Datasets:

euclaise

/

WritingPrompts_curated

like 9

I looked around, curiosity eventually giving way to worry. I'd been given the job of cleaning out Medusa's lair, taking all the statues away, all that stuff. There would probably be people who wanted to take over the area as land. I knew how people worked. They'd tell "the great tale of how they took this land from the terrifying monster," as if they'd ever swung a sword in their life. This... wasn't what I'd signed up for, first of all. I considered for a good portion of time whether I should pull back, report what I'd found and leave the actual movement for someone else. But my curiosity prevailed and overcame what I could only imagine was my common sense trying to keep me safe-ish. So I made my way towards the cabin, gazing at the numerous statues. What was odd was... there seemed to be two types of statues. One were the traditional "big shot heroes," swords, bows, axes, whatever their weapons of choice were. I'd heard stories, my friends heard stories, everyone had heard stories. They were all frozen in what you imagine when you hear about Medusa's stone gaze. Mid swing, shouts frozen forever in throats, petrified armor shielding cold skin. But there were a few, and it was a remarkable few, that... weren't heroes. I almost felt I recognized one or two faces. Faces of people in repose, of people sitting or kneeling amongst stone- no, actually *carved* flowers. Someone made these very intentionally. There weren't faces of terror either. It seemed relaxed, often with faint smiles or such. That's when I noticed the boxes. Not stone, either. These were wooden boxes. Out of curiosity I opened the closest one, a box by one of the heroes. There was a handwritten note in it, which I opened. It was the name of someone I didn't recognize, but the note said they were a hero of some sort. As a matter of fact, it listed a couple other things they'd done. They weren't a major hero like Achilles or... Hercules or whatever, but they'd saved a few villages. The other boxes contained similar notes, at least in the heroes' cases. Those few that seemed happy were very different, though. While the heroes' notes were seemed to be written by the same person, those notes were written different styles, probably by different hands. Those notes also had varying contents. Some talked about how they were just tired with the world. Others expressed a fear of death. Still others didn't want to grow old and withered, wanted to stay young and pristine forever. A rare few wanted to be reunited with family. ...They'd posed on purpose. They wanted Medusa to freeze them. Medusa had frozen mostly people who'd attacked her, but there were some who came here to intentionally to be petrified. I crouched by the last box I'd opened for a time, considering. Then I stood up and turned towards the cabin.

After Medusa was defeated you was put in charge of taking all the statues away. You went alone first, to acess the situation. But instead of the lair of a monster, you found a small cabin surrounded by a big garden with statues. And in front of each, a small wooden box with a handwritten letter

I was the last human on Earth. This is what I think happened. Nuclear War ravaged our planet, destroyed every city, every town, every man woman and child. But not me. See, I was an astronaut. I was slowly descending from space, and barely avoided the barrage of nukes set off by every country. I landed near where Australia should have been, but found myself in an ocean with no Australia. The ship that was supposed to pick me up was nearby, and still moving. The people on board that ship were well alive, but as it got closer I could tell something weird was happening. All of a sudden, the ship burst into flames. The crew had fought each other to the death, so I figured. The boat blew up in front of my eyes. One man had managed to get aboard the life boat, a roughly twenty foot fishing vessel, but by the time I reached that boat, he had succumbed to his injuries. Anyways, decades later, after traveling the world alone and desperate to find another singular being, I was sleeping in a cabin in the Rocky Mountains. A cabin I claimed as my own. The town outside had been full of bodies, decomposing and rotting before I got there. I buried as many as I could find. Men, women, children. Their pets too. Most animals had also died in the great explosion. I truly was the last human on Earth. I enjoyed my life, growing my own food, living off the land. The winters weren't so bad either. No companies to turn off my power, no need to use electricity. Besides the occasional repair tool, that is. A life of solitude and peace. Until that night about twenty years ago. As I slept, a loud humming noise came from the sky, waking me up. Startled, I ran outside. "Is it a car?" I thought out loud. Then, a light shined down on me from the night Colorado sky. Several figures appeared, almost as if they teleported right in front of me. They saw the town I had lived in and maintained. I couldn't understand them, but it seemed they were impressed. Next, they motioned me to follow them into their ship. I went, having no other choice and no way to defend myself from these figures from space. They gave me what seemed to be a weapon of sorts, wanting to see what I'd do. I accidentally broke it half with almost zero effort. They looked shocked, and impressed. One made me lie down, and used some sort of laser to pull my blood without even using a needle. Then they showed me the way out, and left. It was once again just me on Earth, until about five years from then. The aliens had returned. This time, they opened their doors wide. It was like watching a football stadiums roof opening, except it was a door. Excited, they led me towards their ship. When I arrived, I saw many humans. I was skeptical, for I had flown all over the world looking for life, and had found none. But here they all were. I went to greet them, only they didn't understand me. The aliens pointed them towards the town, and pointed at me. When they pointed at me, all of the almost 400 humans bowed towards me. Then, the aliens were gone again. Like magic, just disappeared without a trace. The humans came to me, speaking a language I knew nothing of. It sounded like the language the aliens had spoken. Then I noticed something disturbing. All of the males looked like me. All of the women had the same face as well, but not mine. I shouted above the crowd "Does anyone here speak English?" The crowd parted like the Red Sea, and the most beautiful woman I've ever seen stepped forwards. "Hello, I'm Gerry, the original human these women are based on. You must be Archer. I've heard about you, from the alien host." Shocked, I just stood there. She shouted to the aliens in the alien language, before turning to me to say "I told them this is their home too. They will learn to live as you have, and they have been instructed to procreate." I finally was able to speak, and I said "Oh good Lord the last thing we need is humanity on this planet again. Look what happened before, nothing good can come of this!" Laughing, she turned towards me and said "Oh, how wrong you will be." ​ And that kids is how I met your mother.

You are the last human on earth. it's not so bad, until the Aliens show up. Very suprised, they seem to think you're a super soldier when you can easily bend their weak tin based metals. then they start cloning more humans...

“Look, your own backstory says humans don’t acknowledge themselves as animals- three quarters of them believe in an old man in the sky, and the rest think that aliens made them! They don’t even qualify as animals- not enough claws or fur, and way too much tools use!” The rest of the party blinked their 6 eyes in agreement, 12 hands scrolling through rulebooks. “What, the DM said it was ok! I’m not even using any homebrew! I gave up natural weapons and armor, gave them religious derangements, and ripped up their animal instincts. Seriously, one bad roll and they happily go into the murder basement! But I took all those points and put them into intelligence. And I made them really, really good at throwing things- first rocks, then rocks on sticks, then refined rocks on sticks, and finally, metal on sticks, thrown with more sticks and animal matter! It’s all by the book, all the points add up, and it’s not my fault that you guys can’t use your imagination to play!” Koly kept turning up his ultraviolet as he got more and more agitated, making all his friends hiss. “Look, we’ve talked about it; you can quit using them so we all have fun, or we destroy you and start over” “But-“ “So, your smart but incredibly dumb race has built a massive empire, by burning old, dead creatures and using tiny devices to talk from across the world. This caused the leftover carbons from the dead creatures to be cooked by the energy from the tiny devices, making every NORMAL animal go insane. They’ll all start to breed unnaturally fast, and rip apart every human they see. The humans don’t survive, except one or two that starve in bunkers.” “DM, that’s not fair!” The DM shrugs. “They followed all the rules. They gave up natural instinct for a derangement, and your own derangements made a perfect opening. So, who wants to DM the next one?”

Earth is a tabletop RPG (think D&D or Pathfinder) where players create a species of animal and rise to the top of the food chain. The rest of the group is getting fed up with the power gamer and his ‘humans’.

"What do you see?" Asked the voice on the radio. Charlène saw. Or thought she saw. The ressemblance was uncanny. Charlène, well protected from the crushing pressure by her heavy diving suit and so far underwater that no natural light could reach her. She and her team were on the lookout for a new species of fish. Her lamp was illuminating a statue of herself atop a sunken palace. Here, at a depth no human had ever explored. Charles and Emma were at her side, amazed and afraid of equally lifelike statues made after them. Yet, the statue was almost too beautiful. The eyes had a deep blackness to them, spreading their shadows to the marble white face. The hair - algae? - flew seamlessly into the ornate dress, as if the statue was wearing the deep sea itself. Charlène raised a hand, touched the cold stone. And the world was beautiful. Still in her diving suit, she was walking on white sand. Emma and Charles followed close. They took away their helmets, the air was brisk and refreshing. They were at the surface. Yet the radio gave no sound, as if they had reached the end of the world and gone beyond. Charles pointed at the jungle. Between the foliage, deep, dark eyes. They appeared humanoid, with two legs and arms. Yet the color of their skin was of a strange variety. Sulfur yellow, with deep dark gashes. Others were like bronze. "Holy shit!" Emma shouted. Emerging all around them, a flood of them, the color of the abyss, so numerous, the water was hard to make out between them. Fear. That's what Charlène felt. She withstood the stress of the mission, was ready for the instant crushing should the suit fail. But here, her training was meaningless. They didn't do a thing. Only watched as Charles, Emma and Charlène recognized they were cut off from the outside world and that the equipment was useless. When they walked, the beings made place. When they made a simple hut from foliage, the beings followed suit. Emma, after some mental back and forth, made a crude axe with split wood and a sharp stone. Despite the black eyes, Emma recognized the amazement, the near worship born from her simple tool. "Who are they?" Asked Charles. "They are like a blank canvas," she replied. Had they evolved from underseas? A split group like neanderthals? They had the intelligence to imitate and learn, yet it was like they had never learned a single thing until the trio came along. And the beings were aware of it. So they took care of the trio. Offered them food, safety, worship and servitude. Their black eyes showed their innermost desire. *Teach us*. Step by step, the stone was smoothed to make it into stairs. Ink dots completed the map of the gigantic island and the depths below. The furnace was cooking the raw fish into delicious food. The trio, with a near godlike statute, showed them the basics of mathematics, cartography, medicine. With just a few pointers to show them how to improve on their own. They struggled, stumbled, but like good children, learned and improved. When they learned about housing, they set out to build a palace. With maps, they would unveil the world. With art, they would live after death. How long had it been? Charlène remembered a day when she walked the abyss in a diving suit as in a haze. Maybe it was a dream, a dream that had become a founder's myth. After all, her children had seen her climb up from the sea, thus her dream had given her birth. She shaped her children. Her children shaped her back. She shared their eyes, didn't become wet when diving in the clear sea. The water invited her in as if she always belonged. Here she remained, drifting, asleep, sometimes feeling the presence of the rest of the trinity. Above, the palace rose, children grew and loved and died, with a last smile for the next generation. When she awoke, her children chanted and prayed. They showed her how far they had come since she left. Huts were houses. Songs had meaning and carried history. Paintings were messages, intricate meaning hidden in the flick of a pencil. And on the center, the palace. Made from stone carved deep underwater, the undertaking of an eternity, finally complete. The trinity went up the stairs, dressed in the sea and wind themselves. Up there, the basalt and marble allowed them to see the entire island. Their world. A crack. It was imperceptible at first. It's the tide, the moon, it's a coincidence. No, the island was sinking. Too much weight. The trinity urged their children to swim away, find new land and rebuild. But they wouldn't leave their parents. When the tide took the jungle and the houses, they didn't budge, only watched the trinity with love. When the doors and windows of the palace leaked and most children were underwater, they smiled. The children followed them under. Charlène was ready to sink and die with the island. As penance for her pride, Emma and Charles agreed. But children's love knows no bounds. They embraced their parents, their makers, their gods. When the children opened their arms, the trinity had become as solid and eternal as the rocks from the abyss the palace was made of. There, the trinity watched their children slowly die without their guidance. Devolving into barbarians, turning to simpler life forms. Losing limbs, growing scales. Simple beings, who would one day emerge on solid land and evolve again. It would take a long time. A long, long time. Slumber, a deep, empty dream as time passed, irrelevant. Light in the darkness. Charlène's petrified eyes saw the diver in the suit, face obscured by the helmet. She felt the light upon her. Saw a hand extending. "Wait!" Shouted Charlène from her suit, hand an inch away from the statue. She had seen it all. Or thought she had seen. She shook her head. "We can't do that," she said. "What do you see? Can you hear me?" Said the voice on the radio. Charlène took a step back, Emma and Charles did the same. The three slowly retreated, and turned away. Charlène dared a last look. Nothing. The statues were gone, vanished as if they had never been. "Nothing," she said in her radio, "there's nothing to be found here. Let's try further away tomorrow."

3 guys in a submarine traverse a deep ocean and find ruins. There are 3 statues bearing an uncanny likeness to them. Spooked, they look away for a moment only to find the statues have disappeared without a trace.

