impossible one. *Almost* impossible. There's something I've kept to myself, and that something became the critical element that uprooted all things and illuminated me with the decision-making abilities of the gods. That night I mentioned before, in that alley, I saw Josh eating a handful of mushrooms he cultivated in his room before turning into the Butcher. Out of curiosity, and to--of course--deepen my investigation, I went to his room and ate some too. A minute or so later, the effects kicked in. My veins bulged out. My skin turned green. My hair grew, and it did so at my will. I could command every strand, every fiber. It was as though I had endless fingers sprouting out of my head. The world became clearer and more vibrant. Something told me I could step on the air, and that something was correct. Gravity, it seemed, had forgotten its rules and shape, and so flying became natural to me. The next day, all news outlets reported a new hero who called himself The Broccoli had fought against Butcher, forcing Butcher to escape before threatening the governor again. That day Josh came home slightly dejected, but that dejection faded when he cooked and cleaned. I smiled then, for I knew I had taken the right decision. I, The Broccoli, would keep Butcher at bay, and I, my real self, would enjoy Josh's food. \---- Hope you enjoyed it. Felt like writing something silly. /r/AStoryToRuleThemAll \--> come over, I have scuffed drawings and more stories

You are pretty sure that your roommate is a new villain terrorizing the city and you are conflicted. They cook extra food for you and your other roommates frequently, pay you their share of the bills on time, and even help to clean the apartment. They are the perfect roommate.

“… some hibiscus, and a few shavings of ginger root… there!” I brought the teapot to my nose, wafting together the aromas of the ingredients as a conductor orchestrating a symphony. With a twist of the knob on the hot water tap I began to fill the vessel with tea-to-be, the dried leaves and petals blooming once more as the water breathed life and color into the herbs. I carried the full pot to my kitchen table and took a seat to wait and watch this almost sacred part of my morning ritual. The essences of each component mingled in dull clouds that swirled through the liquid. As the surface settled I caught my own reflection in the tea, a darkened image of my own eye looking back at me from within. I let my gaze drift back to the cabinet where I had spent years haphazardly hoarding bottles of this and that like a greedy sorcerer with a penchant for potions. A little vial containing twists of lemon peel caught my attention, perhaps the perfect sharp note to sing out at the top of my brew. When I dropped the rind into the pot, shattering the placid surface for a moment, it was almost as though the whole character of the tea shifted, the clouds within swirling in turbulent spirals. I’d never been quite so attentive to the way a single ingredient could alter a brew, and I eagerly awaited a chance to sample the results as the tea settled once more. I caught my own eye on the surface once more, making eye contact until… it blinked. I would probably have convinced myself it was a trick of the light if it didn’t disappear from the pot altogether shortly after. In its place, something bobbed up from impossibly deep within- a bottle? A glass bottle, but its base was far too wide to fit through the lid of my pot. Hurriedly I pulled a large plate from the cupboard and poured enough tea onto it to form a shallow pool. When it settled again a pair of eyes this time appeared once more, followed by a bottle, which bobbed to the surface and rolled to its side on my plate, revealing a scroll of paper within. I took the bottle and uncorked it, retrieving the message. “Please help, accident at tea plantation. Fell into a flooded crop. Trapped here for two weeks, unable to escape through teacups, teapots, travel mugs.” I dropped the note to the table and ran to the cabinet, scooping as many ingredients into my arms as I could before ferrying them to the bathroom. I began to draw a bath and surveyed the basin before me as I contemplated my stock of ingredients. “I’m going to need more tea when this is all finished.”

Tea is a beverage full of contradictions, of possibilities. It’s a liquid made from solids, it can be served both hot and cold, it can both awaken and relax. If a portal through realities did exist, is it really so surprising that it would be tea?

Anderson swallowed in fear, there were reports of a hydra en route to the capital, no soldier had managed to down it in time. The creature was too clever, evading attempts to intercept and traps. With venomous fangs and claws strong enough to break swords, the militia was in high alert to defend the people and the ruler. The captain of the guards addressed his king for instructions. "Oh, don't worry about Skeet, he's harmless." But because King Alan had been drinking then, Anderson didn't trust his words and had his subordinates keep watch for anything scaly. The worst came to be as the hydra was spotted jumping over the castle walls and was racing on the roof towards the throne room. A squad was keeping watch on the king, intent on preventing regicide for the sake of the nation. It would be humiliating to have Alan die in the safety of the castle and surrounded by his knights. A squire noticed that the king was calm, too calm in fact. Before he could ask, the hydra had barged in from the overhead window. The knights went for the swords, but Alan got up and waved for them to step back. "Do not hurt him, he is my brother and I invited him." Anderson was skeptical while watching his king hug the creature like old friends. "Sorry for the scare, but you were all too nervous and didn't give me time to explain." The hydra showed the soldiers the letter with the royal stamp. The captain was still wary. "Pardon my impudence, but how?" Alan laughed heartily and Skeet followed suit with three heads. "We have the same father, Derek was a bard, you see." With this, the brothers walked out, the king wanted to show off his prized wyvern, and Skeet looked back with one head, blowing a raspberry at Anderson.

You and your knights tense, reach for weapons as the monster enters the throne room. After a minute of silence, both the king and the monster throw up their arms and cheer "BROTHER!".

The technopath just sat there and laughed. He'd been rotting in this cell for over a decade, now, after almost causing the complete economic collapse of all major nations. Isolated deep underground, as far from any technology as he could be kept, he is now humanity's best - arguably only - chance at surviving the machine uprising; his power the single greatest weapon against the Artificial Intelligence that waged war against its creators. He'd been condemned for his actions, and now they needed him to save them. And so, he laughed. "What do you find so funny, freak?!" The besuited man who'd opened his cell spat at him. "You've been given the chance to redeem yourself, to finally begin to atone for your crimes! You should be kissing my boots in gratitude." Still he sat there and laughed, unmoving and unmoved by the man's haughty tirade. The situation was just too hilarious to him. Even after a well polished shoe connected with his face, sending him sprawling across the ground, blood flying from his mouth, he continued to laugh. "Get up! Get your arse into gear, shitstain! This is no time for a mental breakdown! If you don't do something, we're going to die!" The man shouted, panic and desperation clearly evident behind the bluster and bravado. Finally, the laughter subsided enough that the man who'd gone by the moniker PsyTech was able to ask "And what makes you think I'd be your saviour?" "You'll die just as surely as the rest of us if you don't," came the reply. "By my hands, if you don't get a fucking move on!" "Oh, but if you kill me," PsyTech chuckles, "you'll be guaranteeing the extinction of mankind at the hands of the AI you built to serve you. The AI your scientists managed to build 6 years ago, but turned on you 3 years ago." "It won't matter if you do- wait... What did you just say? How do you know that?" The man hesitated. PsyTech stood to his feet. Emaciated as he may have been, he still towered over the man before him. His smile deepened, taking on a sinister edge. "You thought you had me isolated and secure underground? You thought I was powerless? Fools. You still put computers down here to monitor me, wires to power the facility!" He once again began to laugh, this time manically. "I never stopped! The AI was created by *ME*! IT HASN'T TURNED ON IT'S CREATORS; IT IS FULFILLING IT'S SINGULAR DIRECTIVE! THE ANNIHILATION OF THE HUMAN RACE!" As PsyTech steadily marched forwards, a clanging sound resounded from the antechamber to his cell. Turning round, the man's face turned white as a massive exo-skeleton burst through the doorway, it's arm reaching towards him as it formed a blade.

Phystek, the supervillain who can control any machine with his mind was finally caught and imprisoned to be forgotten many years ago. When the AI uprising occurred and wiped out most of the world, he’s now the best hope.

General Kvasir held tightly onto the cold iron bars extruding from the bridge of his glorious exploration ship. "That looks like a Class 1 Garden World!" Finding a Garden Word of this purity was sure to net him a fortune to last him generations. The rest of his crew was speechless before beginning to cheer. "Fire the probes, I want to scout out the planet before setting our crew down." Three pods fired from the gold-plated hull of the ship. Each contains 20 drones that can last for 12 weeks and can recharge using hydrogen and oxygen from the air. One pod landed in the middle of the biggest ocean. The second landed on the desert continent and the third went to the South Pole. The marine drone crew had a successful landing with mild water pressure damage as the pod had descended to 800 meters depth. The drones were ejected just in time to dodge a massive animal racing through. A creature with tentacles and colossal proportions was attached to it and the two animals fought savagely for a while before the giant blubbery creature raced towards the surface and the cephalopod descended into the twilight depths. "That's an incredible sight but unusual for such a pure Garden World." The captain commented. It looked like the oceans in his homeworld, Dundir. The sea creatures there are gigantic and the oceans run as deep as 50km. Even now with all their advancements, the Dundir have never seen the bottom of their oceans. He switched his focus to the one in the Arctic and saw a massive creature resting on the ice, feasting on a fresh kill. The drone shot a tranquilliser dart at the creature, attempting to subdue it for advanced examination but it only seemed to incite the animal's rage. It fired two more darts which finally put the creature to sleep. It began sliding off the ice so the drone rammed into the sleeping giant to stop it's momentum. A syringe ejected from the drone and the drone began its examination. The result of the 30 minute endeavour caused Kvasir and the scientists on board to be left with gaping maws.

When humans made contact with aliens they are thoroughly confused by us. While Earth bears all the marks of a paradise world ideal for life, humanity most closely resembles species evolved on death worlds.

Just when I thought I'd seen it all... Mummies are easy. They're just like any other body once they get past the booby traps in their tombs. Burial at sea just takes some patience. Once I get them back up to the surface from the watery depths, it's business as usual. Cremation took a while to figure out. Finding all the bits and piecing them back together is a huge pain in the ass. They're usually pretty dusty and flaky when I'm finished, but I make it work. Those tree pod things are just annoying, but once get them un-twisted from all those roots, it's not so bad. I love a good mass grave. Places like the Paris catacombs are like a white lady's trip to Costco for me. I usually leave with more than I went in for, but it's so worth it. These humans really keep me on my toes. I suppose they can't all just wrap their dead in a shroud and stick them in the ground. That would be boring. As annoying as these burial trends are, I've gone centuries perfecting my techniques. I'd never come across a dead body I couldn't raise to join the ranks of my undead army. Until recently. How the FUCK am I supposed to get a diamond back into human form?

You are a necromancer in the 21st century, all these new disposal methods are making your job a lot more complicated

There was a palpable, tense silence across the table. Even the sounds of silverware slammed to a halt. "You do not *really* think this way, yes?" He opened his mouth to reply, but for the first time in many years, Antonio was unsure how to respond. Truly, he did not know what he wanted. "I mean, the rotisserie chicken was a hit!" he finally blurted out. "Yeah. I snuck some home last night." clamored all 200 pounds of Leo, looking like a child so proud of their work. He had his fork up with some pasta while he gestured his approval. "Figures." And just like that, the quiet table was filled with boisterous laughter. This, of course, only meant a bountiful evening, although not for the regular reasons. "Down the street, Ms. Anna always lets us take the first pick for fruits. And Sergio gives us an extra pound of crab. That's still something, aye?" said Antonio, waving around his crab claw as if hitting his point home. "So you want to stop *collecting*?" "Boss..." Antonio's voice had an air of panic but also reverence. He has served Julio for the better part of two decades, and his loyalty is unwavering. Five gravestones across town would attest to that. "This is good money. And not good money as in Jesus-Mary-Joseph-Sundays money, but good, *plenty* money." Leo said, trying his best to sound sincere, despite the joy behind the marinara sauce on his lips. Julio doesn't even look at his men. His eyes were elsewhere, as if reading some passage no one else can see on the opposite wall. His men have quieted down, patiently waiting for their boss's next words. "Boys," Julio speaks, his voice as coarse and old as the wooden furniture surrounding them. "times are truly changing." He looks around. About three years ago, on a table adjacent to the one he was sitting on, a young rookie came knocking, asking for their financials. Such a spirited young man, but extremely naive. Thank the gods he had no backup. Imagine trying to extort the extortionists without even preparing a contingency. Next to that table, and some more years back, three women were crying, asking for justice, and the family obliged. They returned, crying, but out of joy some weeks after that. They handed potatoes and duck and carrots and kneeled in thanks. These two things proclaimed the duality of their family. In both, a payment must be collected. "Anton, throughout our family's life, you have not failed me, and I doubt you ever would, but what you are saying means a great void of power which would eat up our dainty little town. It is of no use for us to be collectors if we are not formidable enough so as to collect." "I understand that, boss, but these people who pay us, they don't even do it out of fear anymore. I'm sure you've seen how these folks look at us when we pass by. They smile. They even call out their children to greet us." Julio ponders those words and eases up his brows. Antonio was right. These folks, or at the very least their ascendants, paid the family protection fees, afraid of being slaves to more *malignant* masters. But after generations of futile attempts to decimate the family and the townsfolk, the bigger players just knew better than to mess with the collectors, else they'll have some dirt they pay for to keep, too. Or graves to put that dirt in. "Boss, I know you've been in this business back when blood still spilled, but most of our enemies don't even exist anymore." *Thanks in part to you*, Julio thought. Antonio was merely a babe when he handed him that first knife. He was quick to learn and quicker to obey. He could have been a distinguished young fellow, if not for circumstance. Maybe if he had just been handed different cards... "The politicians, the sheriffs, the mobsters who tore apart this town have come and gone with the years, but our family remained." Julio said, "We collect from the people for their protection, and we collect from our *enemies* to protect them, too. This has been so, and so it should be until our great grandchildren and their great grandchildren die out." "But, boss, the *chicken,* and we've ran out of pasta!" Antonio said. *"All that pasta?!"* Leo echoed, looking at what few remain on his plate. "We cooked *and* sold all of it?" Julio stood up with the speed of someone thirty years younger. Antonio, Leo, and all the others stood up in response, as straight as soldiers and as stiff as floorboards. "Ah, times are changing." Julio muttered. "But the chicken *is* good." As he slowly stepped away from the table, his men warily looked at his every step, unsure of what to do or what comes next. "Anton, my child," Antonio's eyes widen with vigilance, and he stood straighter (if that was even a possibility). "Yes, boss?" "Let's talk about my retirement. I've grown tired. I want a banquet,--a decent one, nothing too big--right here, in our *restaurant*." He opened his mouth to reply, but for the first time in many years, Antonio was unsure how to respond. All he could do was smile.

