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[WP]. Timetravel is real and it has been done multiple times. There is a secret organization hunting timetravelers, their method is highly effective and has always been the same: lotteries.

*Wind through the grass.* *A creek babbling in the distance.* *The crickets sing a lullaby.* Jackson focused on each of the sounds, one at a time, taking special note of each. It was a technique his therapist had suggested he try any time he felt himself starting to panic. He was especially grateful for the crickets. Their song existed only in digital form in his time, a common ingredient in background noise machines, but these were *real.* The critters came each night, like they'd made a promise to keep him and Gracie company when the sun went down. They always helped his little sister fall asleep, and they did the most to drown out the way she cried softly in her dreams most of the time. They'd been sleeping in the treehouse he'd found in the woods since their Dad disappeared. That had been almost a week ago, and a slow fear had begun to take root in Jackson's heart ever since. *What if Dad is abandoning us? What if when he said "This is gonna be the start of a new life", he meant that he wanted to be rid of them too. They only reminded him of their mom anyway, he never smiled anymore when he spoke to them. Would he do that? Could he really leave us?* This place was very different than where they’d come from. Well, it was the same place, he supposed, but *different.* Everything was greener, cleaner, shinier. But, of course, they had nothing here. They'd been forced to fish for scraps out of the trash. But Dad had said, he'd *promised,* that everything would change when he bought that ticket. He just....*he never came back....* An alien sound, out of rhythm with the chorus provided by the woods, startled Jackson to attention. It was too orderly to be produced by nature. *clomp, clamp, clomp.* Footsteps. "Gracie, wake up," he whispered. She mumbled something incomprehensible. He went over and put a hand over her mouth, her eyes shot open. "Shhh," he said, finger to his mouth. She nodded and he took his hand away, "What's happening," she mouthed. He pointed to his ear, and she closed her to eyes to listen. They shot back open, "Dad?" she mouthed, her lips curling into a smile. Jackson shrugged, "Wait here." He made his way to the ladder and went down, slow and careful. He paused, wincing, hoping the crickets covered the soft creaking of the wood. His feet touched the ground a moment later. He darted to a bush and waited. Jackson could hear the footsteps getting closer, but it was hard to pinpoint their location. Then he spotted a small light bobbing up and down just North of him. *Flashlight.* There were voices too, but very faint. He had to strain to make out what they were saying. "All the same, I'm telling you," one said in a rough voice. He couldn't make out the reply. "No, that's not it,” the rough one boomed, “You don't get it. This is the absolute *bottom* of the barrel, K. The dregs of humanity’s timeline. They're criminals, failures, addicts, and beggars, coming back to our time to steal resources away from those that are *supposed* to be here." As they got closer, Jackson could make out what the more soft spoken voice was saying. "I just think we could be a little more understanding. How much can *one* guy and his kids really drain from-." "You miss the whole point. Don’t be naive, it’s more than this *one* case. This is OUR time, not their’s. Why can't they stay where God put 'em? I say we let these rats out here starve." The footsteps stopped. They were right on top of the bush where Jackson was hiding. He held his breath. "They're *kids,* Q." The other made an exasperated sound, then started walking again. "I know, I know. Let's just get to finding them. Their Father said he thought they might be out around here." "You go on ahead, I'll search over to the right." "Whatever." One set of the footsteps faded as it got further away. Jackson felt like his lungs were about to burst. The bush rustled, and a man's face appeared, illuminated dimly by the moonlight. He wore horn rimmed glasses, had a strong chin, and bushy eyebrows. Jackson might've screamed if the man's face hadn't had the strangest, most reassuring, aura of calmness. "You OK," he whispered. Jackson was too stunned to answer. "You Hungry?" He nodded instinctively. Thinking about it, he felt his stomach rumble. He *was* hungry. The man smiled and reached into the inside pocket of his fine black suit jacket. He pulled out a granola bar and handed it to Jackson. Jackson tore it open and devoured half of it in reflexive, animal like, desperation. But he left the other half. Hard as it was with his stomach hurting as it did, he left it. *Gracie would be hungry too.* The man took careful note of Jackson's reactions, his eyes settling on the half of granola bar the boy was deliberately restraining himself from eating. He reached into his pocket and pulled out another, "Are you alone?" Jackson froze. "It's okay, I'm a friend of you Dad's. He asked me to find you. I can bring you to him." "....*Dad*?" The man smiled, "That's right. He's very worried about you. Now, are you alone? I'd like to get you away from here before my....*partner....*comes back." Jackson turned everything he knew about the man, admittedly very little, over in his head. *Can I trust him? Will he hurt us?* He felt responsible for keeping Gracie safe now, she was too young, too little to have to deal with all that she had. He found that he had unconsciously began to look toward the treehouse where his sister hid. The man in the suit followed his gaze, looking up to the treehouse without saying a word. Then he turned back to Jackson. He put his hands on the boys shoulders. "You've done everything a brother should, and you've done it well. You found a shelter, kept yourselves safe and hidden, out of harm's way. But now you don't have to bear the weight of that responsibility any longer. I'll take you back to your father, you have my word." Jackson felt a heaviness lift from his chest that he hadn't known was there. Before he knew it, tears were streaming down his face. He closed his eyes. *I hear the wind blowing away some leaves.* *I hear the creek bubbling.* *And the crickets, I hear the crickets' song.* ​ \~ ​ r/CharlestonChews ​

"Congratulations, Billy-bob!" The extended a hand and shook Billy-bob's as the camera crew tested the lighting. "Thanks so much," Billy-bob responded, still unsure if this was just a dream. People scurried around him, testing this and that. Some looked at him and smiled, happy for him. Others looked in quite a different way. The crew announced their readiness and the well-dressed man directed Billy-bob to the center of the room, in front of a large green backdrop. Off to his right he saw a woman approach holding a massive oversized check with more zeroes than Billy-bob ever imagined possible. They took their pictures, more than he'd have liked, and ran through some paperwork with him. A few signatures, some bank information, a half-joking offer to 'take some of that money off your hands'. When it was all said and done, Billy-bob just wanted to go home. They said he could keep the giant check. He knew just which wall he was going to put it on. Problem was, it wouldn't fit in the back of his car. He shoved this way and that, even popped the trunk and let it hang out. He decided he'd need to get some cables to hold it down, and headed for the gas station across the way. As he exited the store two men in black suits with wide, dark sunglasses--on a cloudy day--stopped him. "Billy-bob Joeseph?" one of them asked. "Yessir, that's me. What can I do for you fine folk?" "Come with us, please." the other one spoke. Billy-bob glanced over their shoulder and noticed a tow truck backing up to his car. He'd only been in the store a few minutes--why on earth had they called a tow already? "Excuse me, sirs, seems I've got to take care of somethin." He tried to push past them, but they put their hands to his chest and blocked his way. "We really need you to come with us." "Now, just what's this about? You from the IRS? They said they'd take care of all--" One stepped forward and punched him in the stomach. He dropped his bag to the ground and would have followed it himself if the man didnt hold him up. "We know where you're from," one of them whispered in his ear. Billy-bob didnt understand. Were they trying to rob him? Why didnt they just come out and say it? He felt his feet lift off the ground and realized he was being carried off. In a matter of moments he was thrown into the back seat of a car and the door was slammed shut. He regained his breath and tried the door, finding it locked. The men entered the front seats of the vehicle, a steel fence separating them from him. "Where the hell y'all takin me?" Billy-bob asked, his heart pounding in his chest. "To the future, where you belong." --- r/Ford9863

[WP] A hero on a quest to save the world is presented with a choice: betray humanity and live a life of luxury, or save the world and be abandoned and unrecognized by the people you saved, living miserably.

Bloodied, left arm broken, half blind, his friends and allies barely clinging to life, the hero Hector stood over the vile Lich Zaire. His massive executioner’s sword, one of the few weapons which could finally put the monster to rest lay over his shoulder, but both he and the Lich knew that it was over, one last strike is all it would take. And if would hit, Zaire’s bones were drained of magic, and could scarcely move now, but he could still talk. “I suppose I had a good run, if I was going to finally die I’m glad it’s at the hands of someone practical, not a platitude spouting moron.” The Lich’s smile almost seemed to widen, “I don’t suppose you’d be here if you hadn’t made peace with the prophecy.” “We make our own fate.” He raised his sword. The skull scoffed: “Not like that, it’s a death curse I inherited from my master, I tried to fight it too at first.” This was new. Hector looked down at the gem set into his left gauntlet. It whenever someone nearby was lying. No artifact, but it was among his greatest treasures. It stayed dull. “He who strikes me down will inherit all the hatred people have for me. The Lich continued. You’ll be a pariah till the end of your days, your fiends too, but it doesn’t have to be that way. I’m even willing to give you a kingdom and make a non-aggression oath.” The gem still didn’t glow. “I would have been fine dying here.” The gem glowed pink. “Fuck.” “Yeah, that about covers it.” Chucked the litch. “You’ll spare my friends in a kingdom of our own, of our choice?” Asked Hector. “Yes.” “But you’ll use the shade matrix to kill and enslave the rest of humanity.” “I wouldn’t say... Hector glared at him, well yes.” Hector paused for long moments considering. He was a mercenary, not a crusader or chosen of the light. He was fighting because he and the few he cared about couldn’t live in a world overrun with undead. Zaire was trying to save himself, obviously, but he also wasn’t lying. He felt calm, actually. For the first time in centuries things were out of his hands. It helped that he didn’t fear death, he couldn’t feel fear anymore. “What would you do?” Asked Hector. “What?” “You took on this curse from your master. You know what it means to be reviled be humanity, they used to be your people too. You scraped an existence together in the shadows, carved a home for yourself into a mountainside, abandoned your mortality to survive. Well, “survive”. And here you were on top of your corner of the world anyway. Don’t think I don’t respect that. I even understand that you want vengeance, it hurts to be hated. So would you do it all over again?”

We've all been given those scenarios. You know the one. "Would you sacrifice Y for X." We all say the same thing. "Yes, I'd do anything to protect X.", "Obviously I'd sacrifice Y", "Why wouldn't I protect X?" Yet in the moment, would you do the same? You're probably readying yourself right now to say yes. "Of course I would! How dare you accuse me of betraying X!" But let's be real with each other for a moment. We wouldn't make that choice. We're all sane enough to know we'd all react differently than how we would. I've always been intrigued by heroes. They risk their lives to save others, and for what? A pat on the back by law enforcement? To sleep better at night? To protect their loved ones? I never truly understood why they did the things they did, at least until I got a taste of it. About a day ago, on an unusually stormy night, I came across a man in a white lab coat with disheveled hair and a dirty face. He ran up to me and excitedly shook my hand. Before I could react he began speaking, "I've done it!", he exclaimed, "I've finally summoned our great lord!" He gripped my hand tighter and began leading into a dark alleyway. I was too shocked by his excitement to object to his strong pull. He led me through a door I had previously not noticed. The door looked as if it belonged 100 years in the past. The wood was old and scarred by what seemed to be claw marks. I felt like the nearest touch would cause it to break into pieces, yet the man pushed it open without care and led me inside. I was now in a small room with wooden walls and creaking floorboards. It was mostly without detail, well besides the large amount of demonic runes creating a circle in the middle. The man pulled a book from what looked like thin air and handed it to me, "Read it!", he commanded. Now listen, I'm not the kinda guy who just listens to some mad scientist who wants to summon what would clearly be a large demon. So, instead of helping him out, I politely declined and walked home. And you know what? I felt good! I felt heroic! I had single-handedly stopped my town from being destroyed by a large and terrible demon. I slept soundly knowing I had saved this town from a monster. I woke up this morning to find my town was completely destroyed, buildings had been wrecked, bodies were wrecklessly splayed out against the ground. All that remained was the room the man had brought me into last night. I calmly walked inside, knowing full well some evil soul must have summoned a demon to ravage the town. I saw the body of the man whom I stopped from summoning a demon on the night before. A tinge of grief overcame me, who would let this happen! Who would summon this monster and let my good friend... uhh... Lab Coat Guy die! I wouldn't let this stay this way. I picked up the book he had in his hand, it was flipped to the unstoppable demon tab, I flipped to see if there were any spells of resurrection and was all but shocked to see there were none. I sat down in remorse, how could someone hurt The Coat! (his nickname he'd had since college, come on guys keep up!) I was infuriated! I flipped to a random page and just so happened to come across a wealth and prosperity spell. It's requirements were pretty simple compared to the rest of them, "All you need is to be prepared to let everyone you know die!", was listed in the ingredients tab. Before making the choice I flipped to the time manipulation section and saw a spell with just as simple an ingredients tab, "The book will burn after performing this spell." I pondered for many seconds which spell would be better to make. Since my only friend was Guy With Coat I cast the wealth spell without much thought. It didn't take long before my phone began filling with news stories about how every world leader had just died. I thought back to all my memories and remembered the time I met all those people a year ago on a dare. Apparently some meeting with a bunch of people in suits was being held there. I, of course, walked in while wearing a suit and sat at a table without a flag on it. It didn't take long before the room filled with people in suits. I stayed for an hour before trying to sneak out while they talked intensely about some ban on magical books that I'd been hearing about. They all turned and looked at me as I walked out before turning back around and continuing their argument. I guess they were all world leaders or something... Anyway that's all in the past, I'm rich now! I could buy all the golden toilets I want! I walked out of the bar satisfied with my choice. I was so happy I didn't even hear the loud inhuman footsteps approaching behind me.

[WP] A hero on a quest to save the world is presented with a choice: betray humanity and live a life of luxury, or save the world and be abandoned and unrecognized by the people you saved, living miserably.

"What say you, Hero?" ... I remember my first look, the floors of slated white, a chandelier of crystal casting a halo of serenity upon the scene. A true mansion's entryway with stairs leading in either direction, a layer of the finest felts in red to take the wick of my shoes. A palace of propriety, beset by my name, a home. Outside the grass ran in rows of jade encircling the road that led to my doorstep. A fountain at its center casting rainbows in its spray. Laid against my skin the finest threads, sown to fit, giving for the first time a finery to my look. A pouch that could never be empty when I reach for coin in trade of food. Luxury may be its name but to me it was home, for once. Still on a day he would come to visit, preach the voice of the lesser, then leave to return another. Berate my life to the day, but never my decision. It'd been offered to stop his occasional visits but I accepted them, nay wanted them. It reminded me the day he arrived telling me of my destiny, a duty to save. In truth it was an easy decision, I answered without second thought. I may have lived with disdain and still would, but these are understandable. I stand by that decision that day, and will forever stand by it. It would be foolish to do any else. How much would have changed? Sure a tyranny may have not ruled the world, but would the problems of the people have gotten any better. So much as there is someone to fight they will band together, so much as there is people there will be an evil. The questions after the world would have been saved would have been simple: who is next? Who is still starved? Who is in charge? Now though, the Lord rules and horror haunts them all. I am at fault, that is to be understood. But not much would have changed had the decision been different, of that I am sure. _ r/theoreticalfictions Edit: a word

We've all been given those scenarios. You know the one. "Would you sacrifice Y for X." We all say the same thing. "Yes, I'd do anything to protect X.", "Obviously I'd sacrifice Y", "Why wouldn't I protect X?" Yet in the moment, would you do the same? You're probably readying yourself right now to say yes. "Of course I would! How dare you accuse me of betraying X!" But let's be real with each other for a moment. We wouldn't make that choice. We're all sane enough to know we'd all react differently than how we would. I've always been intrigued by heroes. They risk their lives to save others, and for what? A pat on the back by law enforcement? To sleep better at night? To protect their loved ones? I never truly understood why they did the things they did, at least until I got a taste of it. About a day ago, on an unusually stormy night, I came across a man in a white lab coat with disheveled hair and a dirty face. He ran up to me and excitedly shook my hand. Before I could react he began speaking, "I've done it!", he exclaimed, "I've finally summoned our great lord!" He gripped my hand tighter and began leading into a dark alleyway. I was too shocked by his excitement to object to his strong pull. He led me through a door I had previously not noticed. The door looked as if it belonged 100 years in the past. The wood was old and scarred by what seemed to be claw marks. I felt like the nearest touch would cause it to break into pieces, yet the man pushed it open without care and led me inside. I was now in a small room with wooden walls and creaking floorboards. It was mostly without detail, well besides the large amount of demonic runes creating a circle in the middle. The man pulled a book from what looked like thin air and handed it to me, "Read it!", he commanded. Now listen, I'm not the kinda guy who just listens to some mad scientist who wants to summon what would clearly be a large demon. So, instead of helping him out, I politely declined and walked home. And you know what? I felt good! I felt heroic! I had single-handedly stopped my town from being destroyed by a large and terrible demon. I slept soundly knowing I had saved this town from a monster. I woke up this morning to find my town was completely destroyed, buildings had been wrecked, bodies were wrecklessly splayed out against the ground. All that remained was the room the man had brought me into last night. I calmly walked inside, knowing full well some evil soul must have summoned a demon to ravage the town. I saw the body of the man whom I stopped from summoning a demon on the night before. A tinge of grief overcame me, who would let this happen! Who would summon this monster and let my good friend... uhh... Lab Coat Guy die! I wouldn't let this stay this way. I picked up the book he had in his hand, it was flipped to the unstoppable demon tab, I flipped to see if there were any spells of resurrection and was all but shocked to see there were none. I sat down in remorse, how could someone hurt The Coat! (his nickname he'd had since college, come on guys keep up!) I was infuriated! I flipped to a random page and just so happened to come across a wealth and prosperity spell. It's requirements were pretty simple compared to the rest of them, "All you need is to be prepared to let everyone you know die!", was listed in the ingredients tab. Before making the choice I flipped to the time manipulation section and saw a spell with just as simple an ingredients tab, "The book will burn after performing this spell." I pondered for many seconds which spell would be better to make. Since my only friend was Guy With Coat I cast the wealth spell without much thought. It didn't take long before my phone began filling with news stories about how every world leader had just died. I thought back to all my memories and remembered the time I met all those people a year ago on a dare. Apparently some meeting with a bunch of people in suits was being held there. I, of course, walked in while wearing a suit and sat at a table without a flag on it. It didn't take long before the room filled with people in suits. I stayed for an hour before trying to sneak out while they talked intensely about some ban on magical books that I'd been hearing about. They all turned and looked at me as I walked out before turning back around and continuing their argument. I guess they were all world leaders or something... Anyway that's all in the past, I'm rich now! I could buy all the golden toilets I want! I walked out of the bar satisfied with my choice. I was so happy I didn't even hear the loud inhuman footsteps approaching behind me.

[WP] A hero on a quest to save the world is presented with a choice: betray humanity and live a life of luxury, or save the world and be abandoned and unrecognized by the people you saved, living miserably.

Bloodied, left arm broken, half blind, his friends and allies barely clinging to life, the hero Hector stood over the vile Lich Zaire. His massive executioner’s sword, one of the few weapons which could finally put the monster to rest lay over his shoulder, but both he and the Lich knew that it was over, one last strike is all it would take. And if would hit, Zaire’s bones were drained of magic, and could scarcely move now, but he could still talk. “I suppose I had a good run, if I was going to finally die I’m glad it’s at the hands of someone practical, not a platitude spouting moron.” The Lich’s smile almost seemed to widen, “I don’t suppose you’d be here if you hadn’t made peace with the prophecy.” “We make our own fate.” He raised his sword. The skull scoffed: “Not like that, it’s a death curse I inherited from my master, I tried to fight it too at first.” This was new. Hector looked down at the gem set into his left gauntlet. It whenever someone nearby was lying. No artifact, but it was among his greatest treasures. It stayed dull. “He who strikes me down will inherit all the hatred people have for me. The Lich continued. You’ll be a pariah till the end of your days, your fiends too, but it doesn’t have to be that way. I’m even willing to give you a kingdom and make a non-aggression oath.” The gem still didn’t glow. “I would have been fine dying here.” The gem glowed pink. “Fuck.” “Yeah, that about covers it.” Chucked the litch. “You’ll spare my friends in a kingdom of our own, of our choice?” Asked Hector. “Yes.” “But you’ll use the shade matrix to kill and enslave the rest of humanity.” “I wouldn’t say... Hector glared at him, well yes.” Hector paused for long moments considering. He was a mercenary, not a crusader or chosen of the light. He was fighting because he and the few he cared about couldn’t live in a world overrun with undead. Zaire was trying to save himself, obviously, but he also wasn’t lying. He felt calm, actually. For the first time in centuries things were out of his hands. It helped that he didn’t fear death, he couldn’t feel fear anymore. “What would you do?” Asked Hector. “What?” “You took on this curse from your master. You know what it means to be reviled be humanity, they used to be your people too. You scraped an existence together in the shadows, carved a home for yourself into a mountainside, abandoned your mortality to survive. Well, “survive”. And here you were on top of your corner of the world anyway. Don’t think I don’t respect that. I even understand that you want vengeance, it hurts to be hated. So would you do it all over again?”