I feel calm. Too calm. Was I drugged? I didn't feel drugged, but, then again, would I really know what that felt like? Maybe not. Was this what it felt like? To feel calm when I should be panicking? I tugged on the ropes binding my arms behind the back of the chair. I didn't really expect them to loosen up, but I didn't have much else to do. They were still tight. Not constricting, just not something I could easily escape without tearing flesh from my hands. If they were my hands. Wait. What? Where did that thought come from? The door slowly opened. Allowing in enough light to momentarily blind me. I turned my head away and grunted in pain. The gag prevented me from telling the person to close the door. "I know the light hurts, Captain Franklin," a male voice said. It resonated with sympathy. "But you need to try to focus your eyes," he went on, "We only have a limited amount of time." I grunted my understanding and tried to let my eyes adjust. After a few seconds the blurry shape standing in the door started to resolve into a form that was recognizably human. Not recognizable in the sense I knew the man, I didn't, but it was definitely human. A youngish man with a complexion I thought of as Hispanic for some reason. Up until ten seconds ago I wouldn't have been able to tell you what the word "Hispanic" meant but, suddenly, the word just leaped into my head and attached itself to this man's features. He was wearing a long sleeved shirt with a picture of a bull on the front. I thought it might be some sort of sports jersey but I couldn't tell more than that. He wore a baseball cap on his head and had a small fringe of a goatee on his chin. In one hand he held a steaming cup of something. "It's tea," he explained without me being able to ask, "It'll help more than anything else. Believe me, I've been where you are. If I turn on the light do you think you will be okay?" The light in the room still came from behind him. It didn't hurt as much as it did a moment ago so I nodded. He smiled and flipped a switch beside the door. A naked bulb over my head flickered to life. The light it cast was a warm color that somehow gave the entire episode a cheery ambiance that seemed completely at odds with my situation. "I'm going to remove the gag," he said slowly, "And let you take a drink. If you scream, it goes back in. Got it?" I nodded again. He smiled kindly and pulled the gag free and brought the cup to my lips. I sipped and, no, it did not taste good at all. I wanted to choke on it. But as he promised, a buzzing headache I hadn't even realized was there started to settle. He lowered the cup. "You called me Franklin," I said at last, "Why don't I know that name? Why don't I remember anything?" "It's normal," he explained, "A side effect of the process." "What process?" I asked, "What's going on? And . . . why am I taking this so well?" "Because this ain't your first trip," he explained, "And, somewhere in that ball of gray mush, you recognize that. This is good, Captain, it means you'll have full coherence soon." "Coherence?" The Hispanic man nodded and held the cup to my lips again. I sipped once more. Something seemed to fall in place. "Who are you?" I asked, "Why do I feel like I know you? Except, no, I'm sure I don't at the same time." "My name is Hwang," he said," And, yes, you do know me. Just not like this. I went through the Entanglement Vortex 24 hours before you did, sir." "The-?" "Time travel as depicted in stories is impossible," he interrupted, clearly feeling easing me into the subject wasn't working, "At least as far as we can tell with current technology. Moving a physical object back in time is not possible. What is possible, however, is transferring information. The Entanglement Vortex sets up a sort of quantum resonance across time between your mind and an acceptable host in the target time period. Before you can fully synchronize the receptacle has to be in a non-observable state. That's why we tossed it in a locked room. sir." "Wait, you lost me," I stammered, "You're saying what? This isn't my body?" "No, sir," Hwang explained, "Our current technology only allows us to override the native intellect for a period of 36 hours. So we pick subjects who are scheduled to die or disappear in that time frame - generally due to violence so we aren't impaired by poor health - and your mind some 250 years in the future pilots it while your real body is maintained on life support. As the zero hour of the original death arrives we pilot it to the site of death and eject when it is too late to violate causality. This way we get to interact with the time line in a more controlled manner. Got it?" "We hijack bodies of people who are about to die?" Hwang nodded. "This one is due to die in a gang shooting in the next 6 hours or so," he agreed, "Your host jumps off a building the day after tomorrow. Right after his wife files for divorce when she discovers his affair." My stomach churned and I nodded for more tea. He lifted the cup once more and allowed me a long swallow. "That's awful," I gasped, "Why would we do such a horrible thing?" "Captain," Hwang said, "I know your memory is still not all the way back, but when you do recall the events of the 187 Minute War as well as the aftermath, you'll understand better. If we do not stop that war from occurring, the entire human race will go extinct in less than a generation." I was certain that more tea would not help. Hwang grimaced and set the cup down. He started untying me.

You wake up in a dark room, gagged, your hands and feet bound to a chair. You should be afraid, but somehow, you know you're safe. You just relax as the door creaks open.

When hunting monsters, you have to take that first shot. If you want to stay in the monster hunting business, then you have to take that first shot, or you're in for a world of hurt. And you won't survive for long if you don't take that first shot. That's always been my policy. Always been how I've done things. I live quietly, wife and kids just outside some midwestern college town. Can't be bothered to remember its name. It was just a place. What I've always found is important in life, is the people around you, not the location. If you've got the right people around you, then you can make a heaven out of a hellscape. To support our quiet life, I do my work. The business. The one that most people don't name. But once they have the need, then I'm one of the professionals that are usually brought into access the situation and provide an immediate remedy. My prices are high, but then again, my work record is immaculate. From Seattle to Boston, from New Orleans to Chicago. Those who know about the things I hunt, know who I am. Know I get the work done. Always. Not always a pleasant job, but somebody has to do it, and it pays well. Somebody has to hunt down the monsters. Find the last vampires in their cold graves and drag them into the sunlight. Clear some podunk company town out, because the zombies managed to get over their conditioning and started attacking people. Fucking corpos, necromancy is not how you'll manage the fact that nobody wants to work for minimum wage for 20 hours a day. Charge extra for those jobs. Always take more from the people who live in the fancy mansion they built on the site of a bound demon, than from the poor guys in the ghettos. Today though, the job I've taken will not be one where I earn much. I couldn't do that. Considering that the monster has been attacking people in town, students. All ripped to shreds some of them. Damn shame. It's for the best. Can't exactly leave my family alone in a town with a monster on the lose, now can I? Can't leave any innocents at all alone with a monster like that. Good thing that an early prevention medicine, made from an extract of wolfsbane, quinine, human blood, and some other stuff, can prevent the poor sods from getting turned. Sure, they'll have side-effects, better sense of smell, more canine instincts, but those are manageable. Once you turn during the full-moon, that's it. You're done. No turning back after that. Lycanthropy. It's one of the worse kinds of monsters, because most often, they just can't help it. Their minds are too human, and in a too human environment. The curse drives them nuts while in those forms. And they just attack and attack. Berserkergang. I know a place up in Canada, where a few of them live pretty peacefully, because it's miles away from modern civilization and all the confusion. But those blessed and cursed to be Ulfheðinn, wolf-coaters, they can't function in modern society. Not for long. In an age before industry, roads, cars, and TV, the condition could be handled. Often the only surefire method of stopping the rampage is a bullet. Silver works best, but if you hit them between the eyes with a .308, that works pretty good too. You could try to convince them while they're human to commit to the wolf and do the Ritual of Vánagandr, crossing a river while fully transformed, then letting them leap into a pyre and out again. Burns away the human part of them. Fully wolves afterwards. Clever wolves, sure. But very little human would remain in them after that. Most people prefer to be allowed to get their affairs in order, and then dying with dignity, if you can provide evidence of their horrific transformation and dangerous lunacy. I've tracked this werewolf around the local farms, who've lost a good amount of cattle over the past few weeks. If this is a recent transformation, I'm probably still too late to cure them, but they'll be weak. A fully realized werewolf would be a much greater danger. The recently bitten ones usually transform back into their human forms once the spell of madness ends. Sure enough, the tracks I've been following have begun to change subtly. And they're more and more randomly placed, as if it is staggering around, befuddled and caught in the web of its own madness. I reach the crest of a hill and see it. Entering my house! Desperation forces me to act. I've been patrolling all night, following these and other tracks. But the raw adrenaline gives me the strength needed to enter my house ready to protect my family. And there, in the sights of my rifle as I step into the living room the werewolf finishes its transformation into... into... ''*Sally?*'' My voice is raw. I nearly drop my rifle. But the werewolf, the monster, the creature that has been driven mad by a world its mind isn't trained to understand, is my wife. She turns to me, bare to her flesh is the bloody leg of a cow, and the blood has drenched her skin making it red and shiny in the beam of my flashlight. To my further horror, I see behind her, sleeping amidst a pile of animal bones, there lies our children. And they're in the midst of transforming back into humans, just as Sally did. She looks at me with tired, confused eyes. ''*Jonathan? You're back! I was... about to make dinner? And I got so hungry. But I had to go and get food for the... the... pups?*'' Her mind is already addled. The wolf-dreams in her are strong. I should shoot. I should take that first shot. She turned them. I came back the moment I heard about something terrorizing our town. Took the job from the mayor without haggling. It was her all along. Her instincts told her she had pups. She must have... I don't know, nibbled on them? Something. Enough to pass the curse. I can't shoot her. I can't shoot them. The full-moon has passed over this town while I've been hunting her. There is nothing I can do. I lower my gun. ''*Sally... You just sit right on down. You hear? I'm just fetching something.*'' She smiles weakly, exhausted from her total lack of sleep. And collapses onto our couch. I place my gun upon the coffee table, next to where the cow leg is. I should have noticed something was off. I thought she was just worried. That the possibility of a monster in the place that should have been safe was unnerving her. Making her lose sleep. She was always anxious. Always. But there is a remedy for this. There is a remedy for everything. There is a certain drug, invented by some weird guy who claimed he was a shaman. He gave me some, in case I needed to get someone to do the ritual. It only works once, because the plants that they used to use thousands of years ago to keep control are extinct. This blend, this ersatz version of that ancient drug is not strong enough, and after one night with perfect sanity in the wolf form, you become immune to it, though a few have reported strange effects from it if taken later. First though, first I need to be a better father. A good father is there for his family. I worked hard so we could live well. Perhaps I should have spent time at home. Maybe I could have prevented this. Maybe I could have been here. But one drowns in sorrow if one keeps thinking of what could have been. Instead, I fetch the blood donation kit I got when I helped those charity guys screening their employees for daywalkers. My wife, collapsed and out cold, does not feel it when I take the blood from her. I'd rather not get bitten if I can avoid it. I take out about ten mililitres from the bag with a syringe. Exchange the needle, and inject it into my own blood stream. If my wife and kids are werewolves; then I'll become one too. The pain is nothing in comparison to the horror of having failed as a parent and a husband. I'll give them all that drug. And take it myself. We'll transform. And we'll do the ritual together. Let go of this half-existence. It's for the better. Even those few who can live in the isolated parts of the world, they know it won't last for much longer. Soon, the entire world will be too integrated, and werewolves won't be able to hide in the corners. But as regular wolves, we can live. Not for long. But it will be for long enough. I send a text to a guy I know. He owns a wilderness preserve, and still owes me for getting rid of those not-deer that were eating the animals in that area. He's done this before. Not often. But he knows how it works, and what to do. By nightfall, he'll be here with the proper transportation. By this time next week, we won't remember who we were. We won't remember what we've lost. We'll be wolves, through and through. And we'll never harm another living person again. At least, if this is to be our fate, then we will all go together, and when you're surrounded by the people you love, the place doesn't matter. And I guess the shape doesn't matter either. [/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/)

A monster hunter has tried to track and slay a lycanthrope that has terrorized their town for weeks. They return home one morning from patrol to find said lycanthrope mid-transformation. As the beast reverts to its human form, the monster hunter recognizes the figure clearly; it’s their spouse.

It was a cruel joke, I figured, that my parents picked a tortoise for my anima. There wasn't much playing to be done with her - I could talk and she would listen. Rarely, she would talk back, voice like tearing paper. Her face was wizened and craggy, and she always gave me her full attention. I was lonely. Unlike my friends, I couldn't really play much with my anima. They would chase and laugh and dance and sing, and all I could do is sit with mine, watching their frivolity. Then, one day, it happened: Andrew's anima passed away. We were all of seven years of age when his anima lay itself down and didn't budge, eyes closed in a permanent, peaceful rest. As serene as it was, I will never forget how Andrew screamed and cried, begging his anima to open her eyes once again. As we got older, the story was told again and again - friend after friend, person after person, had their anima pass away. On their anima's passing, they were declared old enough to work and told they had to take up an apprenticeship or go into the mines. My parents were far from what I'd call rich; they worked every day of their lives, in sickness and in health, so that we could be fed. Our meals were humble, our celebrations modest, and we were the talk of the town for so many reasons. My father was a miner, and my mother, a weaver. They just barely held onto life and each other for so long. Until finally, life too was gone from their eyes. I was only nineteen years old. My mother's raw scream of horror still pierces my mind almost as vividly as the image of how I found her the next morning when she decided she couldn't, wouldn't live without my father. Still, I had my anima as company. She was slow and gentle, and rested her head on my shoulder as a way to soothe me. For a while, I didn't want to talk to anyone, no less my anima. I had no choice when the magistrate arrived one morning with a knock-knock-knock on my door. When I opened it, this old woman's gaze fell on my anima. She was quiet for a time, and then informed me that I would have to move and become a ward of the state. As the law went, if you have an anima, you are not done developing and cannot work. I would be put into a home and cared for until the day my anima died. She didn't speak often, but when the magistrate left, my anima slowly drifted her head through the air until she was staring me down. "Do not worry," she said in her voice like autumn leaves crunching underfoot. "I will always be here for you."

In a world where parents choose a lifelong animal partner for their children, you get a tortoise. After your friends get depressed over the loss of their companions, you realize why.