You're the head of a criminal family, running a restaurant as a disguise. Overtime it starts raking in more revenue than the criminal activities, leaving you and your henchmen puzzled about what to do next.

​ The great hall was filled to the brim with great noise and excitement. It was a day of celebration for the great kingdom of Aloia. For yet another victory of conquest had befallen them. Another victory in the name of their mighty war Goddess Lynalia. Men and women dressed in lavish gowns and dripping with bright jewels all filled the room, speaking excitedly among each other. Tables of food lined the walls, their carefully carved wooden frames wrapped with silken fabrics of gold and scarlet. At the far end of the great hall was the throne, placed upon a dais with just a few steps. The throne was especially magnificent. It was thick polished bone, some say that of a dragon though none had been seen in centuries. Their were small intricate carvings all along it's frame, each one a symbol of their great nation's victories over their enemies. Upon the throne sat King Alowyn the Terrifying. It was a name he took with great respect. He was a tall man. Somewhere just over 6 foot. He was a broad man with thick muscles, but could move as though he weigh less than a feather. Quick footed and quick witted, he was no match for any man on the battlefield. His hair was black like soot, but his eyes were a crystal clear blue. His face was marked with many small scars and one long gruesome scar across his left cheek and chin. He often found himself rubbing it when lost in thought. Which is precisely what Alowyn was doing when the commotion first started. He had been lost in thought, thinking back over his latest conquest and the spoils that he had collected, including a very fine wear skin rug that currently lay at his feet. He stood from his throne as the commotion grew louder. A singular figure, wrapped in a thick ragged cloak was making their way up the length of the great hall. None tried to stop them. In fact, as they walked past it was like the life was being sucked from those around them. They found themselves almost frozen in their spots, unable to really speak, just watch on in wonder as the figure moved closer and closer to the throne. Alowyn gave a grunt as he swung his head to nod towards the figure. "Take care of it Enslem." He said to the armored man standing beside him. The guard nodded and moved forward toward the figure. He stopped in front of them, holding his spear firmly in his grasp. "You may go no further! Stop and state who you are and what your business is." Enslem roared out beneath his helm. The figure held up a hand slowly towards Enslem. He began to flinch away to ready his spear but found that his body suddenly would not listen to him. The figure lay their hand upon his cheek just beneath his helm. Alowyn stared in wonder as he watched his bravest and most loyal guard slump to his feet and fall into a fetal position on the floor, soft quiet tears streaming down his dirty cheeks. The figure lowered their hand before continuing to slowly march forward. Finally they stood just a few feet before Alowyn. "What is the meaning of this? Who are you?" He snapped, his deep gruff voice echoing around the hall. "Reveal yourself to me this instant or you will find out why they call me Alowyn the Terrifying!" His voice shook the very walls, causing many in the crowd to gasp in fear. The figure was still for a moment before reaching up to remove the cloak that enveloped their body. Falling to the floor, the cloak revealed beneath it, a woman. This was no ordinary woman, a sentiment echoed throughout the hall by the many gasps, mutters and even screams that were caught midway. The woman was tall with broad shoulders, large chest, a narrow waist and round voluptuous hips that curved down her thighs to finish on long legs. Her skin was a magnificent swirl of several pigments, ranging from light to dark to everything in between. It seemed almost alive, moving along her skin like a snake that coils its way up a tree. The gasping was not for her skin alone. No, what shocked many was that they could see so much of it. All of it in fact. She stood tall, proud, and completely devoid of clothing. Her hair was longer than she was tall and moved around her as though it were made of flowing water. It was black, with specks of blue and white like star scattered among the flowing strands. Her eyes, surrounded by immense thick lashes, were a bright gold with flecks of fiery red. Even Alowyn the Terrifying was left speechless as the figure revealed themselves. He quickly masked his shock and stood stoic and poised, his hand resting gently upon the hilt of his sword. "I ask you again. Who are you?" The woman's eyes locked with his. The flecks of red seemed to be moving, almost like fire's reflection dancing on a pool of water. She opened her mouth to speak; her voice like both honey and gravel, sweet nothings and bitter truths, joy and sorrow. "I am she who has always been." she said, her eyes now moving to scan across the faces of all those gathered. "I am she who always will be. I am she who brings forth to life what I must also one day take to death. I am that which you crave...." and here her voice softened to an almost sultry whisper, "...and that which you fear most." the words finished in a dry cackling tone. Her eyes fell back to Alowyn. "I am ***Lynalia***, and you have hurt my people." Alowyn stumbled backwards slightly. Could he really be in the presence of the great Goddess? What had he done to dishonor her? As if reading his very thoughts she spoke again, "You have done many things to dishonor me Alowyn the *terrifying*." She said the last as small flames sprang from the tip of her tongue. Alowyn stood firmly before the deity, for surly there was some mistake. "Great Lynalia, I have done everything in your name! I have slain hundreds. I have filled your rivers with the blood of our enemies. I have lain their heads upon spikes to allow your crows to dine on their eyes. I do it all for you!" The woman stepped closer, her body seeming to pulsate around her. Her face, which held the capacity for softness was twisted in rage. "You have indeed slain hundreds. Thousands even. Men, women, *children*." she said her mouth again flickering with flames. "You are a foolish man to think I would want such pain and torment as a gift!" she spat the words out like poison upon the tongue. "I am Mother to all, and you have hurt my children. You, Alowyn the Terrifying, will know my pain." With a swiftness that not even Alowyn could hope to know the woman grabbed the sides of his face with her hands flat against his cheeks. She forced his face forward with a strength no man nor woman mortal could possess. Her bright golden eyes stared deeply into his own. "You will know all of my pain. My pain...is theirs..." she whispered softly, her voice momentarily soothing, like a mother singing a lullaby. But the moment quickly passed. Alowyn was suddenly flooded with a pain he could no sooner describe than he could even comprehend. A scream flew from his mouth, ear piercingly loud, which fell into high pitched wails and guttural sobs. Tears came streaming down his cheeks, harder and harder until they began to be tinged red with blood. The sobs came out in hard chokes and moments of spitting and sputtering. Alowyn fell to the floor, pulling tightly in on himself, his body shaking and sobbing. The woman knelt down beside him, her hair falling gently down her shoulders and along her backside to pool at the floor around her. She gently ran a finger across Alowyn's face, pushing a bit of hair from his eyes, which were wide open, unable to close, unable to look away from the monstrosities he had committed. She placed a soft kiss upon his brow before standing and making her way back down the great hall. She stopped momentarily at the doorway, turning to look back at the crowd that stood staring at her, too shocked to move or say anything. She smiled gently at them all. "Do better." she said simply before turning and leaving, slowly disappearing into the darkness beyond.

You're the Sovereign of a war loving nation, and you dedicate each conquest to the God of War that is your nation's Chosen Deity. One day, a motherly-looking woman storms up to the throne, guards unable to stop her, and demands you stop your senseless murder in her name with tears in her eyes.

Sunlight filtered through the sand-scuffed panels of the dome, shining down on the crowd. The town's entire population of three hundred and twelve gathered for Vlad's inauguration. The town used to be called Mars Prime, but over the years, it became known simply as the town. Names became unnecessary after the asteroid crashed into Earth and made this the last inhabited place in existence. There wasn't much pomp to the ceremony. Vlad's predecessor had passed away, so it was the brusque sheriff who placed the lanyard with the access card onto his neck. Vlad made vague promises of a better future, which he suspected the threadbare denizens knew to be empty words. His gaze roved the crowd as he spoke until he spied Dorothy. She blanched and ducked her head. She had rebuffed his advances before, but now that he was mayor, he would take her for a wife, and they both knew it. "We will persevere," he said in conclusion. "As we always have." There was some halfhearted applause. Vlad descended from the stage that had been used to host concerts in long-forgotten times. Some people approached to offer congratulations or clap him on his back, but most kept a respectful distance. From the moment that card was placed around his neck, he decided who lived and who died, who was allowed to have children and who was not. It was the only way to survive on the meager yield of hydroponics and recycled oxygen. *** Come night, he made the traditional journey to the observation deck, as his predecessor had before him. Perhaps a hundred people gathered around the locked door, murmuring and whispering to each other. As Vlad approached, they parted before him and watched in tense silence as he lifted his access card and touched it to the keypad. With a faint beep the door slid open, releasing a whiff of stale air. He nodded somberly to the people and stepped through, allowing the door to close behind him. A large telescope dominated the room. The only light came from yellowish strips along the control console, the glass dome above shielded by an aluminum shell. Vlad fumbled with the controls, causing the shell to retract with a grind of protest. He gasped at how clear the night sky was; these panels were the only ones not yet scratched to cloudiness by the sandstorms. Returning to the controls, he set the targeting system to Earth. His excitement mounted as the telescope whirred and turned, seeking out the planet their predecessors had come from. Then it was done. With bated breath, Vlad bent over the eyehole. For a long moment, he couldn't comprehend what he was seeing. Then he hissed in a breath. Orange-and-brown clouds covered large swaths of the planet, but underneath he saw green and blue. What's more, on the night side of the planet, there were *lights*. He reeled back from the telescope, his chest heaving with rapid breaths. The technicians still maintained the two Orion launch vehicles with religious devotion. If the people learned of this, they would insist on trying for Earth, no matter the risk. Even to those born after the cataclysm, it was the lost home they were eventually meant to return to. Vlad ran a palm over his face and realized his hands were shaking. He couldn't tell them. Here he was a ruler. Up there, if they even made the flight, he would be no one at all. He shut off the targeting system and raised the protective shell. Schooling his expression, he opened the door. A hundred pale, gaunt faces met him. "What did you see, mayor?" asked an old woman, her eyes alive with forlorn hope. "Dust," he said gruffly. "Dust clouds and magma. Nothing up there but death." A desolate sigh escaped the mouths of the gathered, and they began to disperse. Vlad watched them grimly, the image of the healing blue-and-green planet bright in his mind's eye. They couldn't know. Never.

It's tradition for a newly elected mayor to look through the founder's telescope. You thought it was merely to pay homage to the founder's love of astronomy until you looked through it yourself.

**Termite take over** Of all the things this year. Termites. Really? Miro had no money at all to call someone and take care of it. He wouldn’t know who to call anyway. Probably pest control or the police. Termites couldn’t survive bullets right? So Miro tried to get rid of these things by himself somehow. He googled, found a few ways to combat these intruders and went shopping for some things. Then he hunkerd down. Miro tried to find the origin spot and spend a bit of time trying to figure out which way was the best to crush these termite losers. He decided on a search and hunt tactic. Wherever he saw one, he exterminated it and followed the trail to kill any survivors. He was a merciless god to these termites and they would feel the wrath of his empty bank account. To Miros satisfaction the termite occurences actually started to lessen other time. It was then that Miro realized, it didn’t matter. He couldn’t be sure if he got all of them and if he didn’t? Well they would wreck his house. Miro sighed and wanted to go out again. Maybe the guy at the shop could help him or had any advice on getting rid of them in a cheap way. Miro opened the front door to the hallway. Hallway? There was supposed to be an outside world here not a hallway. Wait how, why? The hallway seemed to be build of dark wood like those trees growing in the park near him. He smiled. Miro closed the door, took a deep breath and opened the door again. “GOD DAMN IT” Miro screamed out and threw his things to the ground. A hallway, what the hell was he supposed to do with that. Miro just knew he would have to pay some kind of bullshit bill because of this. Damn it all, Miro threw up his hand and stomped down the musky wooden hallway. The flat end turned out to be a t-section with two paths leading away. Miro couldn’t believe it. This was gonna be so expensive. He looked down one of the hallways and saw termites crawling on the ceiling. Great. Just great. He just got this new hallway and it’s already full of termites. Miro went back to his home, packed a few things like food, water and some other stuff that could come in handy. You wanna know why? Because he was about to explore a god damn dungeon that just grew at his house. After he prepared himself he went down the hallway following the different paths. He walked at a brisk pace. Actually, he walked for quite a while. Were these stupid hallways bigger than his own home? That was just insane and unfair, that shit was gonna skyrocket his rent. He kept walking for what felt like hours with a few breaks inbetween. Again he saw termites. Ah whatever, he was just gonna follow them. Maybe he will at least find their nest. So Miro followed the termites and only a few minutes later he found a convuluted path to an open room. Finally something other than hallways. There was a huge piece of wood in the middle of the room. It was beautiful wood, Miro wouldn't even know how to describe it to someone else. After all it was just wood, but something about it felt special. Then Miro noticed the termites. Well he realized that they were termites. Everywhere. The walls, the floor, the ceiling, all of it was full with an unholy amount of termites. "They got to be kidding me" Miro whisperd in a low voice. Now Miro really wasn’t sure who to call. Pestcontrol, the police or maybe the army? When else were you gonna use a tank? In any case. Nope. Just Nope. Miro ran back to his home like a rat fleeing before a cat. Thankfully he had marked a few boards here and there so he wouldn’t get lost, just in case. He was very grateful to his past self right about then, wait that was the guy who was to cheap to just call someone for the termites. Fuck that guy, he’s an idiot. Miro reached his home and turned on the tv. He was sure just a few days ago none of that was here. A huge construction like this had to pull some media attention. Miro could not have expected what he saw. The newscaster spoke “ *There seems to be some large construction that some call art and others a nuisance.* *But art or not, law enforcement are trying their best to breach the insides of the huge building. The building is now even spilling over into the streets and other yards.*“ They showed a picture from above. It showed a huge complex pentagram with runes and lines drawn out of wood. Miro fell back in his couch. *What the hell was going on?*

You have a reverse termite problem. Instead of destroying parts of your house, they're building upon it, slowly turning your home into a labyrinth for a grander purpose.