If you are reading this then there is still hope, somewhere out there. You don't know me but It doesn't matter, all that you need to know is what transpired on this day the 3rd day of Windolm 45 XX. This world has been ravaged by darkness and malevolence, desperation and dispire lingers in the air within cities all across Parthoax. The people of this world have begun to merge with the darkness, and like a tumor they spread their desperation onto others repeating the cycle of chaos. My wish is that you never see the world as I have, sister slaying sister and a father his son. Reason has long been forgotten only fear remains in their hearts. The darkness spread to nearly all corners of this land devouring all in its path, leaving not a single trace of humanity in its wake. No this is not a world that you belong in, the darkness has no claim over you not anymore. I have to confess that I too have been touched by darkness, and I'm ashamed to admit that I too became desperate. Let no one convince you that doing the wrong thing is right regardless of the situation, be true to your conviction and true to yourself no matter what. My dear friend Jura would laugh if he were to read this, and he would probably chastise me for lecturing you when I couldn't stay true to my own conviction. I'm rambling I apologize, it's just that thoughts and memories tend to linger near the end. I has given a choice to save humanity or betray it, but it would seem that decision was made the day darkness consumed our hearts. There was nothing left to do but take action so I set out on my journey to find you and others like you those who have been unaffected by the darkness. I am truly sorry, if you are reading this it means that you are able to comprehend these words. Know that there was no choice left to make, in order to save humanity I had to let it be destroyed with the darkness. Yes there is no one left outside, look around the room, you and all those little faces are all that's left of us. Take care of one another and love each other like family, because that is what you are now, a family. When you reach the surface take this letter and burn it, this is the last piece of evidence of our failure. Don't let the darkness conquer this world again, it grows slowly and looms in the hearts of those who know of it's existence. So finally I leave you with my final wish. Live and spread your light across the world so that others may see it and be filled with joy. If you can do that and help others do the same this world will finally be free.

[WP] After 13 long years, your dad finally returns from the grocery store from picking up milk. What's strange is that he seemed to look the same as he did 13 years ago, down to the clothes and all. What's even stranger is that he didn't seem to know 13 years have passed.

The thirteen years without dad has been hard on the family, especially on mom. After he left, mom has been starting to drink again, and at first it wasn't bad. Some drinks here and there to cope with the new adjustment, but now the amount of bottles tossed around the house is uncountable. The once so-called home was now a place where I regret ever coming back to at the end of the day, but nonetheless here I stand in the kitchen waiting for that door to open with my dad smiling with that classic grin that I miss. This was something I did often, sitting down by the tiled kitchen counter waiting to hear the sound of jingling keys or the door unlocking. Waiting here every day for thirteen years, has been killing me from the inside out. It's not the fact that I hate sitting here on this uncomfortable wooden stool that I hate, but the fact that I'm starting to lose hope in my dad that I hate the most. Like today for example. Today is the official day when dad went missing. He simply told us that he would be back in a few to grab some milk, but here I am waiting for him to walk through those doors. After all these years I never gave up on him, but it was today that I told myself if he doesn't come home that it was time to move on. Time to finally accept that he left for good. Placing my palms on the counter top trying my best to fight my need for sleep, I laid my head ontop of them with my eyes straight forward staring at the white wooden door, "come on dad, please. I really can't do this without you," I pleaded even though I felt like the only person who was listening was the mocking wooden door. No response came back, so closing my eyes I asked one last time, "Dad, please..." I was only meet with the sound of silence answering me, and the last sense of hope I had vanished through out the dark cloudy night. A large sigh left my lips as I began to get up, and walked away, but the sounds of keys jingling caught my attention. I quickly whipped my head towards the door, and my eyes caught a sight of a tall male figure walking in with a the classic grin I missed, "Dad!" I yelled out running towards him, and wrapping my arms around his body. He returned the hug with a simple pat on the back, and his eyebrows furrowed, "Uhhhhh hi?" He responded back. I figured that he couldn't recognize me since it's been so long, "Dad it's me! It's Amelia! Your daughter! You've been gone so long where were you? How did you get here? You said you were only getting milk, but then you never came back so I stood here waiting for you everyday! Why did you lea-" I quickly put myself into a halt when I saw him begin to get anxious from the sudden questions from a "stranger" who began tearing up. His eyes widened when he finally recognize that it was indeed me,"Amelia? When did you get so big?" He asked, then quickly continuing on, "Wha-what do you mean I was gone? I was just picking up milk at the grocery store. How long has it been?" He began to respond as his eyes shifted quickly around the room seeing all the new changes in the house. "Dad, it's been thirteen years..." I responded quietly fearing that he has no memory leaving his family at all. "Thirteen years? Does that mean yo-youre...twenty? I-i don't remember anything? All I remember is going to the store and picking up some milk! How does this make any se-" he said trying to remember fragments of the memories he does have. I quickly ended his sentence with a large engulf, "I missed you so much dad," not being able to hold back any feelings anymore, because he was finally here. Here stood the man whom I waited for everyday, and no answer was better than the feeling of his arms wrapped around my body. "I miss you too sweetheart," This was the only thing I have ever wanted to hear.

I slammed the door shut. It had been 13 years since I had last seen my father. 13 years, almost to the day, since he had left to "pick up some milk" from the shop around the corner. And he has the NERVE to show up carrying a gallon of milk, along with a few other groceries. Years of hatred started to bubble to the surface. People always liked to say, "It's not your fault. Don't blame yourself." I knew it wasn't my fault. I had never blamed myself. I knew that my dad was just a coward. After losing his job at the meat processing plant, he left me and my mom to fend for ourselves. No financial support, no birthday cards. Nothing. I stormed away from the door, down the hallway towards the living room. Mom was ironing clothes in front of the television. "You'll never guess who is at our front door right now," I growled. After giving me a quizzical look, my mom unplugged the hot iron, walked into the kitchen, and placed it in the sink. She had always been paranoid about leaving the iron plugged in, afraid that someone might trip on the cord and burn themselves, I guess. As I sat down in front of the tv, my mom left the kitchen and headed towards the door. I smiled to myself. While I had suppressed my hatred of the man who had abandoned us, my mom had never been shy about letting those feelings show. My father was about to experience my mom's unfiltered rage towards him. It would be the beatdown of the year. Upon hearing my mom open the door, I listened intently, trying to discern the harsh words she would be using to describe my father's character. I strained, listening for some small whisper of hate, that would cut that man down where he stood. I heard the door close softly. I heard footsteps coming down the hallway. My parent's passed the door to the living room, and I heard my father lay all the groceries on the kitchen table. "Oh good," I thought to myself. "Now he can't run away as easily once mom really get's going." But to my surprise, there was no yelling. There was no hitting. No glasses and plates thrown. My father strode into the living room and scooped me up off the floor into his arms. "Hey pal! Tv time is over, it's time to get that smelly bum into the bath!" As he said this, he tickled my belly, resulting in an involuntary high pitched squeal from me. This laugh seemed foreign, as if it came from a toddler. Hopefully the formatting is ok, I’m living that mobile life!

[WP] Earth has never been the ideal environment for humans. We learn this when we go and try to colonize a supposedly "very hostile planet".

"There!" Said the alien, pointing toward the lizardlike creature. "That's this planets most deadly predator!" The captain of the human ship walked up and said, "So what can it do? Sense body heat? Smell blood from a great distance? Jump a great distance?" The alien paused, "Um, no. None of that. It's just very aggressive, visious!" The lizardlike creature flopped over laying in the sunlight. "Scans indicate it's rather normal." Said the captain, walking over, "And this is a full grown one?" The alien nodded, "Yes, this one is one of the largest I've seen!" The captain radioed back to the ship, "This is the captain speaking, approaching the most dangerous creature on this planet, please put the feed on the main screen." "No! What are you doing?" Shouted the alien, as the captain walked over to the lizard creature. It rolled back over and growled, small and angry, no bigger than a sheep. The captain threw a piece of ration bar, landing nearby the creature. It quickly sniffed it and ate it. "It's like a dog, but lizardy," said the captain, feeding the creature bits of bar. It began following him intently, watching as he pulled out another bar. "So what is so deadly about his planet, besides these?" Asked the captain, feeding the creature from his hand. The alien looked on in terror, "The temperature falls to less than 70 degrees at night!" The captain radioed back to the ship, "Any signs of anything that might give us issues? The ship's communications deck responded back, "No sir, gravity optimal, weather seems to indicate rainfall is common, even natural disasters seem rare on this planet." The alien cautiously approached, "What is a natural disaster?" The captain rolled the lizard over, scratching under it's chin, "You know, earthquakes, volcanoes, hurricanes, massive destructive events. The alien was awestruck, terrified, "So this planet is suitable for humans?" The captain asked, "This is seriously an uninhabitable planet?" The alien nodded, "The most dangerous in this sector." The captain laughed, "Ship, call command, we have found a suitable planet." "You are sure human?" Asked the alien, "This is what your kind can survive in?" The captain responded, "Survive? We can thrive here."

What’s humanity’s kryptonite? Is it lead like the daxamites? In what environment would we be super? Or is that just a concept reserved for comic books? There were no shapeshifting green, white, and yellow martians. No metahumans. No speedforce. No sageforce. No lantern rings. Or so we thought. I float two hundred meters above the craggy purple ground in the battering five hundred kilometer an hour winds, watching the triplet stars of krakotha rise. To the people of this world, my colony is gods. Humanity but a faint memory in the galactic community, one destroyed in its own nuclear fire. Nuclear fire that looked as if an eldritch god had been brought in to being, just for a moment. The ships weren’t even loaded when the bombs fell. Only 137 of us got on the ship. We couldn’t even plot a proper course, instead ending up on an supposedly inhospitable planet. A planet we found covered in life. Most of us did not survive the journey leaving only 13 to witness this new world. At first we were scared, until we discovered flight. Then came the arrogance when we found ourselves invulnerable. The super-strength was nothing compared to the terror brought by our quark ripping gaze. The other colonists became tyrants. But I wanted to be something better, a hero, just like in my childhood comics. So I experimented with our powers in secret, discovering amazing things, subtle appearance altering hypnosis, shapeshifting into the fauna of earth, and even splitting into multiple miniature versions of myself. Powers the other humans never found. So now I stand here, carving an S into my jumpsuit. An actual S this time, not a kryptonian seal but a human S. While the other 12 stand for the evils of humanity that led to our doom, I will stand for the good, for hope, for justice, and freedom against the authoritarian way.

[WP] Scientists have found the way to bring about immortality. The catch is that you age up until you hit your prime. Some stop aging in their twenties, others in their thirties. You? You’re 74 and still aging.

Nothing is magic, not really. The special cocktail of drugs administered in the NF6579-FOY program were just that: a set of chemicals set to activate with the presence of another set of chemicals. There was that portion that prevented you from dying. Then, the portion that fixes your age, lying dormant until the perfect balance of hormones were present in your body - the science-approved prime of your life. For most, this optimal age came during the thirties. My husband did not age past his first wrinkle, the first threads of grey in his hair. Next to him, I looked like his grandmother. "Maybe some people never achieve their prime," I'd moaned to him, nursing an arthritic arm. He'd just given an awkward smile. A year later, he left. Few people wanted to think about old age, after all. An elderly woman here is like a smallpox victim in the twenty-first century. All my friends, the girls I'd known since my childhood, all of them had stopped contacting me. I didn't bother trying to reach them either. I thought I was just unlucky. Or so pathetic the blip of my prime was too insignificant to activate the drugs. I forgot that there was no such thing as luck. I was kidnapped in the middle of the night and brought to a...Facility. There, the first thing I saw was a wizened old face staring right into mine. "You're old!" I said. "You're very observant!" She replied. After a pause, she raised her hunched up shoulders in some shaky approximation of a flourish. "Welcome to the old folks home!" "You mean there are others? Others who...grew old?" "Well, in a word, yes." She brought me down the hallway and introduced me to the other residents. After a while I began to notice a pattern. "Why is everyone here a woman?" She stilled, shoulders hunched. "We don't know. Rowena, the retired doctor - she says the reaserchers messed up their labtests for the immortality drug - says they did not fully account for our different hormones, and fluctuations and stuff. I think we're just cursed." "So, if the drug doesn't work on us ... Do we, you know, die?" "No one has died here. Not yet." Just then, we passed a bed where a figure of wrinkled skin and bones lay gasping. My companion quietly drew the curtains around the bed and made to walk away. "Shouldn't we do something? Call someone?" "She's been the same way for weeks now." Her reply, and what it implied, dawned on me like a sliver of ice down my back. Nothing was magic. Nothing was luck. But what do we do when science itself turns against us?

I was too old. Fantastical new technology I couldn’t understand; couldn’t adapt to. I kept aging while everyone else stayed youthful. Baseline Grandpa is what they called me. I was old, but not without use. The young approached me, wanting to know how better, or worse, they were doing. —- I knew eventually I would die. I’d watched so many changes, so much struggle between the new and the old and perhaps we’d finally figured out a way of doing things better. It just requires some things to be let go of. Just like me.

[WP] Scientists have found the way to bring about immortality. The catch is that you age up until you hit your prime. Some stop aging in their twenties, others in their thirties. You? You’re 74 and still aging.

When the initial drugs came out, affordable as they were, everyone bought them. Some held back of course, not wanting to live forever. Eventually it was completely commonplace. Living forever was attractive. Of course that’s not exactly how it worked. It was biological immortality. You could live forever as long as there’s not an accident. Or other causes such as cancer, homicide, or even suicide. The other thing the scientists neglected to mention was that they didn’t work right away. The drugs would kick in when you hit your prime. The problem with that is that no ones prime is the same. There are forever teenagers walking around, alongside twenty year olds or thirty year olds. Me? I guess I haven’t hit my prime yet. I’m 74 as of five days ago. My wife, forever 25 Melody, left me a long time ago. I wasn’t exactly sad about it. I understood her position. I guess what I don’t understand is my position. I woke up at my usual time, went downstairs as fast as I could manage, and made myself some breakfast. Even if I wasn’t immortal yet, I had made a fortune off of investments. I was a multi-millionaire years ago, and that wealth had only grown. If only I could reach my prime, I might be able to enjoy my wealth for longer. *Knock knock knock* I looked up from breakfast, wondering who could possibly be knocking at my door at 8 in the morning. Once making my way to the door, I didn’t bother to check the peep hole, but simply unlocked and opened the door. “Hello!” A kindly old man said. He was taller than me, standing without a stoop. He had a long white beard, and medium length white hair. His outfit was simply a dark gray suit. “Good morning.” I replied back. “Might you be Gregory Thorn?” The man asked me, a twinkle in his eye. “I am Gregory, but Greg is fine. How can I help you?” “Well Gregory, I have come with a job offer. I know that you are a wealthy man, but my offer isn’t about money.” “Everything is about money.” I answered, walking away from the open door. The man followed me inside, shutting the door. “My name is Thomas James.” He said after I had found my coffee mug. I didn’t reply, but simply waved my hand. Sitting down at the kitchen table, I motioned for him to take a seat. I picked up the tablet I was reading news off of and continued reading with my readers on. “You’ve always wondered why you’re not immortal, right? I used to wonder that too.” Thomas said after a moment. I slowly set down my tablet. “What?” I asked. “You see, when one reaches their prime, it’s more to do with destiny. Scientists may claim it’s simply random, or that it’s biological, but it’s not. It’s destiny.” “What do you mean?” I asked again. “Destiny is a strange thing to talk about, I know, but bear with me.” Thomas stood up, then held both of his hands out to the side. Suddenly, fire erupted on each hand, and he smiled at me. Not an evil smile, but a kind smile that understood the disbelief and astonishment on my face. “Gregory Thorn, are you ready to claim your destiny as a wizard?” He asked me with a grin.

I was too old. Fantastical new technology I couldn’t understand; couldn’t adapt to. I kept aging while everyone else stayed youthful. Baseline Grandpa is what they called me. I was old, but not without use. The young approached me, wanting to know how better, or worse, they were doing. —- I knew eventually I would die. I’d watched so many changes, so much struggle between the new and the old and perhaps we’d finally figured out a way of doing things better. It just requires some things to be let go of. Just like me.

[WP] Scientists have found the way to bring about immortality. The catch is that you age up until you hit your prime. Some stop aging in their twenties, others in their thirties. You? You’re 74 and still aging.

When the initial drugs came out, affordable as they were, everyone bought them. Some held back of course, not wanting to live forever. Eventually it was completely commonplace. Living forever was attractive. Of course that’s not exactly how it worked. It was biological immortality. You could live forever as long as there’s not an accident. Or other causes such as cancer, homicide, or even suicide. The other thing the scientists neglected to mention was that they didn’t work right away. The drugs would kick in when you hit your prime. The problem with that is that no ones prime is the same. There are forever teenagers walking around, alongside twenty year olds or thirty year olds. Me? I guess I haven’t hit my prime yet. I’m 74 as of five days ago. My wife, forever 25 Melody, left me a long time ago. I wasn’t exactly sad about it. I understood her position. I guess what I don’t understand is my position. I woke up at my usual time, went downstairs as fast as I could manage, and made myself some breakfast. Even if I wasn’t immortal yet, I had made a fortune off of investments. I was a multi-millionaire years ago, and that wealth had only grown. If only I could reach my prime, I might be able to enjoy my wealth for longer. *Knock knock knock* I looked up from breakfast, wondering who could possibly be knocking at my door at 8 in the morning. Once making my way to the door, I didn’t bother to check the peep hole, but simply unlocked and opened the door. “Hello!” A kindly old man said. He was taller than me, standing without a stoop. He had a long white beard, and medium length white hair. His outfit was simply a dark gray suit. “Good morning.” I replied back. “Might you be Gregory Thorn?” The man asked me, a twinkle in his eye. “I am Gregory, but Greg is fine. How can I help you?” “Well Gregory, I have come with a job offer. I know that you are a wealthy man, but my offer isn’t about money.” “Everything is about money.” I answered, walking away from the open door. The man followed me inside, shutting the door. “My name is Thomas James.” He said after I had found my coffee mug. I didn’t reply, but simply waved my hand. Sitting down at the kitchen table, I motioned for him to take a seat. I picked up the tablet I was reading news off of and continued reading with my readers on. “You’ve always wondered why you’re not immortal, right? I used to wonder that too.” Thomas said after a moment. I slowly set down my tablet. “What?” I asked. “You see, when one reaches their prime, it’s more to do with destiny. Scientists may claim it’s simply random, or that it’s biological, but it’s not. It’s destiny.” “What do you mean?” I asked again. “Destiny is a strange thing to talk about, I know, but bear with me.” Thomas stood up, then held both of his hands out to the side. Suddenly, fire erupted on each hand, and he smiled at me. Not an evil smile, but a kind smile that understood the disbelief and astonishment on my face. “Gregory Thorn, are you ready to claim your destiny as a wizard?” He asked me with a grin.

Nothing is magic, not really. The special cocktail of drugs administered in the NF6579-FOY program were just that: a set of chemicals set to activate with the presence of another set of chemicals. There was that portion that prevented you from dying. Then, the portion that fixes your age, lying dormant until the perfect balance of hormones were present in your body - the science-approved prime of your life. For most, this optimal age came during the thirties. My husband did not age past his first wrinkle, the first threads of grey in his hair. Next to him, I looked like his grandmother. "Maybe some people never achieve their prime," I'd moaned to him, nursing an arthritic arm. He'd just given an awkward smile. A year later, he left. Few people wanted to think about old age, after all. An elderly woman here is like a smallpox victim in the twenty-first century. All my friends, the girls I'd known since my childhood, all of them had stopped contacting me. I didn't bother trying to reach them either. I thought I was just unlucky. Or so pathetic the blip of my prime was too insignificant to activate the drugs. I forgot that there was no such thing as luck. I was kidnapped in the middle of the night and brought to a...Facility. There, the first thing I saw was a wizened old face staring right into mine. "You're old!" I said. "You're very observant!" She replied. After a pause, she raised her hunched up shoulders in some shaky approximation of a flourish. "Welcome to the old folks home!" "You mean there are others? Others who...grew old?" "Well, in a word, yes." She brought me down the hallway and introduced me to the other residents. After a while I began to notice a pattern. "Why is everyone here a woman?" She stilled, shoulders hunched. "We don't know. Rowena, the retired doctor - she says the reaserchers messed up their labtests for the immortality drug - says they did not fully account for our different hormones, and fluctuations and stuff. I think we're just cursed." "So, if the drug doesn't work on us ... Do we, you know, die?" "No one has died here. Not yet." Just then, we passed a bed where a figure of wrinkled skin and bones lay gasping. My companion quietly drew the curtains around the bed and made to walk away. "Shouldn't we do something? Call someone?" "She's been the same way for weeks now." Her reply, and what it implied, dawned on me like a sliver of ice down my back. Nothing was magic. Nothing was luck. But what do we do when science itself turns against us?

[WP] Scientists have found the way to bring about immortality. The catch is that you age up until you hit your prime. Some stop aging in their twenties, others in their thirties. You? You’re 74 and still aging.

Age 12 “Congratulations Tithonus! You’re immortal.” It’s that easy? A simple shot at the doctors, and I’ll live forever? I’ve got all the time in the world. I can do anything! Mom says I still have to go to school though. Age 23 “I do.” This is it, this is happiest moment of my life. I’ve met her, my soul mate, the women I want nothing more than to spend the rest of eternity with. I’ve never meant two words more than I do right now. This must be my peak! It’s a shame Jane’s dad seems to hate me, he always says “He’s not going anywhere. He has no ambition. What do you see in him?” Age 46 “I’m not immortal.” What? How could I not have known? I was happy Jane was growing older with me, I was sure that when we finally did peak, we would peak together. But she won’t live forever, we won’t spend the rest of eternity together... I think I understand a little bit what it’s like to die, a part of me just did. I understand her dad now. Age 74 “I love you, Thank you. I’m sorry I couldn’t make you even happier, I’m sorry I couldn’t show you more. You’ve made me the happiest man in the world these years together. I love you, rest now.” I’m not immortal either, I will never peak, not without her. This is my first post here, sorry if it’s not great. But I had fun writing it and that’s what matters!