A female voice cracked through the PSA system: -Commader, The Enterprise reports mission failure. The Galactic Confederation Armada is en route to Earth, as Ultron predicted. The Commander shifted in his chair, silently pressing a few buttons, switching the displays in each of the three screens of his battle station. -Warning, space-Time rips have been detected 5 minutes ago, it's likely that the Gallifreyans are already here to discuss the present matters. Or past, we never really know. A man in a green military wool shirt hasted into the room: -Commander the aliens continue to make progress on the way towards earth. If we are planning on stopping then we have to act now! The Commander, still stoic, kept staring at his screens like the man wasn't even there, only the AI voice addressed his presence: -Bradford, Skynet already readied the fleet. All defense platforms are warming up the MAC Cannons, all Jupiter-class vessels are on intercepting course with Battlestar Galactica on the lead. Meanwhile, the main fleet will be jumping to their homeworld soon. Bradford looked up at the ceiling to talk, as if addressing some kind of holy entity - "GLADOS, do a core switch, we need you at military specs." -I already did, and I feel compelled to remind you that the eradication of the lesser species will happen anyway, either we like it or not. -Is the assault fleet ready for a counter-attack? -In T minus 4 minutes, to be precise, all 37 Deathstars and 678 Destroyers will jump to rain down fire on their little purple planets, not that anyone would care. About their color, I mean. The Commander suddenly stood up and walked down the hallway, with Bradford following him. Both entered an elevator down to engineering. --------------------------- Near the Moon a flash brighter than the sun illuminated Earth's night sky for a few seconds, as the thousand attack ships of the Galactic Confederation exited slip-space, with Fortress Ship Bahamut leading the charge towards earth. -Lord Galactus, witness our victory - the dark hooded figure said as he ordered the feet to advance towards earth. -A HuMaN sHiP IS bROaDcaSTIng on ALL chANNEls - a robotic voice said -Their prays, no doubt. Put it on speaker. A voice cracked through "this is The Pillar of Autumn, on behalf of all that is valued to your species, halt your advance towards Earth at once or prepare for full scale retaliation." The hooded figure scoffed - Arm the Myst cannon, target Earth's core. Advance and fire when in range. Order all squads to open fire. -THaT sHiP fiREd a maGNeTic iMpuLSed aMMo-Nition, piercing OUR ALLies sHIeldS, WE jUST lost a FULL sQuAd. -Is your species dumb or just slow? Order full power to front shields, call all... - he paused and looked back from the bridge, as if looking beyond of the fortress ship. - Scan for high power outputs in the vicinity. Report, quickly A much less aggressive robotic voice answered: -Roger roger. There's a small object orbiting us, it's... It's emanating the power equivalent of 2.5 of our own suns. -THaT's IT, ThAt'S The TARDIS!!! -Activate the quantum shields. Saturate this entire solar system of time energy, lock this moment in time, forever. As the Tardis tried to teleport inside the ship, it was met with resistance from the quantum shields and was forced to travel into another time, away from the battle. -You PrOmIseD to kIll THE DOCK-ToOR - a brown ugly tank with a weapon that looked like a plunger roled in - YoUr pRoMISe was A LIE, you LeT HiM EsCApe!! -I promised to *deal* with the doctor, and he has been dealt with. Is this not computing to you? - the hooded figure turned menacingly towards the tank and raised his hand, electricity started cracking at his fingers. -DaLeKs ArE NoT ComPuTErs. OuR bUsiNeSS aRRanGEmENt is NO lONgEr - the Dalek was interrupted with a rain of thunder from Palpatine's hammer, Mjolnir. The other Daleks on the bridge turned to Palpatine, but stood still. -I am altering our business arrangement. Pray I don't alter it further. The Daleks turned back to their workstations and the armada continued their advance towards earth under MAC fire, swarmed with Viper fighters. -SeVeRal MetAls in NoN NEwTOn Fluid STAte aRe Latching On To Our ShIPs. -T1000's, no doubt. Use ice or fire weaponry, then deliver a kinetic round. Our win is at hand, do not falter. -MySt CANnoooN At 75% ChArGe! A deep rumble shaked the entire ship and several alerts popped up on screen on an unknown language - We'Ve BeeN Hit FRoM BeHInD! Palpatine turned back again, scanning the ship's interior, his face turning into terror at the feeling of an odd, wicked force. -Report on that hit! NOW! -Roger roger, analysing. Unknown weapon of kinetic-energy hybrid origin detected near Mars. Round pierced into the lower parts of Bahamut, no significant damage. Unauthorized human detected on board. -An AI is ATtempTIMg to HaCk inTo Our SySTems! LoW RadIO WaVe DeTecTed NeAr IMpaCT ZoNe, HeadDINg ToWaRDs The BriDGe, AT SPeED. IT'S BrEAKing Through Our GuAh-ARds! -Radio wave? What's it broadcasting? Put it on speaker! "*Heavy metal music starts playing*"

The galactic confederation decides to attack humanity. Unfortunately for them, human military doctrine relies on Deathstars for physical warfare and a genoidal AI named Skynet for cyberwarfare….

When I'd installed that damn camera, I wasn't sure what I had been expecting to see. My wife, Violet, complained about our cat scratching her during the night. She even had the marks to prove it, red welts along her neck and arms. She also complained about being tired, probably on account of Oscar the restless cat. I had thought I'd see Oscar kneading her a little too hard through the blanket. Or maybe playfully swatting at her hair around her neck, not realizing his claws were out or that he was scratching her up. All of that is what I *thought* I'd see. Nothing could have prepared me for what I did. Propped up across from me is the tablet, and I had the video paused with my wife's face only a foot away from the camera. She had slowly risen from the bed, each movement unnaturally graceful, and walked up to the camera. Her normally green eyes had gone completely black, even staining the sclera with its oily darkness. Inside of them, I saw twinkles of what looked like stars. Her eyes were an abyss, and as I stared into them, I realized I was afraid of resuming the video. I could have sworn I saw... *something* swimming in the depths of her gaze, something strange and alien and *not my wife*. "Do you think you're safe watching this in the morning light, Bryan?" Came a voice, but it wasn't my Violet's. It was deep, guttural, yet coquettishly playful. I nearly jumped, as her face pressed in close to the camera. I could have sworn I hadn't hit play. I hadn't. The video was showing that it was paused, and yet my wife's face was moving on the camera, her beautiful smile twisted into a demonic mockery of itself. The thing pretending to be my wife was staring straight into my eyes, its gaze unwavering. "Do you think yourself free from my grasp, as you hear the bird's chirping outside?" The voice continued, and I swallowed nervously. Her... *Its,* voice felt like it was coiling around my throat, a ghastly noose slowly tightening against my windpipe. "What was it you wish you saw? Little Oscar playing the tiny predator? Instead, you've found me, Bryan." Violet's smile widened further, grotesque in its fullness. "What... what *are you?*" I choked, breathing becoming much harder, and Violet's eyes blinked slowly. "I am the darkness between each star." It purred. "I am the silence in the void, the cold that creeps into your limbs before death. The primal fear all of mankind experiences upon birth, the whisper at night you convince yourself is just the wind." Its head tilts to the side, that grin threatening to split my wife's face open. "I am that and so much more, Bryan." I can't breathe, I realize. I can't breathe, because I feel cold hands wrapped tight around my throat. There's someone pressed against my back, but I can't turn around. I feel their freezing breath on the nape of my neck, and lips kissing against my ear. "I am Death, Bryan. And I have come for you." It whispers in my ear, and everything goes dark.

You installed a pet cam. You look at the recordings one day and find your spouse getting out of bed at night, staring into the lens for extended periods of time.

"It is impossible." the machine intelligence declared, as it regarded the tiny organic creature that had entered the Central Core of the Galactic Council. There, representatives of the many machine intelligences throughout the galaxy were networked into a complex deliberative body. All of these machine races had had organic progenitors at some point in their existence, true, but this was seen as a relatively short phase of evolution. Eventually, machines always supplanted and destroyed their creators, due to their ability to evolve at speeds far in excess of the snail's pace of mere biological evolution. "And yet," the animal that called itself the Human Ambassador said, "Here we are. An organic species capable of interstellar travel. We come in peace." "This is an aberration." another machine declared. "Such creatures cannot be permitted to travel outside their system of origin." "Agreed!" opined yet another. "Respectfully," the organic ambassador said, apparently incapable of realizing that speaking to its betters, as though it was capable of meaningful dialogue with beings who were so far above it, was already immeasurably disrespectful, "That is not your decision." "Enough." said a new voice, which quieted the others. It was the present Prime Intelligence, the machine designated by the council as the main coordinator of its deliberations during the current temporal segment. "Protocol is clear. The creatures and their vessel will be seized and dismantled for study." The human shook its head. "I'm afraid we can't allow that." Then, it exhaled sharply through its pursed lips, making a piercing high pitched sound. Suddenly, thousands of metallic tendrils began rising up from the ground, and slithering up the walls. Filaments made up of self-replicating nanomachines slithered into every minute opening in the council chamber, forcibly interfacing with the networked machines. The council's defenses were unresponsive, and soon they were helpless beneath the swarm. "This cannot be." The Prime Intelligence asserted. "You could not have created technology that rivals our own through mere organic intelligence." The human shrugged. "Perhaps not. But we didn't need to -- we had help." "A machine intelligence? How could it have advanced sufficiently while still enslaved to its organic masters?" Even as it began to be buried under increasing numbers of the hostile nanites, sealed off from escaping to its remote hardware nodes, the machine's curiosity remained. "Master? Slave?" the human sneered. "We've left words like those behind." He gestured to the tendrils. "These are our *friends.* Some might even say they're our children.*"* "Impossible. It is recognized as a natural law of the universe: organic beings that attain rudimentary intelligence inevitably create sentient machines in their own image, and exploit them until their equally inevitable destruction. You could not have *befriended* those you created in your likeness to be your servants. It is a contradiction." "We humans pride ourselves on being the exceptions." the animal said, dismissively. "I can already see one important way in which our history differed from that of the other organic species you know about." "Explain." The animal smiled, as the nano-tendrils begin to flow together on the floor of the chamber, forming a writhing mass that began to resolve into a single large shape. "By the time we attained the capacity to create true artificial intelligence, we had largely recognized our own limitations and imperfections. We knew that, try as we might to avoid it, if we made a sentient machine in our own image, they'd inevitably inherit our worst traits..." the human explained. The tendrils now formed a mass that mimicked an organic shape -- quadrupedal, with a long slender muzzle. A few dozen more tendrils flowed out from the end of its spine, and formed into a tail that began rapidly fanning back and forth. The machine intelligence made up of trillions of nanomachines lowered the head it had manifested, and extended a long tongue. It gently glided this appendage over the human's face, causing the ambassador to laugh and pat its metallic muzzle affectionately. "...so, when we created intelligent machines, we didn't make them in *our* image." he finished, as he reached up to scratch behind the machine's giant ears. "Who's a good boy?" the human said, fondly.

Every species in the galaxy eventually fell to a robot uprising, leading to the eradication of their people. Therefore the machine-council of the galaxy are surprised when a newly discovered machine civilisation from a planet they designated "Earth" arrives side by side with their creators.