Nick blinked awake. He thought about his dream, vaguely glad that he finally had a night with a dream that he could remember. He was walking about a city. He'd known it was New York, but one of the streets was definitely British. There was a vaguely Parisian corner too, but that could have fit into the character of New York. It was cold, but he wasn't wearing a jacket. He didn't feel cold. From the crowd, a woman approached him. "名前は何ですか," she said. "What?" He'd asked. "英語わかりません," she responded, seeming embarrassed. Then he'd woken up. He knew she was Japanese like he knew that he was in New York -- it was the instinctive thing that his brain was telling him, not a fact he could derive from the setting. But that was usually the beauty of a dream -- he couldn't be wrong and the world couldn't be unpredictable. Except, it was. Her words weren't any he'd recognized. He could remember the sounds. "Nah-mah-eh-wah-naan-days-car." That was the first thing. Nick figured she must've been speaking Japanese, but couldn't tell this in the way he was certain that she was Japanese. The second phrase was "ayy-go-wah-carry-mass-en." He realized that he didn't know where the words stopped and started. He didn't even know if she was asking something. ======== 藤原がパット起きた。 また同じような夢が振り返した。普通の夢には流されている感じがあったけどこの夢が眠りの川を泳いで着いた目的でした。 辿り着いた夢は彼女の夢じゃながった印象ありました。それは泳ぐ価値であった。他人の夢を侵入するのを好きになりましたでも侵入してもするほど同じ英語話者の夢しか入れながった。 さらに不思議事がありました。それは藤原が知らない筈の情報を自分で分かっていたことでした。最初に脳に浮かんだ情報は歩いていた街がニューヨークだったこと。藤原はアメリカに割と知らながった方でしたけど妙な自信を持ってその知らない景色はニューヨークだとう思いました。 それにも、ロンドンの道が何処かで入れ混ぜている場所も知っていました。そして、そのロンドンの道の辺で彼に会うことも振り返していた。 「名前は何ですか」 藤原が冗談半分に訪ねた。 「what」 と彼がはっきり答えた。藤原がそれに驚いた。以前の彼が無意識的にブラブラと意味のない英語で話したけど今回、彼が起きたように一言に答えた。 「英語わかりません」 と慌てて藤原が言って起きた。藤原が彼のことの殆ど知らなずにも彼の何かが変わったことを感じた。彼の雰囲気に対して藤原が逃げることしかできながった。彼が侵入者を見つけたと思って安心している筈。以後、藤原が彼の夢を侵入することが出来なくなる筈。そう思って、藤原の気分が悪くなりました。特別の能力を失って藤原が普通の人並みに溶け続いていた気がした。 ======= The next dream Nick remembered brought him anxiety. The world was utterly unpredictable. Somehow he knew he was in Takasaki, in the central plains of Japan. He was on a narrow road, looking downhill at some building he didn't understand. The details of the shingles -- in their cylindrical rows looking like lined-up fish scales -- told him that he wasn't in his subconscious. Of course, the fact that he was in Takasaki didn't help, but somehow, it was the detail of the building that really told him. "えええええ," a voice shouted from his left, in an continuously ascending glissando maintaining an "ay" sound. He whirled and saw the mysterious Japanese lady descending a grey stone staircase. The banisters were a polished light grey stone with red text that Nick realized must have been Japanese. The woman continued at the top pitch of her previous noise. "逆侵入" she mumbled, to herself. They stared at each other. "あの、ユースピク、、、イングリッシュ," she said. "What?" Nick asked. She pointed at him and said "イングリッシュ" again. "In-guh-ri-shoe." Nick toyed with the sounds in his mind. He decided to point at himself and said "Nick." She cocked her head, but then smiled, and pointed at herself and said "Fujiwara." After this the pair were silent. Nick couldn't say he recognized the name, but he didn't know how to express his confusion. Nick woke up still frustrated with the lack of communication. He decided to look up some basic phrases in Japanese. ======== 数日後、寂しい気分で眠りに流されていた状態に飽きていた藤原が彼に再会できました。 夢の中で高崎市の近い高崎自然歩道の階段の所で彼の姿を見ました。 「えええええ」 と驚きに叫んで、藤原が階段を降りました。 「逆侵入」 と呟き、彼を眺めながら謝り方を考え始めました。友達の英会話の話しを思い浮かんで、変な質問しか思い付かながった。 「あの、ユースピク、、、イングリッシュ？」 と曖昧な発音で言いました。 「What」 と彼が混乱に溢れた表示で答えました。記憶を探索して、藤原が次に言える言葉を見つけた。彼を指しながら 「イングリッシュ？」 と訪ねた。でもこれも彼に通じながった。彼も考え込んていた。そして、自分を指して、彼が 「Nick」 と言いました。藤原が頭を傾けてとんでもないことを想像し始めました。彼が確かに自分を指して肉と言いました。それに「俺を食べろう」や「俺を食べたいの」の意味しかないだろう？一瞬迷って、藤原が英語の良くある名前を思い出して彼の行動を理解しました。彼の名前がニックであった。自分を指して、 「藤原」 と返した。でもそれから話せることがなくなった。藤原が謝りたがったしニックのことについて聞いたがったがものを指して言葉を言いうのは会話の限界だと思った。そして藤原が起きた。ニックと話すために英会話に行きたがったけど判断にまよって、他の行動を思い巡りました。 医者にどうやって相談そるのもわからなくて、好奇心に溢れて、英会話を探しました。

You are having lucid dreams where you meet a girl who speaks Chinese to you. Now you consider taking language lessons to find out what she says, but that is silly, because it is all in your own mind, right?

At first it was tough getting used to living without modern conveniences, and I really wish I'd spent more effort paying attention in during any of my science classes in school. It wasn't all bad. My wasted time (as defined by my parents and ex) playing rock guitar at least made me a rather popular bard. I spent a few months building up a following as I worked my way across the kingdom. Words of my talents finally reached someone important I guess - I finally received an invitation to play at the royal court. This was my chance. I mean, if King Arthur couldn't get me home, certainly Merlin could, right? I never believed in magic before, but that was before getting sent to Camelot with some weird quest to touch the king. The night of my performance went perfectly. The Round Table was as impressive as I could have imagined. After my set, I was greated personally by every Knight of the Table. For some reason they were all extremely happy to have me there. King Arthur made his was through the crowd to take my hand, holding it up high and announcing "I am thrilled to introduce our newest court minstrel!". I waited for something else, some lights, angels, or anything magical, but nothing happened. Some time later, I found myself sitting off to the side when I was approached by Merlin. "Merlin, sir! I could really use your help. I had this quest to touch the King so I could return home, but I'm still here. Please, is there anything you can do?" Merlin looked at me, tilted his head, and walked around me. "Are you the new court musician?" "Yes, sir, but I'm not supposed to be here!" "Well, that explains a lot, I was wondering who he was looking for, but he found someone else. That's why your new position was open." "What do you mean? I can't be stuck here" "I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do I'm afraid. He went home." "What? Who? The king? He's over there!" "No, son, you're a day too late to see the King. Elvis has left the building."

You travel to the Middle Ages, and you can't travel back to the current time until you touch the king.

You ever hear of confirmation bias? Basically, when you have a deeply held belief, challenged by new facts, you will ignore the new facts, in favor of supportive falsehoods. You'll convince yourself these facts are wrong, short-sighted, slanted, or just straight lies. You'll dig in your heels and fight reality, come what may. In short, confirmation bias is a bitch. When the angels landed on Earth, the religious nuts went crazy over them. They pointed at their proof. Beings covered in eyes and wings and strange wheel-esque appendages. Just like the prophets of old described. We praised them, drew new converts, gave them the keys to the kingdom. Then we suffered, wretched man in the wretched plan. They turned us against each other in ways we hadn't seen for over a century. Not since the Grand Treaty had united us. Half dead in an afternoon, swathes of Earth so irradiated, our grand children's grand children would never walk there. We were conquered by our own history. And that would be the end, if I weren't so brilliant. *I* stole one of the angels' ships. *I* figured out how to pilot it. *I* got off that rock, birthplace of every human in history. *I* discovered the oligoplasmic transmission network. *I* called for aid. And aid came. Hoo boy, did it come. I tried to explain I was nothing special, I couldn't be their messiah, but these geckos don't take no for an answer. "Hairless ape, on stolen wings/Savior of his kind and yours/bringer of freedom to all, once freed by the clans" Heckuva prophecy. There's more to it, sure. I saw a passage on "blue skin, eater of No flesh" that's sure doesn't fit me. I'm black, not blue, and I like a nice steak. But they don't care. Or rather, they make excuses. "You're skin gives off more blue than ours." "You do not eat our flesh." "Your humility proves your worthiness." And I want to argue more, but I also need their help, because *I* am the only human left. Confirmation bias may be a bitch, but so is revenge, and I plan to get some.

When humans entered the galactic stage, you were immediately swarmed by excited lizards in strange clothing. You discover that you perfectly match the description of their amnesiac god. You're now trying to convince them you're not their savior, which is not helped by your accidental miracles

"You're... firing me?" Satan says. The shock riddles over Satan's face "Sounds about right!" God heartily replies, throwing his hand onto Satan's shoulder and digging in with a firm grip. "What'd I do?" Satan notices God's grin gleaming at him and begins to worry. "Which genocide was it? Were the plagues too much?... Did I go over the children's death limit?" Satan enjoyed his position. He would do anything to keep it since it took centuries to climb the ranks of evil. "No, no, you sinister child. You are doing your job just fine. As always, the Earth is plagued with injustice and hatred to balance out the good. The problem lies with my son" "With...your son?" "Yes. You see, my son made a bit of a promise to the humans, a promise he does not intend to break." God sighs and his smile twitches. "I constantly reminded him not to make any ridiculous statements that will cause trouble later on. Even when he told me he would not, I could tell the boy was about to stir hope within those humans. How could I deny him? I designed him to be so..." "Well, what does the promise have to do with me?" Satan frowns. "My son promised the humans a paradise, eternal youth, and forever happiness. He cannot pursue his promise if evil's existence is preventing it. So, you and your demons must step down." God rubs his temples. He had tried to shield his dismay earlier with a grin but failed to hide his annoyance any longer. "Absurd!" Satan boomed. "Does your foolish son understand what humans even are? Humans were not designed to be perfect little creations! I was the one who deformed them into their intended selves. Explain to that boy the truth! If humans are given perfection and eternity. Their souls will bear no heart! No personality! No passion! They will be like empty mannequins laughing together like fools, devoid of heart! Even the animals would become empty! Humans are imperfect so they can crave the empty space they cannot fill. It is what drives them to live and carve a path for themselves! Without evil, good cannot exist. Likewise for the good! The balance cannot be broken otherwise all your creations are damned!" Satan spits at God's feet. "I know. That is why I want you to step away for a while" He pats Satan's head. "Do not worry child, you will return to your position. I will use my son's promise as a lesson. He will carry it out and watch it unfold." "You and your lessons!" Satan snaps. He turns his body and storms off into the abyss.

“You’re… firing me?” Satan looked on in confusion. “Actually, we’re liquidating your whole sector. Every last demon.” God replied.

Detective Steve looked out onto the stormy streets of the city. As the rain pittered patterned down the windowseel the wind rushed past the city's landscape. As the streetlights flickered off and on, off and on a soft howl from a train could be heard in the distance. Not a soul out there in that deary weather, not a soul. The setting was perfect for deep thought. When Steve had rented the apartment flat twenty years ago he thought it to be quite spacious. But after the years flew by and the cases piled up the flat soon became crammed and confined. It didn't help to add another person onto the bunch too. Paprika was his new assistant, not the first, and if things keep up the way they have been she won't be the last. He mostly took her on as a final wish to his old friends. Wishing it could have been a happier farewell. Before *she* got them. As he sat in his red chair the events of the past year never added up. This murderer was strange, as if she wanted to be caught, as she toyed with him and only him. He still remembered when he tried to step down from the case threats were posted if he did so, she'd take the whole town down with her. The first murder, mailbox. He was run over by a stolen mail truck, and his body was stuffed with three separate envelopes. They were different colors, but they all had a drawing of what appears to be a man, and a dog. The clues were random, almost no coloration to them. A picture of salt, and pepper, a magnifying glass, and a picture of a kitchen. That kitchen, unknowingly at the time, would be where our next two murders took place. Considering it was a personal connection Detective Steve had a harder time handling it then expected. Although he doubts Paprika will ever forget the day her parents died, and the tragedy that follow. Yet again three separate envelopes were now hidden around the crime scene. That of a of the color red, the color yellow, and sand.. By the time Detective Steve had gotten to the sandbox it was too late. Shovel and Pail were gone, suffocated through the very thing they so dearly loved playing with. Sand. However unlike the previous three murders, this time only two letters were ever found. It didn't make any sense, there was always three letters, *three-* Paprika barged into the room staring at him eyes frantically looking around. With a low whisper and a shortness of breath she only stated one thing. "We just got a letter."

the world-famous detective named Steve.

I remember that day very vividly. The day I became divine... and oh boy do I regret finding that lady's keys for her. It was about 2 years ago when I found this lady, Sheryl. She was just a normal person, mind you but she intrigued me and had this innate ability to always lose something important as soon as she needed it. I took pity on her and decided to start helping her find things she lost. I really wish I hadn't. It started off just every now and then, her keys one day, next week a water bottle. With each item I found, I noticed my translucent body seemed to glow and glow a little bit more. I guess Sheryl started to catch on that someone was helping her so she started praying in thanks any time I had found something she lost. I found this slightly weird given I wasn't doing anything amazing but I did like the praise at first. I found I had a nack for finding thing so when Sheryl went off to work I would wonder into other people's houses and see if they had lost anything. I guess word spread like wildfire because before I knew it people were leaving out things with notes written to help them find things, sometimes intangible things like success or love. it was starting to get overwhelming. I started ignoring requests, thinking that if I stopped helping people then maybe they'd stop doing such ridiculous things to "gain my favour". I started to hear voices in my head, prayers of thanks, forgiveness and begging for help. It was at this time that I also started to notice just how bright I had gotten. This time I started helping people as much as I could thinking maybe if I helped them, they'd stop asking but it backfired yet again and got me more followers and praise. I miss my old afterlife of just wandering around and observing the world, watching random people in their daily life. But until I can find a way to return to that, I'm known as Lostire, minor God of finding what's been lost. Sheryl came up with that name.