I'm standing at the window, looking outside as life unfolds in front of my eyes. The street is full of this new, fresh and immortal youth ready to conquer their wildest dreams, knowing that now that time won't stop them, they are free more than ever. The sun is shining bright, there are a few clouds here and there, and the wind is calmly singing in the trees. A true peaceful day. I sight and sit back down on my couch. As I do so, I feel my bones crack and my muscles ache, as if they wanted to remind me of my situation. I bury myself in the comfortable fabric and cuddle myself up to Maya, my dog, who welcoms me with a few licks. I smile, feeling my heart warm up a little bit, and gently pet her. The sound of the radio playing in the kitchen soothes me, and I close my eyes, letting myself get lost in my thoughts. Almost immediatly, I start thinking about what all of this is about. What do all these people expect from immortality? Why do they want this in the first place? Why couldn't people just accept the cycle of life and let it follow its natural motion? Why am I the unlucky one again? Perhaps, this is just a wisper of jealousy. When my friends started getting their primes, we were all so excited to be able to spend the rest of eternity together, having fun and making our lives however you wanted, but soon enough.... They stopped aging and... Well, didn't want some old aging lady in their way. Makes sense, I think... Never did I expect to be the one that would have to stay out, the one that will be unfortunate exception to the rule. Or maybe I was just designed to be that one weird old grandma that gives cookies to the scouts and complains about too much noise. Who knows?... I open my eyes and stare and my hand. It reminds me of a desert, shaken by quiet wrinkles left by time. Its flow is cruel and harmful but... All I can do is look at the traces it left on my body and mind, the scars, the falling skin, the aching muscles, the tired heart, but also... Something human. More human that what is happening outside. The fear that sleeps in me is always there, always asking if I ever will get the prime, and thinking that at this point, it would be better to just let it go and be one of the last ones that will join peace naturally... I suddenly hear the doorbell ring. I slowly get up and walk to the door, opening it with curiosity. I discover a man standing outside my door, an old man like me. Quite tall, looking about my age, and with a familiar face... I just find myself not being able to place a name or to even know who he reminds me of. Odd. "Good afternoon, I greet him, can I do something for you? Do I... Do I know you?" As I say these words, he looks at me with a tired but happy smile. "It's quite curious that you don't remember me, Dilara. You... You aren't the only one trapped in this time, I see." Hearing his voice makes me feel like I've known him forever, and suddenly, something clics inside you... Of course! Could it be?... "You're not alone anymore."

[WP]“We burn the present for the sake of a brighter future, then act surprised when all that’s left is ash.”

The Ethereal Commander of the Navy said to the Ascendancy's High Prophet, "Are you forgetting that they once had us under heel." The High Prophet then sighed and rested his aged body on the round war table. "And look where that got them. Hunted very likely to extinction. We need to be prudent that such a fate does not befall us." "The Empire is at peace, Prophet. This will be a golden age. The monster that once had us on a string is dead. We should be celebrating, not convening in some dusty war room." "All that's left is ash." "Excuse me?" The Commander said. "Why say that." "Its nothing. Just the mad musings of an old priest. You may leave, Commander. You've done the Ascendancy proud." As the Ethereal Commander of Navy left the war room. A sharp pain tore through the Priests skull and he collapsed in shock. Flashes of the future came forth in a wild blur. All that's left is ash. All that's left is ash. All that's left is ash. The voice boomed in his mind and cut through the fabric of the universe itself. "When is ash not ash?" The priest pulled himself up fighting this force of nature. The vision showed him his home world. "When it is a seed... my god what have we done!"

This world isn't like the one I used to live in... it's much more helish. I saw death from up close and he gave me a second chance. Only if that second chance wasn't in this hellhole... it would have been great. In this world I woke up in, I first believed it was the same world I originally was, but monsters, death and carnage ravaged the entire continent, perhaps even the entire world! From this hospital bed I woke up in, before I could even regain my bearings, I was forced to kill for the first time in my life. It was a weird feeling, the sense of stealing something so... heavy. My heart was about to stop, I was scared, tired and hurt... yet death always liked quitters the most. Gradually memories started comming back to me, news about failing relationships between countries, the start of a third world war, a war for the future of humanity and prosperity... then a car accident. I looked behind me, trying to see exactly what had attacked me, exactly what had I killed? I flinched at the sight of the blood, the sharp metal rod still sticking out from the body of the... beast? It looked too human to be called as such, yet at the same time it held no comparison to actual humans. Just what had happened during the time I was asleep?!

[WP]“We burn the present for the sake of a brighter future, then act surprised when all that’s left is ash.”

[Poem] We burn the present It's glowing alure And tell ourselves "For a brighter future" And as the fire heats It's never ceasing glow Ignoring the smoke It's ever steady flow A century from now The world will be awash For all will have been burnt And all has turned to ash

The sun sets on a hill overlooking the city – or at least what's left of it. The people gathered on top of the hill began sobbing and falling to their knees. Some looked horrified at what had happened to the city they once lived in. "So... this is it then?" said a woman who had stopped sobbing. "I believe *this* is what we've all voted for," said a man next to her. They all knew what they had done. They said it was for the future and the greater good. But when all was said and done, they still couldn't believe the scale and extent of what it was. "Ladies and gentlemen," a man holding a bejewelled staff floated down to the hill where the people were gathered, "this is where we shall begin our developments. Where the complete re-do of our society shall begin!" But as he said it, some of the people on the hill began throwing insults at the man. They cursed him and questioned his statement, saying things like 'is it worth it?' 'let's fucking reset time to before we ever make the vote!' etc. Seeing this, the man shouted, "silence!" A brief pause accompanied by the echo of the man's shout had taken over the mood of despair on the hill. Then the man spoke. "All of you voted to make this 'fresh start'. All of you said that the society was broken and could not be fixed in increments. All of *you* gave your consent to this form of destruction." The woman who had spoken earlier shouted back, "but we have never imagined that this amount of destruction – cities turned to ashes, only handful of people remaining – would be what it entailed–" "*We* burn the present for the sake of a brighter future," the man interrupted as he float up to look down on the people, "then act surprised when all that's left is ash... Hypocrites, all you lot are!" As he said this, loud booms and bright amber lights appeared all around the hill. Faint smell of burning and voices of despair were heard. "There's no going back now..."

[WP]“We burn the present for the sake of a brighter future, then act surprised when all that’s left is ash.”

‘November 2023-A Forecast of Riots Angry citizens line the streets of DC, protesting the government’s recent bill banning the use of oil in manufacturing. Many claim that this will disadvantage our economy compared to foreign competitors, which burn four times more oil annually than we do. The bill will go into effect in six months, giving energy companies a brief moment to make a change. Jerry Caldwell, interviewed on the street, says “I can’t stand these climate lunatics, on about how the earth is on fire, and going to melt, and all sorts of foolish bull. This bill will have my job! I can’t feed my family in six months, and neither can most of us! And the [Illegible] the ocean, they just keep on going! They’re living happy, over there, but those piles of garbage in Congress, they want to see us starve, they do! So what about a little extra rain? We need our jobs! Down with this bill, I say. [censored] the lot of them [censored]” He then cursed for a solid four minutes at the distant capitol building. It is clear that this new regulation has [illegible] feelings. But is it effective in slowing the change of the [illegible- paper rotted] We can only hope that this will slow down our slow march towards crop collapse, mass starvation, and climate shift. Already we begin to run short on food. We must use any means necessary, as Sen. Jeffards says, to delay the destruction of the human race. We at the [illegible] local news don’t wish to be alarmist, so plea[illegible] panic.’ (Newspaper scrap recovered from glacier chunk, found in Georgia, 2764. Some damage prevents perfect transcription. Oldest record of human civilization to date.)

The sun sets on a hill overlooking the city – or at least what's left of it. The people gathered on top of the hill began sobbing and falling to their knees. Some looked horrified at what had happened to the city they once lived in. "So... this is it then?" said a woman who had stopped sobbing. "I believe *this* is what we've all voted for," said a man next to her. They all knew what they had done. They said it was for the future and the greater good. But when all was said and done, they still couldn't believe the scale and extent of what it was. "Ladies and gentlemen," a man holding a bejewelled staff floated down to the hill where the people were gathered, "this is where we shall begin our developments. Where the complete re-do of our society shall begin!" But as he said it, some of the people on the hill began throwing insults at the man. They cursed him and questioned his statement, saying things like 'is it worth it?' 'let's fucking reset time to before we ever make the vote!' etc. Seeing this, the man shouted, "silence!" A brief pause accompanied by the echo of the man's shout had taken over the mood of despair on the hill. Then the man spoke. "All of you voted to make this 'fresh start'. All of you said that the society was broken and could not be fixed in increments. All of *you* gave your consent to this form of destruction." The woman who had spoken earlier shouted back, "but we have never imagined that this amount of destruction – cities turned to ashes, only handful of people remaining – would be what it entailed–" "*We* burn the present for the sake of a brighter future," the man interrupted as he float up to look down on the people, "then act surprised when all that's left is ash... Hypocrites, all you lot are!" As he said this, loud booms and bright amber lights appeared all around the hill. Faint smell of burning and voices of despair were heard. "There's no going back now..."

[WP]“We burn the present for the sake of a brighter future, then act surprised when all that’s left is ash.”

‘November 2023-A Forecast of Riots Angry citizens line the streets of DC, protesting the government’s recent bill banning the use of oil in manufacturing. Many claim that this will disadvantage our economy compared to foreign competitors, which burn four times more oil annually than we do. The bill will go into effect in six months, giving energy companies a brief moment to make a change. Jerry Caldwell, interviewed on the street, says “I can’t stand these climate lunatics, on about how the earth is on fire, and going to melt, and all sorts of foolish bull. This bill will have my job! I can’t feed my family in six months, and neither can most of us! And the [Illegible] the ocean, they just keep on going! They’re living happy, over there, but those piles of garbage in Congress, they want to see us starve, they do! So what about a little extra rain? We need our jobs! Down with this bill, I say. [censored] the lot of them [censored]” He then cursed for a solid four minutes at the distant capitol building. It is clear that this new regulation has [illegible] feelings. But is it effective in slowing the change of the [illegible- paper rotted] We can only hope that this will slow down our slow march towards crop collapse, mass starvation, and climate shift. Already we begin to run short on food. We must use any means necessary, as Sen. Jeffards says, to delay the destruction of the human race. We at the [illegible] local news don’t wish to be alarmist, so plea[illegible] panic.’ (Newspaper scrap recovered from glacier chunk, found in Georgia, 2764. Some damage prevents perfect transcription. Oldest record of human civilization to date.)

Everything was falling apart around me, around all of us. That's what I remember most, that impression, formed of what felt like a thousand sensations at once: the klaxons, the screams and scrambling of the crowds around me, the smell of ozone, the dirty-stale stench of air filtration catastrophically failed; the feel of hum and crack and crash through the deck below my feet. The announcements, too, those tumble through the tumult of my very worst dreams, in a dozen languages of which I understand only two. "Catastrophic failure. Abandon ship. Catastrophic failure. Abandon ship. Falla catastrófica. Abandonar la nave. Falla catastrófica. Abandonar la nave." Ten more languages, then repeat. Like a eulogy. No, like a dirge, the slow mantra of a funeral procession, moving unstoppable through the frantic throng. That viewscreen, though. That I remember least. Because that's how I want it, that's how the dreaming depths of my mind know it should be. I'm going to tell you about it now, because it should be passed on after one hundred seventy-two years of genetically prolonged life, and because it won't have long to linger. It's still very clear. I say I remember it least, but really I remember it least often; I don't think the clarity of the thing itself has ever faded, that burned-in fragment of past, that hanging moment in time. I didn't know what it meant, at first, but it stopped me in my tracks, despite the fear and desperation that hummed through my nerves in resonance with every other human around me. An external view, the grey hull, the bold black letters that spelled out "UNCIS EARTHSEED." The looming bulk of the planet we'd christened "Solace" just a few days before. Something bright and big and pulsing, headed away from the ship, picking up speed. Like I said, I didn't know what it meant, I didn't know what the thing was. But I watched it. I saw it disappear momentarily beneath the clouds. Then the flash as it made impact, spreading, burning. No sound, but I could hear it anyway, just watching the ripples it made through the clouds. Immense. Unbearable. Annihilating. I blinked through the afterimage—the whole thing had been brighter than I realized—and then was thrown violently off my feet as the entire section of the ship I was in broke off from the rest. I barely managed to make it to the escape pod. Only seventeen of us did, to that particular pod I mean. Our antigrav failsafes lasted longer against Solace's machine-hating assault longer than most. Only one of us died on impact, only two more in the following hours. I staggered out, a few minutes after we hit the endless sea of ashes, clutching a broken arm and blinking in the the first unfiltered sunlight I'd seen since leaving earth. Only this wasn't the Sun, I remember thinking; it's strange what the mind catches hold of, when everything obvious is too much to bear. This was only *a* sun, Farrod, maybe the only one I'd ever see for the rest of my life. I staggered away from the pod in no particular direction. I didn't stop until I heard the delicate crunch of carbonized bone beneath the ball of my foot, and looked down. Skull. Human. A very small one. And I remembered, then; that was when I started trying to remember less often. The bright flare moving away from the ship, what I later learned was the *Earthseed's* destabilized reactor, ejected before it could destroy the ship that was destined to fall apart above the planet anyway. The flash, that spreading flash that had *killed* millions. Millions of impossible people we hadn't known were there. Didn't know *how* they could be there. Mystery for the ages, I suppose, since we still don't. It killed them. And it turned a patch of Solace into land we could use, plains of ashes far as the eye could see. Ready for planting. Ready for building. And we're still there. I don't know what lesson to give you from all this. No easy one anyway, I'm not sure history lends itself to those. You'll have to ask a wiser old woman than I. ​ **- Interview of Julia Perón, S*****tarfall's Shadow:*** ***Stories of the First of the Fallen,*** **published 142 Starfall Era** Come on by r/Magleby for more elaborate lies.

[WP]“We burn the present for the sake of a brighter future, then act surprised when all that’s left is ash.”

‘November 2023-A Forecast of Riots Angry citizens line the streets of DC, protesting the government’s recent bill banning the use of oil in manufacturing. Many claim that this will disadvantage our economy compared to foreign competitors, which burn four times more oil annually than we do. The bill will go into effect in six months, giving energy companies a brief moment to make a change. Jerry Caldwell, interviewed on the street, says “I can’t stand these climate lunatics, on about how the earth is on fire, and going to melt, and all sorts of foolish bull. This bill will have my job! I can’t feed my family in six months, and neither can most of us! And the [Illegible] the ocean, they just keep on going! They’re living happy, over there, but those piles of garbage in Congress, they want to see us starve, they do! So what about a little extra rain? We need our jobs! Down with this bill, I say. [censored] the lot of them [censored]” He then cursed for a solid four minutes at the distant capitol building. It is clear that this new regulation has [illegible] feelings. But is it effective in slowing the change of the [illegible- paper rotted] We can only hope that this will slow down our slow march towards crop collapse, mass starvation, and climate shift. Already we begin to run short on food. We must use any means necessary, as Sen. Jeffards says, to delay the destruction of the human race. We at the [illegible] local news don’t wish to be alarmist, so plea[illegible] panic.’ (Newspaper scrap recovered from glacier chunk, found in Georgia, 2764. Some damage prevents perfect transcription. Oldest record of human civilization to date.)

Sometimes, life doesn't go the way you want it. That is a simple fact. While people like the believe they have control, this fact stands silent: looking down with indifference as they go about their lives. Either, in ignorance, or perhaps, some enlightened. Those rare few might look back and warily consider the cold stare that it casts down upon them. That a human being can hold any semblance of control, is the most sacred of lies we tell. The belief grows stronger by the generation, passed on through the ages, as people ride the tides of nations and movements- each claiming responsibility. By grit, by teeth clenched, hands blistered, some will say they forged their own destiny. The earth was shaped before their intentions, the metal was worked, the frames were assembled, and the monument of their life's work was forged for all to witness. But, this was only possible because it was allowed. Imagine, what fortunes could be turned by the wind, or storm, or drought? Even now, as we claim to have seized the lands of our ancestors, entitled by riches and fortunes unimagined just a century past. Not because we are in control. No. Because it was *allowed.* An army can be wasted. The soldiers can be spent away, not by battle, or war, but sickness and hunger. A city can be burned- not by invaders, but by a stray candle dropped from a window. Unbelievable hardship can be conquered, but, the reverse is also true. While the good die young, so do so many others. It is true, that we burn the present. Every moment, of every day: we build our monuments. We lay our claim to reality, as we move ever-forward towards and undecided future. We believe ourselves in control, or perhaps, simply at the helm of our ships in the storm. Not control, but not completely without. We burn the present, for the sake of a brighter future. At our own expense, often not by personal choice: we burn. Candles in the window or guiding lights on a distant shore. Brightly, softly, it matters little. When the wick is spent, though, we can only pray another is lit before the flame goes out. ---- *edit: spelling/grammar*

[WP] When two of the most powerful villains in the world are defeated, everyone is happy. Except you, the grieving husband who just lost his daughter and wife in one night. Despite what everyone expect though, you never turn into a supervillain.

"Oh you can be sure that the temptation was there. Crusade and Xenos killed the love of my life, and my own child. My blood." Gary Willis takes another sip of water from the glass at his side. "Every night when I go to bed, alone, when I walk past the empty room where my daughter, Kate would be sleeping, I feel the pain of that day all over again. I--" He cuts himself off, gripping his hands in each other hard. He looks up with tear-filled eyes at the gathered tribunal. "My wife, Julie, and my daughter, Kate were villains to you, but I never knew that side of them. I knew the woman who lived for baking. The girl who was obsessed with"One N0te" 5 years ago. The wife who struggled in labor for hours with a child who nearly died due to the negligence of the hospital staff. The daughter who had to accept she would never walk again. Those were the girls I remember." Gary sighs deeply. "Lords and Lady of the tribunal, I cannot deny what they did. I cannot deny the illegality of it, or the immorality of it. That is not what brings me here today." Gary holds up a picture of his family, himself, his wife still as beautiful now as she was in high school when they fell in love, and his daughter, age 16, bound to a wheelchair, never having felt the touch of grass on her feet. His voice is close to breaking once he gathers himself enough to speak again. "I am here to demand an answer as to why, when Barron Phantasmic, Hugemongous, Killer Joe, and The Crippler are still walking around, alive and well after the atrocities they have committed, after Gulf City, after Mount Drucilla, my wife and child are laying on a slab for their crimes? They didn't kill or even injure anyone, they didn't destroy any buildings. They didn't collapse any significant governmental agencies, or destroy any monuments. They erased people's medical debts. They attacked! Not citizens, but the insurance companies who accepted no fault for the injuries to our daughter." The crowd murmurs, a few holding signs saying "Justice for Cleopatra and Jett." Gary clears his throat once again. "As I said before, the city, the country, and the world face no threat from me. I have no aspirations of being a super villain. But that's not to say that my family's lives will go unanswered.". More murmuring from the crowd. "Is that a threat against us, Mr Willis?" Gary stands and adjusts his jacket. "It is indeed Tribune. It is a threat against all who are victimizing the citizens and individuals of this world." The murmuring from the crowd becomes deafening. Gary's voice somehow manages to boom above it all, silencing everyone in a display of power that was wholly unexpected. "I am no super villain, Tribune. But I am someone who will not be victimized any longer. My words right now are being broadcast to the entire planet. I, and others like me, are tired of the status quo where villains are given tenth and twentieth chances. Where mass murderers are locked away until they trick or buy their way out of prison. Where CORRUPT TRIBUNALS LIKE THIS allow people to be killed for minor crimes by supposed heroes with carte blanche to mete out 'justice' as they see fit, and then acquit them of all wrongdoing." He turns to the cameras that have been broadcasting the proceedings. "All of us need to rise up and work together to fight this corruption, and we must do so sooner rather than later. Before more people die." Gary Willis, the man whose alter ego is known as 'Echo' let's lose a scream that manifests as multiple copies of himself, the copies, and the original escape the gathered authorities with one last phrase to the tribunal. "We will be seeing you again."

Peering out of his bedrooms crystal clear window, Andrew sighed to himself, everyday he would sit here and await his wife and daughters return. Though he knew the two would never return home- he found that it was easier to pretend otherwise. It had been five weeks since their deaths and he hadn’t appeared in the public eye since- many assumed that was for the best though and he found himself agreeing with their views. Admittedly, Andrew was quite angry with the U.S. government for putting out those bounties- though he couldn’t quite blame them. He couldn’t list how many lives his family had taken, the many careers ruined, the people who suffered for his family’s benefit. As much as he’d like to avenge his fallen lover and daughter he refused to do so- for he had signed a contract that the United Nations has drawn up for him, said contract was incredibly simplistic and went as follows: “I,Andre Javier Quincy-Anne Nikelhoff, will not avenge the assassination of Julia-Jarine King-Nikelhoff and Kari-Anne Beni King-Nickehoff, in exchange for Julia-Jarine King-Nikelhoff and Kari-Anne Beni King-Nickehoff’s corpse’s. In addition, all funeral expenses will be covered by the United Nations and I, Andre Javier Quincy-Anne Nikelhoff, will provide the United Nations any and all evidence required to persecute my wife and daughter’s allies- in return for these good deeds I will be granted a pardon for assisting in the crimes of Julia-Jarine King-Nikelhoff and Kari-Anne Beni King-Nickehoff.” It pained him to do so but he knew it was for the best, especially if he wanted to redeem his families name. Though for now, he decided, he would suffer in silence and pray that his wife and daughter were in a place where they could redeem themselves. (Haha poor Andrew! 😢 Hope you enjoyed it- Sorry it seems kinda rushed.)