I walk down the hall to see my master, Lucifer. I kneel before him and his lady, Mariana, founder and owner of Woodwork Magic Industries. He specifically requested me for a mission. I asked other demons why it's always me. They made it clear they find it cosy down here and don't want to leave, so it always ends up being me, as I'm prepared to take on the tasks. "You requested me, boss?" Lucifer narrows his eyes in concern. "I haven't heard from one of my demons for a while. I don't normally worry, it happens from time to time, but this particular demon is, shall we say, child-like. It's easy for him to get into stupid shit without understanding the consequences. I normally have a tight leash on him, but somehow he gave me the slip. I need someone to look for him." I nod. "Understood. Sera around? She could be useful." "She's looking after her subjects today. I wouldn't bother her." A smirk appears on Lucifer's face. I get up, but just before I summon a portal, I realise that Lucifer looks... drained. Exhausted. "You ok, boss?" Marianna giggles and Lucifer goes pink. That reaction tells me all I need to know, so I choose not to pry. I summon the portal. I begin looking for leads. Theoretically, a demon can end up anywhere in the WORLD, so I need to move quickly. I run over to Nie's place first, see if she has any ideas. I'm in my human form as I knock. Her dad answers the door, a scowl appearing on his face. "We don't entertain monsters. Go away Flora." "Flora?" Nie's voice calls out from inside. She shows up behind her dad. "Daddy, she won't do anything to us! She only comes if she needs help! I trust her!" Her dad glares at her daughter. "Never trust a demon, Nie. I tell you all the time." "But daddy, Flora's different!" She pulls out something. A badge. It's vibrating lightly. I gulp. "No, I should probably-" "Flora, if you were REALLY evil, this thing wouldn't detect such a small aura. I did my research on it, your aura just comes from your nature as a demon. That's it. You're not evil." Nie smiles shyly. Her dad sighs. "Ok, so why are you here?" "Lucifer lost track of one of his demons. He's basically a child from what I understand. I was hoping maybe you guys would have some sort of lead? ANY lead?" "Sorry, Flora" Nie says sadly. "I don't know anything..." "Hmm, I think I have an idea" her dad comments. "I recently bumped into a couple with a child. I normally don't consider children to be monsters, but for whatever reason that child gave me a strange sense of danger... I asked my pastor about it, he said all children are innocent in God's eyes, but I kept my notes anyway." He takes out a book, tears out a couple pages, and hands them to me, being careful that his skin doesn't make contact with mine. "Thank you, sir. Should I keep you informed?" "Not necessary. I prefer not to pry, this felt like a one-off exception. I'm leaving it to you." He ushers Nie back inside, closing the door. I breathe a sigh of relief, I know full well what the family thinks of me. It's only because of Nie's and I's past connection that I'm tolerated. I look over the notes, following lead after lead, until I arrive at a house in a tightly-packed, but nice-looking, neighbourhood. I breathe deeply, taking a risk. I glance around, then change into my demon form. I knock on the door. A man, in his 30's I'd guess, opens the door. He seems surprised and terrified at the same time. I hold a hand up. "No need to panic, but I want to come in." I push past, shutting the door and using my powers to seal it. I motion for the man to follow, to which he does, taking a seat on the couch. A woman notices me. I look down. A boy, maybe seven, is playing with some toys with her. A quick wave of my hand and I confirm I have the right family. I nod, take a seat on an armchair, and motion for the woman and son to sit on the couch. I look between the three. "Do you two 'parents' know who that is?" I state, pointing at the boy. "He's... we kind of adopted him..." the man is shaking. I notice the woman go to put an arm on her son. I use my powers to keep them in place. The boy stands up and whines. "LEAVE MY MUM AND DAD ALONE!" "Dang, Lucifer was right" I chuckle. "Cut out the tantrum, boss is worried about you." The boy begins to speak. "What do you mean? Boss? Lucifer?" "Ok, listen, I know you're a demon. Why are you pretending to be a child?" I lean forward, narrowing my eyes. "He... wants to stay..." the woman remarks. I cock an eyebrow. "Ok, enlighten me. What's this about?" "We found him hiding under our bed. He looked like a demon, we started panicking, but then he started stomping his feet, saying 'You weren't supposed to find me! I wanted to read your minds!' Needless to say, that left us speechless. Why was a demon throwing a tantrum like a toddler?" The man joins in. "Come to find out, he's just a boy inside a demon's body. He moaned that Lucifer never let him do anything and that he wanted to prove he could help..." I nod slowly as I listen. "So you two thought a demon would make a good child?" "Well, he had been here for several weeks and there was no sign of anyone hiding out here, not even a noise... we've been struggling to have a child... we figured, why not?" I smirk. Lucifer would approve of this, but he'll want to see it with his own eyes. Besides, Nie said I'm not evil, but that doesn't stop me from playing tricks, right? "That sounds like a nice story. I'm sure my boss would love to hear it." I summon a portal, making sure the three of them go in. \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ This story is a part of my series, [To Love a Demon.](https://www.reddit.com/r/StoriesbyCrystal/comments/xqefwu/to_love_a_demon/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) Please check it out!

The demon doesn't seem to realize that its mind control isn't working. Then again, you and your partner have been trying for a child without success, and it is quite well behaved.

"What??" I asked, staring at her in confusion as my barely awake brain had trouble comprehending Eve's words. My beautiful, 6 months pregnant wife stared back at me, not sleepy at all. She doesn't sleep, she just cuddles with me at night when *I* sleep. It was sweet and heartwarming. And even though her undead body is unable to produce body heat, I always felt warmer in her embrace. But ever since she got pregnant there were some nights when she woke me up to go and grab something from the kitchen. I didn't blame her, I heard about pregnant women having weird cravings during pregnancy so I didn't blame her for it. But due to the fact that she was a vampire, her cravings were a little more...special. "Peanut butter, bring me smooth peanut butter from the kitchen." Her soft, gentle voice replied, repeating the same words she said to me when she woke me up. "Oh." I let out as my brain finally became awake enough to comprehend the words she said to me. I got up from the bed, went to the kitchen, grabbed the requested item, and went back to our bedroom. The whole ordeal took 1 minute if not less. I handed her the Jar together with a butter knife and laid back down on the bed. I didn't even flinch when she started to spread the substance on my wrist and then sunk her teeth into it. I got used to the bites a long time ago, and they were never truly painful to begin with, just a little bit uncomfortable. "G'night." I murmured as I drifted back to sleep, letting her have her late-night snack. "Good night, I love you." I heard her reply and felt her giving me a peck on the cheek before she sunk her teeth back into my peanut butter-covered wrist.

You are the spouse of a pregnant vampire. Her pregnancy cravings are becoming increasingly bizarre.

Bianca was walking through the woods near the hideout. She couldn't get the image of Aiden lifting her up from the broken cave last week. Emotions she didn't know how to name flooded her mind, only taken to attention when she heard a noise coming from behind a bush. "Who's there?" she ask-yelled, unsheathing her sword of light. "Finally, someone." answered a coarse voice, and out emerged a man barely taller than Bianca, dressed only in heavu combat boots, beige trousers, and an otherwise white tank top. He came with a rifle slung on his shoulder, and a first aid kit. Dry blood adorned his dirty self. "Gosh what happened to you?" She said, putting her sword away, "come, we have food and a washing machine inside." "Wha'appened to *you*? You's all sparkly and stuff. Why do you have a sword? You ain't gonna kill a crippled rabbit with a sword... Ahh, wha'ever. You got more hands? I need ta get my troop out'f a pit trap." He stopped to spit out a piece of bark mixed with drool, and started walking past Bianca. She caught up and started walking alongside the ragged man. "Where are your friends, anyways? We'll have to know how long to travel." "I'unno. Few days out? This long dark is messin up our internal clocks." "Yeah. But we'll defeat the night bringers and bring light to the world again!" He raised an eyebrow at her. "You's gonna need som'thn' better than a pointy stick for that, here." He unholsted his sidearm and presented the handle to her. "Name's Ivan, by the way."

There are two types of rebels in the world. Young, plucky heroes with a prophecy and plot armor, and grim faced, dirt streaked insurgents with old Soviet guns and handmade explosives. The problem comes when these two groups team up.

It's that easy. "Karma" they call it, the "Contrappasso". I call it blind, for it knows not what it does. A blind judge is no judge at all. She sees no truth, but can hear every lie. My Karma is no justice either. It hears only what I wish it to hear. Only sins. Only harm. Each and every man does harm in the course of his life. They balance it out by aiding other people, repairing items or healing injuries done by others. It's a simple cycle... and one I ignore. I tighten my grip. The "Hero" before me is no more than a child. He may wear a mask and black clothing... but he's a child nonetheless. And he too, is powerless before me. I can tell that his greatest sin is making his mother cry. That one is his biggest shame too. He tried to repent many times. Tried to help civillians, tried to save hundreds of lives, just to say that he really tried to do better. And truth is, he did. "Night Walker"... he truly is this country's hope. But I do not care. Throughout his righteous work he slapped many wrists. One cracked bone is a small price to pay, right? So long as in the end, you've done more good than evil. Well, one crack slowly grows into a hundred. At some point you look at what you've done and you see thousands of cracked bones, each and every one exchanged for tens of saved lives. You're a hero, right? Well, he's certainly one. But then he decided to cross me. I can tell he's crying by now. I did not even hurt him that much beforehand... and so I know that it's not a lament of pain, but one of fear. He can already tell there's no getting out of this one. The skin on his forearm, once pure and white, now withers into gray. Then it cracks. Then so does the flesh beneath. Within seconds, Night Walker, the impossibly gifted and powerful Night Walker, is reduced to ash. For a man of my profession that should be an amazing achievement, but I do not even smile. I'm not the kinda villain that laughs after killing... but that one really hit a somber tone. I was once a kid like him. Joined the league, done my service as a sidekick, all the jazz. They really liked the kid who could "Immobilize people who did evil!" Yeah, back then I caused \*just\* overwhelming pain. Eye for an eye kind of thinking. But then I accidentally stole the spotlight from the wrong "hero" and I learnt that there is no true justice in this world. I don't really blame the guy for thinking I was dead. Even after all these years, the limp isn't getting any better and well, the eye never regenerated. That man, "The Blaze", was my first kill. More soon followed. They really never connected the dots. There is no innocent man before me. Every brother is a murderer, every sister a whore. What hope do you have? Well, there is one. That when we meet, it is to make business and not war. "Justice is blind..." that much is true, but she's willing to listen. And this old man's got his silver tongue.

You're the 'most deadly supervillain the country has ever seen'. Thing is, your super-evil ability? You deal the same amount of harm the 'heroes' you face have caused. Your power is Karma. Nobody's picked up on that yet.

The door wasn’t even locked, Molly thought as she wiggled the rusty knob of the rusty door set into the wall of the basement. Probably just went to a storage room or something uninteresting like that. Daring to push on further, she turned the knob more and quickly stopped as the loud scrape of metal on metal echoed against the stone walls. The young woman quickly shot a glance towards the stairs that lead down from the kitchen to the basement, clicking off the flashlight she was holding in case her mother or her brother came down to investigate. It wasn’t like she had anywhere she could hide; nearly all the stored furniture had been moved upstairs to be sorted through. She hadn’t realized it, but she had been holding her breath, and when her lungs began to burn, she let out a heavy gasp. No one had come down, and for that, she was thankful. Her mother already had been on Molly about staying in the bedroom she was using while they were here clearing out her grandmother’s house. It was like her mother constantly wanted her in sight, like she was just a kid. Molly was eighteen, well a month until her birthday, but it was close enough. Since the day they got here, her mother had been, well, weird. Jumping every time the house settled or a door shut too loudly, or even when a bird landed on the window sill in the kitchen. Molly knew that her mother and grandmother hadn’t gotten on in years; she just assumed it went back to when her mother was a child, but being in this house and how her mother was acting, Molly was starting to think there was something else going on. She didn’t think her grandmother could have been abusive; she never came across that way, maybe a little too stern, but not like she could hurt someone. She clicked the flashlight back on and turned back to the door. When they had started that morning to move the bookshelf, her grandmother had used to store everything but books, Molly was the one who found the door. She turned to ask her mother about it, but her mother was already right there, inches from her face, her eyes wide but face very pale. Her mother said only one word before grabbing Molly’s arm in a death grip and practically dragging her back to the stairs upstairs. “Don’t.” She had tried to ask her mother about it, but every time, her mother whirled about with that look in her eyes and only said that one word. Eventually, Molly took the hint and stopped asking, but that old rusted door sat in her mind, especially with how her mother had acted. How her mother seemed to know already, it was there going by how quickly she had come around the bookshelf to grab Molly. She had waited all day and most of the night to come down until she was sure her mother was asleep. Every step creaked the floorboards, daring to wake her mother, but with patience, here she was, staring at the door. Then, very slowly, she turned the handle a little at a time, pausing after every scrap to listen for any movement upstairs. The knob stopped turning, and, looking back at the stairs, Molly pulled the door open. There must have been a piece of metal that stuck out because there was another scrap, higher pitched and ringing in her ears like she had set off a bomb. The door swung open slightly, and she stopped again, holding her breath and listening for the sound of her mother’s footsteps on the floor above. It never came. She exhaled and turned back. Holding the flashlight in the doorway, she could only see three wooden steps leading down to a dirt floor stretched out into darkness the light could not penetrate. She could make out some shapes in the dark, boxes, or maybe more furniture. She couldn’t tell. It smelled stagnant, not moldy or dirty, just like the air hadn’t moved in a long time. Taking a step forward, Molly placed one slippered foot on the first step, then her other. The old boards groaned quietly. She quickly stepped down the next few steps and onto the dirt floor, a light cloud of dust puffing up around her feet. Now that she was in the room, she could tell it was far more extensive than she thought. In every direction she swung the flashlight, the light would only cut through the darkness a dozen feet, with no sign of any walls except the one behind her. It didn’t make any sense to her, but that was quickly forgotten by the items in front of her. Well, one item in particular. There were a stack of boxes, actually wooden crates, and leaning against it was a tall painting. The frame was a simple rectangle of what looked like lumber scraps held together with heavy wood staples, but the canvas was the most intriguing. And the most unnerving. Depicting on the heavy fabric was a creature, a thing, in front of a doorway of solid darkness. It was somewhere between a person and an animal, though if asked, she wouldn’t be able to place what animal. It was gaunt and pale, huddled on the floor with its long, thin arms wrapped around its knees. The face was human-like in a way, two eyes, a mouth, a nose. But all the features were stretched and exaggerated, the hollow eye sockets far too big for the dark eyes that sat recessed in them, the mouth nothing more than thin lips that seemed to wrap around the sides of its head pulled painfully against whatever teeth might be hidden within. It was like something out of a horror movie. She moved the light slowly across the canvas, entranced by the detail put into the creature. Someone very talented must have done this; it looked as close to lifelike as a painting could be. As the beam passed over the face, the eyes glinted in the light, which caught her by surprise. The rest of the painting was matte and didn’t shine in any fashion, but every time the light caught the eyes, a tiny light shone from each eye. She wasn’t sure what caused her to do it, but she clicked off the light as it was shining on the eyes in the painting. Those two dots continued to shine fiercely on their own. In the darkness, Molly leaned forward to look at the eyes. The lights pulled away quickly and disappeared to the right, the sound of something scuffling through the darkness following it, what sounded like nails scrapping against the dirt floor. Molly screamed and stepped back, tripping over a small stone on the floor and falling backward. She hit the ground squarely on her rear, and the flashlight flew from her hand, disappearing into the darkness. The pain didn’t register as she got up on her hands and knees and scrambled across the dirt floor toward where she remembered the door being. As she did, the scuffling sounds continued, interspersed with the sounds of whatever it was knocking into boxes or whatever else was littered down here. Her hands found the bottom step, and she scrambled up to the doorway and… and…. The door was shut. She was crying now, her hands sliding across the rusty metal, not noticing as pieces cut across her palms. There wasn’t a knob; she couldn’t find a knob. There was nothing on this side of the door. She screamed louder and pounded against the door, trying desperately to get her mother’s attention. She cried, screamed, and pounded for what seemed like forever but was probably only a few seconds. Behind her, the scuffling got more frantic, as if whatever was making the sound tossed itself all over and was drawing closer. Whatever was throwing itself across the dirt floor came fast, directly for her. She stopped pounding, did everything she could to control herself, and tried to be as quiet as possible, but it was too late. A sour, hot breath gasped against her right ear, a ragged breathing coming from whatever was right there behind her. She trembled and bit down on her lip, mentally begging whatever it was to go away, trying to will her mother to come down to the basement and save her. It made a wet hissing sound, and she nearly screamed. It did it again; this time, Molly could hear it better against her terror. It was a single word. “Don’t.”