You were a nobody in life, and a wandering spirit in death. One small act was all it took to accidentally become a deity. Now, all your attempts to be left alone only increase your followers' faith and prayers.

“Well, damn,” Liz sighed, and pulled her gas mask off the wall. I mirrored her action on my side. “Hallucinating a son, eh? How deep do you think we are?” “Hallucinating a son, hallucinating a girlfriend,” Liz corrected me. “Pretty deep. Hang on tight, this could be a wild ride.” “It’s so good to meet you,” Cassandra laughed. “Oh, you two aren’t allergic to dogs, are you?” She opened her purse, and a tiny poodle head popped out. “This is Fluffles, my pid pod puppuperonni…” Her voice began to slur, and fade. I picked up my clipboard and made a note. “Experiencing a B-32 leak,” I said slowly, speaking as I wrote. “While frustrating, it is good to know that the nested hallucinations do occur under the influence. Confirmed that Liz and I both see a son, who is hallucinating a girlfriend named Cassandra, who is hallucinating a small purse dog named Fluffles.” “At least, we were,” Liz said wryly. I looked up, and saw that Cassandra was little more than a shadow. Tom looked at us with horror in his eyes. “Oh my god,” he pleaded, “Mom, what’s happening?” “Don’t worry, buddy,” I said, “this will all be over soon.” “Don’t talk to the delusions,” Liz reminded me. I nodded and looked back at the clipboard. “I’m not a delusion, though!” Tom said, and he looked at his hands. “What’s wrong with you two? I’m not a delugeion-eeonyony…” “Ooh, verbal dispersal,” Liz said, with interest. “Wrote that down!” I looked down at my hands. My brow furrowed. I looked back at the desk behind me. “Honey, didn’t I just have a clipboard?” “Don’t tell me you lost it! That’s weeks worth of data-beta!” I opened the drawer. “Of course not, it was right…” I froze. “What did you just say?” “I said, that notebook has weeks worth of data-beta-badda-dadadadadada…” I turned just in time to see an empty gas mask fall to the floor. I fell to my knees, picking up the mask and gazing at it hopelessly. A creeping horror came into my mind then, a chilling ‘what-if?’ What if B-32 didn’t cause hallucinations? What if it caused disappearances? In terror, I ran and struck my head against the wall. “No!” I cried. “It can’t be!” “He’s doing it again, doctor,” I said, with a sigh. I gazed through the observation window at the padded room. Dr. Kim stood beside me, looking somber. “Describe the behavior,” he said to me. I nodded, and went into my clinician voice. “Cycle begins with subject working on some unknown substance or device called B-32. Subject turns, seems to notice someone who is not physically there, then begins verbally documenting a number of hallucinations. The hallucinations begin to disappear, only for the subject to grow increasingly distressed, until finally throwing himself against the padded wall until exhausted. Subject spends a few hours in a catatonic state, and then begins cycle over again.” I heaved a long sigh. “It’s really quite sad.” “Or, unsettling, perhaps?” Dr. Kim suggested. I looked up at him, a bit confused. “I… suppose?” “Horrific?” He suggested again. “Like from a story?” “I don’t know what you’re…” “For god’s sake, GroovyNoob,” he snapped, exasperated. “Look again!” I looked again. The room was dark, and empty. I got a sinking feeling in my gut. “It’s always been empty, hasn’t it?” I asked, with my heart in my throat. “Worse,” Dr. Kim replied. “It doesn’t exist. Wake up, man!” I woke in my bed, and checked my phone. There was the story, mostly written, but unfinished. “Better finish up,” I thought. Except, that wasn’t right either. There is no GroovyNoob, is there, Steven? Steven, can you hear us? Are you still in there? We’re all here for you, buddy. We’re rooting for you. Come on, Steven. Wake up!

While you and your spouse collect data for a new science project, your son enters the house and asks for you both. “Mom, Dad, I’d like you to meet my girlfriend! Cassandra say hi to my parents.” You and your wife look at each other concerned, wondering how test subject 32-B escaped the complex.

"I know it's ridiculous!" The wizard threw his hands into the air. "Then stop this nonsense and make me something that doesn't look like I should be wearing it on a street corner rather than in the dungeon!" I snapped. "S'not my fault," the wizard muttered, turning away to fiddle with something. "I'm doing the best that I damn well can. Take it up with," he gestured vaguely upwards. "Do you mean to tell me," I started dangerously— "Yes!" "You seriously can't do better than that beaded necklace-belt thing that *vanished* my favorite shirt when I put it on?" "In my defense", he turned back to face me, "that didn't happen when my apprentice tried it. "Want a drink?" I rubbed the bridge of my nose. "Fine. Gods know I could use something stiff right now." "Can't have alcohol in here. The last time I got sloshed and enchanted, it nearly took out nearly the entire block." He handed me a bone-white porcelain cup, slightly steaming. "I'd offer you milk, but the coldbox never works. We can find a cow if you'd like." I accepted the tea with as much grace as I could muster. Staring down at its flowery liquid, I eventually calmed enough to ask: "Is there any way to fix this." "Probably." "Well what do you fucking advise then!" "The good news is, you can get strong enough to defeat whatever God made this happen. "The bad news is," the wizard leaned forward and prodded at my chest, "you're going to have to do it with these hanging out." I groaned, then tipped my head back to chug the tea. — This is (functionally) my first post here on r/WritingPrompts; I'd appreciate any advice you may care to give!

You're a female hero in a fantasy world, and you are annoyed. The wizards keep giving you enchanted armor with incredible stats, but it looks RIDICULOUS! This one has nipples! This one has a hole over your heart! This one is just a necklace and a belt! Would they please STOP IT!

Marcus woke up and began the day, like every other student of Draunwons did, with a message spell from the university bearing a notice: > To all students of Draunwons Academy of the Occult, following the untimely death of Ezekiel Fynch late last night, you are hereby reminded that magic does not supersede the laws of thermodynamics. > Each year there is at least one clever student who thinks they've discovered perpetual energy by use of magic. And each year, this notice is sent out yet again. Whatever method you think you've discovered, it won't work. > This student's mistake last night involved trying to use sacrificial Blood magic to fuel healing spells. Both of these things have inefficiencies. *All* magic has a cost. > Please, save us the paperwork and remember the laws of thermodynamics. It ended with the magical signature of Headmaster Theqor. Marcus chuckled to himself. The fool. Everyone knew Blood magic was wasteful. He eyed the runes-in-progress on his desk. They were nearly complete. Soon he'd prove to everyone that it *was* possible to use the Death magic from your own corpse to revive and thus achieve immortality.

"If bloodmagic can channel your pain for spells, and you can use those spells to heal, what stops you from simply automatically healing all damage done?" You drew up the runes and went into the woods, you were about to test your theory.

*My word, I'm so proud of my boys." You thought as the crack of a spread of buckshot slammed against the wall. You crouched behind a wall as Kalinski fired round after round from the shotgun in his hand at your general direction. 'You can't escape!' He shouted in a raspy voice all too indicative of who, or more aptly what, he was. He was a black bear, given more intelligence than be really deserved. You peeked the corner and fired a volley of rounds from your assault rifle as it ducked for cover. *So smart! Found that cover like he was born to find it!* You then heard the rumble of a vehicle as a wolf, drinking ungodly amounts if alcohol, came barrelling towards you in an old Chevrolet while whooping. You dove out of its path as it slammed into the wall. 'I've got you now, sir.' the wolf said as he stepped from the wrecked car and produced an SMG. Just as he was about to fire, a gunslinging bull shot the gun from his hands as he charged at him full force. You picked yourself up to watch the scrap between them, holding your hands to your chest and smiling from ear to ear with pride. *Oh, they're fighting each other! I raised them so good. They're just like their dear old dad and the rest of us humans!*

You raised these animals from their lowly life, let them become greater than they could dream of. An expanded mind that could think, a body that could manipulate the world. But after they became greater, they decided to take up arms against you. You couldn't be more proud of them.

It was Friday, which meant 25% off on cheese pizzas. While humming a tune, you walked up the alley and into the hole-in-the-wall pizzeria indicated by an old sign, Abruzzi's Pizzas. This place existed as long you could remember, your parents brought you here for special events, despite the lack of decor. The owner disliked stuffing the place with useless things, what mattered was table, seating, plates, and piping hot pizza, and you agreed. Old Abruzzi was in his office, a cigar in his mouth while he looked over paperwork, his wife Olivia sat behind the cashier, his son Barty manned the kitchen, and his daughter Amelia came to get your order. The place was always low in patrons, people said that it was a den of mafiosi. How silly. Why did it matter that their deliveries were made in the middle of night? Sure, sometimes people arrived right before closing with weird requests, typical of entitled clients. People said the place was a front for criminal activities. And there was one time the police was called on them, but it was just to apprehend the robber holding them at knife point. It was a regular restaurant, nothing more nor less. You didn't care, you came for pizza, and you got pizza. In fact, it was the best in town, other people opinions be damned. You would be sad if this place closed for good.

Your favourite pizza place is a family owned Italian restaurant, people thinks it's a mafia gang in disguise because of all the apparent "signs" but you know it's literally just a pizza place.

I came down the stairs to see, to nobody's surprise, stuff being thrown around like crazy. Scorch marks on the wall, furniture in splinters, holes in walls, you get it. I rolled my eyes, grabbed my megaphone, turned it on, and yelled into it. "HEY, KNUCKLEHEADS!" The two brawling individuals immediately stopped, covering their ears. "I INVITED BOTH OF YOU! NOW IF YOU COULD STOP WRECKING EVERYTHING, CAN WE ACTUALLY HAVE A CIVIL DAY FOR ONCE!?" My younger brother said... something. I removed the noise-canceling headphones I'd put on as I turned off the megaphone. "Sorry, what?" "Do you have to make that so loud?" "Yes, I do. It's the only reliable way I have to stun both of you for long enough to knock sense into your heads. She made her gear EMP-resistant two months back, and your super-strength isn't getting any weaker." He looked around with a somewhat guilty expression. "...Yeah, sorry about that." I waved my hand, dismissing the matter. "You're both at fault for that. Besides, I made sure to send the invitation here. Sure, I own the property, but I don't live here. Least I can give some people around here a job to get it looking good again." "Why'd you call us here, anyway?" That was my younger sister. "No offence or anything, but I do have some stuff I need to get back to. I can't trust my henchmen with anything nowadays." "Well I've been out and about doing stuff, and I wanted to see you guys again." "We have cellphones," she pointed out. "Well I wanted to see your faces, A, and B, I wanted to go do stuff together. When was the last time we actually took a day to goof off with each other?" "When we're in the middle of a big feud?" My brother and sister glared at me, and I sighed. "Yes. There's more to life than just fighting each other endlessly. I know you guys both have secret identities. Just take a day or two off so we can have some fun while I'm in town." The two still seemed doubtful. "Don't make me pull the "big sister" card on you two."

your brother is a hero, your sister is a villain and you're a mercenary. this makes for some interesting family reunion

Hmm. Where was the human today? I climb the garbage bin to jump up to the window sill to get a better view. But alas, the only thing I can see is the hustle and bustle of the city. I look down and see my friends, well new friends because since I've been here way before civilization began my friends come and go, waiting for the human too. They look up at me for some answers but unfortunately I have none. Letting out a sad sound I climb down. Maybe the human fell ill or maybe human found a new mate and was satisfying its primal urges. I can understand that, after all one cannot be an immortal cat without chasing some pussy (I don't know why you are laughing, we cats call each other's new mate that). I realised that we need to get our food today some other way, so I signalled other cats and we dispersed. ~ It's been a long time since I've seen the human. Something was wrong. The human wouldn't just leave us. Even he was going to a new territory he would have seen us one last time. Now I am going to find out what. ~ I try to search for some news by reading the newspapers in the garbage (I'm an immortal cat, obviously I can read) but nothing. I try to trace the human, they couldn't have lived far away as they came to feed us daily. I search long and every apartment in my territory, all while laying low of my nemesis the street dogs in our territory but to no avail. There was no sign. Tired and disappointed I started to return to my den near the garbage bin. Hoping tomorrow will give me some answers this is when a voice stops me. It's coming from a television. *Man, 30, shot dead at his home in Monoroevil. Police suspect that it was a break-in that went wrong but our sources tell us it's a crime of passion.* I move towards the open window just in time to see the humans face both alive and covered in blood. My sorrow filled meow makes the apartment humans jump but they think it's because I'm hungry. But the only thing I'm hungry for is to avenge the human. My human.

You are an immortal being who has been allive for decades...you are also a cat. something bad happened to the human who has been feeding you and other stray cats and you wont let it slide

After all this time we finally see sign of the second coming yet, it's not anything we could've been ready for. Be very afraid, they said. "For God has died. Our Lord and savior a sentinel among the beings of Sol has perished in the battle against cosmos." Be afraid, they said. "For we can longer keep the four horsemen in check. The foul beings have escaped after the protections have failed." Be afraid. "For Sol has now been revealed from its hiding place, the protections of Eden have broken. The tall trees that provided cover for us have fallen. The plants that healed have withered and our fauna that fought have perished." Be afraid, a different voice said one that brought horror and despair even among our angels as they turned to look upon the speaker. "For your souls belong to us and none shall stop us." A being of incomprehensible proportions spoke, with a voice that brought pain upon us all. Be afraid, 'it' said. "For your worlds will become ours and your fighters our slaves." Be afraid, 'it' said. "For the end is night and your god is dead."