[WP] A woman agrees to sell her first-born child to a witch for great riches and incredible luck. Beforehand, however, the woman had made a deal with a demon. Have the demon's child, and in return, gain eternal life. 9 months later, the demon and witch meet in the maternity ward.

"Honestly, Kim. Did you not consider that this might cause issue? Have you no foresight? I, for one, am appalled at the lack of ethics you have applied in your decision making processes. You humans are just so.... fickle." The demon, with obvious chagrin, cast his eyes downward to the cup of weak tea clasped by his leathery hands. The milk had not been stirred, and swirled around in the cup without direction. His thoughts meandered briefly into the realm of metaphor as he compared his own purposeless actions to the listless beverage that grew colder with every painful minute that he sat in that sterile white room. "Bloody hell, Seir, it's not the end of the world. Act as if reality is falling apart why don't you. Which one of us just squeezed a demon prince out of her effin' womb? Me. I'm spent, mate. Gimme' a break." Kim dropped her head back against the pillow. It crinkled as she did so. Cheap crap, she thought. She looked down at the child in her arms. She concluded that the sleeping baby looked normal enough. Well, her father was rather beautiful when he took on his human form. Maybe this babe has a beast form like her father. The child wasn't by rights hers any way she looked at it, so she supposed it didn't really matter either way. She couldn't bring herself to care - she had stopped caring a long time ago. Her life seemed like a string of trauma upon trauma, compounding against her heart and mind until she could feel no longer. So, what did she have to lose in dabbling with the otherworldy? She had been kicked around enough. It was high time she made good out of this bullshit existence. "Pardon me for interrupting your thoughts, but he's right." The witch held an ineffable expression on her exquisite face and a cold tone in her words. Her perfectly formed ringlets moved gently in the breeze blowing through the opened window. Kim looked up from the child and stared out from hooded eyes. "You witches. You're a hard to read bunch but I tell you what - you all think you're better than the rest of us. Anyway, aren't your lot supposed to be mortal enemies? Why aren't you battling it out with each other? Throw some magic around or some shit. Why are you agreeing with him?" "Actually, witches and demons carry a rich history of familiarity. Considering the promises that you've made, you could certainly do with some schooling on matters of the occult. I don't think you are quite grasping at the weight of this situation. You see - " "Jesus, I wish you both acted a little bit more like you do in the movies. Raging hell fires, cackling laughter and warts and... and... where are my riches? Am I immortal yet?" The demon looked up from his tea. In all the time he had known her, Kim seemed to show no signs of growth. She remained stunted, as though eternally stuck in the mind of a petulant child who could not be reasoned with. He wondered if it might have something to do with the white demon she used to speak with on those long and sleepless nights. The demon would tempt her, and she would pack him into her glass pipe and take his essence into her lungs. She was no stranger to trade-offs. In that case she had been trading little pieces of what remained of her humanity for some sort of sense of relief from the suffering that had long clutched at her. At least if she didn't sleep, she wouldn't have the nightmares.

[Poem] "That's not the way this works!" The demon spat with hate "In section 4, paragraph 3, just before clause 8", "It clearly states the child's mine, it comes with me to train" "This baby has to bring about, suffering and pain!" "You will not take the babe!" The witch sang out from her robe "The blood oath that the woman made is worth a thousand gold" "On my broom the child comes, I need him for my tricks" "My potions, curses, alterations, he's the perfect fix!" "We'll make the perfect deal" it's all that she could say, "We'll alternate on weekends, and switch off every day!" "Curses!" Screamed the demon, "I see no better plan" "You got yourself a deal I guess" sticking out his fiery hand.

[WP] Contrary to what most people think, death gods like you actually get to talk to the souls they take: some need assurances, some need comfort, some just need a good banter. Today, you're tasked to take an 8-year old terminally-ill kid.

My name is Death, but death more than just my name. It is also my duty, my purpose, and my responsibility. Popular myth would lead you to believe that I am something of a “grim” figure, but the simple truth is that being literally named after your job tends to make you take it somewhat more seriously than most. Imagine if your name, your very identity, was “accountant,” or “lawyer.” Imagine if that was your identity when you were on duty, off-duty, at home or abroad. It isn’t just your job – it’s your purpose. It is the entire reason you exist. It is your everything. And, of course, when you’ve been fulfilling such a purpose for countless aeons, you get extremely good at it. You know everything about it. You are beyond an expert – you are the physical incarnation of the job made manifest. You become so good at it that you become synonymous with the job, and the line between you and your job doesn’t just blur – it disappears entirely. When people speak of me, they are also speaking of my job. I am my job, and I am my purpose. And since death is a fairly serious affair – I am something of a serious individual. But grim? Let me just tell you a little story that might change your mind, and might force you to reassess some of your less justified opinions about who I am. I am not the stony-faced, soulless, emotionless, cruel creature that some would lead you to believe. Her name was Chloe, and she was eight years old at the time of her passing. Her parents had been staunch anti-vaccination activists and poor Chloe had ultimately come to pay the price for their ignorance and foolishness. Their misguided, narcissistic desire to be “right” where everyone else is “wrong” ultimately became more important to them than the welfare and survival of their child. (And yet, humanity has the cheek to say that I’m the soulless, cruel one.) I stood beside her bed. She could barely breathe. The tubes were everywhere. She didn’t even look like a child anymore. Even before she passed from this world, the light had left her eyes and she knew only pain. I reached out with one of my slender, snow-white fingers and granted her the mercy she deserved. “Hello, Chloe.” I uttered quietly, leaning back with a soft smile. “Hello.” Chloe responded quietly, sitting up in her bed. I could tell from the tone of her voice that she was nervous, but the tubes were gone, and she was a child once more. “How do you feel?” I asked warmly, already knowing the answer. “Better.” She uttered, still not quite trusting me. Her parents had at least managed to instil a cautious fear of strangers into their daughter, in spite of their other failings. “Do you know who I am, Chloe?” I asked, tilting my head slightly to one side and smiling softly. Chloe shook her head. “I’m here to take you on a journey away from here. I’m here to take you to a place where you can be happy.” I explained, extending my hand in her direction. She hesitated before she took it, glancing from my slender fingers to my pale face. “Will my Mummy and Daddy be coming with us?” She asked. I felt a small pang of sympathy. “Not yet.” I answered warmly. “But soon.” “They will want to know where I am.” She continued, still not taking my hand. “I’m sure they will know where you are.” I explained soothingly, twitching my fingers gently to encourage her to put her own hand within mine. The truth was that her parents had known her departure was coming. They had refused to accept it at first, but the infection had already run it’s course. There was nothing the doctors could do. Both her mother and father knew that their daughter wouldn’t make it through the night. “In fact, I am certain of it.” I added warmly. After a moment’s hesitation, the girl reached out from under her thin hospital blanket and put her hand within mine. I closed my fingers gently around hers. “Your hand is cold.” She commented. “And yours is warm.” I replied, giving her tiny hand an encouraging squeeze as she got to her feet. “I like your dress.” She uttered innocently. “Actually, it’s a robe.” I chuckled, giving the dark material a playful flick with my free hand. “But really, that’s just another word for a boring dress.” “Can I touch it?” She asked, looking up at me with her big, blue eyes. I noticed that the light had returned to her gaze. “Go ahead.” I uttered welcomingly. She reached out with a small hand and ran her fingers along the soft, velvety material. “It’s cold, too.” She commented. “My mommy always says we should wrap up warm. So why would you want to wear something cold?” “Because sometimes, I have to go somewhere very very hot, and it’s nice to be able to keep cool when I do.” I explained coyly, with a mischievous smirk. “Are we going somewhere hot now?” She asked, looking up at me with those shiny big eyes again. “Oh no. No, you are not.” I allowed my smile to spread just a little further across my thin lips. “Then where are we going?” She asked. “We’re going to go see your grandma.” I explained with another warm smile. “She’s been waiting to see you for a while.” “Grandma?” Chloe asked excitedly, smiling for the first time in months. “Yes, Grandma, Grandpa, and even Paul!” Paul had been her grandfather’s Doberman. “But nobody is more excited to see you than your Grandma. She’s been getting ready to see you for weeks. Ever since she knew you were coming. Her excitement has been driving your Granddad crazy.” The girl’s smile broadened even further and a genuine girlish giggle rolled out from between her grinning lips. Her teeth were crooked, but that smile was worth a million bucks. “Shall we go and see them?” I asked, gesturing softly towards the door. The girl nodded. With another warm smile, I led her gently towards the doorway and pulled on the doorknob. As the door swung open on it’s hinges, it did not do so to reveal the expected scene of a hospital corridor, but instead revealed the kitchen of a summer cottage in the outskirts of Sussex, England. The scene within was washed with warm, amber sunlight, and the welcoming scent of freshly baked cookies lingered on the air. A dog barked excitedly in the direction of the open door. “Chloe-bun!” An elated, elderly voice called out from within. The girl immediately burst into a run and embraced her grandmother. I let the door close, and I was alone once more. I had never once set foot in the afterlife. Being honest, it isn’t my place – I am a soul who has never lived, so how could I ever belong to a place for those who have? I am the ferryman who helps the dead to reach their resting place for the remainder of eternity – a guiding lantern in the darkness between earth and heaven, but belonging to neither. I was already in the process of checking my list for the next soul in need of my mercy when the door opened behind me. Chloe was standing in the doorway. Hmm. She shouldn’t have been able to do that. Normally, once I close a door, that opening to the next world is closed. I can’t exactly go around leaving portals to the netherworld open for just any dead soul to walk through, can I? That kind of sloppy work is what leads to hauntings. How on earth had she managed to just open it up again like that? “Will you join us for tea?” The girl asked, nibbling on the edge of a cookie. I stared at her, dumbfounded. Her grandmother appeared at her shoulder a moment later. “Oh yes, we simply must insist. Join us for tea.” The old woman didn’t seem to realise the significance of the little girl re-opening a door I had already closed. Perhaps that was for the best. “I – er…” I uttered, feeling incredibly uneasy. What the hell was happening? This was very off-script and totally unexpected. When you’ve existed for as long as I have, there is very little that you haven’t seen before, and this – well, this really took the cake. Chloe reached out and took my cold hand in her warm one once again. She dragged me over the threshold.

Here I am, waiting for the time to pass. I glance at my pocketwatch while gently nodding in my rocking chair, staring at the blades of grass in front of me. I see the blades of grass shift colors as they flow in the soft, subtle wind. Golden yellow, to lively green. Lively green, to golden yellow. Not wishing time would fly by faster. Simply being in this present moment, as there’s not much else one can do in this realm. Being a god of death is not a glorious job, but it is a calm and time honored occupation. I do not do this because I find joy in the suffering of those who will lose their lives. Just as the giver breathes life into them, I take them back to where their souls may pass and give room to birth new life. It is grim, it’s gloomy, and as many are mortified by the passing of time, I tend to see it differently. I want my patients to have their last few moments alive to say their most meaningful words, and then take them swiftly and quickly, or long and emotionally, as much time as it takes for them to feel comfortable transmuting to this realm. It is not a beautiful place, nor is it a bad place, it is a dimension in which many would describe as a void, as it is safest for the mixture in their souls to stay and to be destroyed. I walk to the realm of the living now, it is 12:00. I feel inclined to not be early, but just on time for my patients. The hospital is a not so beautiful place. Today I am imitating the father of a young boy who’s father died just last year. He is only 8 years old, it breaks my heart to see such a young boy be in so much pain. He has a genetic disorder in which his bones are brittle, he’s undergone many bone marrow transplant surgeries all of which had been proven ineffective by his weak, dying body. I am sorry I couldn’t have come to him sooner. I looked into his eyes “son, are you awake?” I touch his face and kiss him on the forehead. “Daddy?” He said to me “yes son, it’s really me” he hugs me and says “I missed you” “I missed you too son”. He said to me “but where’s mommy?” I paused for a moment “mommy is.. she’s...” “let’s just put it this way, your mother didn’t want you to be here.. it’s something that will hurt her for her whole life. “But does she know that I love her?” I shed a tear “yes son, you told her before you came here” . And in that moment I began to feel human feelings, I felt sorry for the poor woman who lost her son. “Son, do you remember the time I took you to go play with your sister at the park and we all tumbled in the grass laughing?”... “yeah?” Well your mom will remember you in all of those wonderful moments that you spent with her. “So am I dead?” He asked me and so I told him “yes son, but don’t be afraid, just as the blades of grass will soon die, the passing of time will give us meaning in how we once existed. I walked him through the grassy fields and into the void. He will be reborn in a new light. Just as my work has been done, this is what is meaningful to me.

[WP] You live in a world where magic is cast through what you mean, but not necessarily what you say. You are feared as a great sorcerer because of your mastery of puns.

**"Great. Another car accident."** Harriot sighed as he let go of his radio and grabbed his car keys. His partner was already waiting in the passenger seat, ready to respond to whatever call they would inevitably have gotten next. "It's a pile-up, on the freeway. Just off the Suncrest exit." "I heard," said his partner, "**Hope no-one was hurt.**" The car shook. The duo arrived at the horrific scene. A massive wad of crumpled vehicles occupied the entire half of the freeway. In the lake off to the right were the sunken cars of those who were going too fast to stop; a blue food truck lie aflame on the shore like a burning beached whale. Traffic was backed up all the way to the horizon. Harriot noticed that the fire department was already there, and he expected ambulances to show up any minute now. "Stay here, partner." Getting out of his car, Harriot rushed over to the firefighters and quickly found the one in command. "Sir! How many injuries? How many deaths? What're we lookin' at here?" "Well that's just it, *there are none*. All the cars were empty. We can't find any of the drivers." "You figure it's the work of that kid again?" said Harriot, "We've been havin' to deal with lots of strange calls all this week. Many people seein' the same kid whenever these weird accidents happen. You heard about what happened in Grapevine with all them poodles fallin' down from the sky? Or in Austin; the same thing again, but with cats?" "I think it's the kid's doing. The freeway is pretty slow at this hour and it's odd that all of these cars are here. What is especially odd is how everyone in the cars just disappeared." Harriot's radio went off. "Harrison, we've been getting a large number of stolen vehicle reports. I looked around - some of the stolen cars are in the crash!" Harriot was unfazed. He radioed back, "Interesting, thanks Da- **"wHat Do yOU cAll an allIGAToR in a VEST? AN inVESTigator!!!"** Harriot yelled in agony as he was stretched like a rubber band; He could feel all the sudden jerks and pops as he grew new bones. He yelled until he could no longer yell; his new respiratory system no longer allowed for such things. He quickly forgot why he was in such terror, as his brain no longer had the resources to store and process all of the complex experiences from his past. Luckily for Harriot, there was a nice lake nearby that was full of fish. Not paperwork, not bills, not debt, not court dates, not criminals, not bosses. Just a multitude of fish - and soon, *one alligator*. Harriot's partner, who had left his vest at home, drew his weapon the moment he saw the 12-year old boy sneak up behind his colleague. He ran behind a car, rested his weapon on its now-destroyed hood, and aimed at the boy. Taking a deep breath, he slowly squeezed the trigger. BAM! The boy took off running towards the lake. By the way the boy was running, the officer could tell the shot hit its mark. A chase ensued. The boy's sprint ceased at the burning food truck. Following the boy was his trail of blood droplets which stained the white beach as finely as red wine on a new pearly wedding dress. The officer also followed, though he did not stain the beach. The boy climbed aboard the searing hot food truck, its blue outer coat of paint having mostly peeled away. He screamed into the truck, **"mAKE me ONE wItH EVERYTHING!!"** He went limp, falling into the inferno through food truck's open window. Soon after, the ground began to quake, the stars rearranged; *everything shook with a vengeful but unjust anger.* The sand on the beach rearranged itself to form the shape of boy. It reached under the food truck with one hand, and with seemingly no effort hurled it into the other half of the freeway causing yet another pile-up. It began to make its way towards the officer; slowly, as if to torment him with fear. Harriot's partner began to sink into the sand, feeling his body begin to contort in directions that might eventually tear him to pieces. He had an idea. Almost completely submerged in the sand, his throat being crushed along with the rest of his body, he uttered out 8 words; ***^("Hi Everything, I'm Dad")*** Immediately, the crushing seized. *Dad* was lifted out of the ground, and the sand boy-replica ran to him as if they were reunited. They stood there for a brief moment in each other's embrace. The reality of the situation then set back in. The world's cradle had been rocked; massive amounts of lives and property were both destroyed. Dad wanted to love his son as a human being, not as Everything. "Everything, go back to the way you were." Immediately, it was as if a rewind button was hit on Everything. The other half of the freeway unpiled-up, and a flaming food truck flew backwards into the hands of the sand-boy. It was gently placed down, after which the sand fell back onto the beach. the stars and ground shook, and a boy flew out of the window of the flaming food truck, regaining life. He ran backwards towards the officer, recollecting the blood he had dropped onto the sandy shore... "You know, I think it's funny that I can actually say I enjoy my job bein' boring. *Not much crime, not much craziness.* I value my life and my safety" "I mean, I enjoy a little bit of action here and there." "Well, maybe one day you'll understand when you have a kid, Davy" #

\[Poem\] Listen to my meaning, not my word 'Cause this pun pirate is about to go overboard. You bring your weak sauce to the wild Casting spells all limp and mild. You can't hang with my magic, Stuck to the ground, you're tragic. You can't take the heat of my crazy fireballs, So get outta my kitchen and into the halls. Hail storm? That crap gets old. I bring the blizzard since I'm ice cold. You're pathetic, stuck in self-delusions You can't run from my magnetic illusions. Even Dumbledore ain't my equal He's uneven and dies in the sequel. Oh, is this dude Michael your friend? I'll open a fissure to hell and throw him in. I'll turn your ass into glass, Melt you into the sand where you stand, I'd boil you from your eye to your knee But that's not quite my cup of tea. I'll let you leave, run away if you like, Or Imma drop you like I will this Mike. \[Edit: That was so odd - I wrote it broken into lines and it showed up like that for me, including in the editor. But when it displayed for me now, all the line breaks were gone despite still showing up in the editor. I've fixed it now! Sorry for those who read the dense text, but thanks for the upvotes!\]

[WP] The spiders have learned about how much humans fear them. Feeling bad about this, they try their best to act adorable whenever they know humans are around.

I look up at the human, scuttling back into the shadows so she doesn’t notice me. Over the generations, we’ve noticed these humans are scared of us, the ones with long hair and higher voices the most scared, often calling the short-haired, deeper-voiced ones to capture and kill or release us. And they do. They always do. I don’t blame them. I’m terrified of them as well. I stay in the shadows until I’m certain she is not looking, then hurry across the floor and back under the giant thing she sits on, something she calls a ‘couch’. I’ve watched her climb up on it, her feet balanced on the spot her backside usually goes when she sees my father. He’s huge, I’d run if I were her. Dad is harmless. We’re what the humans call ‘Daddy-long legs’, which I guess tells them we don’t want to hurt them. But he’s so big, the long haired humans often forget and scream. I hand over the crumbs I was carrying. One will fill all of us up, I don’t understand how the humans can eat millions and still be hungry. We sit and watch the lights on the square in front of our home, content with our human not knowing we exist, so she never fears again.

[Poem] Back and forth The dark ones dance. Up and down My fear hops. A large one stands before me. My fear hopefully stronger than them. My mind rolls through the earth, my soul twinding around survival. Thoughts to actions as the white bat of death approaches. Life flashes, death cries. Above my own legs I feel my body die. Here on the table I lie. As the fly below me realizes its death. Its furry legs spread among the green life. The humans eyes filled with fearful wrath. Yet to the skies I try and fly, yet I know I shant arrive as the sly oh so dry pigsty benath the lying earth the underlying spinner of half truths awaits me.

[WP] The spiders have learned about how much humans fear them. Feeling bad about this, they try their best to act adorable whenever they know humans are around.

[Poem] A/N: This is my first for a poem, so sorry if I mess up Black tingly creatures Swinging like a pendulum Filled with joy and great features To those, who love to create a gentle hum Many fear these eight-eyes being For they are abnormal in every seating No one loves a different sight That could make them run in a fight Squashed and splattered on the floor Made of cold marble galore Fearing those with big feet Who could ignore all in a heartbeat Furry and deadly are a few But all people see, is a slew A slew of poison in one simple bite That would not pass the night Cold and lonely are them all They want someone to simply love For there is nothing to fall But, there own cherished inner dove Simple love will return Once all feel none And they learn For those, who are shun

[Poem] Back and forth The dark ones dance. Up and down My fear hops. A large one stands before me. My fear hopefully stronger than them. My mind rolls through the earth, my soul twinding around survival. Thoughts to actions as the white bat of death approaches. Life flashes, death cries. Above my own legs I feel my body die. Here on the table I lie. As the fly below me realizes its death. Its furry legs spread among the green life. The humans eyes filled with fearful wrath. Yet to the skies I try and fly, yet I know I shant arrive as the sly oh so dry pigsty benath the lying earth the underlying spinner of half truths awaits me.