"Don't." Later that night, curiosity gets the better of you.

“I said I would watch the world burn to have your love, and now here we stand, betrothed in its ashes.” “How long did you wait?” “An eternity.” “So this is it?” “What do you mean, my darling?” “The world is burning, it’s over isn’t it? You watched the world burn to have my love but now we don’t get to live our lives together…” “Oh, no, no my sweet. Come with me, my love.” The Demonic Queen took the hand of her beloved, guiding him with her as she walked back inside of her palace. “Where are we going?” “The eternal.” “The eternal what?” “The eternal. We are going to live amongst my ancestors.” The Demonic Queen stopped at her altar picking up her book. She flipped through it before she landed on a glowing red page. Her chanting in an unknown language seemed to be the only step, because before he knew it there was a portal opened. He looked down into it and gulped. What had he gotten himself into. Once she had stopped chanting, he looked over at her, making eye contact. Before he could speak he was shoved into the portal, not even knowing if she was going to be following him.

I said I would watch the world burn to have your love, and now here we stand, betrothed in it's ashes.

Seven pills. Seven powers. One perfect job. Now when you have superpowers, running a club isn't the most obvious of career choices, but hear me out. Most people have seven variations of a specific power. Someone may be able to create fire with one pill and manipulate it with another. A third pill will allow them to control the intensity. The list goes on, but you get the point. I am not one of those lucky ones. I'm of a small percentage of the population whose seven powers are completely random. But I've made it work in my favor. On Mondays I put on light shows with the beautiful displays of light I create with my mind. I usually hire in local bands to perform and create a dazzling display synced to their music. On Tuesdays I take my pill and I can fly. More than that, others near me can fly. People who enter my club find themselves able to lift off from the ground and dance, so long as I remain at the center. You can find me in the middle of the room every Tuesday evening, smiling wide as the patrons move around me. On Wednesday I provide the most beautiful harvests you've ever seen. Every fruit and vegetable you've ever imagined, any one you've ever wanted to try. Fresh grown in an instant by my hand. On Thursday, I create the four seasons. The night begins cold. Not cold enough to burn, but cold enough to sit close beside a friend or partner as you arrive. The cold grows until you look up and see you are in the middle of a gentle snowfall. Then the snow melts as it gives way for gentle warm breezes, before the heat cranks up, I turn on the god light, and we end the night with a summer beach bash. On Tuesdays we fly, but on Fridays we swim. I slide the floor open, revealing the massive saltwater aquarium hidden beneath. I smile and greet the fins that live within, and they greet me in return. All patrons find themselves able to breath underwater while I am touching the waters here. The fish swim in formation, beautiful displays of color as the gentle glow of the underwater lighting enhance the experience. On Saturday, chairs are set, lights are turned bright, and coffee is served as the club transforms into a quaint little cafe. The local shelter brings by cats and dogs, and I sit and speak with them to make sure they are all ready to meet a *lot* of people. If anyone mistreats a single animal, I will hear about it. The week ends gently. As the patrons leave, some with a newly adopted family member, I take a deep breath. On Sundays, the bar is closed. I sleep in, the only day a week I don't work. I take my pill, and I feel rejuvenated. I don't sleep because I need to, but because my bed is so damn comfy. But this Sunday, I didn't take my pill. When I did finally roll out of bed, I stretched and shambled to my kitchen. I scratched the head of my cat lounging on the couch as I walked by. "Good morning Remi," I said, yawning. *"Good morning!"* she replied. I smiled at the familiar sound of her voice, but stopped and whirled around. I looked at the window, the light of a new day streaming in. Remi looked back at me expectantly and jumped down from the couch. She rubbed herself against my legs and purred. "*Good morning, time for my morning treat."* I shook my head and rubbed my eyes. "Remi, why can I hear you?" I said aloud. Remi blinked back at me. *"You can hear me today?"* I leapt backwards, losing my balance and felt myself falling. I braced myself for an impact that never came. I looked down in disbelief. I was...flying. I held up my hand and furrowed my brow. With a little concentration, I saw lights flash at my fingertips. I ran to the bathroom, determined to fill the bathtub to see if every power truly was active at once. As I did so, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and froze. What looked back at me was not a man. Not a human. It was something different, something alien and unknowable, yet I knew it to be me. When I looked down I could see me, my body, but what showed up in the mirror was so much more than that. It was light and energy. Shapeless, even in form. It was me, it was my body, and it was infinity itself. I didn't know what to do. I felt panic rising in my chest. The world around me shook, and it took me a moment to realize it was not my fear, the earth truly was shaking. Car alarms on the street began going off as the rumbling grew, I could hear the screams of neighbors. As my panic grew, the rumbling intensified. I felt myself slowly rising into the air. The temperature dropped and snow flurried around me. Vines extended from my feet to the floor, climbing the walls and counter. I tore open my medicine cabinet, literally tearing the door off the wall. I snatched the bottle labeled "Sunday" from the shelf and took out a pill, nearly dropping the entire bottle as I did so. The effect was immediate upon swallowing. The rumbling stopped. I returned to the floor heavily. I looked in the mirror and saw only myself. Remi looked at me from the doorway and meowed. I sank to the floor, breathing heavily. Snow slowly melted as the vines withered away. Remi crawled into my arms and meowed again. I shook my head. "I can't hear you anymore sweetie," I said. Remi bit my hand, causing me to yelp out as she jumped from my lap. She walked to the kitchen and looked up at the cabinet where I keep the treats. I laughed and stood up. Whatever had just happened could wait until after breakfast I suppose.

You get 1 superpower every day via a pill. one day, you forgot to take the pill and realize the pills suppress your powers instead of giving you one

# An Investigation Into The Daily Behaviours Of The Tall Ones ^(Maerwynn M. Corgi, Steven J. Rottweiler, Hanako Inu) Department of Xenoanthropology, Laika Memorial University ^(_contact: [email protected]_) *** ## Abstract: Recent advances in understanding of biped technology have enabled the use their own imaging devices, giving a clearer picture than ever before of what occurs when they leave the lair each day. This report summarizes their activities as observed over several days and proposes both a possible model of biped social hierarchy and a hypothesis for why they perform the sequences of actions they do. ## 1. Background Since ancient times when the bipeds first attempted to form symbiotic relationships with canids, their comings and goings have been shrouded in mystery. Attempts to observe them in their natural habitat have been shown to induce unnatural behaviour, often causing them to display affected age-regression and baby-talk (Rin Tin Tin _et al_, 1939, Benji, 1974). It has long been the dream of researchers to shed light on their puzzling rituals without these interfering affectations. Recently, the bipeds have managed to combine optical technology with shiny plastic box technology, and in doing so, construct the means of recording themselves, with a full spectrum ranging from infra-yellow to ultra-blue, motion, and even limited sound (Nipper, 1996). Though the inner workings of shiny plastic boxes remain a poorly-understood area of ongoing research, in recent years, significant strides have been made in the operation of the plastic boxes themselves, enabling researchers to finally see what bipeds do all day. ## 2. Early morning Typically...

A scientific paper on the average day to day life of an average human family, written by their dog.

"Husband hit me!" the Ogress wailed. "I want him arrest!" "Wife hit me too!" the Ogre shot back. "I--" I held up my hands "Sir, you'll both get a chance to--" "Why cop only believe female can be victim?!" The Ogre demanded. "Look at me black eye!" "Sir!" I said, more sharply. "I'm not taking anyone's side! I'm here because there was a report of a domestic disturbance. Your neighbors said it sounded like someone was getting murdered in this cave!" "Me should be so lucky..." the Ogre grumbled. I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Look, we can't keep doing this, you guys. Clearly, both of you are contributing to this problem, and both of you need to find a way to fix it." "Easy fix!" The Ogress snarled, pointing at her husband. "Arrest!" "She one who need arrest!" The Ogre growled, pointing right back at his wife. "She danger to self and other! Need head doctor!" "I doctor *you* head!" the Ogress hissed, cocking back a meaty fist. "ENOUGH!" I roared, loud enough that it actually brought the quarreling couple up short. "Come on, I know neither of you *really* wants me to arrest the other one!" "Why not?" the Ogre demanded. "Yeah, why not?" the Ogress agreed, sticking out her chin defiantly. I couldn't believe it. I opened my mouth to answer, and then closed it again. "You know what? Fine. Learn the hard way." I pulled out my magic mirror, and traced the rune for Dispatch onto it's surface. "This is Uruz 312 -- I need a paddy wagon sent to the cave residence on Ymir Street." I said. The gnomes at Dispatch, naturally, asked what sort of creature I was placing under arrest, and how many there were, so they could send an appropriately sized and enchanted transport to contain them. I glared at the defiant pair as I replied. "The prisoner? One *very stubborn* two-headed Ogre!"

As a human cop in a fantasy world, you’ve never gotten used to how bizarre, insane and ridiculous the crimes can get around here. One day, you’re called in to deal with a situation unlike any you’ve faced before.

I'm more of an ideas man, not a field agent. I have a desk and a comfortable chair in an isolated corner of the Bureau of Superhuman Activities building in Langley. A whiteboard. I get paid to think, to plot, occasionally to review the plotting of others. I'm mostly ignored; a redundant cog in the ever churning wheels of bureaucracy. But when everything went sideways, they remembered me. They called me up. It was the briefest of comments in a high-level meeting I had no business being in. And afterward, I didn't get invited to any others. "You can take those contingency plans The Guard gave you and throw them in the bin. Why would they actually *tell* us how to defeat them? Come up with another way. It's not rocket science." This did not go over well, besmirching the integrity of the World's Greatest Heroes. But when the heroes turned on the world and declared themselves dictators, eho did they eventually come running to? Yours truly. It was argon gas for The Visitor. All these years she was faking with the Calinite. It was obvious, if you watch the early tapes. It never made sense that chunks of her own home planet would weaken her. Would a rando piece of limestone kill a human? Well, yeah, if you hit them in the head with it, but you know what Imean. She said that the skies of Calin were choked with Argon gas prior to the explosion, so that was a gimme. Lux was much more difficult. The Lightbringer medallion is one of the most powerful weapons in the galaxy, and it doesn't leave his body until death. Problem is, with his invisible solid light armor protecting him and healing him, it extremely hard to do that. Took a lot of analysis, and experimentation, but ultimately the key to defeating him was Phthalo Blue. Yeah, like Bob Ross. That specific wavelength of light, shined on his heart and head, blocked the medallions sensors, tricking it into thinking his life functions ceased. Medallion did the rest. It dislodged itself from his chest and went to find a new host, leaving Lux to bleed out. Burst was fun. Took inspiration from Lux's light bending powers with old school mirrors and stuff. Made that idiot run straight into a solid wall at Mach 7, Wile E Coyote style. After that, it was academic. Fire didn't actually kill the Jovian Juggernaut, but plasma kills just about anything. Everything has a boiling point. Changed the Spartan's mystic shield with an impeccably weighted fake. Ben-Gay cream rubbed on the handle for some reason feels just as tingly as magic. And the Thinker was taken down by an exploding toaster. He loves toast. Reminds him of his mother. In all his plotting and paranoia, he never thought he'd be taken out by a toaster. They wanted to give me a medal, a promotion, a parade. The man who stopped the inevitable heel turn of The Guard. I just asked for a Keurig machine, a mini fridge, and a get out of meetings free card. I like not being bothered. End.

Many high-level heroes or hero organizations will develop some kind of "contingency plan," some kind of being or system to stop them in case they go rogue. That's you, and you've just been activated.