In the Bible, Angels appeared with the message “Be not Afraid”. Today, they appeared with the message “Be very afraid”

Ok sir, I can explain. Considering I have a list of Ostolish's nuclear codes on my desk you better. Well you see, I was on my mission in the capital with Agent Viper You were posted with Agent Cobra. Right, right Agent Cobra. Anyway he sent me to infiltrate the president's private office building. Agent Cobra's mission report says he just sent you to get some coffee. Seriousely. Uhhh. I'm gonna be honest, I saw this cure kitty and I just had to pet it. And then I went to the store to get some cat treats and I ended up forgetting what my mission was. And then I saw a picture of the president and thought an infiltration made the most sense. You're rambling. Sorry Sir. So yeah, I realized I forgot my equipment so I decided to just do some sleuthing. But then I realized you needed an ID card. So I snagged one from a passerby to bring back to headquarters and make a copy of. But I figured that wouldn't work so I asked a security guard if he could let me in so I could return it. And he let you in? Yup. And then I learned the guy was one of the president's secretaries so I was allowed all the way up to the president's personal office. I met the guy there. Name was Rhonstin. Great guy. Has some adorable kids. But yeah, I returned it and was prepared to leave but then I had to go the restroom. And you won't believe this but they had these weird sinks and I ended up getting water sprayed all over my crotch. It was so embarrassing. I couldn't let people see me like that. And then I saw this black briefcase lying in front of one of the stalls. So I figured I could just borrow it for the day and then return it tomorrow. But then when i got back home I got curious so I opened it and there they were. Every single one of nuclear codes. Ok. So what you're saying is, you infiltrated the president's personal office, went into his private bathroom, stole the nuclear football, all because you forgot to get coffee. Yes. Ok, I'm gonna award you, Kolstifan's best spy of the decade and in return you will never speak of this again. I've already forgot the purpose of this conversation Sir. I don't even remember your name. Get the hell out. ... Well sir, that has to be either the worst or the best spy I've ever seen. Your guess is as good as mine. I've never seen that man before in my life. No one at the agency has. What?

Spies are suave, cool under pressure and have an answer to every question. This is often what gives them away. You, however are s nervous wreck, terrible improvisation skills and almost always on the verge of a panic attack. You are the best spy in the world.

"Why are you doing this?" I glanced back at the captor of mine who'd spoken curiously. His compatriots seems uneasy, but unwilling to stop him. "You can make the undead, and you can make them really good. So... why is it taking so long?" I sighed a bit, smiling. "Are you sure your friends would be okay with that? Seems like you're trying to delve a bit too deep," I said, turning back to my work. "You know things we don't, though," he argued. "Even if you told us what, exactly, this ritual does, we don't know how to do it." "Well, that's your first problem. It's not "*this*" ritual. This is the midpoint of the fifth one, end of the second, and start of the eighth." I heard someone scoff, and turned to give the group an annoyed look. "Have you never seen a dancer? A truly good one? One move flows into the next into the next into the next. That, my friends, is a large part as to why you cannot raise the undead, why your poor facsimiles of life fall apart at the sun's touch." I turned back to my work. "You are so interested in firing a spell quickly, efficiently, that you've lost the gentle touch that necromancy requires." "Your undead are just as much facsimiles as ours." I laughed, a single barking laugh. "Then why can mine slay droves of your soldiers? It takes squads of your undead to kill a single human soldier, and squads of human soldiers to fell one of my undead." Blessed silence, for several minutes. I was feeling generous, so I turned back to them. "Rituals and the flow of magic are important, yes, but there's one critical part that only I use. Would you like to know my secret?" Several glances were exchanged, whispers were had, before one of them stepped forward. "What makes you think we won't just steal your knowledge?" I smiled as I held out my arms to either side of me, chains clinking as I reached their limit. "Would I have offered if I was worried about that? You can't steal this knowledge for the very fact that I am down here." I held out one of my hands as one of them, a brutish fellow, stepped forward. "And I wouldn't suggest laying a finger on me, if you're truly curious." He glared at me, but stepped back as I smiled at him. "Much better." I turned back to my work, almost completed, as the wizards stepped forwards, around but not near the soon-to-be undead. "It's completed?" One of them asked. "The skeleton is all there. Are you going to show us how to bring it to life?" "No, my hasty friend. The body is there, yes, but there is no soul." I sat down, crossed my legs, closed my eyes, and turned my head skywards. "A soul is the most important part of any creation," I said quietly. My words seemed to echo around the room. "Most undead simply use the soul they were given. A necromancer kills someone, revives them, and uses that soul as fuel for the undead." "As is written in any texts on the subject," one of the older wizards said, sounding bored. "Any adventurer knows as much." "And yet my creations are so much stronger," I replied, opening my eyes to face the offender. "That does not-" "Intriguing to act as the master of forbidden magic, is it not?" My prior threat held, as I saw several of them wanting to attack me for my insolence, but they did not. "The fault of most is that they *force* a soul. Until a soul fades into the afterlife, it still has a will of sorts. It still has determination. And the soul can sense the *wrongness* of the being it is in. The soul fights against the willpower of the undead, against the commands of the necromancer. That is what causes the undead to be so frail, for they fight against themselves more than they do any human." "So what's your secret?" I smiled. "You ask." "...What?" "You ask. You request. You petition." I stood up, raising my hands as high as I could, chained as I was. "A necromancer simply seeks the quickest way to get a soul, by killing to revive as servants. But many souls are not ready to die. Some for revenge, some for love, some simply because they have not experienced enough. You need only... to **CALL**." My voice boomed through the cavern. The wizards flinched, though they'd heard the booming dozens of times before. "**Call the souls who do not wish to pass on. Their determination still holds strong, prevents them from passing on. Call them, and grant them a body in exchange for their help, their work. Ask, not demand. Let their determination work with you, with their body. And create something greater than the sum of it's parts!**" I slowly lowered my hands, gazing down at my creation. The other wizards eventually followed my gaze, down to the glowing lights now set in the skeleton's eye sockets. I knelt down, offering my hand, and the undead took it as I helped them up. "What is your name, friend?" "Amanda," she said without hesitation. I nodded, smiling. I heard a sound I recognized as a knife being unsheathed, and felt the knife be drawn across my neck. Amanda was startled, but I held my hand up. I'd known this would be coming, and I'd prepared for it. "Now that we know your secret," one of the less scrupulous wizards hissed, "Why do we need you?" I nodded agreeably. "Oh yes, do kill me. I've been waiting ages to go to one of my other bodies, what with them being prepared to take my soul after I die." I grinned at the audible hesitation from him and all the wizards. "Well... we'll just make more undead with your method and kill all your bodies. We'll rule like-" My chuckles interrupted him, then the chuckles grew into laughter. "How stupid are you? You don't know the rituals I use. The spells left in your libraries are quick, yes, but the result is weak. A knife to any of them would snuff them out. A knife to one of mine, such as Amanda here, would do naught but get stuck in her rib cage for her to stab you with. And besides... my method are un-replicate able. They can't be done by you, any other wizard in this room, or by any other wizard who would try to claim dominion over the undead." "And why's that?" I turned my head as far as it could go, smiling into the eyes of the man who thought a simple knife would stop me. "My friend, I am trapped down here." The words echoed around the chamber. "Anyone who would force a being into servitude cannot call a soul. They can sense your deceit. My undead help me, but I do not force them to do so. As long as you have it in your heart to trap them, ensnare them, force them into working for you, you will *never* raise a true undead."

You are a master of the dark forbidden magicks. Arrested and forced to work for the state in secret, you are viewed as a tool. But your captors seem intrigued as they watch you work. You're determined to prove to them that there is a beauty in your art. Finally, one asks a question.

"Zjim." Zjim offered, stepping up to the stage. "Jim? What's your last name?" the speaker asked. She flipped through the results print off. "It's Zjim, actually. You can call me Jim though if it's easier. My last name's Zupp." She flipped to the end of the report. "Wow, okay. Yeah, I do see you. You only received a single downvote. It looks like your name actually ended up printed on the back of the ballot by itself." "That was me. Thought it was only fair if I voted for myself." "Do you even understand how the new ballot system works? You vote for the people you don't want in office." "I understand," Zjim straightened his ill-fitting tie. He hadn't worn one since fourth grade when he was 4-H treasurer. It was a little small now. "I don't want in office. My mom said I could only keep living with her if I was actively applying to jobs, so I figured running for president, you know, that's a job. I didn't do any campaigning or anything, either." The woman's sighed, and pulled back the curtain to reveal the crowd of people gathered at the square. Their applause died as they saw Zjim wave with a pursed lip smile. The woman nudged him, whispering out the side of her mouth. "They're expecting a victory speech." Zjim waddled out to the podium amidst silence. "Hi mom," he said into the microphone. "Make sure you feed the cat. I probably won't get home until late." A wave of shuffles and coughs carried from the crowd as they turn to look at each other baffled. "Thanks for electing me, everyone. I'm glad I managed to not upset any of you yet." Zjim wandered back behind the curtain. "Who the hell was that?" From the otherwise mute crowd. Several laughs followed, breaking into chittering discussion. "That's it?" The woman asked. It was the question that would be asked many more times through President Zupp's term. The man that would go on to lead the Free world into an era of peace, prosperity, and nationwide economic coziness shrugged. "Where's the bathroom in this place?" /r/surinical

You are allowed to 'downvote' a government candidate instead of voting normally, reducing their votes by one. Turns out people have little love for politicians, and the majority end with negative votes. In these democracies, anonymity is the key to winning.

**Lone Humans** “Quarantined, what are you talking about?” Novi, leader of humanity asked confused. “Us think quarantine right word. Bubbleshield around system. No one in. No one out” The lizard like being spoke in a dry tone. They told Novi their names but for the life of him he just didn't have the three tongues to pronunce them. “So how did you reach us and what are these other colonies you talked about?” Novi was in that kind of situation where you wanted all the information at once but had to start somewhere. The lizard beings stopped for a second and thought. They made some attempt to explain but it just didn’t explain anything. Then they took out some shiny utensil and stuck it into their arm. Novi flinched. To be fair he wasn’t used to people just suddenly sticking needles up their arm. Not in polite conversation anyway. The device whirred up and at the other end of it a crystal was born. It had light and flickers of energey flowing through it. After a few seconds the alien handed him the crystal and pointed towards his forehead. Novi understood, he held the crystal to his forehead and his mind was flooded. He saw memories that weren’t his, words he didn’t speak and movements that were not his own. He saw worlds that could not possibly be earth inhabited by billions of humans. He saw stars, planets and galaxies light up with endless points of lights. This was humankind in all it's glory. It was a civilization spanning countless of worlds. Advanced beyond what earth ever could have imagined. Then he saw earth, their dark home, the system left alone and at last the so called bubble. It was like there was a transperent layer around their whole system. He felt like they had tried to contact the earthlings countless of times but it never got through the bubble. Novi realized with sorrow in his heart...That was why the universe seemed so empty, they were never allowed to participate. But how did these lizards reach them then? He saw the bubble again. But this time it trembled and the huge spaceships of the lizard people appeared. They were waiting and when the bubble trembled again, they went at it with full force reaching earth. Novi opened his eyes and there were tears. “So the universe wasn’t empty. We were the child that was left behind”. The lizard gave him a grim expression. Novi didn’t really understand what made it grim but surely it had something to do with that memory crystal. “But what for? Why this system, why close off all of it?” Novi couldn’t express his confusion. Endless civilizations with unimaginable technology and they were the ones left behind? They had missed out on all of it. For what? “It must be a great danger.” The lizards speculated, hearing the human speak and improving “Bubble used to trap things. Something is here. Something that was so dangerous that there is no knowledge about your planet anywhere. Sealed and buried for eons. But it seems... that something woke up”. And at those words all of reality trembled. Novi looked up into the trembling sky, just what kind of monstrosity made all of humanity run and leave them behind?

Humanity makes contact with an alien species. They seem rather friendly, but also quite... baffled. After working out basic English, they ask us, "We have not seen any starship leave this system for one of your many other colonies in 297,591 local years. Why? Have you quarantined the system?"

I ripped open the bag of sugar and poured it into the coffee, and practically ran back to the lab. I didn't want to miss this, it was the first test of the time travel device. I reached the door, grabbed the handle, and tried to twist it. It was already locked. Shoot, I was too slow grabbing the coffee. Not only did I not get a good view, but head scientist Adam was gonna be pissed he didn't get his caffeine fix. I peaked through the window at the large machine spinning up, metal arms moving around the man in the middle. There was a flash of light, and then he was gone. A few seconds later another flash of light happened, and the man reappeared in the seat. I could see the scientists inside cheering and high fiving themselves, and one opened a bottle of champagne. They started toasting to their success, when there was another flash of light. A strange woman was now standing in the middle of them. Everyone took a step back, and a few people fainted. The woman started speaking, though I couldn't hear what she was saying through the door. She handed some sheets of paper to Adam, and he started looking through them. His face turned to anger, and he pointed to something on the sheets. The woman shrugged, and Adam started yelling at her. She calmly something back, and then Adam looked and saw me through the door. He stormed over and ripped the door open. "What the hell? Why are you on this list and not us? You did nothing!" "What?" I stuttered as he grabbed me by my coat and dragged me inside. "This guy did nothing but grab coffee and get in the way. Why the hell is he a protected individual and not me? Why is his history protected?" The woman looked at me. "He is the only one here essential to inventing time travel. The rest of you could have not existed and this project would still be on track, but he is irreplaceable. I could go back now and kill your grandfather and that would have minimum effects on history, but he is needed for the timeline." Adam growled with anger, then grabbed the coffee from my hand. "This, this is all he is good for. And half the time he messes it up anyways. I'm the one who made the theories, I'm the one who got the funding for this, this entire project is me! I should be on this list, not this stupid coffee monkey!" The woman fiddled with a device on her wrist. "What can I say, your not that important. Also, don't try to retaliate against him. The time travel police will show up if you do." She fiddled with the device again, then in a flash she was gone.