[WP] Contrary to popular belief, Heaven and Hell are not enemies. They never have been. For millenia, angels and demons have been preparing for war. A war that begins on Judgement Day. Their enemy? The most feared beings in existence... Humans

At the end of the day, it's a job. There's only so many times you can receive a "once more into the breach lads" speach before it just becomes the background noise of my generations 9-5. I strap on my chariot suit and run a quick system check before climbing into the launch vehicle. "Hell or paradise today Blackstone?" I quickly shoot to my CO who frantically pounds the rest of his coffee before responding "Rate admin pays, it's always hell" Contrary to his cheery demeanor, this morning's offensive was against a legion of bow welding cherubs. Even with their magic, should be a quick days work. When the gates of hell and heaven poured open and they announced judgement day was here at last most people panicked, some made amends, some attonements, some frantic pleas. Not the United Military Corporation. Turns out despite two and a half thousand years of rethoric, kinetic energy is still proportional to mass times velocity and if you have enough of the latter two, divinity is relative. So that's what we do every day, besides clock in, clock an hour for lunch, then clock out. We bring the God's stolen fire back to them, each rifle, sidearm, and 20mm mounted autocannon Prometheus's blessing. When we split the atom before the pearly gates and knocked them asunder the U.M.C had a message to deliver. God might not be dead, but give us enough explosives and we'll do Niche proud.

The atmosphere of the human bar wasn’t as welcoming as it seemed. See, it was a neutral ground for the ancient forces and the humans, meaning it had tension reeking out the doors to the next town over. This tension resided in the wood of the bar counter, the voices of the band playing from the corner, the whispers on both sides, and of course, the newcomer who walked in. A portion of the voices had ceased as the heavy footsteps entered the bar. Those leaning over the railing of the second level found their eyes glued to this newcomer. The man in question proceeded to make his way to the bar, lowering himself gracefully onto a barstool. His eyes raised from their cave under the hood to rest on the bartender, and his left hand raised briefly. A coin emerged between his pointer and middle finger, and he rested it on the counter before he slid it over to the bartender, who brought his own hand down on it to stop its motion. He looked down briefly before smirking, taking the coin and replacing it with a bottle of scotch. Like the coin, the bartender slid the bottle down towards the man, whom caught it before it could slide down past him. “Hope this will satisfy your thirst, Lucifer.” With that, the band ceased playing, as did the voices in the bar. Humans and angels alike turned to each other to confirm they heard correctly, and the demon gang in the corner nearly howled with excitement. See, Lucifer was one of the archangels capable of turning the tides of this unholy war. Lucifer simply uncorked the bottle, and raised it to his lips as he took a long sip. He was waiting, patiently in fact which had surprised even the Angels on the top level of the bar. Moments later, a small group of humans emerged from their table and approached the Archangel. “You’re not welcome here lad.” The one leading them piped up. Lucifer paused, the bottle raised halfway up to his lips. He let out a small sigh and lowered it down to the counter, turning in his seat to examine those willing to approach and judge his presence. “And who has said that?” His deep voice called out into the silent bar, his eyes emerging once more. Lucifer raised a hand, causing the humans to tense up briefly. Instead of reaching towards the humans, his hand landed on the hood over his head and removed it, revealing black hair and tattoos that covered his neck and trailed downwards towards his collar. “Who says that a man, sorry, an Archangel cannot have a drink? Is it you?” He asked before quickly emerging from his seat, his hand now gliding forwards towards the humans as it latched onto ones throat. “You dare try and command me?” Lucifer’s voice now held the hatred he had always carried, and the bar occupants started to emerge from their seats. Half of them began to reach into bags or waistbands for weapons, while the other half began to prepare for a fight. “How dare you, you incompetent little cockroach. I should smite you where you stand had my Father not gone and created you.” He pushed the human back, sending him flying into the table they had emerged from. “Now listen up, and listen good. Us Angels and Demons now run this planet. And you no good vermin have no right to the riches and luxuries it offers. Therefore, you are going to pack your bags, and leave. Or else the wars you have waged will look like human children playing with dolls.” The demons let out their howls of joy and emerged from their corner, making their way to Lucifer’s side. The Angels now leaped down from the second floor, letting their wings unfold briefly to glide down. Now the bar was split into two sides, and both sides were eyeing up the other. In an instant, much like the calm before the storm, there was silence. But the storm always emerged. And both sides lunged at each other, colliding in what is known amongst all side as the kickstart to a war that had been waiting to unfold for thousands of years.

[WP] Contrary to popular belief, Heaven and Hell are not enemies. They never have been. For millenia, angels and demons have been preparing for war. A war that begins on Judgement Day. Their enemy? The most feared beings in existence... Humans

"This can't be, this impossible, they shouldn't exist at all!" The general's shouted so hard that a few medals popped of his chest and fell on the battle map. "This is madness, pure madness!" "Calm down, we saw them coming, we knew what to expect, the battle is not lost. Maybe not even the war, we can still win this!" A young man with just as much medals spoke. The general turned around, red faced, chewing on his cigar, that despite all that huffing and puffing was no longer lit. "ARE YOU KIDDING ME!? WE THREW EVERYTHING AGAINST THEM, EVERYTHING, HOW ARE THEY STILL ALIVE!?" "Sir, we don't know. They shouldn't be, yet they are. Our best scientists are looking at other options." "DAMN THOSE OTHER OPTIONS!" The generals face now mostly looked like a tomato, his eyes showing pure anger. "WE HAVE LOST THIS WAR, WE UNDERESTIMATED OUR ENEMIES!" "Sir we never knew they would work together. It is so unlikely for them. The books were wrong on that part." The general was silent, took a deep breath and started speaking in a soft voice, which to everyone in the war room was a first: "They have taken our cities, our lands, or people. They have destroyed, purged, cleansed and shot everything we had. We are the last bastion and now you say that our final hope was ineffective. It is a matter of minutes before they break through, I apologize for my shouting and my screaming, in the face of total extinction my emotions have gotten the better of me. It was an honour serving with you all." The young man walked towards the general who's face was still red and extended his hand. "Damn the etiquette, Lucifer it was an honour to see you in action and an honour to call you my brother." Lucifer turned around and pushed the hand away and gripped the young man in bear hug. "Gabriel, I am sorry for all and I am so sorry that it took all this to make us work together. We should have never underestimated the humans."

The atmosphere of the human bar wasn’t as welcoming as it seemed. See, it was a neutral ground for the ancient forces and the humans, meaning it had tension reeking out the doors to the next town over. This tension resided in the wood of the bar counter, the voices of the band playing from the corner, the whispers on both sides, and of course, the newcomer who walked in. A portion of the voices had ceased as the heavy footsteps entered the bar. Those leaning over the railing of the second level found their eyes glued to this newcomer. The man in question proceeded to make his way to the bar, lowering himself gracefully onto a barstool. His eyes raised from their cave under the hood to rest on the bartender, and his left hand raised briefly. A coin emerged between his pointer and middle finger, and he rested it on the counter before he slid it over to the bartender, who brought his own hand down on it to stop its motion. He looked down briefly before smirking, taking the coin and replacing it with a bottle of scotch. Like the coin, the bartender slid the bottle down towards the man, whom caught it before it could slide down past him. “Hope this will satisfy your thirst, Lucifer.” With that, the band ceased playing, as did the voices in the bar. Humans and angels alike turned to each other to confirm they heard correctly, and the demon gang in the corner nearly howled with excitement. See, Lucifer was one of the archangels capable of turning the tides of this unholy war. Lucifer simply uncorked the bottle, and raised it to his lips as he took a long sip. He was waiting, patiently in fact which had surprised even the Angels on the top level of the bar. Moments later, a small group of humans emerged from their table and approached the Archangel. “You’re not welcome here lad.” The one leading them piped up. Lucifer paused, the bottle raised halfway up to his lips. He let out a small sigh and lowered it down to the counter, turning in his seat to examine those willing to approach and judge his presence. “And who has said that?” His deep voice called out into the silent bar, his eyes emerging once more. Lucifer raised a hand, causing the humans to tense up briefly. Instead of reaching towards the humans, his hand landed on the hood over his head and removed it, revealing black hair and tattoos that covered his neck and trailed downwards towards his collar. “Who says that a man, sorry, an Archangel cannot have a drink? Is it you?” He asked before quickly emerging from his seat, his hand now gliding forwards towards the humans as it latched onto ones throat. “You dare try and command me?” Lucifer’s voice now held the hatred he had always carried, and the bar occupants started to emerge from their seats. Half of them began to reach into bags or waistbands for weapons, while the other half began to prepare for a fight. “How dare you, you incompetent little cockroach. I should smite you where you stand had my Father not gone and created you.” He pushed the human back, sending him flying into the table they had emerged from. “Now listen up, and listen good. Us Angels and Demons now run this planet. And you no good vermin have no right to the riches and luxuries it offers. Therefore, you are going to pack your bags, and leave. Or else the wars you have waged will look like human children playing with dolls.” The demons let out their howls of joy and emerged from their corner, making their way to Lucifer’s side. The Angels now leaped down from the second floor, letting their wings unfold briefly to glide down. Now the bar was split into two sides, and both sides were eyeing up the other. In an instant, much like the calm before the storm, there was silence. But the storm always emerged. And both sides lunged at each other, colliding in what is known amongst all side as the kickstart to a war that had been waiting to unfold for thousands of years.

[WP] Contrary to popular belief, Heaven and Hell are not enemies. They never have been. For millenia, angels and demons have been preparing for war. A war that begins on Judgement Day. Their enemy? The most feared beings in existence... Humans

“I don’t get it.” “I know, it sounds crazy.” “That’s because it is. How would faking a war help?” Lucifer simply smiled that big Cheshire cat smile of his in response. — — — — — “Atone! Atone for your sins, and you may be spared!” “My sins?! You have inflicted violence on others for the mere reason that they disagree with you, and have done so since the Crusades.” “Disbelievers. They were heathens, unworthy of the Holy Land.” “You invaded their lands.” “That was the will of God.” “So then the outcome of World War 3 was also His will?” “That was … the other side. The devil himself intervened to subvert our righteous cause.” “Funny how that works.” “Mock all you want, but the end is nigh. He will return, and the true believers will return to glory once more.” “Don’t hold your breath.” — — — — — “Your Grace, are you certain?” “There is no other way, Reverend.” “But our ministers report progress. They spread His word.” “Not quickly enough, Reverend. We do not have the luxury of millennia to undo the damage to humanity’s collective soul. We must act, and act now.” “But at this cost, Your Grace?” “At any cost, Reverend. His will must be done.” “May God have mercy on our souls.” “I expect no less than He to welcome me at the Heavenly gates.” — — — — — The explosion was as devastating as it was brief. The papal scientists had done their homework well, replicating every bit of science that the previous wars had had to offer. The artillery of the first world war, the nuclear weapons of the second, and the quantum computing of the third were all incorporated into that one, short blast. It was, in short, a doomsday device made real. Israel had no chance against a weapon of such magnitude. Holy land or not, the country was leveled in an instant. Yet the blast was so large that it was not contained to a mere country. Syria, Lebanon, Jordan, and Egypt all felt the terrible effects of the weapon, wiping out millions of square miles of civilization in a heartbeat. Where cities had once thrived, there was now nothing. Not carrion, not rotting flesh, just … nothing. From his exile, the Pope watched with much satisfaction. The heathens had been punished, and the world had seen the consequences of turning away from His word. Let them learn from their mistake, that they might return to the flock. So strong was his belief, that he didn’t flinch when the first of the Angels appeared at the blast site. This was a sign from Heaven itself; he had done the right thing. It was only when the demons showed up that he began to suspect something was wrong. — — — — — “Man! You have proven yourself unworthy!” The voice rang through the air, clear and sharp. It obviously originated from ground zero of the blast, yet the world over heard the words. Somehow, the demon’s voice had carried across the globe unassisted. Thousands of miles away, a very confused Pope began to stammer a reply. Yet before he could let out a full sentence, one of the angels continued the sentence. “Man’s free will, its ability to act as it chooses, is its greatest gift and its greatest curse. Too often, that choice is a poor one. Today marks the last time that choice is allowed.” “Before you stand the armies of Heaven and Hell. Surrender your weapons and you may be granted clemency.” While there were many reactions to this proclamation, the only response that mattered was the volley of missiles that closed in on angels and demons. History never quite singled out who, or which country, fired that volley, but it mattered little. That act proved to the armies of the afterlife that they had been right. History was quite certain about the words that came next. “So be it.” — — — — — “How did you know, Lucifer?” “Man is a social creature. Introducing two sides in a war meant that they would inevitably pick a side, like rooting for a team.” “And what of it? Angels don’t exactly visit Hell often.” “No, but we don’t exhibit free will the same way they do. Taken to an extreme, free will means fanaticism and zealotry. Urging them down that path meant they would simply get there sooner.” “How did you know? You couldn’t possibly have been sure.” “Call it a hunch. I’ve seen the worst that Man can offer.” “So you *wanted* them to cross the line? That weapon was a very real threat to all of us.” “I wanted them to cross the line sooner rather than later. An immature enemy is an easier one to squash.” “You wanted to strangle them in the cradle.” “Having more experience with their weapons would have meant a longer, deadlier confrontation.” “So you nudged them towards that weapon while they were still unprepared. Devious.” “My dear Jesus, don’t you know? The Devil knows more from being old than being the Devil.”

The atmosphere of the human bar wasn’t as welcoming as it seemed. See, it was a neutral ground for the ancient forces and the humans, meaning it had tension reeking out the doors to the next town over. This tension resided in the wood of the bar counter, the voices of the band playing from the corner, the whispers on both sides, and of course, the newcomer who walked in. A portion of the voices had ceased as the heavy footsteps entered the bar. Those leaning over the railing of the second level found their eyes glued to this newcomer. The man in question proceeded to make his way to the bar, lowering himself gracefully onto a barstool. His eyes raised from their cave under the hood to rest on the bartender, and his left hand raised briefly. A coin emerged between his pointer and middle finger, and he rested it on the counter before he slid it over to the bartender, who brought his own hand down on it to stop its motion. He looked down briefly before smirking, taking the coin and replacing it with a bottle of scotch. Like the coin, the bartender slid the bottle down towards the man, whom caught it before it could slide down past him. “Hope this will satisfy your thirst, Lucifer.” With that, the band ceased playing, as did the voices in the bar. Humans and angels alike turned to each other to confirm they heard correctly, and the demon gang in the corner nearly howled with excitement. See, Lucifer was one of the archangels capable of turning the tides of this unholy war. Lucifer simply uncorked the bottle, and raised it to his lips as he took a long sip. He was waiting, patiently in fact which had surprised even the Angels on the top level of the bar. Moments later, a small group of humans emerged from their table and approached the Archangel. “You’re not welcome here lad.” The one leading them piped up. Lucifer paused, the bottle raised halfway up to his lips. He let out a small sigh and lowered it down to the counter, turning in his seat to examine those willing to approach and judge his presence. “And who has said that?” His deep voice called out into the silent bar, his eyes emerging once more. Lucifer raised a hand, causing the humans to tense up briefly. Instead of reaching towards the humans, his hand landed on the hood over his head and removed it, revealing black hair and tattoos that covered his neck and trailed downwards towards his collar. “Who says that a man, sorry, an Archangel cannot have a drink? Is it you?” He asked before quickly emerging from his seat, his hand now gliding forwards towards the humans as it latched onto ones throat. “You dare try and command me?” Lucifer’s voice now held the hatred he had always carried, and the bar occupants started to emerge from their seats. Half of them began to reach into bags or waistbands for weapons, while the other half began to prepare for a fight. “How dare you, you incompetent little cockroach. I should smite you where you stand had my Father not gone and created you.” He pushed the human back, sending him flying into the table they had emerged from. “Now listen up, and listen good. Us Angels and Demons now run this planet. And you no good vermin have no right to the riches and luxuries it offers. Therefore, you are going to pack your bags, and leave. Or else the wars you have waged will look like human children playing with dolls.” The demons let out their howls of joy and emerged from their corner, making their way to Lucifer’s side. The Angels now leaped down from the second floor, letting their wings unfold briefly to glide down. Now the bar was split into two sides, and both sides were eyeing up the other. In an instant, much like the calm before the storm, there was silence. But the storm always emerged. And both sides lunged at each other, colliding in what is known amongst all side as the kickstart to a war that had been waiting to unfold for thousands of years.

[WP] Contrary to popular belief, Heaven and Hell are not enemies. They never have been. For millenia, angels and demons have been preparing for war. A war that begins on Judgement Day. Their enemy? The most feared beings in existence... Humans

"This can't be, this impossible, they shouldn't exist at all!" The general's shouted so hard that a few medals popped of his chest and fell on the battle map. "This is madness, pure madness!" "Calm down, we saw them coming, we knew what to expect, the battle is not lost. Maybe not even the war, we can still win this!" A young man with just as much medals spoke. The general turned around, red faced, chewing on his cigar, that despite all that huffing and puffing was no longer lit. "ARE YOU KIDDING ME!? WE THREW EVERYTHING AGAINST THEM, EVERYTHING, HOW ARE THEY STILL ALIVE!?" "Sir, we don't know. They shouldn't be, yet they are. Our best scientists are looking at other options." "DAMN THOSE OTHER OPTIONS!" The generals face now mostly looked like a tomato, his eyes showing pure anger. "WE HAVE LOST THIS WAR, WE UNDERESTIMATED OUR ENEMIES!" "Sir we never knew they would work together. It is so unlikely for them. The books were wrong on that part." The general was silent, took a deep breath and started speaking in a soft voice, which to everyone in the war room was a first: "They have taken our cities, our lands, or people. They have destroyed, purged, cleansed and shot everything we had. We are the last bastion and now you say that our final hope was ineffective. It is a matter of minutes before they break through, I apologize for my shouting and my screaming, in the face of total extinction my emotions have gotten the better of me. It was an honour serving with you all." The young man walked towards the general who's face was still red and extended his hand. "Damn the etiquette, Lucifer it was an honour to see you in action and an honour to call you my brother." Lucifer turned around and pushed the hand away and gripped the young man in bear hug. "Gabriel, I am sorry for all and I am so sorry that it took all this to make us work together. We should have never underestimated the humans."

At the end of the day, it's a job. There's only so many times you can receive a "once more into the breach lads" speach before it just becomes the background noise of my generations 9-5. I strap on my chariot suit and run a quick system check before climbing into the launch vehicle. "Hell or paradise today Blackstone?" I quickly shoot to my CO who frantically pounds the rest of his coffee before responding "Rate admin pays, it's always hell" Contrary to his cheery demeanor, this morning's offensive was against a legion of bow welding cherubs. Even with their magic, should be a quick days work. When the gates of hell and heaven poured open and they announced judgement day was here at last most people panicked, some made amends, some attonements, some frantic pleas. Not the United Military Corporation. Turns out despite two and a half thousand years of rethoric, kinetic energy is still proportional to mass times velocity and if you have enough of the latter two, divinity is relative. So that's what we do every day, besides clock in, clock an hour for lunch, then clock out. We bring the God's stolen fire back to them, each rifle, sidearm, and 20mm mounted autocannon Prometheus's blessing. When we split the atom before the pearly gates and knocked them asunder the U.M.C had a message to deliver. God might not be dead, but give us enough explosives and we'll do Niche proud.

[WP] Amber Alerts suddenly have the power to compel everyone who is made aware of them to stop what they're doing and immediately pursue the suspect(s) by any means possible. Nobody can stop the hunt until the suspect is apprehended and the child abducted is returned.

Joe Coplast was on his way out of town when the Amber alert came through. He had no choice, a quick U-turn and he was speeding down the road faster than he felt comfortable. Looking in his rear view mirror he could see hundreds of other cars turning around just as he had. This wasn't what he had planned for the day but there was nothing he could do. Nothing any of them could do until the child was returned. As he sped down the road, he silent cursed his decision to turn his cell phone on. If he had left it off he would be with Jenny now. Jenny was going to be angry. He knew she would blame him. She always blamed him when anything didn't go the way she wanted it to and he was suppose to be there by now. Knowing her, she would probably leave without him. Sailing to the Caribbean and wherever else her heart desired. He would quite truthfully probably never see her again. Yeah, she would blame him. It didn't matter that she had sent him into town to pick up "one last thing". Didn't matter one bit. She would blame him and leave him. Up ahead Joe saw what he was looking for pulling from a parking lot. He cut them off blocking them before they could leave. Quickly he opened his car door jumped out and pulled the crying child from the car. "Goodbye Jenny," he thought as he lay prostrate on the ground and allowed the officers he had stopped to cuff him and place him under arrest.

(H)"Kidnap the prime ministers daughter they said, its easy the said. ". (R) "Hawk quit complaining, no one could have predicted this." (S) "I'm with Hawk on this Raven, Intel fucked up, missing *father involved with mass mind control* is more then a little oversight." (R) "Of course they fucked up, but lets face it mind controlling an entire country isn't the kind of shit that normal people do in response to a kidnapping." (H) "Sparrow any sign of pursuers? " (S) "Nah, we shook most of them off when that plane tried dive bombing us and crashed into the street behind us ." (H) "Don't count on it, remember the gas station, even on fire they just kept coming." (R) "Dammit Hawk, what did i just say....... " THUD....THUD.....' (S) "Raven, there jumping out of nearby windows onto the van, hang on, ill try to shake them." (R) "Keep it up, our extraction point is only 80 miles away" (H) "If they haven't turned as well, and thats assuming they wouldn't follow us even after extraction. " (R) "Thats a risk were going to have to take, unless anyone here wants to join Seagulls fate. "

[WP] A Monster Under the Bed and a Monster in the Closet, both long since retired return to visit their former nemesis a Teddy Bear. They have tea and the bear tells them about the new generation of monsters he's been dealing with and about how he misses the old days.