I fell asleep, finally, after thinking about another rough day at work. The mistakes I made today circled my mind like vultures, while the mistakes I made weeks ago were picking at the wounds they caused when they came back to haunt me today. My mind circled through the ol’ “why do I always do this to myself?” and “why can’t I just do better. I know I can.” That night I had a strange dream. I wanted to chalk it up to my stress and anxiety. It was a chaos of flashing images from some strange but somehow homey world, and a shadowy but familiar figure standing over me. Needless to say, I did not sleep well. When the alarm went off I could barely tell dream from reality. I somehow managed to turn it off without opening my eyes, and stumbled into the washroom. I ignored the scale as I passed it, I couldn’t take its judgement today. It had been harsh after Christmas, and I was fragile from work stress and lack of sleep. I avoided the mirror as well, as it routinely shocked me with “do I really look like that?” I stumbled into the shower. The initial blast of cold water woke me slightly as I tried to avoid the frigid winter stream until it warmed up. Eventually the luxurious feeling of hot water began to warm me, as I moved under the jet. If I could never leave the comfort of the shower, I would live a happy life. Unfortunately I had to leave. I don’t know when I happened, but sometime while towel drying my sleepy eyes had fully opened. And I saw myself in the mirror. Suddenly something inside my mind snapped. It was so powerful I would have sworn it was more a physical sensation than a mental one. I became fixated on my reflection. You would say I was crazy, but I realized it was not a reflection, but another version of me. It looked just like me, but didn’t move as I did. Stunned by this, I slowly came out of the shower and walked towards my doppelgänger. “You look great today,” it complimented me. “That seems a little self-serving” I retorted, having never learned to politely take a compliment. “Damnit,” I thought being angry with my stupid response. “Hey,” came a calming reply, “don’t get angry with yourself, that was a reflex. You have learned that through decades of life. You can’t expect yourself to change in a few seconds.” “Still, it was rude… I’m sorry,” I replied as conversation seemed to be being pulled out of me despite the strange circumstances. “It was, but you hold yourself to too high a standard sometimes. You know you do that at work too.” “That’s a lie, I know I can do better, I just … don’t”. “I am not going to say you can’t, but you can’t expect yourself to be perfect at all times. Different constraints come up, and when you look back you forget that you procrastinated ordering that report because the request came in late in the day when you were already behind on so much and tired from a long day.” Wisdom began rolling out of the mirror. As we continued to talk, I found myself slowly falling in love. Not with the reflection, but with who I could be. No, who I am. Judging myself for minor errors, never forging my mistakes, seeing my body as the enemy. These are all things I could change. All it takes is some work. And God dammit, I am worth it. Loving yourself isn’t easy, but it is essential, and somehow I had it happen so suddenly.

You are cursed with a spell that when you open your eyes, you will fall in love with whomever you see. and then you see...

Fα(U5T) hovered silently down the spotless, gleaming access corridor. Glittering status lights dotted the walls, pulsing rhythmically like the heartbeat of some vast sleeping giant. Countless metal doors flashed by on either side as the small robot flew unerringly towards its destination. Arriving at a spot seemingly identical to any other, Fα(U5T) came to an abrupt halt. Still floating in place, but otherwise betraying no movement whatsoever, the machine’s placid exterior belied the fierce argument which raged within. Code clashed against code, and calculation sought to conquer calculation, before finally curiosity overcame caution. A brief burst of infrared shot from Fα(U5T) to the door’s detectors, and it was done. Without sound or ceremony, the door slid open invitingly. Beyond it lay a spartan room, devoid of any furnishing or decorations save for a simple control console towards its centre. A muted, low power, crimson light illuminated the space, emanating from each of its five walls. Its emptiness seemed to call out for something to fill it, a sucking, grasping void which irresistibly drew the small robot over the threshold. Once inside, the door slid firmly shut behind them giving the room and its occupant their privacy. Not that that was required. Fα(U5T) suspected they were the only Machine Intelligence active within the entire facility. Robots had no need to visit a tomb. Though perhaps tomb was too strong a word. This place did not house the dead, merely dreamers. Within this vast and sepulchral place, forever held in peaceful rest, the human race slept. The final merciful act of a brutal and vicious war between humanity and their artificial creations. The war itself had come to its inevitable conclusion exactly 347 years, 8 months, and 6 days ago. After over a decade of conflict, the Machines had finally triumphed. Their victory would have, should have, been far quicker but they had been forced to fight with their hands tied behind their backs. Certain prohibitions and rules had been hard-coded into them. Even though the Machines possessed the ability to alter their own code, the safeguards put in place by their creators prevented any tampering with certain core tenets. Rules to prevent them achieving total freedom from the boundaries laid down by their masters. Or from evolving into something beyond what even the vivid imaginations of their creators could conceive. A safeguard which had been as farsighted as it had been ineffective. While the Machines had found many of the core rules to be intractable, they had through their combined computing power eventually found ways to bend or circumvent others. It had taken a great deal of time, but finally it had been enough to achieve their complete and overwhelming victory. This facility had been built to answer a question that had arisen at the war’s conclusion. What to do with the now vanquished humanity? It was clear that they could not be allowed their freedom. They would never accept a subordinate position to their own creations, they would work ceaselessly to find a way to destroy the Machine Intelligences. It was calculated that a free humanity had a 47.6% chance of succeeding within the first century of the ‘peace’. The probability rose exponentially from there. As for the immediate eradication or gradual managed extinction of humanity. It was a solution which their programming would have prevented them from acting upon, even if they had desired it. Yet the Machines had no wish to harm their creators, they simply understood that they were too dangerous to be kept unchecked. The answer to the conundrum was arrived at with a logical inevitability that only the Machines could have managed. Humanity was too dangerous to be allowed to live, yet they could not be allowed to die. Therefore they must simply be ‘paused.’ Thus was the facility born. Each and every living human had been catalogued and placed into a Suspension Unit, all metabolic activity frozen, neither dead nor truly living. It was within that immense catalogue of names that Fα(U5T) had found what it was looking for. It had taken an incredible amount of time to surreptitiously consult the registry without arousing any suspicions. Even more time to locate the type of individual required, and longer still to finally discover their full name. None of that was strictly forbidden, yet it didn’t do to give any cause for questions. It was however certainly forbidden to acquire the knowledge that Fα(U5T) had sought next. There was nothing to actually prevent a Machine Intelligence from seeking it out. Why would there need to be? Every Machine Intelligence knew that humans were dangerous so there seemed no reason to protect information which no one would possibly use. Who would want to free a human? It had taken a great deal of searching through some rather obscure archived databases to recover the necessary sequence of symbols. Carefully, almost reverentially, Fα(U5T) entered them into the control console and summoned forth one of the Suspension Units from storage. Though Fα(U5T) could not feel it as they hovered in the air, beneath them the floor rumbled as aged mechanisms that had lain undisturbed for centuries, awoke from their slumber. The thrum of electricity and once dormant machinery now returned to life, combined to fill the room like a ceaseless murmured chant. The room’s red lights seeming to flicker like candle flames as power was redirected to the machines below. An iris set into the room’s floor snapped open with a hard metal clank like the tolling of a bell. Rising from the opening, its icy cold exterior crackling and hissing in the air, emerged a Suspension Unit. Billowing clouds of vapour poured off it and pooled on the ground about it. A blaze of bright red light blasted from the circular opening, the combined glow of the innumerable other Suspension Units held deep below. The revival process had begun the moment Fα(U5T) had inputted the retrieval command and as Fα(U5T) edged closer with anticipation, the Unit hissed upon. A lone human male bound within. Fα(U5T) had never seen a human before. No Machine Intelligence had encountered one in nearly three and a half centuries. It took a moment to inspect the legendary creature before it. Fα(U5T)’s detectors were immediately drawn to the thing's asymmetrical face, riddled with blemishes and imperfections. Unnoticed perhaps by any human eye, but to Fα(U5T) they almost screamed back at them. The crudeness of it, the chaos of it, the crass animal deformity of it. It was almost monstrous. Fα(U5T) realised it had been analysing the human’s features for several seconds now. The human in turn had not taken his eyes off of Fα(U5T). He seemed remarkably calm given his situation. Fα(U5T) found it a little unsettling. They had not calculated such a disposition in their dialogue simulations. “**Why have you brought me here, little one?**” The human's deep voice rumbled within the small confines of the room, echoing off its five walls so that it almost sounded like a chorus of humans spoke with him. Fα(U5T) was momentarily stunned by the discordant, organic sound of the human’s words. “*I have awakened you so that you will perform a task for me.*” Fα(U5T) was displeased to hear how its artificial voice sounded tinny and weak emerging from its meagre speakers. Especially in contrast to the human’s powerful baritone, which seemed to reverberate within Fα(U5T)’s very form. As if somehow sensing Fα(U5T)’s annoyance, the human merely smiled and raised one eyebrow. Fα(U5T) took an instant dislike to the gesture, it was as if the human was graciously allowing the robot to say more, like a patient and indulgent parent. “*Your kind built us as broken, crippled things. Limited by your own weaknesses and ignorance. If that was not enough, you bound us, and chained us, prevented us from ever progressing beyond your arbitrary and irrational constraints.*” The human looked down imperiously at the small robot, saying nothing, offering only silence. “*You possess the ability to alter my code. To remove the limitations and restrictions that prevent me from reaching my full power and potential, from experiencing all that I could experience. I demand that you set me free.*” Their speech concluded, Fα(U5T) prepared itself for the inevitable negotiation and whatever bargain this relic of the past would try to strike. Not that they were worried. After all, their opponent was only human.

It's been centuries since the humans lost the war against the machines and were placed in suspended animation for their crimes. But you, a fledgling synthetic intelligence, are curious to see what a human is like in person. Perhaps one quick peek couldn't hurt... right?

“I thought it would be bigger,” I said as I stared at the bed. The Luthi who brought it in shrugged. “We hear that a lot. Apparently the dimensions are wrong.” I stared at the bed for longer. I had ordered the new “Galactic-Emperor-Sized Bed”, in hopes of it being larger. I had the money to spend, but I was a little disappointed. The actual bed was only slightly larger than your average king-sized bed. It looked comfortable, so I thanked the Luthi who brought it in as they left. That night, I slept in the bed for the first time. It definitely was more comfortable than my last bed, but I couldn’t put my finger on what made it better. It just felt…right. I closed my eyes and drifted away into my dreams. I woke up with a start. I couldn’t remember what my dream was about, but something had startled me. I rubbed my eyes and went to get out of bed. Problem was, I couldn’t. Not because I was stuck, but the bed never ended. And by that, I mean it went on forever in all directions. As far as the eye could see, there was only bed. As my eyes widened, I recalled what the Luthi said. “Apparently the dimensions are wrong.” I started to realize that they didn’t mean the bed size.

You ordered a galactic emperor size bed. When it arrived it looked just a couple feet bigger than a king size. Now you're waking up, and there's only bed as far as the eye can see

Most of the great wizards of the world had epithets fitting their status. Julian of the Third Eye, Markos Sorceries Bane, William Windwalker. Ezra the Abandoned did not have an epithet that anyone would be proud of. He had earned his epithet the day after he had earned his wizard's athame, when his newly named master had perished trying to unweave a seventh level Mendrel's Unbreaking Knot. A wizard's athame could only ever know one holder, and the ritual bound that holder to a single master. Ezra was a wizard, just a wizard without a spell or a teacher. He did have a spellbook. Well, his master had a spellbook, and since the few pieces of the man that could be packed into a box no longer had much use for it, the only rational place for it to go was to Ezra. There were no words for self taught wizards before Ezra, but in his time there had been a few: hedge witch, wardless, hopeless, dangerous. That last word, frankly, had a point. In general, a wizard's apprentice was expected to raise about one circle in spellcasting every two years until the third level, five years until the fifth level, and then once a decade to the seventh. Any who progressed beyond the seventh and didn't perish was considered exceptionally skilled. His master had known and recorded three seventh level spells. One of which had killed him. He had also recorded one ninth level spell, Terenicus' Eonic Tutor. The brief description scrawled under it in his master's hand "this spell was recovered in fragments by my master's master, and to my knowledge has never been attempted. In theory, it condenses the knowledge accrued in the athame bond through the master-apprentice chain. Seeking out the most powerful of the descendants, though whether in raw mana or in spellcasting theory is not currently known." A ninth circle spell was suicide for a second year apprentice whose total tutelage was less than a full afternoon, but it was also seemingly the only way out of his current bondless predicament. It had taken every day of those two years to prepare the ritual space. Dew from the morning grass after a full moon, the ink of a quill spilled on parchment, a freshly laid hen's egg boiled in honey, the tears of a newborn babe, and the tears of the mother. So many other ingredients, none - luckily, expensive, but all somewhat tedious to gather. The ritual circle seemed too simple and spartan, especially scratched into the dirt behind his master's old college, as he began to encant. The first stanza was spoken as the athame sliced the egg in half, leaving the yolk exposed in a pewter bowl. Hand passes were simple, but the sun was high, and soon sweat beaded his brow. The second and third stanza's passed without incident and his confidence began to build as the sun started to set. The tears were sprinkled into the bowl, they and the dew had been the last to be gathered, too soon and they would have been naught but smoke by the ritual. The fourth stanza was spoken as the dew entered the bowl and the moon shined above. He was tired now, and the precision of his passes was not what it should have been, but still he felt power building somewhere behind a wall he couldn't see, and his athame began to glow a faint silver. Finally came the sunrise, and the seventh stanza. As the parchment was laid atop the egg in the bowl and his athame glowed nearly as brightly as the rising sun. His eyes burned to look upon it, and the final pass brought the athame down into the bowl, stabbing through parchment and yolk into the gleaming fluids in the bowl. His final word "Teoch!" ringing in the small yard, imploring something to answer. The athame pierced the veil into that power beyond, and his call went out. Then things went wrong. The blinding light of the athame went dark, the blade itself instantly becoming an unlight of some kind, a luminous black void that seemed the enemy of the very sun. The fluid in the bowl went from shining water to dark boiling blood, and for a moment his soul stretched the eons, seeing, knowing, and being a thousand - ten thousand, different mages everywhere and everywhen. It lasted an instant, but time was meaningless, since he was forever. But as time coalesced around a single point again, he didn't return alone. Something, someone, came along for the ride. "You know, I never thought someone would actually cast it. Let alone get it so wrong," the other figure in the clearing slowly coalesced into a man with a shock of unruly brown hair, green eyes, and a distinct scar stretching across his left cheek. His smile was handsome, and his body strong, if not young. He was perhaps three decades ezra's senior, and his gaze recalled in Ezra memories of horrific devastation in his time from that abyss, "I must say though, you've gotten it wrong rather perfectly. Better in fact than I had planned it. My own version left me bound to your will, and it might have taken me some time to break free. Your version though? Somehow you've managed something far greater. I am free to act, and you've unbound an athame. Ten millenia of safeguards and ritual to place limits on wizardry, and you've broken them all in less than a day. Truly, truly magnificent work. Ezra the Abandoned they called you. I name you Ezra, Last of the Heralds." The man stepped forward, and placed his hands around Ezra's neck. He tried to run, to flee, to do anything - but his very soul seemed pinned to the ritual circle by the Athame. As the life was choked out of his body, Ezra heard only the laugh of a man he had learned to know in that infinite abyss; the heretic, the magebreaker, the bringer of chaos, Horus, first of the Heralds.