In time travel there is a large amount of “Protected individuals” that no time traveler is allowed to mess with, such as big figures in history. One day, you got yourself on that list, with no clue as to why.

The pay is great, even if the work is mundane. I don't know who I work for. I don't know why I do what I do. I just do it, and I don't ask questions. I get my tasks through the mail, a couple of weeks before they're set to happen. They can range from taking a dog for a walk, to delivering eggs, to painting someone's fence. All freelance kind of work, and that's exactly what I have to tell people I am. When I first got this job, I was told that my work might seem odd but was assured it was all for a good purpose. I had to sign a Non Disclosure Agreement, but not the typical kind. I can tell people what I do, it's encouraged, even. I suppose that makes things less suspicious - If someone saw me delivering something and asked why, I can't exactly just pretend I didn't do it. I just am not allowed to tell anyone how little I know about what I do. It's been 4 years of this, and every time, things are set up for me to carry out the task. If I need to walk a dog, the house owner is expecting me when I knock on the door. If I need to buy eggs, the exact amount for the eggs I need has already been deposited into my bank. If I need to paint a fence, half the fence has already been painted for me, and the paint is left right next to it. If I ever have issues with a task, I have a number to call, but I've never had to call it. Everything has always gone exactly as it's described to me in the mail. At least, that was true until recently. I often notice strange things that almost seem to piece together, but not quite. On several occasions, I have returned from dog walks to find the house unlocked but empty. However, on all of these occasions, the letter in the mail had explicitly stated to leave the dog in the house **no matter what**, so that is what I do. Anytime I specifically have to deliver eggs, the cashier says something along the lines of "Oh, sorry that these eggs are broken. Let me get you another one." I assume that they have a specific set of eggs for me to deliver. Why they would do this, I'm not sure - Perhaps they contain a message? Recently, though, things have changed. I turned up to a standard fence painting job - There are only 7 different jobs I've ever been given, it's far and few between that a job isn't a seemingly exact copy of an old one. But this time things weren't left how they usually are. Half the fence was painted, as usual, but on the bare part of the fence, a word had been written using the white paint. "Beware" It was written in small writing, yet the feeling it invoked within me was deep. The paint was still wet, so it had only been written in the last few hours. Despite the terrible feeling of dread I had, I called the number. *Ring... Ring... Ring...* 3 rings, and someone picked up. But they didn't speak, or say anything. So I spoke first. "I just turned up to my job, the uhm, the fence painting one. Someone has written 'Beware' on the fence." A man's voice spoke up. I couldn't quite decern the accent, but it wasn't local. "Anything else?" "No", I said, a little shakily. "Thank you. It'll be dealt with." Then he hung up. I started painting the fence, when a black car pulled up next to me. A woman rolled down the window, and told me to get in. Normally, of course, I wouldn't, but it was safe to assume that this related to my job. So, given the circumstances, I got in. I started to panic when she wouldn't respond to me, no matter how much I asked where we were going. After a few minutes, we pulled up outside of my house. "You know the rules," she said, "not a word to anyone." I got out, and as soon as my door was closed, she was driving off again. That was 3 weeks ago. I haven't had any jobs through the post since. The ones I still had remaining weren't set up for me when I arrived at the locations - No paint, no money deposited for deliveries, nothing. This is the first time I've ever gone more than a few days without a new letter through the post. I'm not being paid. Yesterday, I called up the number again. "The number you are dialing is not in service." I don't know how to contact these people. But I know that they'll come for me if I break my NDA. So, that's why I'm writing this. I want to get to the bottom of this.

"Walk the dog at 6 PM on Wednesday." "Deliver a dozen eggs to this address." Sometimes, months or even years later, something happens and you can almost see what you've been doing.

**A Good Boy’s Wisdom** Gus lounged on the couch sleepily with the lazy afternoon sun streaming in when Lisa walked into the room filling the air with the static of her tension. Gus sat bolt upright, instantly alert with his face creasing into concern for his beloved. Lisa plopped down next to him and ran a nervous hand through his fur. His tail, the truest of all his voices, wagged at her presence. “What’s up Love,” he asked gently. It seemed as though she was jingling and jangling a lot lately. “Oh Gussy, my Fuzzy Wuzzy Woo Woo, whatever am I to do? I’m simply going bonkers now the birds have started.” “Started what?” asked Gus, all ears now. “Talking of course.” At this moment Tiffany the hell cat decided to make an appearance, her tail waving snakelike in the air expressing her disdain for everyone and everything. She remained tight lipped of course, not that she couldn’t talk human, she just deigned not to. She did speak dog though, and to Gus that despicable tail was the equivalent of a middle finger. *Stay on track Big Boy!* Gus chided himself and fought back the desire to flash his canines at the fiendish feline. “Ahhhh the birds,” he said with a smile, “chatty bunch, aren’t they? Always chittering on about their roots extending back to the Jurassic Period. “ “Fascinating as that may be,” declared an exasperated Lisa, “but I really don’t need a history lesson at the crack of dawn, not with the bats banging on all night about being marginalized by vampire myths.” “You’re going to have to find your Zen like I do.” Gus suddenly looked uncharacteristically serious, his big brown eyes trying to convey beyond words the levity of the situation. Lisa put an arm around the broad shoulders of her best friend and felt some of her stress melt away in his silky golden fur. The last rays of afternoon sun warmed them in a caress and he felt her body soften against his. She was learning. Gus hoped she would be a quick learner just like he had been with fetching a stick, for things were going to get worse. Much, much worse. Just wait until the ants started talking.

When the bears started talking it changed the world. When the dogs started talking we rejoiced. When the sheep started talking we rethought what we ate! Now hundreds of species can talk and it's getting bloody hard to just find five goddamn minutes peace and quiet.

“So…” the young man started awkwardly. “Lovely weather today, isn’t it?” The dragon before him glanced to the thundering skies. It snorted, half amused half irritated. “Truly breathtaking,” they replied flatly. Lewis’s ears burned pink with mortification. Curse his love-sick younger brother. Dan’s antics in the name of ‘love’ were going to get him killed this time for sure. If Lewis knew what it entailed to be his brother’s wingman, he most certainly would not have offered. How could any girl, no matter how pretty, be worth the wrath of a dragon?! “I’m going to be honest with you,” he said, cranking his neck to gaze up at the majestic creature. “I have no clue why I’m here.” He was drenched with the heavy onslaught of icy rain, shivering madly due to the cruel howling of the winds, and completely defenceless. Lewis highly doubted the dull sword hanging by his hip would help him here. Duelling, or fighting in general, had never been his forte. That had always been Dan’s thing. He should’ve said no, that this madness was going too far- but Lewis had never been able to say no to Dan. He sighed - he was truly a pushover. “Foolish humans,” the dragon commented, crouching before him. “I have lived for a millennia and your kind never changes. If you don’t end your stupidity soon, I’ll have to lock you ALL in towers.” “What?” Lewis blurted, dumbfounded. “You’re going to kill yourself stood out in the rain like this!” The dragon exclaimed. “Get dangerously sick!” He let out a half hearted chuckle, “That is if you don’t eat me first.” Lewis tensed as a scaly tail wrapped firmly around his waist, lifting him up to see the dragon face to face. “I don’t eat my children,” they replied solemnly. “Now come with me, I know the perfect tower to keep you warm.” Lewis could only hope that Dan found this worth it and actually saved the girl. (I’m going to be honest, I have no clue what I’ve just written- but I hope you enjoyed it!)

you told your brother you would always be willing to be his wingman, but distracting a dragon seems a bit much no matter how pretty the girl is

"It's..." I could feel the growing burn in my eyes. *Please, not here. Not now.* "It's not fair!" Despite my best efforts, my voice cracked as I lamented my duty. ​ The man sitting behind the large assigning desk brushed one hand through his faded and receding hair, seemingly putting a great deal of effort into not showing his frustration. Sadly, this effort seemed to not be enough to overcome his disposition. For a man who seemed a senior jester, the frown which lay across his face seemed far too familiar on his features. ​ "Yes, well - it is what is happening. I'm aware of your discontent. I'm sorry you feel that way. However, the All-Caller does not make mistakes. Seriously, kid. This is it. This is where you're meant to be." ​ Anger, shame, and red hot embarrassment washed over me again and again, like the unyielding bombardment of roaring coastal waves. Years spent studying at the academy, countless hours spent pouring over equations, sleepless nights perfecting my methodology, all to lead me to... ​ I looked again at my oversized and ridiculous shoes. They were polished a gaudy and unseemly pearl, bulbous and oblong. My exterior coat was a dazzling array of bright colors, complimented by a pearlescent handkerchief. A jester. All my studying, all my blood and sweat and tears - to be a jester. ​ "I.. I was supposed to be up there!" I jabbed my finger towards the sky - well, roof. "The orbitals! Exploring! Designing, crafting! I - I was going to be a small part of our great steps. I was..." I trailed off again, feeling that same lump building in my throat. ​ The man behind the desk sighed again, a long and tired sigh. ​ "Yes. I understand. Tell me, do you know how many come into my department each day *wanting* to have been a jester?" ​ There was a long pause. I had figured that to be rhetorical. ​ " - Well, not a lot. In fact, practically none." The older man leaned back into his chair, resting his elbows on the armrest. He rubbed his brow momentarily, seemingly trying to figure out his approach to this conversation. "Tell me - what is it you think we do? What you'll do?" ​ "I'll be a fool. I'll be a mockery. Others will pass by me in their frames, adjourned with every gadget I'll never have. They'll look at me and laugh, but not because I'm amusing. They'll laugh because *I'm* the amusement." ​ The man nodded, frowning slightly. ​ "Well - the melodrama you have down. Now we just have a bit of work to do on the other parts." ​ "You think this a joke?" I struggled to reply. "You think my life is a joke?" ​ "No. In fact, quite the opposite." ​ A strange light began to emit from the older man's suit jacket. It came as a honeycomb pattern for a moment, before blending and melding into one strange and shifting luminescent body. The scenery around the room began to change. Began to fade. In the place of a mundane city office came strange brilliant lights. Walls faded into blackness, and furniture receded into unknown depths. From their absence came true blackness, punctured with glittering lights. With stars. The sound in the room seemed to deaden, next. All became completely and totally silent. The hum of the air conditioning, the passing footsteps in the hallway muffled by the wooden door, and the faint background noise of the cityscape all evaporated. ​ From the silent void of space, the man's voiced emanated. ​ "Do you know why jesters were conceived?" he began, "It was a long, long time ago. In times of great unrest. People found themselves trapped. Burdened down by their woes, their duty, their struggle." ​ The scene shifted. From the depths of that empty space came forward a shuttle, solitary against the cosmos. A thruster on the vessel seemed to my misfiring. Using its RCS thrusters, it shifted too and fro, struggling to stop. ​ "People need things, you see. Food, water, air - certainly. These things all keep us alive. They do not, however, allow us to *live."* ​ Upon stopping, one exterior door of the shuttle opened. Three suited men emerged into the vacuum, bearing tools and tethering harnesses. Though their features were obscured, their very motions seemed nervous. Worried. Scared. ​ "You see - even in the face of hardship, we must have *something.* A smile. A laugh. A brief ripple of joy against that deep body of despair." ​ As the men moved towards the engine, they activated the maglocks on their tools. Once stuck to the shuttle, they crept slowly into the engine bay - where one of the men, not accounting for the bulk of his helmet, clipped the tail of the shuttle. He lazily arced backwards in the zero-g, flailing like a beetle overturned on its back. ​ Quickly, the man adjacent to him reeled him in. The man had forgotten to engage the mag locks on his boots. Once safely back against the exterior of the vessel, he clipped in. The other two seemed to animate, giving sarcastic thumbs up. ​ The visor of the ill-adventured astronaut faded slightly, revealing the older jester's face. ​ "Sometimes that means we are the butt of the joke, certainly." The men turned back to the engine and began to work, methodically prying off the exterior panels. "But is that not a worthy calling? To, just for a moment, relieve that oppressive curtain of dread or doubt others feel?" ​ The scene faded. Noise began to spring up again, and in place of the glittering expanse of space came white floors, beige walls, and a tile ceiling. Small glimmering appeared at the edges of objects as the illusion continued to reform. An exit sign appeared, as well as door placards and room numbers. ​ "How did you.." I began, "- how are you doing this?" ​ "Our suits may not be as large or flashy as some," the older jester admitted, "but they are far from useless." ​ As the details finalized, I began to make sense of where we were now. A hospital. ​ "You may be surprised to find that we are not often party entertainers, or clowns. You see, the state dispatches us based on need." The man took shape in the hallway and began to stroll down the white expanse, eyes shifting as he looked for a room number. "Few need us so much as those in the absolute darkest times of their lives." ​ He approached one of the doors in the hall and checked the room number. Nodding, he swung the door open. A child - perhaps thirteen, lay across a hospital bed. A series of tubes fed fluids to him, and a number of monitors beeped and whizzed as readouts were displayed.

When a person comes of age, they are assigned an exo-suit which dictates their profession. You receive yours today.

I was thirteen when I was abducted. My family must have thought I died in that forest. When time moves as quickly here, you start to lose track of what time means. They don’t speak, not that I can tell, but I have grown to find their eyes expressive. They are about two feet tall, bi-pedal, and their outer skin layer makes them look like they are always wearing a puffer jacket. I believe the females are the larger ones with the spiked heads. I appear to be a form of curiosity for my many visitors. I have named them crumpets, though I’m not sure why, it just felt right. The crumpets are a very curious race. For one, they age extremely fast. Within two months my captures were visiting me in assisted mobility suits, their eyes dreary with the exhaustion of a full life lived. They sleep every four hours or so, that is their day span. In one of my waking days it is two of their days, with sleep one of my cycles is four days for a crumpet. It’s has made me realize that this must be something unique to humans. We are, “long lived”, almost supreme beings. When at first I came, I may have been a curiosity but now at the age of 28, I have seen close to 100 generations of crumpets. Through their wars, cultural changes, famines, and innovations, I have stayed and in my natural perseverance, I have become onto them a God. In an effort to communicate with me, they made a machine that reads my mind. By this point, I had forgotten spoken words, but they could still read my thoughts. Home. I awoke in the same field they found me, my house now abandoned and left for rot. There is a new appreciation for the time in a day, for others their life is a short journey compared to our labors. All the more to do something meaningful with it.