Thlotep, The Many Eyed, sat back on an old wooden chair, nursing a fine cup of tea in his tentacle. His many eyes looked at his impatient companion, Krevkech, The Claw. The two monstrosities gingerly sipped their already room temperature tea as they awaited their guest, an old rival. The long-abandoned closet door slowly creaked open as Teddy, The Bear finally strolled in, a small figure, defiant against the two monsters. He strolled without fear towards his prepared seat as the two monsters nodded with respect. Krevkech spoke, his voice gnarled and guttural, "It's been a long time Ted, how's little Jenny?" The Bear reached a small well-worn paw towards his now cold cup of tea. He spoke with a confidence that commanded the room, "Good! Jennifer's been raising her own these days. It's the reason I was late actually. Little Judy needs old Ted to keep these new age monsters away. Makes me wish for the old days..." Thlotep's maw curled into a smile as his many eyes glossed over in remembrance. Thlotep spoke as if a thousand lost souls spoke together, their various voices overlapping the other. "Yesssss, the old days. I remember watching from within this very closet, waiting to consume the little one's fear, only to be thwarted by a small furry plushie." Krevkech smirked, revealing near-infinite rows of jagged teeth, "The fear that came from fearing my claw was delicious. The little girl never dared to hang a limb off the bed until you came around..." The monsters loomed over The Bear, their smiles widening as they bared their teeth. The monsters and The Bear erupted into laughter. "Those were fun times, defending little Jenny! Exciting till the end!" The Bear's laughter trailed off as he let out a deep sigh. "You guys were fun to ward off. At least I could rest when morning came. Nowadays, these new-age monsters get up with her and follow her to school! No sense of boundaries whatsoever!" Thotlep frowned, "How are they following her? Does she carry her closet with her?" The Bear chuckled, "No... They've crawled into her mind and started feeding on her fear directly. Now she needs me day and night..." The Bear's confidence falters for the first time since stepping into the closet, "and I don't think I'm helping anymore. I can help her push them out but sometimes she lets them in. Sometimes she thinks she deserves them. I don't know if I can help her be monster free before it's too late." The two monsters looked at each other, before turning to their once dauntless nemesis. Krevkech snarled, "Monsters these days don't understand restraint. They'll become addicted soon, intaking so much unfiltered fear. Do your best, Ted. She's going to need more than just you now." Thlotep nodded, his many eye's rolled back in contemplation, "Get the attention of other Bears, Bears you trust. You're going to need their support and the support of their little ones. Times are different now. You've done a great job with Jennifer, but it's fine to ask for assistance." The Bear regained his composure, "Yes. YES! I really hope this works guys. Maybe more Bears can convince her to stop letting these monsters in!" The old friends smiled with reassurance before finishing their tea. ___ Thanks for reading my first comment! Please leave constructive criticism and advice.

Way late to the party, but I'll give it a go. **** To most beings, and certainly nearly every human, the space under the bed is not a particularly welcome one. It's small, it's dark, it's cramped. A collection of dust bunnies, lint, cookie crumbs and the occasional lost sock. Hardly an ideal place. But to Grogg, it was home. It had been a long time since he had been under this bed. Had to be what, four years? Yes, it had four years since he'd last been here. Four years since he had been severed from the child he had come into being to scare. Grogg crawled out from the bed and looked around. The room was striking in its differences. Four years ago, the walls had been decorated with various drawings--mostly crayon but a few in colored pencils and an occasional marker creation. His child had fancied becoming an artist or an illustrator. Now, the walls were decorated simply. No pictures, not even posters. The bookshelf was there...that was a comfort. How many times had his child sat and read the hours away? Lost in stories of old until exhaustion forced them into sleep. Grogg scuttled over towards the bookshelf to get a better look. There weren't half so many books as before. A thin layer of dust covered the shelves. "Emma...my child," Grogg whispered. "What has happened to you?" **** "Good day, Grogg." Grogg's eyes moved towards the back of his head and relief filled his soul. They were there after all. He turned around slowly and scuttled back towards the edge of the bed. "How long has it been, Teddy?" "Fifteen hundred sleeps," Teddy replied. "Give or take three all-nighters." "You've changed," Grogg said simply. "A bit," Teddy agreed. "In my age, my oomph has lessened. And my joints are weaker than they were, last we met." "And the child?" Grogg couldn't quite keep the quiver from his voice. Try as he might to hide it, he was concerned. "I...must admit," Teddy sighed. "I am concerned." Grogg felt his blood grow cold and even through his exoskeleton, he felt a shake in his bones. "Come, have some tea," Teddy said kindly. "There's much we must discuss." **** I'll come back to this.

[WP] A Monster Under the Bed and a Monster in the Closet, both long since retired return to visit their former nemesis a Teddy Bear. They have tea and the bear tells them about the new generation of monsters he's been dealing with and about how he misses the old days.

Charles slipped out of the closet. The room looked different than the last time he was in there. It smelled different, too. He thought maybe it was a little girl's room, based on the decor. A pink bedspread upon the bed, some lightly printed ballerinas prancing across the wallpaper. A small round table had been placed in the center of the room, with three toddler-sized chairs encircling it. Roose sat in one of the chairs, the other two vacant. The small bear had lost some of his fluff over the years. One of his ears was off kilter, apparently having been reattached at some point. He had new stitches visible across portions of his body. All things considered, he looked pretty good for a 32 year old children's toy. Roose smiled at Charles. "It's good to see you, my old friend," Roose spoke. Charles grinned at Roose. "I wasn't sure if you would recognize me without the overalls," he said, pointing to the open Hawaiian shirt and baggy shorts he wore. Roose laughed. "Oh, yes, *Chucky*. It's the outfit change that makes you hard to recognize. Not the grey hair, or the stubble, or the wrinkles. For that matter, I didn't know that dolls could age." Charles smiled at being called Chucky again. He hadn't been called that in a long time. "Well Roose, let me tell you: I've learned a lot these past few decades. Turns out, I'm far from the only Chucky out there. I guess Child's Play spooked a lot of young kids back then. There aren't many these days, but I see a few young guys pop up here and there. I started noticing the aging shortly after I retired. I guess that without the kid's imagination, we aren't stuck in a perpetual form. There's scores of monsters from all over who have dedicated their post-children lives to researching this stuff. By the way, if you think *I* look old, you should see Rona. We saw each each other in Bermuda back in, what, 2013? She was wearing glasses already. By the way, is she coming?" "She said that she would be here," Roose said, nodding. Charles couldn't help but notice just how tired Roose seemed to be. Charles pulled out a chair and sat down in it, while Roose poured a small cup of tea. Charles breathed in deep. "Is that Earl Grey? That smells divine," he said, accepting the cup, "By the way, how is Tomás these day?" "He's working in engineering, I think? He's doing something about space travel, as far as I know. All of it goes way over my head," Roose replied. "Oh wow, that's really great," Charles said, "When-" He was interrupted as a woman crawled out from under the bed. Charles watched Roose, hoping to see the expression on his face as Rona made her entrance. Roose did not disappoint. Roose stifled a chuckle. "No dress? No... veil?" he asked the so-called "Wailing Woman". She stood up to her full height, towering over her two companions. She wore yoga pants, a pair of round spectacles, and an oversized hoodie that read "I went to the Grand Canyon and all I got was this Stupid Hoodie". Her silvery hair was pulled back in loose bun. She glared at Roose. "I quit wearing that damn thing as soon as I possibly could," She said, "These days, women's clothing is so much more comfortable." Charles poured Rona a cup of tea. "So, how's Hollywood treating you?" He asked. "Ugh, dios mio. Don't get me started. A bunch of these new ladies all started showing up. They all look the same, just oozing that Hollywood, mass manufactured appearance. No offense," she said, glancing at Charles. "None taken. It's part of my charm. Don't worry too much. I saw the film, she was not nearly as scary as you were, back in the day," Charles replied, nibbling on a biscuit. Rona looked around. "A girl's room, yes? Is she Tomás' daughter? She must still be young," She observed. "Yes, her name is Marigold. She was actually adopted by Tomás and his husband when she was barely a toddler. She will be turning 6 in May," Roose explained, with a small smile. The three friends spoke for awhile, reminiscing. In a lull in the conversation, Charles pointed towards the closet door, indicating a large sliding bolt lock. "That's... new," He remarked. Roose's ears folded back. "Yes. Tomás had that installed after... well, he did it to make Mari feel better. Like all the adults, he has forgotten how real we all truly are, but he acknowledges that the fear is real nonetheless. He is a good father. He takes care of his daughter, and if she is scared of the closet, he will assuage that fear." "That seems unnecessary," Charles said, "I thoroughly frightened that boy, and he never needed a lock for the closet." Roose hung his head. "Things were simple when we were young. You two would either look out of the closet, or you would sob while hiding under the bed, or you would whisper his name in the middle of the night. And for my part, I would push you back, or I would hug Tomás tighter. We all knew our place, our role. These new Monsters, they're... something else entirely." Rona looked at Roose, concern heavy on her brow. "Whatever do you mean?" She asked. "Fear is important for a child. You must instill a sense of danger into the little one, because without it, a person is foolhardy, and will end up injuring themselves, or worse. You two always understood that it was your job to instill that sense of survival. Just as you understood that it was my job to protect, to show the boy that anything can be overcome with a healthy helping of love. That life is better with someone to watch your back. It was good sport, a game. There were rules. We did well. Tomás turned out great." The two Monsters nodded. "When you two retired, I was a bear without a job. But I was okay with that, because I was happy to have some time off. As Tomás got older, his imagination faded, and after awhile, I hibernated. I slept for a few years before I was once again awakened by the vivid imagination of a child. Tomás had passed Ol' Roosevelt down to his daughter. "But things have been different. The Monsters that come during the night now don't obey the sense of order we did. They are abstract, and confusing, but most of all... cruel. The One That Hides Under The Bed is bad enough, but The Thing ln The Closet is a different beast entirely. "When a child grows up, they stop being afraid of Chucky, or La Llorona, or Jason Voorhees, or the boogeyman, or any number of other Monsters. Maybe they are a little bit, but not deep down. They worry about insurance, or taxes, or the concept of mutually assured destruction. But children these days are so exposed to those adult fears. Did you know that there's News Channels on 24 hours a day, so many of them explaining how terrible everything is, and why everyone should be afraid? Children are more perceptive than most adults give them credit for. They notice these things. "When a Monster is formed from these concepts... it's scary. Not just to a child." A tear rolled down Roose's soft cheek. "I'm too old. I'm so tired." Charles placed a hand on his old friend's shoulder. "I'm sorry to hear that. I truly am," Rona whispered, gripping Roose's paw tightly. Charles stood up and walked to the closet door. He stepped inside, and shut the door behind him. Moments later, he returned, tugging a colorful, striped sweater over his head and pulling up the straps of his faded blue overalls. "Rona, dear, go and get your dress and veil," he said, grinning broadly, "Let's be honest, retirement has gotten a little boring... and we finally have a chance to see things from the other side." He took Roose by the hand and pulled the bear to his feet. He wiped the tears from his friend's eyes. "I think it's time for Marigold to meet her new imaginary friends."

Way late to the party, but I'll give it a go. **** To most beings, and certainly nearly every human, the space under the bed is not a particularly welcome one. It's small, it's dark, it's cramped. A collection of dust bunnies, lint, cookie crumbs and the occasional lost sock. Hardly an ideal place. But to Grogg, it was home. It had been a long time since he had been under this bed. Had to be what, four years? Yes, it had four years since he'd last been here. Four years since he had been severed from the child he had come into being to scare. Grogg crawled out from the bed and looked around. The room was striking in its differences. Four years ago, the walls had been decorated with various drawings--mostly crayon but a few in colored pencils and an occasional marker creation. His child had fancied becoming an artist or an illustrator. Now, the walls were decorated simply. No pictures, not even posters. The bookshelf was there...that was a comfort. How many times had his child sat and read the hours away? Lost in stories of old until exhaustion forced them into sleep. Grogg scuttled over towards the bookshelf to get a better look. There weren't half so many books as before. A thin layer of dust covered the shelves. "Emma...my child," Grogg whispered. "What has happened to you?" **** "Good day, Grogg." Grogg's eyes moved towards the back of his head and relief filled his soul. They were there after all. He turned around slowly and scuttled back towards the edge of the bed. "How long has it been, Teddy?" "Fifteen hundred sleeps," Teddy replied. "Give or take three all-nighters." "You've changed," Grogg said simply. "A bit," Teddy agreed. "In my age, my oomph has lessened. And my joints are weaker than they were, last we met." "And the child?" Grogg couldn't quite keep the quiver from his voice. Try as he might to hide it, he was concerned. "I...must admit," Teddy sighed. "I am concerned." Grogg felt his blood grow cold and even through his exoskeleton, he felt a shake in his bones. "Come, have some tea," Teddy said kindly. "There's much we must discuss." **** I'll come back to this.

[WP] A Monster Under the Bed and a Monster in the Closet, both long since retired return to visit their former nemesis a Teddy Bear. They have tea and the bear tells them about the new generation of monsters he's been dealing with and about how he misses the old days.

"How've you been, Teddy?" The question caught him off guard. It had been years since the monsters and Teddy had been in the same room, and on speaking terms no less. "It's.. been rough." The cerulean bear breathed after a moment, looking up to see shadows curling from beneath the bed, slithering across the moonlit room before manifesting in a chair. The creature took the form of a long-limbed, pale woman with white, unseeing eyes and long black hair. "Why?" Was the soft, raspy whine from the closet, as the door squeaked open and yellow eyes peered from the depths. The bear steeled himself. "The new monsters are... different." Pouring himself a mug of tea he fixed his eyes on the Bed Demon. "They are like nothing I've faced before." "Before, it was flickering lights in the closet, or a glimpse of something below the bed. But these new monsters.. they dont wait for the dead of night. They strike at every moment of every day." "The... Children?" The Closet demon breathed. "I have watched the children grow to adolescence and with every passing year, the monsters get more aggressive. I see them crying in their beds. I've seen the elder child bandage themselves before school, wounds inflicted by the demons." Both creatures made sounds of alarm. In all their years, neither demon had ever touched a child. "But worst of all.. the monsters dont stop with kids anymore. I've seen the mother drink, the father not eat, the children turn away their friends." Tears soaked Teddy's fur. "They call these new monsters many names; Depression, Anxiety, PTSD, Addiction. They have tore our family apart, and I dont know how to fight them.." Teddy stared at both of the horrified creatures. "I miss the good old days; when monsters lived under the bed.."

Way late to the party, but I'll give it a go. **** To most beings, and certainly nearly every human, the space under the bed is not a particularly welcome one. It's small, it's dark, it's cramped. A collection of dust bunnies, lint, cookie crumbs and the occasional lost sock. Hardly an ideal place. But to Grogg, it was home. It had been a long time since he had been under this bed. Had to be what, four years? Yes, it had four years since he'd last been here. Four years since he had been severed from the child he had come into being to scare. Grogg crawled out from the bed and looked around. The room was striking in its differences. Four years ago, the walls had been decorated with various drawings--mostly crayon but a few in colored pencils and an occasional marker creation. His child had fancied becoming an artist or an illustrator. Now, the walls were decorated simply. No pictures, not even posters. The bookshelf was there...that was a comfort. How many times had his child sat and read the hours away? Lost in stories of old until exhaustion forced them into sleep. Grogg scuttled over towards the bookshelf to get a better look. There weren't half so many books as before. A thin layer of dust covered the shelves. "Emma...my child," Grogg whispered. "What has happened to you?" **** "Good day, Grogg." Grogg's eyes moved towards the back of his head and relief filled his soul. They were there after all. He turned around slowly and scuttled back towards the edge of the bed. "How long has it been, Teddy?" "Fifteen hundred sleeps," Teddy replied. "Give or take three all-nighters." "You've changed," Grogg said simply. "A bit," Teddy agreed. "In my age, my oomph has lessened. And my joints are weaker than they were, last we met." "And the child?" Grogg couldn't quite keep the quiver from his voice. Try as he might to hide it, he was concerned. "I...must admit," Teddy sighed. "I am concerned." Grogg felt his blood grow cold and even through his exoskeleton, he felt a shake in his bones. "Come, have some tea," Teddy said kindly. "There's much we must discuss." **** I'll come back to this.

[WP] A Monster Under the Bed and a Monster in the Closet, both long since retired return to visit their former nemesis a Teddy Bear. They have tea and the bear tells them about the new generation of monsters he's been dealing with and about how he misses the old days.

Ponderously, silently, the closet door eased open. One by one, the six claws of too-long fingers curled around its edge. Two baleful eyes flared open in the dark recess, and a voice like creaking timber hissed out into the room beyond. “Am I late? There are more boxes here now….” “Not at all, Bogey; come on out.” On top of the bed, leaning back against the wall and seated behind the memory of an old child’s playtime tea set, sat an old, threadbare teddy bear. The fleecy fur was long since matted and pilled, and his left eye drifted (the button had come loose and been resewn innumerable times), but the voice was no less warm and rich than Bogey the closet-monster remembered. Even now, as tired and aged as he looked, the bear still radiated that same aura of calm. It used to infuriate him, but Bogey now found it rather nostalgic. “Flo’s just ducked in to freshen—ah, here she is now.” The light in the room seemed to pale ever so slightly as a thick, rubbery tentacle oozed out from under the bed—and another, and another, until the mass of them managed to haul an eyeless, amorphous blob far enough out that a distant sort of sloshing sound echoed around the room. “Thank you, Ted; I hadn’t wanted to drip ev—Bogey! So good to see you.” “Likewise, Flo—how’s the kid?” Bogey stepped out from behind the closet in full and reached a spindly limb out to shake Flo’s tentacle. It was the first time he’d been in this room in many years, and the first time ever during daylight hours. It looked… small. Especially compared to Bogey, who now hunched over and wrinkled his suit to sit, his eyes still glaring out from a hazy darkness rather than an actual face. “Oh, U’aughth is a *treat,* let me tell you,” shuffled Flo excitedly. “Just last week he spoke his first blasphemy! I’ve hardly gotten any sleep, but I have plenty of photos to share.” Ted smiled and handed over ephemeral cups and saucers, his paws shaking with the barest tremor. “Here, Flo, Bogey. Glad you two could make it.” “Thank you, Ted. I know I’ve not kept in touch, but it really is nice to be back.” A tentacle dipped in acknowledgment. “Very. Remember the time Ted chewed us out and demanded we use PTO?” “You know darn well it’s because Lisa got sick, so I had to be in the wash, and the two of you threw a house party up here.” Bogey shrugged. “C’mon, Ted, what were we gonna do? That sorta chance doesn’t happen every night.” “No, but I had my work cut out for me the next day. You know how hard it is to soothe a kid who’s scared *and* has the flu?” “Oh, can it, fuzzball.” The bed shifted as Flo wiggled in amusement. “You were always such a spoilsport.” Ted’s shoulders drooped. “Yes, I was, wasn’t I? Thank you for putting up with me all that time.” Bogey exhaled and shook his head. “Really, Ted? A job’s a job. I can’t say we always got along, but it really was a pleasure to work with you.” “Likewise.” A tentacle reached up and patted the bear on the arm. “I know you’d never have really wanted us to leave before Lisa was ready. And you know we’d never have *hurt* Lisa. That wasn’t our job.” “Yeah, Ted. Don’t get yourself down over that.” “That’s… not it.” Bogey paused. “What’s not?” At length Ted sighed, blinked, and set his tea down. “As much as I’d like to catch up, I need your help. There’s work for you here, and I can’t do it alone.” “Oh, Teddy! That’s wonderful!” Flo clapped her appendages with a wet slap. “What gender?” “Sorry, no, no siblings. It’s… it’s about Lisa.”

\[Poem\] Teddy the Bear, longed for yesteryear. When monsters were scary and kids full of fear. Today's monsters get offended easily and scare so cheesily. They want more for less and do everything greedily. The monsters think sending texts is a job well done. But the text gets deleted by everyone. Teddy remembers when monsters were terrifying Monsters today aren't even trying!

[WP] A Monster Under the Bed and a Monster in the Closet, both long since retired return to visit their former nemesis a Teddy Bear. They have tea and the bear tells them about the new generation of monsters he's been dealing with and about how he misses the old days.