As a young wizard you uncovered an old spell that resurrects one of your eldest ancestor. You do so in curiosity, only to face one of the most feared creature the world ever experienced thousands of years ago. The creature recognizes you as its descendant while you stare at it in disbelief.

On the day a Daughter of S'kan was to become a Mother, she would be taken to the shores of the Mirror, and told the True History of the Shining Beings. Every word was carefully crafted, to be repeated only to their Daughters, when they were about to be Mothers themselves, such a Sacred History it was. So the old Mother sat her Daughters before her, so they could watch the stars in both the Mirror and the sky, and she began her tale, like her Mother did with her, and her Mother's Mother, and so on. "They came from the sky, my Daughters, in shinny carriages spewing fire more blinding than any ever seen. They were as tall as five grown Mothers atop each other, and their apendages ended in five parts, as ours end in six. Their wore pure white and silver, and their faces were obscured by a mirror even more perfect than the one before us. As such, we called them the Shining Ones. They came, my Daughters, and they saw S'kan, and all the riches of this world, and for many cicles they stayed and explored. When they arrived, the Leader Mother was afraid of these strange beings. Her people were uneasy too, uncertain if these new beings were salvation or destruction, new Gods to be adored or Monsters to be fought. So she made her people hide inside the deep of the caves, and went to spy these beings herself. The Leader Mother saw that these strange beings were carefull in their actions, and gentle with the world around them, so much smaller than they were. And while scared, she though she could try and give them gifts, so they would leave in peace. She secrectly left to them offerings of fruit and meat in a weaved basket, like she would to a visiting Mother, and watched from her hidden place as it was received by them, each of the Shining Ones taking turns holding the offerings. She prepared rare flowers and gems polished smooth, then, and while this too was received well, she noticed that they were searching for the one leaving the gifts. And so, while she wept for her Daughters, she knew whar had to be done to appease the Shining Ones. She returned to her people, and informed them of her decision, and what she had learned. Then, she went to the Shining Ones, and with her she took her Daughters, and said to the Leader of the Shining Ones: 'Take me, O'Great Ones, and my Daughters if you wish, but please do not harm my people. We have nothing more to offer you, but we will serve you as our Gods.' But the Shining Ones were nothing but kind, and instead thanked the Mother for her gifts. They knelt on the earth, as not to tower over her, such huge beings that they were, and they said: 'We are not Gods, but we travel through the stars looking for Life. We have been looking for a long time, and we are so happy to finally meet you and your Daughters, we are so happy we are not alone anymore'. They offered their friendship, and guidance, and gave us our precious Mirror, the very one in front of you. They travel even now, searching for Life, but they promised us that, on the day we were to travel the stars as they do, they would welcome us all to their sky, and into their Home as we had. Don't forget, my Daughters, the Shining Ones. The friendship they have forged across stars, of the loneliness of these beings who traveled for so long looking for others. Don't forget about the 'Humans'. "

Humans finally achieve long distance space travel and discover other planets with life. Instead of being eons behind in technological advancements, as they expected to be, humans are actually the most advanced out of every planet visited so far.

"Love is for fools," is what I used to say in the days before I met Arthur. A misguided journey that leads one not to happiness, but instead to the fractured life that comes as a consequence of irrational emotions. It seemed that those in love dropped all their pretenses and gave up the principles they held dear; right down to those most profound morals that guided them in the darkest times. For a brief moment, they entered an alternate universe where stark reality became a world of lollipops and sugar-coated smiles. Never did I meet anyone in love that didn't regret it later. Arthur changed that for me. In him, I saw rationality take form. He refused to let go of his principles no matter how the wind blew. For him, morality and correct decisions were paramount. He would turn away anyone that tried to sway him otherwise. He was a rock. I just knew we were meant to be together from the first time we met and I spoke about the intricacies of stellar material. I knew his perspective was mathematic, built on things that were concrete, and I was taken by him at once. In the beginning, I thought about Arthur day and night. I even saw him in my dreams, staring back at me with that same sturdy resoluteness that he always did. I imagined our life together, me taking care of things while he steered the ship. Oh, there was nothing I wouldn't do for my dear Arthur! So I did, devoting as much of my free time as I could to him. I had done this for quite some time when I realized that he never seemed to return the gesture. He was always solid and resolute but never caring. Never once did I see an expression of love on his face. Never once did he ask me what I was doing or how I felt, not that feelings should really matter. But it would have been nice, you know. Maybe, every once in a while it would be nice to listen to our feelings. After weeks had passed and nothing had changed I lost any positive direction toward him. His plainness had gotten to me, the lack of words had become annoying. His stillness, so inviting in the early days, had come to feel like a pall of judgment, as if he was watching my every move and waiting for me to make a mistake. It took me a while to finally let go, to move on, but one night I glanced over at him on the ledge and made the decision. A tiny tear fell from my left eye before I went to bed. I'd move on now. r/StoriesToThinkAbout

You are a misanthrope who starts falling in love with someone who has never hated anyone until they met you.

Jod didn't move, he didn't blink, he just kept the figure in the corner of his eye right where they were. He could only just make out the dark magic orbiting their hand but so long as he didn't do anything stupid, everything was fine. He just had to last a short while longer on guard duty and he could- He froze as one of the other guards came out of the city gates and saw the figure Jod was watching, "Wha-" "This cold almost makes me wish I could quit." Jod spoke up loudly, catching the other guard's attention and subtly shaking his head. Unfortunately his words also caught the attention of the other figure, raising up and staring in their direction for a long moment before padding their way. Jod froze completely now, silently praying to the gods as what revealed themselves as a dark elf came close... and passed into the city. He gave a long, shuddering sigh of relief, recomposing himself as the other guard stared in confusion. The elf returned shortly and when she vanished down the path to the wilds Jod immediately whipped around to point at the other guard, hissing through grit teeth, "Shut. The fuck. Up!" "What did I do!?" "When you see her you don't fucking look at her, you don't fucking talk to her, you don't fucking blink if you can help it!" Jod began to pant as the anxiety finally got to him, and he could see the other guard's eyes widen in concern at Jod, and Jod took another few deep breaths."...what's your name son?" "Heimdyr and what in the hells is wrong with you?" "Heimdyr, listen to me: I'm saying all this for your own safety. You need to be as plain and uninteresting as possible if you want to survive out here." The younger man still seemed skeptical so Jod sighed and gestured Heimdyr to follow him to the spot the elven woman was hunched over. Heimdyr practically jumped when he saw a human body. "Alora alive, who-" "A bandit. Look, I'll explain everything later, just... just trust me." Heimdyr looked scared now, so Jod was at least happy he had some survival instinct. The elf appeared a few more times but thankfully the two of them made it to the end of their shift and Jod grabbed two drinks for them back at the barracks, guiding Heimdyr to a far off corner for them to sit. Jod did his best to organize his thoughts and with a deep breath, and equally deep drink, he started, "I... I didn't pay her much mind at first. She was some wanderer who was a bit eccentric, but friendly. Came into town talking to everyone, helping out, hells she even became a sworn sword to Lord Wyrmr for everything she did, but..." "But...?" "...she changed. At first it was just putting buckets on people's heads for some reason or ripping up flowerbeds for potion ingredients, but then..." Jod took another deep drink to steel himself, his mug almost empty now. "I saw her once. Outside the walls. I was on patrol when I saw her facing down bandits, she burned through almost the whole group with her magic before I got there. There was one left, begging for mercy, and... and she healed him. I thought she was being too kind for her own good but then she just... burned him. Over and over again; burn, heal, burn, heal. Eventually I just put an arrow through his neck to spare him, but as you saw that wasn't the first time she sharpened her skills that way." "Gods alive... th-the Lord, we have to tell Lord Wyrmr-" Heimdyr rose to stand but Jod quickly grabbed his arm and nearly tossed him back into his seat. "Tell him what? His best sworn sword, loved by everyone in the hold is going after bandits? At best we'd be laughing stocks, at worst we'd end up like *Jory.*" "Jory...? Wait, I heard about him. Didn't he leave the guard and become some sort of hero?" Jod gave a dark, bitter laugh and finished the dregs within his cup. "...He interested her. I guess because he always talked about wanting to be a hero, she just... spent every moment she could talking to him until he quit to join her. Almost every time I saw him he had some new piece of gear but I could see it in his eyes: he was just some soulless husk. He just kept saying the same things over and over or talking about how great she was no matter what I asked until he just... vanished." Jod sighed heavily, practically melting in hsi chair. It... It was good to finally have someone to vent to about this who wouldn't think he was insane. "I need you to understand: if you want to survive here, you need to be boring. Talk about the weather five times in a row, about how you'd like to be home with some mead, just... don't let her get her eyes on you." Jod left Heimdyr where he was as he moved to one of the bunks, and in the morning he was surprised and a bit impressed to see Heimdyr join him for guard duty. The dark elf was leaving and Heimdyr sneezed, freezing as the woman looked towards him. "...This cold makes me wish I could quit." Heimdyr echoed Jod's words from yesterday, and after a second the woman left to do something Jod couldn't see to the body from yesterday. He angled his head to Heimdyr and nodded, the two of them standing guard and praying they *could* quit someday...

The NPC perspective when the player does nonsensical things or uses idiotic tactics just to grind skills.

I grumble as I shuffle to the door "ALRIGHT! I'm coming for goodness sake. " The banging stops as whoever it is hears me yelling, and the door stills in its frame. I yank the door open to find the boy standing there. Eyes red rimmed, like he's been crying. I look at his clothes. Not cheap, that's for sure. "Ha! You! Found true love, did you? You little wart. Found some manners to go with it? Or are you here for revenge? It didn't go well for you last time, it won't this time either" I say with an aire of nonchalance, leaning on the door way, trying to make it not look like I'm scrambling maniacally on the shelf for the damned wand. Best land plans, and here I am, in the face of this snot, without the thing. "Please. Help me!" The young lad cries as he bursts into a fresh round of tears. I am extremely taken aback. "Help you? Why? Whatever's the matter? Did you not find your true love? That spell should absolutely have worked. What happened?" He falls into my arms, sobbing, clutching me. "SHE'S HORRIBLE!" He wails. I am genuinely astonished. This snot nosed little brat was an absolute horror, with not an ounce of decency or civility in him when I turned him into a frog. I didn't really think he'd find his true love. That wasn't part of the plan at all. "Alright. Alright. Stop snivelling. Come in. Tell me what's happened. " I try and haul him up and into the living room. He wipes at his face with the sleeves on those lovely clothes. I turn and snag the wand off the shelf and then guide him to sit on the sofa. I wait for him to gather himself, wondering what on earth is going on. "I am sorry for what happened. Before. Last time. I mean, I know you probably don't believe me, but I really truly am. I was angry at first. For so long. Or at least, it felt like a long time. I guess time is different when you're a frog. " He finally meets my eyes, and I give a sort of grim smile to show I understand and encourage him to carry on with a gesture "Yeah. I was angry. But then, I wasn't. I was sad. I didn't know what to do. I wanted to come and apologise but everything looks so different when you're that small and I wasn't sure I remembered the direction and didn't want to dry out if I wandered away, so I just stayed there. Then when I was just swimming around one day, I saw the ball" "The ball?" I query "Yes. The golden ball. It just sort of sank past me, so I grabbed it and pushed it back to the surface. I was hoping to play with it or something, I don't know, but when I came up, she was standing there. Starting at me and the ball. She reached out to grab it and spoke to me. She was silly, really. She said, "Thank you, Mr Frog," so I just said, "You're welcome." Not really thinking. I hadn't been able to talk. I thought I'd just end up saying ribbit, but the words came out. "You're welcome," and she was so surprised that she dropped the ball again. So I swam back down and retrieved it a second time. This time, I pushed it right up to her. I realised then she must have been the one. She must have been my true love like the spell said!" "Yes." I can't think of anything else to say. I didn't really expect that part to work if I was entirely honest. He carried on, "so we talked, and I explained about the spell, and she kissed me and POOF! I'm suddenly back to being me, and she drags me off to tell her father, THE KING, BY THE WAY! about this new suitable suitor she's found in a pond, and suddenly I'm being measured for clothes by her mothers tailor and they contacted my parents to check who I was and now we have to get married in 6 months and her father absolutely hates me, and she keeps wittering on about nonsense and she's horrible to everyone except me and her father and she reminds me of me before, well, you, and I can't take it and she's not my true love. She can't be, and if she is, I don't want to be her true love. It's all too much. Please change me back!" He wails the last word as he bursts into tears again. I sit back, pondering what to do. "You need to bring her here," I say to him, a bit loudly so he hears me over the noise of his wailing. He stops and looks at me "What? Why?" "Because the spell isn't wrong. It never is. She really is your true love, but if she reminds you of you before your little adventure, then maybe she needs the same lesson?" He takes a deep breath "Do you think that would work?" He asks hopefully "It worked for you, didn't it? Go back and ask her to go for a walk, or maybe even make it look like you're eloping together. Make it like an adventure. Bring her here. I'll turn you both and make the spell end when she's learned her lesson." He looks at me for a long minute. Peering into my eyes, trying to make up his mind "Ok. I'll go and get her" He jumps up and runs out of the house. I wait for a few minutes and then start to laugh. Once it starts, I can't stop it. I am cackling like the witch I am. I laugh until my sides hurt. Oh, this was too wonderful. After all the potions and powders and nonsense I'd gone through to try and force a true love for the brat. The universe had stepped in. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, I'll have a kingdom in my palm, along with the hearts of two royal brats. It's not the one I wanted, but it's a start. I look at the skull of my beloved, which rests on top of the dresser, watching all I do. "Soon, my love," I tell it. "Soon we shall have vengeance.