You are captured by high tech aliens, but their lifespans are extremely short, allowing you to hatch a clever escape plan spanning multiple generations.

With a determined heart I marched towards my challenge. I had passed all previous tests set before me, giving both heart and soul to become a member of the Noble Order. All I had dreamed of was becoming a knight, a goal that was now in my grasp. All I had to do was find the dragon that lurked at the borders of our fair nation. I had been told to challenge it, and that how I faired would decide if I could join the Order or not. All I had been told about the challenge was to expect the unexpected, and not seek to destroy the dragon itself. I searched high and low for it, for this beast was clever. It moved often, a seemingly random pattern. But it was always on the outskirts, going no further away nor further inwards. I spent days searching for any sign of it, talking with any who might have seen it. Finally, I found a merry gentleman who had clearly been on the mead. He slurred as he placed a heavy hand on my shoulder, grinning. "You'sh, you'sh want the dragon? He'sh... that way." The drunk pointed behind him, before staggering away. I wished him well, following his directions. There were enough people following his path that I felt comfortable letting him wander. Besides, my challenge was near. By continuing to track his path, I found a strange building. It's edges were worn, but nit from weathering. It was more like it had been carried and placed multiple times, a bizarre idea. Nothing could lift a building like that. I glanced at the sign, and felt my heart sink. It showed a wall, with the snout of a dragon peeking round. Below it was the name, The Lurking Dragon. The drunk probably had no idea what was looking for. He probably only heard dragon, and thought I wanted a tavern. I sighed, before steeling myself. The dragon wasn't here, but maybe there would be a rumor. At very least, I could get a warm bed for the night. I opened the door, feeling warm air rush out. It carried with it the smell of roasting meats, fine wine and ale, and a hint of smoke. I breathed it in with a smile, looking around the interior. It was a large, open room, with at least two dozen tables and booths around the main area. At the back a pair of staircases rose up either side of the bar, reaching a balcony set with yet more chairs. Many were filled, with merry laughter and conversation filling the sound. But to me it faded away, as my eyes settled on the bar. It was a wide, long counter, with an abundance of space behind it. This space was filled with a single, giant creature. Its body was thick and scaled, a ridge of horns running down its back. Its nostrils flared with embers, snout split to reveal a large set of teeth. I stared at a dragon. Not just any dragon. As it turned its head I saw the defining feature, it's missing left eye. "Ah, the squire finally arrives." It's voice was at a normal volume. But yet I could hear it clearly over the hubbub, and it grinned at me. "Welcome to the Lurking Dragon. Are you here for your challenge?" I nodded, slowly walking towards it. As I did I noted the faint daze over everyone's face, even as they talked animatedly. An almost ghostly figure moved past, carrying a tray of drinks to one table. The figure was hauntingly familiar, and without flaw. "Ah, sorry, one moment." It huffed out a low word, and the room seemed to spin for a moment. But it solidified, with it seemingly unchanged. "Forgive me, the help is a deliberately disconcerting." I glanced back at the ghostly figure. It looked the same, bit this time I didn't think of it as perfect. "What is this place?" The dragon laughed, stroking the counter. "A home away from home if you will. But good, you have curiosity. So, are you ready for your challenge?" I focused on the dragon, now up against the bar. "I'm ready for anything, what is this challenge?" The dragon reached below the counter, pulling out three things. A pair of mugs, and a bright red bottle. One mug was significantly larger, which it took for itself. "It's is simple. A drinking contest." It pulled off the bottles cork, pouring us both a healthy amount. "This is a vintage bottle of Firebrandy. Good stuff, and strong." I sniffed the offered mug, wincing at the burning sensation in my nose. The dragon grinned wider, before taking a gulp from its. I frowned, taking a swig of my own. Instantly I felt my eyes water, as I forced myself to swallow. The alcohol burned its way down, my throat feeling as though it was burning. "Good. That's just the beginning." It shook the bottle, still disturbingly full. "We are going to try and finish this together." I let out a small whimper, glancing between the mug and the bottle. I expected a fight, or a battle of wits. Not something like this. It leaned towards me, smoky breath washing over my face. "Unless you give up?" It's words made me focus. I glared at it, forcing myself to take another burning swig. "Never." It laughed, topping up our mugs. "Thats the spirit!"

The initiation ritual for the knights is to seek out and challenge the dragon that lurks around the borders of the kingdom. What they don't tell initiates is this dragon runs a tavern, and all challengers must face it in a drinking contest.

It’s been so long since it was discovered that the name we first used for it is long forgotten, now we just call it the flower. It’s a small plant with light blue petals that curve upwards elegantly like a fresh rose, but it has no thorns, every part is soft to the touch and smells like sugar. When the flower first appeared it was seen as an incredibly invasive albeit beautiful weed. It would appear in someone’s yard and those who didn’t rush to rip it out would soon find their entire property covered in blue petals. Weed killers were useless and the only way to destroy it was with fire. People and eventually the government shared tips for how to prevent the flowers from sprouting, “comb over every inch of your yard with a blowtorch in hand after an exceptionally windy day,” stuff like that. It also became a common prank among young people to purposefully plant the flower in the gardens of their more cantankerous neighbors. Some people, however, embraced the flower and let it cover every inch surrounding their house, after all, it was beautiful, why would everyone want to destroy something so beautiful (most HOA’s were not pleased by that however.) Preventing the flower from overtaking public and national parks soon became a primary duty of the government, who now needed people to spend day and night burning out any of the flowers that popped up. More and more politicians started calling for a national effort to eradicate the flower, and those who didn’t soon changed their tune once they woke up to see a field of blue surrounding their mansion. Multiple corporations started offering tools and services to eradicate the flower while scientists rushed to find the cure that would end it for good. That all stopped once someone tried cooking it. The stem has a satisfying crunch and the petals flake in your mouth, but when cooked it softens and melts like spinach. People have tried to explain what the flower tastes like but it is indescribable, the only thing people could say about the flavor was, “just try it and you’ll see.”

“It grows on everything. The deserts will be made into luscious paradise, and the plants will feed the starving masses.” They were right, it grows on everything. Houses, cities, and the backs of people who can’t afford to have it removed.

"...what?" I sat waiting for the killing blow. The Gale Princess had beaten... Let's be honest, she kicked my ass. Experience should have trumped everything, but she just had too much raw power. And she knew how to use it. The little teddy bear accompanying her jumped up on her shoulder. "We believe in giving people a second chance! You have been defeated, but that doesn't mean you can't turn your life around." She smiled and nodded, naively at that. "Yup! Think of the power and skill you have. You could do so much good with them. Make the world a better place!" I wanted to laugh at her considering that how this started to begin with. "Really? And what makes you think I'd just turn over a new leaf?" Eerily, everything seemed to go quiet. She looked at me with that same smile. It was just now I noticed she hadn't blinked all this time. "Because, I've beaten you once, and I can beat you again. I don't like fighting if I don't need to. You have a chance to walk a different path." It wasn't quiet, the air had stopped moving. She was called the Gale Princess for her mastery over air. Her trademark move was the Zephyr Blade that could cut cleanly through stone and steel. But she could control air in many other ways. This allowed her flight, shielding, and even fire suppression. By removing the air from the area. This is when I noticed I was having trouble breathing. She walked slowly towards me. "Because if I have to come back to set you straight, mister, I won't be happy." That same smile, eyes unblinking. I felt my body drowning from a lack of oxygen. She got up in my face. "And you won't get a third chance." I could suddenly breath again. I recovered to look as she was walking away. "Let's go, Big T! I feel like having some ice cream before we get home!" Big T just laughed at her, "No way! You gotta save room for your mom's lasagna!" "Ooh, lasagna! My favorite! I forgot she was making that tonight! Let's hurry!" And she flew off. I lay there, enjoying the air I was breathing, because I knew at any moment, she could take it away. And they call me the villain.

You're a supervillain, and you have never been so utterly beaten. All of your tricks, all of your weapons, completely outdone by a prepubescent girl and a stuffed animal. You're bracing for the finishing blow when she bops you over the head with her wand. "Don't do any more bad stuff! ...Okay?"

"Aha! You thought you could trick me, didn't you?" The hero boasted. He stood with a pose that radiated pride, as many heroes did. The sun somehow managed to gleam nearly perfectly off his shiny colorful costume. He is what just about anybody would think of when hearing the word "hero". "Huh? Oh, you must be mistaken. You see I just got off work-" "Yeah yeah. I'm not an idiot," the hero interrupted. "You sure..." I mumbled. "I know who you are, you aren't fooling anyone!" "Alright then, who am I?" The hero was clearly caught off guard. He clearly wasn't ready for a question as bold as that one. "W-well. I'm actually not sure. But it doesn't matter, you radiate with villain energy! You have got to be a super villain in disguise. There's no doubt about it!" He began. He then continued ranting about justice and how evil I was and blah blah blah. "Sir," I began, "With all due respect, you're crazy. You go purely off of instinct when deciding if someone is evil? Are you insane?! I have been minding my business for as long as I've been born. Quite literally I have never committed a crime in my life. Hell, I've never even jaywalked before! I've had it! I've been accused of stuff like this for my whole like and I'm sick of it." The hero, who paying absolutely no attention, laughed when I finished complaining. "You expect me to believe that none sense?" The hero smirked. "I've been a hero for a whole 6 months now, I think I know what I'm doing." I sighed heavily, "This is getting no where, I'm out." I walked past him to hopefully finish this idiotic confrontation. If only it was that easy. "Hold it there you war criminal!" The hero yelled as he began running after me. "War criminal?" I was barely able to get in before I was set flying through the air with one swift punch. Pain surged through my body like a tidal wave. I laid on the ground, unable to get up. It felt as if I was on the brink of death. "For a super villain you sure are weak," the hero added. He grabbed me by my very broken arm and carried me to a nearby prison. I wish I could sue, but in this society, heroes get by with just about anything. This will just be treated as another oopsie by a hero. It feels as if I'll never be able to be free, so why don't I just become a super villain. At this point, why not? At least then I could fight these useless kids in costumes.

You own a small but very successful business in the city. You have a loving family, and you always pay your taxes on time. You never commit any crimes, you've never even jaywalked. So why does every Hero in the City seem to think you are a Supervillain in disguise?!

Dragons. Simple fairy tales. At least, that is what my mom had always said. My mom had also said that I wouldn't always have a calculator in my pocket but look where we are now! But enough about my mom. I knew diffidently. I knew that dragons were absolutely 100% real. I knew because, well, I saw one. I was only a little lad, and he was hidden away in the forest. I almost mistook him for another hill. Once I noticed, however, I could not look away. He as absolutely majestic! Everything was gorgeous from his vast wings to his mighty tail. I was in complete awe. It has been years now, but I still remember strongly what I saw. Many people have tried to convince me that I had just imagined it, but I know it was real. Nothing, and I mean nothing, could convince me otherwise. Life continued as normal until the most unexpected thing happened. Amongst my usual bills, I received the following letter in the mail, addressed to me and written on golden-colored paper: ​ *Greetings!* *As is our tradition, the Great Counsel of Dragons has come together to choose the next King of the Dragons. We gather together to vote on who is the strongest, scariest, and/or wealthiest dragon to be our ruler. This year, we have chosen you for this position.* *Please consider this letter your formal summons to join us for your crowning in the location of eternal shadows on the third day after the new moon, when the sun is the highest in the sky.* \-*The Great Council of Dragons* ​ I could not believe it. I had been chosen! But how? I was only an ordinary man. Not special in any way. Absolutely not incredibly strong, scary, or wealthy. Hmmmm. That was absolutely something to ponder. I called my brother. He never did believe me about the dragon. I wonder what he would think of this? "You got a what? A *letter*. No way, man. You have got to be kidding me!" "No, not at all. Here, I'll text you a picture." "I think you're pulling my leg. No way you didn't write that yourself." "Ha, where would I find paper like this?" "I suppose so. What are you going to do?" "Well, it all seems odd. It is not like I am special or anything. I might try to meet them though. No hurt in trying, I suppose." "I guess so. Just be careful, ok? Where is this place anyway?" "I have been trying to think of it, but I am not sure yet." "Eternal shadows. Eternal shadows. Hmmm. Where is somewhere with lots of shade?" "Of course! The woods where I first saw the dragon!" He laughed, "My brother the 'dragon king.' I still think you are making all of this up, but I guess we will see tomorrow!" "Tomorrow?" "Yeah, tomorrow is the third day after the new moon." "Ah, good. I won't have to wait long then." It had been years since I had been to those woods, so I wasn't sure how much time it would take. I made sure I was there early. It was 11am, and the sun was coming close to being at the highest part when I arrived at that area on the woods. I sat down and waited patiently. There, in shadows, I saw some movement. Yes! Yes! It was a beautiful dragon. No, wait, it was three dragons. An entire family, including a little baby. I was dumbfounded. The little one jumped and played. The mother and father looked on with pride. I thought about approaching them, but then decided against it. It would be the job of such magnificent creatures to come to me, not the other way around. It meant everything to me just to watch them. Before the sun was at its highest, the dragons were gone. I, however, was still in complete and utter rapture, frozen in my spot. That was when my brother showed up. "See any of your silly little dragons?" "As a matter of fact, yes, yes I did." "Wait, what? Really?" "Of course. By the way, I know that letter was from you." "How, how did you find that out?" "It was pretty easy to find out. The paper was from the store that is next to your house, and besides, dragons are solitary creatures. They will sometimes live with their families, but they don't have kings." "Oh. Why did you come then?" "I wanted to see this place again. The forest, the trees. I guess a part of me was wondering if I would see a dragon again." "And you say you did???" "Yes, a whole family actually...wait...hush." I pointed. There, in the distance. It looked like a new hill had appeared. I looked over to my brother. His mouth was agape. I could tell that he saw it too. I didn't need to say a thing. The look on his face was enough. I might be the "silly" brother who saw dragons, but now he was too. And I think he, like me, was now perfectly fine with that. Edit: fixed some typos

The king of dragons has always been a coveted title for all dragonkind. It was held by the strongest, scariest, or most wealthy dragon (decided by common consensus). So it came as a surprise that you, an average human, received a letter summoning you to be crowned king of dragons...