The Bed Monster and the Closet Monster were feeling gleefully nostalgic. As they went to see Smiles The Teddy Bear, they impishly thought about maybe even trying to scare *them* - perhaps Bed Monster could come from the closet? While Closet Monster would approach from the bed? Or perhaps they could really shake things up and both come from an open window? Oh, they could give that Smiles a real fright! But as they approached Smiles, the haunted look in their sewn in face shook them to their core. The monsters could shift and morph into a child's greatest fear... So how was a toy designed to bring joy able to convey such pain? And moreso, what was this strange room they were meeting in? Smiles *said* their previous owner had given them away - as to be expected when children age - but this was no child's bedroom. It wasn't even a bedroom, or in a house. This was an all white room, unceremoniously decorated. It was stark; save for a few other toys, a small table, a large chair, and two smaller chairs. The only windows were sealed shut. But also, a mirror that seemed see thru? The monsters approached with apprehension, taking it all in before finally asking "Smiles....what is this place?" "That's not my name anymore. Here I am just called 'The Bear'." The Bear sat in heavy silence, notably avoiding the latter question. The monsters gave each other a concerned look. They were expecting their brave and brazen frenemy, not this shell of their former foe. Bed Monster spoke first, "Well this place seems...clean. Must be easy work, a Monster's best friend is a dirty room after all. Plenty of places to hide!" Bed Monster tried to sound playful, but The Bear remained stoic. "Everything is exposed here." Closet Monster, attempting to shift the focus, began asking about The Bear's new owners.  "Well then, you must not have too many kids to worry about! Good thing for you because you're look-ing....old...." Closet Monster's attempt at humor fell like an anvil as pure darkness encompassed The Bear's face. "I see several kids a day, every day."  Something about the cadence in how The Bear said "every day" seemed terrifying, even to the Monsters. Yet before they could press the issue or move on, The Bear began to speak - quickly and loudly, the unmistakable sounds of desperation and anger radiating from every word. "Every. Fucking. Day. Every damn day kids play with me, and pick me up, and hug me so hard I feel like I could just burst from the love and joy! But then... Then the adult comes in. Sometimes it's a man, sometimes it's a woman. But every, single, time - they RIP me from play time and... Well, they start asking the kids questions. And they use me to do it. 'Show me on The Bear where they touched you' 'How many times' 'Where did it happen'. By the time these adults are done, most kids are crying and then want nothing to do with me. The look of revulsion or shame...it washes away any speck of happiness we once shared... Then I am carelessly tossed aside. Until the process repeats. Over and over. Every. Fucking. Day." The monsters are mortified. Too stunned to speak. So The Bear continues. "You two thought you were bad? You're nothing compared to what these kids face. Merely a farcical trifle! But I preferred it that way....at least I could do something back then. I provided comfort, day and night! I was loved! Cherished! And the kids...." The Bear paused. The Monsters didn't dare interrupt. "Those kids looked at me like I was a hero. But now...now I'm just a reminder of whatever horror they had to face...that I can't protect them from at all." The Bear looked in the direction of both the Monsters, but seemed to be looking through them; at something far beyond the Monsters couldn't see. Bloodlust was palpable in every spoken syllable coming from The Bear. "You two have been out of the game for a while now. These new monsters, they haunt even me. And I can only hope you never encounter them. Or if you do, that you give them what they deserve..."

\[Poem\] Teddy the Bear, longed for yesteryear. When monsters were scary and kids full of fear. Today's monsters get offended easily and scare so cheesily. They want more for less and do everything greedily. The monsters think sending texts is a job well done. But the text gets deleted by everyone. Teddy remembers when monsters were terrifying Monsters today aren't even trying!

[WP] A Monster Under the Bed and a Monster in the Closet, both long since retired return to visit their former nemesis a Teddy Bear. They have tea and the bear tells them about the new generation of monsters he's been dealing with and about how he misses the old days.

Ponderously, silently, the closet door eased open. One by one, the six claws of too-long fingers curled around its edge. Two baleful eyes flared open in the dark recess, and a voice like creaking timber hissed out into the room beyond. “Am I late? There are more boxes here now….” “Not at all, Bogey; come on out.” On top of the bed, leaning back against the wall and seated behind the memory of an old child’s playtime tea set, sat an old, threadbare teddy bear. The fleecy fur was long since matted and pilled, and his left eye drifted (the button had come loose and been resewn innumerable times), but the voice was no less warm and rich than Bogey the closet-monster remembered. Even now, as tired and aged as he looked, the bear still radiated that same aura of calm. It used to infuriate him, but Bogey now found it rather nostalgic. “Flo’s just ducked in to freshen—ah, here she is now.” The light in the room seemed to pale ever so slightly as a thick, rubbery tentacle oozed out from under the bed—and another, and another, until the mass of them managed to haul an eyeless, amorphous blob far enough out that a distant sort of sloshing sound echoed around the room. “Thank you, Ted; I hadn’t wanted to drip ev—Bogey! So good to see you.” “Likewise, Flo—how’s the kid?” Bogey stepped out from behind the closet in full and reached a spindly limb out to shake Flo’s tentacle. It was the first time he’d been in this room in many years, and the first time ever during daylight hours. It looked… small. Especially compared to Bogey, who now hunched over and wrinkled his suit to sit, his eyes still glaring out from a hazy darkness rather than an actual face. “Oh, U’aughth is a *treat,* let me tell you,” shuffled Flo excitedly. “Just last week he spoke his first blasphemy! I’ve hardly gotten any sleep, but I have plenty of photos to share.” Ted smiled and handed over ephemeral cups and saucers, his paws shaking with the barest tremor. “Here, Flo, Bogey. Glad you two could make it.” “Thank you, Ted. I know I’ve not kept in touch, but it really is nice to be back.” A tentacle dipped in acknowledgment. “Very. Remember the time Ted chewed us out and demanded we use PTO?” “You know darn well it’s because Lisa got sick, so I had to be in the wash, and the two of you threw a house party up here.” Bogey shrugged. “C’mon, Ted, what were we gonna do? That sorta chance doesn’t happen every night.” “No, but I had my work cut out for me the next day. You know how hard it is to soothe a kid who’s scared *and* has the flu?” “Oh, can it, fuzzball.” The bed shifted as Flo wiggled in amusement. “You were always such a spoilsport.” Ted’s shoulders drooped. “Yes, I was, wasn’t I? Thank you for putting up with me all that time.” Bogey exhaled and shook his head. “Really, Ted? A job’s a job. I can’t say we always got along, but it really was a pleasure to work with you.” “Likewise.” A tentacle reached up and patted the bear on the arm. “I know you’d never have really wanted us to leave before Lisa was ready. And you know we’d never have *hurt* Lisa. That wasn’t our job.” “Yeah, Ted. Don’t get yourself down over that.” “That’s… not it.” Bogey paused. “What’s not?” At length Ted sighed, blinked, and set his tea down. “As much as I’d like to catch up, I need your help. There’s work for you here, and I can’t do it alone.” “Oh, Teddy! That’s wonderful!” Flo clapped her appendages with a wet slap. “What gender?” “Sorry, no, no siblings. It’s… it’s about Lisa.”

\[Poem\] Have no fear. Sleep with me, Teddy, near. ​ I am strong, oh so tough. Though I’m filled with just fluff. ​ Soon you shall see. I make all monsters flea. ​ Under the bed comes a noise? We’re stronger, us toys. ​ In the closet a shadow? Nice try, I can tango. ​ But what’s that I hear? New monsters draw near! ​ Boys! Boys! They used to have cooties! Now I’m off to the side while she sleeps next to “cuties”. ​ Now what, Retire? I have no more plays. Oh how I miss the good ol’ days.

[WP] A Monster Under the Bed and a Monster in the Closet, both long since retired return to visit their former nemesis a Teddy Bear. They have tea and the bear tells them about the new generation of monsters he's been dealing with and about how he misses the old days.

The Bed Monster and the Closet Monster were feeling gleefully nostalgic. As they went to see Smiles The Teddy Bear, they impishly thought about maybe even trying to scare *them* - perhaps Bed Monster could come from the closet? While Closet Monster would approach from the bed? Or perhaps they could really shake things up and both come from an open window? Oh, they could give that Smiles a real fright! But as they approached Smiles, the haunted look in their sewn in face shook them to their core. The monsters could shift and morph into a child's greatest fear... So how was a toy designed to bring joy able to convey such pain? And moreso, what was this strange room they were meeting in? Smiles *said* their previous owner had given them away - as to be expected when children age - but this was no child's bedroom. It wasn't even a bedroom, or in a house. This was an all white room, unceremoniously decorated. It was stark; save for a few other toys, a small table, a large chair, and two smaller chairs. The only windows were sealed shut. But also, a mirror that seemed see thru? The monsters approached with apprehension, taking it all in before finally asking "Smiles....what is this place?" "That's not my name anymore. Here I am just called 'The Bear'." The Bear sat in heavy silence, notably avoiding the latter question. The monsters gave each other a concerned look. They were expecting their brave and brazen frenemy, not this shell of their former foe. Bed Monster spoke first, "Well this place seems...clean. Must be easy work, a Monster's best friend is a dirty room after all. Plenty of places to hide!" Bed Monster tried to sound playful, but The Bear remained stoic. "Everything is exposed here." Closet Monster, attempting to shift the focus, began asking about The Bear's new owners.  "Well then, you must not have too many kids to worry about! Good thing for you because you're look-ing....old...." Closet Monster's attempt at humor fell like an anvil as pure darkness encompassed The Bear's face. "I see several kids a day, every day."  Something about the cadence in how The Bear said "every day" seemed terrifying, even to the Monsters. Yet before they could press the issue or move on, The Bear began to speak - quickly and loudly, the unmistakable sounds of desperation and anger radiating from every word. "Every. Fucking. Day. Every damn day kids play with me, and pick me up, and hug me so hard I feel like I could just burst from the love and joy! But then... Then the adult comes in. Sometimes it's a man, sometimes it's a woman. But every, single, time - they RIP me from play time and... Well, they start asking the kids questions. And they use me to do it. 'Show me on The Bear where they touched you' 'How many times' 'Where did it happen'. By the time these adults are done, most kids are crying and then want nothing to do with me. The look of revulsion or shame...it washes away any speck of happiness we once shared... Then I am carelessly tossed aside. Until the process repeats. Over and over. Every. Fucking. Day." The monsters are mortified. Too stunned to speak. So The Bear continues. "You two thought you were bad? You're nothing compared to what these kids face. Merely a farcical trifle! But I preferred it that way....at least I could do something back then. I provided comfort, day and night! I was loved! Cherished! And the kids...." The Bear paused. The Monsters didn't dare interrupt. "Those kids looked at me like I was a hero. But now...now I'm just a reminder of whatever horror they had to face...that I can't protect them from at all." The Bear looked in the direction of both the Monsters, but seemed to be looking through them; at something far beyond the Monsters couldn't see. Bloodlust was palpable in every spoken syllable coming from The Bear. "You two have been out of the game for a while now. These new monsters, they haunt even me. And I can only hope you never encounter them. Or if you do, that you give them what they deserve..."

\[Poem\] Have no fear. Sleep with me, Teddy, near. ​ I am strong, oh so tough. Though I’m filled with just fluff. ​ Soon you shall see. I make all monsters flea. ​ Under the bed comes a noise? We’re stronger, us toys. ​ In the closet a shadow? Nice try, I can tango. ​ But what’s that I hear? New monsters draw near! ​ Boys! Boys! They used to have cooties! Now I’m off to the side while she sleeps next to “cuties”. ​ Now what, Retire? I have no more plays. Oh how I miss the good ol’ days.

[WP] A Monster Under the Bed and a Monster in the Closet, both long since retired return to visit their former nemesis a Teddy Bear. They have tea and the bear tells them about the new generation of monsters he's been dealing with and about how he misses the old days.

The Bed Monster and the Closet Monster were feeling gleefully nostalgic. As they went to see Smiles The Teddy Bear, they impishly thought about maybe even trying to scare *them* - perhaps Bed Monster could come from the closet? While Closet Monster would approach from the bed? Or perhaps they could really shake things up and both come from an open window? Oh, they could give that Smiles a real fright! But as they approached Smiles, the haunted look in their sewn in face shook them to their core. The monsters could shift and morph into a child's greatest fear... So how was a toy designed to bring joy able to convey such pain? And moreso, what was this strange room they were meeting in? Smiles *said* their previous owner had given them away - as to be expected when children age - but this was no child's bedroom. It wasn't even a bedroom, or in a house. This was an all white room, unceremoniously decorated. It was stark; save for a few other toys, a small table, a large chair, and two smaller chairs. The only windows were sealed shut. But also, a mirror that seemed see thru? The monsters approached with apprehension, taking it all in before finally asking "Smiles....what is this place?" "That's not my name anymore. Here I am just called 'The Bear'." The Bear sat in heavy silence, notably avoiding the latter question. The monsters gave each other a concerned look. They were expecting their brave and brazen frenemy, not this shell of their former foe. Bed Monster spoke first, "Well this place seems...clean. Must be easy work, a Monster's best friend is a dirty room after all. Plenty of places to hide!" Bed Monster tried to sound playful, but The Bear remained stoic. "Everything is exposed here." Closet Monster, attempting to shift the focus, began asking about The Bear's new owners.  "Well then, you must not have too many kids to worry about! Good thing for you because you're look-ing....old...." Closet Monster's attempt at humor fell like an anvil as pure darkness encompassed The Bear's face. "I see several kids a day, every day."  Something about the cadence in how The Bear said "every day" seemed terrifying, even to the Monsters. Yet before they could press the issue or move on, The Bear began to speak - quickly and loudly, the unmistakable sounds of desperation and anger radiating from every word. "Every. Fucking. Day. Every damn day kids play with me, and pick me up, and hug me so hard I feel like I could just burst from the love and joy! But then... Then the adult comes in. Sometimes it's a man, sometimes it's a woman. But every, single, time - they RIP me from play time and... Well, they start asking the kids questions. And they use me to do it. 'Show me on The Bear where they touched you' 'How many times' 'Where did it happen'. By the time these adults are done, most kids are crying and then want nothing to do with me. The look of revulsion or shame...it washes away any speck of happiness we once shared... Then I am carelessly tossed aside. Until the process repeats. Over and over. Every. Fucking. Day." The monsters are mortified. Too stunned to speak. So The Bear continues. "You two thought you were bad? You're nothing compared to what these kids face. Merely a farcical trifle! But I preferred it that way....at least I could do something back then. I provided comfort, day and night! I was loved! Cherished! And the kids...." The Bear paused. The Monsters didn't dare interrupt. "Those kids looked at me like I was a hero. But now...now I'm just a reminder of whatever horror they had to face...that I can't protect them from at all." The Bear looked in the direction of both the Monsters, but seemed to be looking through them; at something far beyond the Monsters couldn't see. Bloodlust was palpable in every spoken syllable coming from The Bear. "You two have been out of the game for a while now. These new monsters, they haunt even me. And I can only hope you never encounter them. Or if you do, that you give them what they deserve..."

The air is filled with the light haze of an almost burned out cigarette. An ash tray of butts sits on a child's tea party table, and the room is dimly lit. At this table there are three white chairs, and former enemies reminiscing upon old days. Around this table is a myriad of stuffed animals wearing business attire, each wearing a pair if shades and their arms crossed, and their gaze hanging down like a freshly used noose. "No, no, I beg if you please no don't do this," said an entity with their wrists bound by zip ties and their face covered by a thick bag. "Listen, Wetting the Bed. We talked about this, alright? You keep coming back again, and again, and again. No one messes with the bear." "No, please don't do this!" "Take him out back," a stuffed bear says sitting at the tea table." The entity writhed and wrestled away from the other stuffed animals, eventually getting free and making a dash towards the bedroom door. Bang. The smell of gunpowder mixed with the cigarette haze. The bear placed his gun down, a thin gassy discharge rising from the barrel, and set it right in front of him on the table. "You're a tough guy, bear, but you've changed," said The Monster in The Closet also sitting at the table. "We used to compete here. I used to have my boys pushing product on every corner of the bedroom but we talked it out. You know, we came to an agreement." "Times have changed," says the bear as he lights another cigarette. "Whatever happened to Lisa?" "She got married, had kids, the whole shebang. Has a kid here named Dominic," he answers, flicking his cigarette. "A horrible name." There's a third person at this table. Someone with a dark, and dangerous past. "Well, I'll stay out of your way here. Good to know you still have a heart," the Monster Under the Bed pipes up. "You were one of the toughest of 'em. If I wasn't in bed with Lisa I had to make sure my family was there," the bear says as he flicks his cigarette again. Daryl the Deer passes a look of disdain at the statement towards the Monster Under the Bed. "You took my brothers eye," the bear says. Daryl growls quietly, moving his head into the dim light to reveal a pirates eye patch. The three men sit quietly. "What changed you, bear?" The Monster in the Closet asked. "I started facing a new danger with Lisa. There was a constant, lingering weight in the air. She became blackened and began rejecting us and putting each of us away one by one like we were just a toy to her." The bear puts out his cigarette, taking a sip from a tea cup. "Wherever she went it followed. There were days poor little Lisa didn't eat, and days where this enemy deprived little Lisa of her joy. They jacked her up on so many meds I had a surplus and ended up giving them out like candy on these streets." There hangs a heavy dread within the room, as if someone had died. "Lisa lost her brother Jackson some time after my daughter's wedding to this enemy. I'm going to make sure Dominic here stays protected. The family will always be there for him." The bear pulls out a small pack of Cuban cigars, tearing the thin film and lighting it. He takes a thick inhale, and lets out slowly. Both the Monster Under the Bed and The Monster in the Closet appear uneasy. A bead of sweat rolls down Eli the Elephant's forehead. "Who's the tough guy?" The bear slides a photo across the table. A boney entity shows itself to wrap around Lisa. The entity hangs its head over her shoulder with a wide crooked smile. The air around her has become blackened. "Depression." The room falls silent, followed by two bangs.

[WP] A Monster Under the Bed and a Monster in the Closet, both long since retired return to visit their former nemesis a Teddy Bear. They have tea and the bear tells them about the new generation of monsters he's been dealing with and about how he misses the old days.

"Bogeyman, it's good to see you again," said the 2 foot tall teddy bear who sipped at his imaginary tea. "I can't say the same, forever is too long to go without you," said the bogeyman who was obviously too large for the plastic children's chair he sat in. "Now don't be like that, we were just doing our jobs, we were on the clock so to speak. I have no issue with you for I know not anything of you or your kin." The bogeyman grimaced, "I hate the way you talk." "Well, we are having a tea party. Go on, have a sip of your tea." The teddy bear motioned at the teacup in front of the bogeyman. "There's nothing in it..." "So there's no harm in trying it!" The bogeyman sighed and took a sip. His eyes widened to a taste as sweet as honey and as warm as a hug. "Yes, there's nothing in it, but we're spirits. So in a sense, we more so don't exist than do. And you'd be surprised what a spirit can make from nothing." "No I wouldn't be. I just do things different." "Steal kid's souls, you mean?" The bogeyman sighed. "You're never going to let that go, are you?" "Five years! For five years I held you at bay as you tried to lure Timmy under the bed or in the closet during the dead of night, when you're most powerful!" "And you won! So why did you call me here!? To gloat!?" This time the teddy bear sighed. "No, things have changed since you left. It used to be the darkness versus the light. Things were easier. But now a new monster has shown, and I just don't know what to do." The bogeyman laughed, a hearty, long laugh. "Hahahaha! So you did call me here to gloat?!" "I'm asking for help!" declared the teddy bear. The bogeyman was shocked silent. The idea never occurred to him. For all his existence no one ever asked him for help, and he in turn never expected help from anyone else. "Not everything has to be so evil, you know." The teddy bear took a grumpy sip of his tea. This was the closest thing to anger the bogeyman had ever seen on his old foe. "Everything's evil when you're a monster," replied the bogeyman, "so what is it, this beast that even you cannot contain?" "A bully. Another kid is picking on him, and there's not a darn thing I can do as a crummy teddy bear." "And what am I supposed to do? Timmy's too old to be scared of the bogeyman now. I'm less than crummy, I'm nothing." "I thought you could give me some advice I could give him." The bogeyman thought on it - giving advice, something that helps another person. It was a foreign concept to him. *What would I do,* thought the bogeyman. In the end he said, "Fight back."

"Yup, well management got a bit strict on us back in '04, so we shifted to doing our reports on off-white paper, and not just normal white paper, y'know, just printer paper." He set the toy phone down after he had said that, with no farewell. If I didn't know any better, I'd be inclined to believe that the entire conversation he had been having for the past twenty minutes was somehow an imaginary one. I do know better though, and during his lengthy conversation about the proper paper for reports, which is all he had said into the plastic cellular device, I began to fear him. Time has a way of distorting things, of turning every memory into a melancholic dream. When I had spoken to Mark, my longtime former field partner and one of the best closet-specialists in the agency, he said that nostalgia was all he had left from those days. Retirement had treated us the way it treats everyone, with false promises and knee pain, but he had always fared a bit worse. He lived for his job, standing in a closet for 12 hours on end, then disappearing once the door was opened. That was Mark for ya. Mark sat beside me, and it was his nudge that brought me back to the present. "Coffee? Water? I can ask Jeanette if we have any wine leftover from the Christmas party if that's what you'd like?" Mark and I stared at him, taking in the desk and room. It was the attic in the same house that we had worked in, and we were familiar with it. The way it had remained the same, when the rest of the house changed, I suppose. Teddy hadn't changed either. Where Mark and I had grown into mature monsters, complete with bifocals and suspenders, he remained the same. "Listen," he began, without waiting for an answer on the drinks, "I have one more job for y'all." Then the toy phone rang again, and Mark and I made eye contact. I knew what our answer would be, what it would have to be, since teddy had called us in.

[WP] A Monster Under the Bed and a Monster in the Closet, both long since retired return to visit their former nemesis a Teddy Bear. They have tea and the bear tells them about the new generation of monsters he's been dealing with and about how he misses the old days.