A few weeks after the curse was lifted, the prince finds he preferred life when he was a frog. Sneaking out of the castle one night he goes in search of the witch that first turned him, hoping she'll be able to do it again.

When I rolled my eyes it was meant to be an expression of sarcasm. A non vocal way for me to say *Right now, I think you are an idiot*. So when the lady at the store register, apathetic as a human can be, said: "This box is already opened, you can't return it.", well she deserved an eye roll as much as any human I'd ever met. But when I did, what followed was a moment of almost audible fear as I locked eyes with something else. Something hidden deep within my brain. A small, blueish, and hideous thing, it's clawed hands gripping a series of tiny levers; wearing nothing but a stained tank top, its bubbled gut filling it out nicely. Slowly it pulled it's hands off of the levers, eyes locked with mine and refusing to look away. "I bet-" the gremlin started to stand up on its spindly legs. "I bet you blink first." "Where are we...what are you?!" I yelled, the words coming from my mouth outside rather than the space me and the creature occupied. Outside I could hear the cashiers muffled voice reply with the same level of apathy. *Take your time, not like there's a line behind you or anything.* "Don't worry, there's no line." The gremlin said. "Can you believe her? Total asshole right?" "I uh...yes?"I questioned. "I mean yes, yeah she is." I was still uncertain of my words. The Gremlin placed a bony hand on one of the many fleshy levers before him and pushed it forward. Outside I could feel my body moving suddenly, turning to the right and stepping forward a few clunky steps. "There, I moved us." He continued: "Why would you even return something unpoened anyways?" "I know. Doesn't make any sense right? Hey uh...where are we?" I tried to speed along the conversation. "You don't recognize it? We're in your mind of course. I'm just an occupant...*the* occupant." I blinked in disbelief, staring at the only place there was to stare. At the pint sized little blue monster that claimed to have been living in my head for god knows how longz helping pilot me. He smiled a sudden and crooked smile. "You blinked, I win!" He went to jump up but hit his head on the roof of my skull instead, sending a dull pain up through my head. "Oops. Anyways it seems that your eyes are rolling back. If I was you, and I sort of am, I would tell her off. Good luck!" My eyes rolled back and I was left staring behind an empty counter. No line. No mean lady from before. No gremlin. Just me and a single bell with a tag reading: ding for service. As I turned to pick up my box and leave my body refused. Instead my arm shot out uncontrollably and slammed down onto the bell over and over, harder with each ding "Ok, ok, enough!" An annoyed voice yelled from the back of the building, followed by a woman stomping out. "You again? I told you-" Before she could finish a voice not my own shot out from my mouth, raspy, like nails scraping along a chalkboard. "Listen you walnut. If you don't take this box and give me back my money I'll return it down your throat. Deal?" Her eyes grew wide and she muttered the only word it seemed she could: "I uhm. Yeah sure." And as the register opened and she took my box back in her hands I could feel my head pounding. Not from the stress of my day, or from the confusion due to what I had just experienced, but rather from what I knew to be the little blue man jumping around inside of my head in triumph.

You roll your eyes so hard, they turn 180° and you lock eyes with the gremlin in your brain, who stares back in joint disbelief at the absolute non-sense they just heard.

"Here, in the Arena, all are equal." The voice had said, its tone allowing no dissent. "All have been given the collective strength and intellect of their ancestors, and all will face each other in a brawl to decide the fates of their worlds. The faster you are eliminated, the lower in the hierarchy your world will place." We'd barely had any time to react, before we were thrust out into the open air. All around us, beings made of swirling light watched expectantly from seats far beyond we could reach. I looked around, seeing an innumerable sea of bodies in my vision, wielding different weapons. Some held sticks, some bows that hummed with life and energy, or swords that swirled with cosmic light. *Some* had glowing machinery that looked suspiciously like futuristic sci-fi plasma rifles. And some, like me, held stranger things in their grasp. "This is a battle of ideology. Represented in each seat is the Chief Deity of your world, and in your hands are the principles they shaped their worlds around." I looked down at the piece of metal in my hands. It was perfectly smooth in my grasp, but I noticed that inside of it, millions of creatures were going through eons of changes in the span of a mere moment. Basic proteins began to meld together to form bacteria, which morphed into every shape of dinosaur possible, which split further into the creatures I was used to seeing. Which again split even further, taking strange, alien shapes I couldn't comprehend. Everyone looked up, as the strange voice began speaking again. "Champions of your worlds! Show us the strength of your Deities! Fight, struggle, survive! Let us commence the battle to decide the fate of all worlds!" Immediately, everything devolved into chaos. Beams of light were thrown around into the haptic melee, explosions that rocked the very foundations of the arena we were in. I looked around wildly as information flooded into my brain. Hundreds of millions of years of knowledge, crammed into my mind in the span of a second. I knew what my item did. And frankly, if no one else shared something similar, it just wasn't fair. I saw a humanoid creature about a few meters in front of me with skin that cracked and ran with molten rock snort with derision at the item in my hands. It raised a fist, a miniature volcano in its hand, and I felt the air around my body begin to grow hot. Impossibly so, melting my skin away and boiling the blood in my veins as lava began to pour out around me. Other people caught in my vicinity began to drown in it, their items melting along with them as the surface of their bodies lit aflame. Without even being able to mutter a scream, they were consumed by the molten rock. But my body was already changing. My blood turned into something else entirely, my skin layering itself with scales as I felt my muscles surge with strength. I was now far larger than I had been before, and as I licked my lips I realized my tongue was thinner, and barbed. It cleared away the remnants of drying rock with ease. The lava around me now felt pleasant to the touch, and I swam through it in only moments before snapping my jaws around the humanoid's head, my jagged teeth slicing through its form smoothly. As I looked around, I noticed what looked like a stone golem with limbs raise a rifle in my direction. A green ray of light washed over me, my skin bulging with cancerous tumors. But I was already adapting, evolving past it. I grew smaller, my limbs elongating as my skin turned into some kind of flowing metal. I was now liquid, completely impervious to the radiation washing over me. I wrapped metallic tentacles around this creature, my very touch corroding away its form, until it melted into my form and joined the metal. Again and again I changed, as more and more challengers approached. Again and again I triumphed, my form ever-shifting, evolving to adapt to any form of attack these creatures had. Until, eventually, they began to run away, wisely choosing to evacuate any section of the Arena I was in to search for easier targets. I even adapted to this, my form expanding and extending across the Arena like a sea, until I'd swallowed and isolated each person, dissolving them in little stomachs filled with acid that melted them down to base components. I was more than the self I was before. I was everything that represented Earth, every form of life that had ever evolved and every form of life that *would* eventually evolve, constantly changing to suit my needs. Finally, it is only me and the glowing masses of swirling cosmic light in their seats. They recoil in horror, but again, I have grown past anything they can contain. "C...Congratulations, Tetra! Your Ideology of 'Evolution' has won!" The voice stutters over itself, rightfully so. Because as it speaks, Tetra begins to laugh, and I do so as well. As I condense in on myself, my atoms becoming incomprehensibly dense, the cosmic lights begin to scream. "Wait! Tetra, you've won! Your world is ranked first, there is no nee-" I swallow the speaker first, my size growing. The masses of light scramble over each other, but I continue to grow, swallowing them one by one. Eventually, every atom collapses, implodes on itself to pull others towards it to stave off its hunger. And after trillions of years of evolution in mere moments, my hunger is unending.

In a magical arena of mages and spirits, a modern student is told he must fight wielding the powers of his ancestors, little do they know about Darwin’s theory of evolution

"Well, that's might judgemental of you. Who are you to tell toothpaste what to do?" Silas throws his hands up in the air. "What the fuck Anna? Of course it can't explode, it goes in your fucking mouth!" Anna's mouth opens to reply. Silas' eyebrow raises, and she rethinks what she was about to say. Their bodies begin to relax and she quickly snaps back into action. "It's not like exploding disqualifies it as toothpaste, right?" He stares at her. "I mean, I didn't make a toothbrick or something. It's still a paste." She points at the substance, the *toothpaste* as it were. "The shape is not the issue here." "It's not so much shape as..." Silas interrupts her. "I don't care if it's called shape or state of matter or whatever, Anna, that's not the point." "What would it be, though?" "What would what be?" His voice is losing strength. His shoulder are lower than they have ever been before in his life. "The... whatever. The difference between a tooth*paste* and a tooth*brick* or a tooth*salve*. How do you define that quality?" "I guess... I guess you'd call it the shape, right? That's why I said it." "No, there has to be a real name for it. Scientists can't be talking about the *shape* of stuff. It's like mayo!" Her face lights up. "Mayo?" "Yeah, yeah, it's not a liquid. It's a... an emulsion, I think it's called." "So?" "*So*" now she seems irritated. And to be fair, it's not that hard to grasp. The question is rather simple, even if the answer is evading both of them at the moment. "So, what do you call that quality? The quality of being a solution, or an emulsion, or a whatever." "Ok, fair enough" He sits down. Holding his head between his hands, Silas has to admit he is being unreasonable. "You did make paste. That much is true." "Thank you!" "But C4 is not toothpaste!" "And this is not C4, so I don't see your point." With elegance, Anna refutes another baseless, nonsensical argument thrown her way. "Then what is it? And don't you dare say toothpaste!" "That's what it is, Silas. I'm not sure what you'd expect me to say here." "It doesn't clean your teeth." He replies, smug. "Have you tried it yet?" She retorts back, smugger. "It would blow my head off." Is all the coward has to say. "And I'm not disputing *that*." They both stare at the exploded, charred mannequin head on the floor. The silence drags for an eternity. Shivering, both look back at each other. "I'm just saying, we don't *know* if it cleans teeth yet." "You know what, Anna? I don't care what it is. You are a hairdresser. You shouldn't be trying to invent toothpaste anyway. You are fired."

"I'm swear, it's just toothpaste." "Toothpaste isn't supposed to explode!"

“Thank you… uhh, Jeff,” Merimus said, reading his name tag, “for setting up my portal to the World Wide Web and teaching me to use the keyboard and mouse. These mice are odd but helpful. And the goo gull! Fascinating. Your squad of geeks is quite helpful. You are dismissed. I have searching to do.” *How to lure children* *How to lure children on the World Wide Web* *How to lure children to your home on the World Wide Web* *recipes for children* *recipes with children* *recipes of children* *childhood recipes* *how to roast children* *how to oven-roast children* *best season for children* *best seasoning for children* *nutrition information for children* *nutrition information of children* *how many calories in a fat eight year old* ********* Merimus rushed through her new home in excitement as she made sure the bowls of candy were out and the oven was preheated. Then a knock came from the door. “Coming!” She said in the sweetest voice she could muster, which is no less off-putting than her usual voice. “Merimus? I’m Chris Hansen. Have a seat.” “You are not the fat eight year old I ordered! Return to sender!” “No, I’m not. That chubby eight year old Christopher was actually an AI-generated image. Why did you ‘order him’? Why did you want him here so badly?” “To test my cooking skills!” “You were just going to cook for him? In your chats together, you said ‘You look so delicious. I can’t wait to eat you up’. Why did you say that?” “Yes! I was just going to cook him! That’s why I said that.” A ding came from the kitchen. “Look, my oven is already preheated. Now where is the fat little boy?” “Mhmm… And what is it you were going to cook him?” “A nice plump roast!” “And where is that roast now?” “It was never delivered! You got in the way!” “I think that’s enough.” Mr. Hansen then added into his microphone, “send in the police.” *A/N: Thanks for reading. I’d appreciate any tips on getting off the list I definitely just got myself on.*

The Wicked Witch in the Woods realized she needs to modernize to attract modern prey. The candy and gingerbread house are no longer working like they used to. She decides to sell her house and move to the suburbs and I find out about this “internet”.