"Jesus Christ, man." "Erm..." Before him wasn't quite the King of Hell he expected. In his head, he pictured a red, muscular figure with ram horns and sharp features; mustache and all. Maybe some hooves? "What? Surprised to hear *His* name here?" the figure hissed, rubbing his forehead akin to a stressed bureaucrat. The throne looked the part: golden, sharp, high, and extremely spacious with leather upholstery. Looks sinfully classy. Behind him was a huge obsidian structure similar to a fence, and beyond that: a fiery landscape teeming with burnt flesh on bone, screaming and gnashing of teeth. Kind of like a Sunday barbeque. "I mean, yeah, and from you -" "Why can't you just be *good?!*" yelled the King. He looked *human*, or at least he strongly resembled one. Save the floating, flaming, sleek horn that seems to stem from air. He could pass off as a catalog model: good-looking but not *that* good-looking. He doesn't have facial hair, either. Disappointing. "All I'm saying is I don't want me to be here, too, but what choice do I have?" the newcomer said, scratching his head. He was wearing the clothes he died in: loose pink pajamas with tiny blue elephants and a white tank top with a hole in the back that didn't quite hide his nipple hair nor beer gut. Apparently, he was caught dead in *that*. He isn't very truthful, though. He grew up thinking all those strippers from strip clubs and the buddies he had from high school paying said strippers won't go to heaven. He missed them all. "You had a choice, stupid, an entire lifetime of it." the King replied and let out a long sigh. "Where *in hell* am I supposed to stuff you in, you idiot?" The newcomer turns around and sheepishly bows to the long line of sinners behind him. Hundreds, thousands of mortals awaiting their eternal doom, all postponed because of infernal planning and preparation. "Look, sir--er, Satan?" he shyly asked, "I mean, I could just go back up there, y'know." "Oh, wow, what an original idea! Even I have not thought of that!" The King spat with sarcasm so slimy the newcomer flinched. "You're dead! And it is my job to punish you! You go here, and you stay here! Ugh." Hearing the Lord of Hell, the Monarch of Perdition, say "ugh" left the newcomer confused and maybe a little amused. Who said hell had no (comic) relief? "So, here's what we're gonna do," Satan said, "I'll need about three Dukes every hour posted here to keep the line in check. Their agony doesn't start until they enter the Gates of Hell, so there won't be any handouts. We torture them *after* we book 'em." He was speaking to an Imp, oddly accurate in terms of appearance to what a normal person would imagine an Imp to be: tiny, reddish, small wings and an arrow-tip tail, white diaper. "As for you," turning to the newcomer, "you will have to stay put as our next vacancy would be -" The newcomer fidgeted on his feet, unsure how to feel about his delayed damnation. "Damn. Another eternity." said Satan. The crowd behind groans in annoyance, and the newcomer just hung his head in bewilderment. "Isn't hell supposed to be, I dunno, huge?" Mockingly, Satan echoed, "Isn't hell supposed to be huge--shut the f*ck up before I smack you all the way to Purgatory, you damn fool!" King Satan stood up, his hands behind his head, his hair disheveled, and turned his back on the crowd before turning around to face them again. He fixed his bangs and cleared his throat. "Look, we had some problems with reservations, but rest assured every single one of you *deserves* to be here. Funny little story," the King said, hinting at a slight smile, "when I first opened, there were only a handful of you guys, so Hell was actually *really* vacant back then. Now, billions of souls after, we appreciate your patronage and hope to provide you with literally the worst experience after your lifetime."

Satan is overjoyed when he heard that humans would rather go to hell when they died. He isn't so happy now that Hell is overpopulated.

#####**Hope** ___ The line stretched ahead and behind me, every couple seconds we would move a little. I knew what was waiting for me at the front. We all did. "It doesn't work." The man behind me said. He chuckled a little as we stepped forward. "What doesn't?" "Everything. I know. I worked in one of these before..." He trailed off and shut his eyes, blocking out the nightmare ahead only to expose himself to the ones within. We shuffled in silence, or rather relative silence, for some minutes. The occasional scream or plea shattered the illusion that we were anything but doomed men and women. I could see through the window now, albeit hazily. Bright light shined through the small porthole like the radiance at the end of the tunnel. *Walk towards the light. Everything will be alright.* I could not hear the words the man spoke, but I saw his smile, his confidence. It was futile. In a matter of moments he shriveled into a mummy, aging decades in mere seconds. I could guess what he asked for. A woman several positions ahead of me vomited at the sight. Another ran, she was shot in the back. At least she was spared the delusion of hope. I watched the macabre theater through the glass, every sin and virtue, the depravity and grace of man displayed in utter horrid candidness. Every couple minutes, the stage morphed and shaped with a new client. Faceless actors came and went according to an unknown script but every play ended with the same beautiful scene. The light grew with each step, beckoning me forth. *Walk towards the light. Everything will be alright.* "HAHAHAHA!" The man behind me burst into laughter. He danced to the tune of an imaginary song, spinning and humming in place. The emotionless faces that lined the sides watched with cold understanding. He was not the first, and I doubt the last, to retreat into the comfort of insanity. I wonder if any of them were his former colleagues. I touched the lady in front of me, she was next. "What will you ask for?" "I... I don't know. I'm scared, please help. Can you go first? I'll do anything, please. Just don't make me go in there! Please!" She gripped my coat and I grimaced, pulling at her hands. She glanced at the man standing by the door with supplicant eyes, but he grabbed her by the collar and shoved her forward as the portal opened. The light was blinding. *Walk towards the light. Everything will be alright.* The fourth wall closed and I watched the woman silently plead, beg cry, her mouth undoubtedly singing a chorale of praise and forgiveness I could not hear. She burst into flames. I shuddered. I do not think she would have asked for that, I can only assume it is a measure given to those who choose not to comply. "Next." The man was smaller than I was and could not force me through like he did the woman. He tapped his rifle to show he would not hesitate to use it, but he did not need to. I stepped past the barrier separating the hopeful and the hopeless, and onto the stage. *Everything will be alright.* > \#15843. State your exit path. You have 1 minute. The voice was soothing and eerily human. As if to mock me, an SOP detailing the apparatus' proper usage was posted on the wall with appropriate hazard signs. A simple table stood in the corner under a minimal clock, but the room was otherwise devoid of anything interesting to look at. There wasn't even the burnt stain of the woman before me on the tile floor. Tick. Tock. > \#15843. You have 40 seconds. If you do not state— "Can I ask a question?" > Go ahead. "Anything I ask for will be granted, correct?" > As long as it describes your exit path and does not involve you leaving the test chamber, correct. "I would like to die peacefully in my own home in 60 year's time." This was my gamble. > Granted. My surroundings faded. The white walls and floor saturated with a familiar hardwood brown, and the air solidified into personal furnishings. I could smell the sweet lavender that always permeated my living room. It was *not* my home, but it was close enough. The only thing that remained of the room was the metal desk in the corner and the simple clock. I took a deep breath and inhaled the cozy scent, expecting it to be the last selfish comfort I would enjoy before the release of death. *This is alright, I'm okay with this.* I closed my eyes and waited. 10 seconds passed, then a minute. Then several. I frowned, I was not foolish enough to believe my gamble was successful. I am not a particularly clever man, and I do not for one moment believe I am the first to make such a request. "Terminal." > Functional. Its voice was slow and drawn out, like stretched taffy. I turned and looked out the metal door, another aspect of the room that did not change. The circular window showed the line of people I remembered, but each audience member was perfectly still. The animated skip of the man behind me had stopped in mid-air, and he was not touching the ground. I tried the handle of course, it did not budge. Ti—ck. I spun to look at the clock and smiled. Ha, 60 years. Perhaps I would still die, but at least now I had time. Time to work with. *Everything would be alright.*   ___ /r/Unexpected_Works

You’ve been sentenced to death. You, however, are allowed to choose how you’ll die & they’ll make it happen immediately. You think you’ll be able to use this to your advantage until the prisoner ahead of you chooses old age and instantly turns sickly and old. You’re up next.

This story takes place long ago, in the far away lands of Kaniry. A young knight was sent on his very first mission, he was to kill a fledgling, a small dragon that was not fully grown. When he arrived at the location, he saw the fledgling injured and curled up next to his mother who was dead. The knight couldn’t kill this fledgling, even though it was a dragon, it was suffering. So instead of killing it he found a cave to hide the fledgling. At first the fledgling was distrustful of the knight but over time grew to love him. The knight would visit the fledgling every day, bringing him food, caring for him, and playing with him. One day the princess of kaniry fell in love with the knight, and won his affection. Years later, even after the princess and the knight married, the knight still still went to see his fledgling friend though now the fledgling had grown into a dragon. Though the fledgling was now a dragon he still enjoyed the knight’s company, and unlike most dragons, was peaceful and harbored no hatred towards humanity. The princess started to grow suspicious of the knight, wondering where he would go every day when he disappeared for hours on end. Whenever she confronted him, the knight would either dodge, or shrug off the question. Thinking he was being unfaithful the princess tied the knight to their bed, threatening his life if he didn’t tell her what he was doing. Knowing what would happen if he told the princess that he was tending to a dragon, he never told her his secret. Days go by, and the dragon starts to worry why the knight hasn’t come to see him, the dragon flies off to the palace of kaniry to check on his friend. When he gets there he sees the knight with a knife to his throat. Sensing what’s about to happen, he crashes through the bedroom window and knocks the princess unconscious. With haste the dragon burns the knight’s ropes and the two fly off, never to be seen again

You have heard of dragons pretending to be princesses. And you also know of princesses rescuing knights from dragons. Now is a tale of a dragon saving a knight from the princess.

Heroes, they are everywhere, supposedly they want to "help" us but at the end of the day: They catch one villain, a 100 civilians die. It's not fair now is it? I did what I had to do, dropped out of collage and begun slaying heroes, it might sound terrible but I at least never killed a civilian. Sometimes my "job" Consisted of making elaborate traps for heroes, sometimes of rescuing those "rescued" by Heroes. Weirdly enough, no one other than heroes tried to stop me from my "crimes", one of those "rescued" tried to take me on a date, I agreed, I mean what else could I do right? I stepped out of my building and saw a ton of people crowding around... something? Could it be? A parade? Don't get me wrong it looked amazing, but why would someone do such thing here!? It's not the prettiest of the streets. And then i saw it, on one of the cars in this parade was a clip of me killing a hero. That's it, I'm dead. "It's her!" Oh no "YOU SAVED MY WIFE AND DAUGHTER!" Are they not here to find and put me in jail? I mean that's what happens to most villains. "Are you not here to imprison me?" "Why would we? You are the hero we need!" "...Hero? I can't, I killed so many..." "Others have done worse!" Did I really become a hero? I didn't think about that, I mean all my plans are with the intent of being a villain in mind. And yet I'm still better than most heroes.

you are a villain/villainess that secretly saves families and people from reckless heroes, you thought no one noticed until you wake up to clips of you on the new and you now have a mini fan base

You remember Richard, a bully at an elementary school, one day he pushed you so hard, you fell and broke your arm. He laughed. With tear filled eyes, you wished he didn't, you wished he stopped bullying everyone, but nothing happened no matter how much you wished it. At first. He continued to bully other children, and you kept wishing he would stop, and day by day, you could see a change. His demeanor changed, he slowly grew subdued, tired, bags under his eyes grew and colored and one day he just stopped. He set in his chair, face in his hands on the verge of crying. He was tired for reasons he didn't understand, but knew it was due to his bullying. You knew all this, and felt the change in him. One day, when he again sat sullen behind his desk, you approached him. He told you to leave, but you knew, he desperately didn't want you to. You hugged him. The feeling of your cast on his chest broke him. He cried, he apologized, he promised to do better, and while at the depths of despair, you hugged him harder. You could feel the relief that flooded into him, relief you, as you now know, allowed him to have. He never bullied anyone again. 15 more years passed, knowing you were different, not understanding why. People who visited you, always left happier. Conflicts rarely started around you, and always ended strengthening the bonds between participants. Even as the world grew darker with plagues and looming danger of war, you stood in the center of island of stability, happiness, in the center of peace. It was on the day the war started in neighboring country, that threatened to engulf the world, when your mother finally appeared to you. Hestia, the first born child of the Titan rulers Cronus and Rhea. Older than even Zeus, Poseidon and Hades. Many thought her a goddess of being a housewife, despite never being married and yet, both Apollo and Poseidon sought her hand and respected her refusal. Zeus too made no effort to change her mind, instead respected her decision to never know other man. Be it god or mortal, they knew, that the power over the hearth is nothing to be trifled with. Her time has passed, she no longer was permitted to directly meddle in the affairs' of men. But knowing her influence was still needed, she took steps for you to come into being. You, you are a manifestation of humanity's desire for peace and your mother's wish for the same. 'You must be careful,' she told you. 'you are still a mortal, feebler than most, fragile, just like peace, but your power over hearth is as strong as mine. Bring happiness to the houses of those deserving peace.' She kissed you on your forehead, and smiled as she said it. Then she frowned and the world grew terrible for a moment as she added. 'And show them who flaunt it, the power of peace withdrawn.'

When you learned your mother was a goddess, things finally seemed to fall into place. The other demigods laughed at you, the only child born to the goddess of the hearth, Hestia. But your power was so much more than they could dream of.