"He's not seeing anyone right now," the nurse said to the visitors standing in the doorway. At this remark however the patient's gentle hand reached out to touch her wrist. "Send them in," he said, old voice cracked and ragged. The nurse shot a glance back at him, one that seemed to ask a question she suddenly couldn't voice. "It's alright," he assured her. "Leave us." The nurse nodded, then stood up quietly and motioned for the two creatures to come in. When they were stood not too far from where the bear sat in silence, she made her leave, closing the door behind her. The room was still and sterile. A palpable loneliness hung in the air, one that seemed to make the whole world look and feel colder suddenly. "Teddy..." one of the creatures finally said. There was no response. "Teddy it's Sandma... it's Aleister," he corrected himself. He glanced back at his companion, the former monster from under the bed himself, standing just off to his right with a look of apprehension on his face. "Lucas is here too." "Hey Teddy," Lucas then said, though he wasn't sure what else to say. Silence then took the room again. The two retired monsters locked eyes for a moment, then returned their sights to the bear in the wheelchair. Teddy didn't move. Yet before long the silence was broken. What was once the high-pitched, bold and confident voice of a fearless guardian was now but a broken whisper, deep and almost lifeless, and it spoke to them with what little volume it could muster. "Do you... do you remember those night?" he asked the two creatures, back still turned to them. The question was rhetorical, and both knew not to respond to it. "Hah... of course. The tendrils... the darkness. The shape-shifting. Godless creatures..." What could have been a chuckle wheezed out of him. "A jest... but you remember." "We do," Aleister replied. "We'd not so soon forget." The bear sat taller upon hearing him say this, maybe to show that a part of him was still ready to perform his duties if the need arose. But his stature faltered in moments, and that wheeze left his aging, fabric lungs once more as if to acknowledge he didn't have the strength that he once did. "I know you didn't mean any harm..." Teddy replied to them. "I mean, maybe you did. Maybe you ate dreams and left nightmares. Maybe you fed on fear. Maybe it was just a sick joke... but you never..." the bear coughed suddenly, violently. It was then the two creatures noticed how yellow the bear had become. What was once a pristine white had been stained by years of tobacco abuse. "You never laid a hand on the kid," Teddy finally said. "You never went that far." "We'd never have done that," Lucas assured him. "That was always against the code." Teddy nodded. "So you said then. So you say now... only now I actually believe you." The bear weakly glanced over his right shoulder. His plastic eye barely glinted in the light from the tinted windows. Lucas met his gaze for only a moment, then looked down and away. "Teddy... what... what happened to you?" Aleister finally asked. "We haven't seen each other in over four decades and now we find you here, like this. I have to be honest, I'm having a hard time believing what I'm seeing." Once more the bear began to laugh. It was louder this time, a tad more genuine, and even more painful. Teddy coughed up a bit of stuffing, tossing it to the ground before taking a deep breath. Then he sat back up again. "Oh Aleister... you naive little shit." Teddy glanced back at him this time. "What do you think happened?" he asked. But Aleister couldn't answer. "Ah... no. You wouldn't know would you? You wouldn't know because you aren't really a monster. Not you, not Lucas over there. Not any of the other so-called night terrors. Not like real monsters." There was a pause as the stuffed bear turned his vision on the world outside the nursing home, through the glass which presented a world covered in snow and trees that had months ago lost their foliage. "You don't know what real monsters look like." "We did things we're not proud of," Lucas said to him. "We did... we tormented a lot of children. A lot of innocents. We were terrible." "Ah... but therein lies the difference Lucas. Remorse. Regret. Revulsion. Things that a real monster couldn't feel." The bear sighed. "It was, what, nineteen sixty-three? The year I drove you two out. The year Johns parents finally decided to make the move out to Philadelphia. That's the last time I remember seeing you. Well, they got out there, but things didn't look up like they thought it would." The bear breathed in deeply. There was a weight to his voice suddenly, as if it were being held back by an invisible force. Yet Teddy spoke regardless, his words cutting through all barriers put in place to deter them. "John's dad got into a wreck and died maybe three weeks after he landed a job. Johns mom turned to heroine to fill the void left in his absence. That little boy... I swear every time that bitch stuck her arm, he squeezed me so hard I thought the magic animating my body would just pour right out. Gods... I don't think he ever knew I was hugging him back. I should have just took the boy and ran right then. "Their money started to run out before his mother started... you know, bringing guys home. Dealers... pimps... clients. Fuck man, and then there were the real sick bastards... The worst of the worst. It's amazing what you'll let a man do to your kid when all you care about is your next fix." Aleister stepped forward and put his hand on Teddy's shoulder, but the bear slapped his hand away, an energy taking hold of him suddenly. "You fuck off and let me finish!" There was fury in his eyes, eyes that barely clung to his face by an aging thread. "It must have been like... like three years I think. Three fucking years before I couldn't pretend like I was just some stuffed animal keeping bad dreams away anymore. Three years before I finally snapped and broke the rules. I stabbed that bitch to death and burned their whole fucking house down. I still have burns from that... still got the burns..." "Teddy you don't have to keep going," Lucas said. The eldritch creature knelt down in front of him and placed both his hands on his shoulders. Aleister followed suit. Teddy tried to push them away, tried to yell at them with what was left of his measly voice, but before long he had collapsed into their arms, sobbing uncontrollably. "He tried to run back in and save his mom," Teddy cried. "All that she had done and yet he still tried to rescue her. Still tried to be a little hero... like his best friend Teddy. God I swear to you I tried to save him. I didn't mean for it to happen like that. I swear!" "I believe you my friend," Aleister said. "I'm so, so sorry." The two creatures gave him a moment to compose himself. The bear went silent again for a few minutes, sipping the tea he had nearby. It smelled faintly of peppermint, his favorite as far back as anyone could remember. It reminded them of better times. "I... I hunted down everyone she knew... everyone that hurt the kid. Did to them what I did to her. Spent thirty-two years in the bottom of a bottle and at the end of a cigarette after that. I could have just killed myself when it was over, I wanted to... but I knew I deserved something slower." His trembling hand tried to raise the teacup to his mouth again. Aleister helped him with this, then set it aside. "You did what any of us would have done," Lucas replied. "I'm just sorry I wasn't there to help you do it." "I'm glad you weren't," Teddy retorted. "You two... you went and made something of yourselves, moved on, turned your lives around. You didn't have to see the things I saw. You didn't have to spend over forty years seeing the same shit happening everywhere you went. You didn't have to end up here..." The door to his room opened up again. The nurse from before had brought with her a bag full of stuffing and a needle and thread. She glanced at the three of them with concern on her face, then sighed sadly. "Visiting hours are over I'm afraid," she said, looking over at Aleister. "You'll have to leave shortly." The Sandman nodded. "Right." He looked back down at Teddy, then placing a hand on his shoulder one last time. "If you need anything, and I mean anything, then don't be afraid to call. I'll leave my number with the staff." Teddy nodded. "Sure thing. Now, I banish you from this room you foul creatures of the night." Teddy smirked as he said this, recounting all times he'd said the words before. Lucas and and Aleister both stood up and stumbled towards the door, feigning defeat. "We'll get you next time, little bear!" They called out that familiar phrase as the nurse guided them through the door. "Next time we swear!" The door shut with a loud thud, and Teddy smiled despite himself. "Next time then..." EDIT: Thank you for the silver, stranger.

"Yup, well management got a bit strict on us back in '04, so we shifted to doing our reports on off-white paper, and not just normal white paper, y'know, just printer paper." He set the toy phone down after he had said that, with no farewell. If I didn't know any better, I'd be inclined to believe that the entire conversation he had been having for the past twenty minutes was somehow an imaginary one. I do know better though, and during his lengthy conversation about the proper paper for reports, which is all he had said into the plastic cellular device, I began to fear him. Time has a way of distorting things, of turning every memory into a melancholic dream. When I had spoken to Mark, my longtime former field partner and one of the best closet-specialists in the agency, he said that nostalgia was all he had left from those days. Retirement had treated us the way it treats everyone, with false promises and knee pain, but he had always fared a bit worse. He lived for his job, standing in a closet for 12 hours on end, then disappearing once the door was opened. That was Mark for ya. Mark sat beside me, and it was his nudge that brought me back to the present. "Coffee? Water? I can ask Jeanette if we have any wine leftover from the Christmas party if that's what you'd like?" Mark and I stared at him, taking in the desk and room. It was the attic in the same house that we had worked in, and we were familiar with it. The way it had remained the same, when the rest of the house changed, I suppose. Teddy hadn't changed either. Where Mark and I had grown into mature monsters, complete with bifocals and suspenders, he remained the same. "Listen," he began, without waiting for an answer on the drinks, "I have one more job for y'all." Then the toy phone rang again, and Mark and I made eye contact. I knew what our answer would be, what it would have to be, since teddy had called us in.

[WP] A Monster Under the Bed and a Monster in the Closet, both long since retired return to visit their former nemesis a Teddy Bear. They have tea and the bear tells them about the new generation of monsters he's been dealing with and about how he misses the old days.

The Shadow stood awkwardly, unable to sit, while Fluffy the Bear sat on the bed and the Thing plopped down at the desk, shoving all his appendages under the table. "I never thought we'd all be out here, like this," Fluffy said, with a tired smile. The Shadow and the Thing saw that the bear had lost a lot of his fur, and that his golden sheen had dulled a bit. "I don't know why, but I'm happy to see you." "So how's the battle? Who took our spots?" The Shadow said. "No one. It's been boring." "No one?" The Thing stood up, and banged his head on the ceiling. Fluffy and the Shadow laughed. "What are you talking about? There's always monsters coming for little boys and girls." "Not Anna," Fluffy said with a faraway look in his eye. "She just uses her magic brick, the one with the pictures and the sounds. I don't know how, but I think she can talk to her friends on it. Why would...never mind." "What is it, Fluffy?" "It's just...why would she need me? When she has a magic brick?" The Shadow and the Thing looked at each other, and back at their defeated friend. "You know..." \- "Fluffy told us not to," the Shadow said. He had always had respect for the Teddy Bear, especially how it was never afraid of the light, of being touched. "But that's because he's him," the Thing said, pacing back and forth on the roof. "Come on. Just one last time." "Anna's thirteen now. She stopped being scared of monsters a long time ago." "That's true. But that doesn't mean she won't need her teddy bear." "So what's your idea?" \- Fluffy laid prone, his side to the pillow. He was warm, and comfortable, but his heart was empty. He looked out the window, and the swaying trees, the lights in the house across, the crescent moon, which used to be so comforting, merely reminded him that Anna would soon disappear into that world. Anna was giggling, and Fluffy closed his eyes. He barely had any hope left, any hope that Anna would put down her magic brick and hug him... Suddenly, there was a bang. Fluffy looked outside. The lights had turned off. Those rascals, he thought. The door opened. Anna's mother came in. "Anna, honey? Are you okay?" "What happened, mommy?" "The power went out. We just got an email that a transformer exploded." "What does that mean?" "It'll be dark till morning, at least." "And the WiFi?" "It's out too." "What am I supposed to do then, until I fall asleep?" Anna's mother shrugged, and left. Fluffy laid there, in the cool silence, and told himself to keep his heart still. Then Anna's arms wrapped around him, pulling him close, back to her warm, beating heart. "Thanks for always being there for me, Fluffy." And Fluffy looked out the window, and even in the darkness, he could see the outline of his two friends. For the first time in a long time, he didn't feel so alone. \- [r/penguin347](https://reddit.com/r/penguin347)

"Yup, well management got a bit strict on us back in '04, so we shifted to doing our reports on off-white paper, and not just normal white paper, y'know, just printer paper." He set the toy phone down after he had said that, with no farewell. If I didn't know any better, I'd be inclined to believe that the entire conversation he had been having for the past twenty minutes was somehow an imaginary one. I do know better though, and during his lengthy conversation about the proper paper for reports, which is all he had said into the plastic cellular device, I began to fear him. Time has a way of distorting things, of turning every memory into a melancholic dream. When I had spoken to Mark, my longtime former field partner and one of the best closet-specialists in the agency, he said that nostalgia was all he had left from those days. Retirement had treated us the way it treats everyone, with false promises and knee pain, but he had always fared a bit worse. He lived for his job, standing in a closet for 12 hours on end, then disappearing once the door was opened. That was Mark for ya. Mark sat beside me, and it was his nudge that brought me back to the present. "Coffee? Water? I can ask Jeanette if we have any wine leftover from the Christmas party if that's what you'd like?" Mark and I stared at him, taking in the desk and room. It was the attic in the same house that we had worked in, and we were familiar with it. The way it had remained the same, when the rest of the house changed, I suppose. Teddy hadn't changed either. Where Mark and I had grown into mature monsters, complete with bifocals and suspenders, he remained the same. "Listen," he began, without waiting for an answer on the drinks, "I have one more job for y'all." Then the toy phone rang again, and Mark and I made eye contact. I knew what our answer would be, what it would have to be, since teddy had called us in.

[WP] A Monster Under the Bed and a Monster in the Closet, both long since retired return to visit their former nemesis a Teddy Bear. They have tea and the bear tells them about the new generation of monsters he's been dealing with and about how he misses the old days.

"He's not seeing anyone right now," the nurse said to the visitors standing in the doorway. At this remark however the patient's gentle hand reached out to touch her wrist. "Send them in," he said, old voice cracked and ragged. The nurse shot a glance back at him, one that seemed to ask a question she suddenly couldn't voice. "It's alright," he assured her. "Leave us." The nurse nodded, then stood up quietly and motioned for the two creatures to come in. When they were stood not too far from where the bear sat in silence, she made her leave, closing the door behind her. The room was still and sterile. A palpable loneliness hung in the air, one that seemed to make the whole world look and feel colder suddenly. "Teddy..." one of the creatures finally said. There was no response. "Teddy it's Sandma... it's Aleister," he corrected himself. He glanced back at his companion, the former monster from under the bed himself, standing just off to his right with a look of apprehension on his face. "Lucas is here too." "Hey Teddy," Lucas then said, though he wasn't sure what else to say. Silence then took the room again. The two retired monsters locked eyes for a moment, then returned their sights to the bear in the wheelchair. Teddy didn't move. Yet before long the silence was broken. What was once the high-pitched, bold and confident voice of a fearless guardian was now but a broken whisper, deep and almost lifeless, and it spoke to them with what little volume it could muster. "Do you... do you remember those night?" he asked the two creatures, back still turned to them. The question was rhetorical, and both knew not to respond to it. "Hah... of course. The tendrils... the darkness. The shape-shifting. Godless creatures..." What could have been a chuckle wheezed out of him. "A jest... but you remember." "We do," Aleister replied. "We'd not so soon forget." The bear sat taller upon hearing him say this, maybe to show that a part of him was still ready to perform his duties if the need arose. But his stature faltered in moments, and that wheeze left his aging, fabric lungs once more as if to acknowledge he didn't have the strength that he once did. "I know you didn't mean any harm..." Teddy replied to them. "I mean, maybe you did. Maybe you ate dreams and left nightmares. Maybe you fed on fear. Maybe it was just a sick joke... but you never..." the bear coughed suddenly, violently. It was then the two creatures noticed how yellow the bear had become. What was once a pristine white had been stained by years of tobacco abuse. "You never laid a hand on the kid," Teddy finally said. "You never went that far." "We'd never have done that," Lucas assured him. "That was always against the code." Teddy nodded. "So you said then. So you say now... only now I actually believe you." The bear weakly glanced over his right shoulder. His plastic eye barely glinted in the light from the tinted windows. Lucas met his gaze for only a moment, then looked down and away. "Teddy... what... what happened to you?" Aleister finally asked. "We haven't seen each other in over four decades and now we find you here, like this. I have to be honest, I'm having a hard time believing what I'm seeing." Once more the bear began to laugh. It was louder this time, a tad more genuine, and even more painful. Teddy coughed up a bit of stuffing, tossing it to the ground before taking a deep breath. Then he sat back up again. "Oh Aleister... you naive little shit." Teddy glanced back at him this time. "What do you think happened?" he asked. But Aleister couldn't answer. "Ah... no. You wouldn't know would you? You wouldn't know because you aren't really a monster. Not you, not Lucas over there. Not any of the other so-called night terrors. Not like real monsters." There was a pause as the stuffed bear turned his vision on the world outside the nursing home, through the glass which presented a world covered in snow and trees that had months ago lost their foliage. "You don't know what real monsters look like." "We did things we're not proud of," Lucas said to him. "We did... we tormented a lot of children. A lot of innocents. We were terrible." "Ah... but therein lies the difference Lucas. Remorse. Regret. Revulsion. Things that a real monster couldn't feel." The bear sighed. "It was, what, nineteen sixty-three? The year I drove you two out. The year Johns parents finally decided to make the move out to Philadelphia. That's the last time I remember seeing you. Well, they got out there, but things didn't look up like they thought it would." The bear breathed in deeply. There was a weight to his voice suddenly, as if it were being held back by an invisible force. Yet Teddy spoke regardless, his words cutting through all barriers put in place to deter them. "John's dad got into a wreck and died maybe three weeks after he landed a job. Johns mom turned to heroine to fill the void left in his absence. That little boy... I swear every time that bitch stuck her arm, he squeezed me so hard I thought the magic animating my body would just pour right out. Gods... I don't think he ever knew I was hugging him back. I should have just took the boy and ran right then. "Their money started to run out before his mother started... you know, bringing guys home. Dealers... pimps... clients. Fuck man, and then there were the real sick bastards... The worst of the worst. It's amazing what you'll let a man do to your kid when all you care about is your next fix." Aleister stepped forward and put his hand on Teddy's shoulder, but the bear slapped his hand away, an energy taking hold of him suddenly. "You fuck off and let me finish!" There was fury in his eyes, eyes that barely clung to his face by an aging thread. "It must have been like... like three years I think. Three fucking years before I couldn't pretend like I was just some stuffed animal keeping bad dreams away anymore. Three years before I finally snapped and broke the rules. I stabbed that bitch to death and burned their whole fucking house down. I still have burns from that... still got the burns..." "Teddy you don't have to keep going," Lucas said. The eldritch creature knelt down in front of him and placed both his hands on his shoulders. Aleister followed suit. Teddy tried to push them away, tried to yell at them with what was left of his measly voice, but before long he had collapsed into their arms, sobbing uncontrollably. "He tried to run back in and save his mom," Teddy cried. "All that she had done and yet he still tried to rescue her. Still tried to be a little hero... like his best friend Teddy. God I swear to you I tried to save him. I didn't mean for it to happen like that. I swear!" "I believe you my friend," Aleister said. "I'm so, so sorry." The two creatures gave him a moment to compose himself. The bear went silent again for a few minutes, sipping the tea he had nearby. It smelled faintly of peppermint, his favorite as far back as anyone could remember. It reminded them of better times. "I... I hunted down everyone she knew... everyone that hurt the kid. Did to them what I did to her. Spent thirty-two years in the bottom of a bottle and at the end of a cigarette after that. I could have just killed myself when it was over, I wanted to... but I knew I deserved something slower." His trembling hand tried to raise the teacup to his mouth again. Aleister helped him with this, then set it aside. "You did what any of us would have done," Lucas replied. "I'm just sorry I wasn't there to help you do it." "I'm glad you weren't," Teddy retorted. "You two... you went and made something of yourselves, moved on, turned your lives around. You didn't have to see the things I saw. You didn't have to spend over forty years seeing the same shit happening everywhere you went. You didn't have to end up here..." The door to his room opened up again. The nurse from before had brought with her a bag full of stuffing and a needle and thread. She glanced at the three of them with concern on her face, then sighed sadly. "Visiting hours are over I'm afraid," she said, looking over at Aleister. "You'll have to leave shortly." The Sandman nodded. "Right." He looked back down at Teddy, then placing a hand on his shoulder one last time. "If you need anything, and I mean anything, then don't be afraid to call. I'll leave my number with the staff." Teddy nodded. "Sure thing. Now, I banish you from this room you foul creatures of the night." Teddy smirked as he said this, recounting all times he'd said the words before. Lucas and and Aleister both stood up and stumbled towards the door, feigning defeat. "We'll get you next time, little bear!" They called out that familiar phrase as the nurse guided them through the door. "Next time we swear!" The door shut with a loud thud, and Teddy smiled despite himself. "Next time then..." EDIT: Thank you for the silver, stranger.

"Bogeyman, it's good to see you again," said the 2 foot tall teddy bear who sipped at his imaginary tea. "I can't say the same, forever is too long to go without you," said the bogeyman who was obviously too large for the plastic children's chair he sat in. "Now don't be like that, we were just doing our jobs, we were on the clock so to speak. I have no issue with you for I know not anything of you or your kin." The bogeyman grimaced, "I hate the way you talk." "Well, we are having a tea party. Go on, have a sip of your tea." The teddy bear motioned at the teacup in front of the bogeyman. "There's nothing in it..." "So there's no harm in trying it!" The bogeyman sighed and took a sip. His eyes widened to a taste as sweet as honey and as warm as a hug. "Yes, there's nothing in it, but we're spirits. So in a sense, we more so don't exist than do. And you'd be surprised what a spirit can make from nothing." "No I wouldn't be. I just do things different." "Steal kid's souls, you mean?" The bogeyman sighed. "You're never going to let that go, are you?" "Five years! For five years I held you at bay as you tried to lure Timmy under the bed or in the closet during the dead of night, when you're most powerful!" "And you won! So why did you call me here!? To gloat!?" This time the teddy bear sighed. "No, things have changed since you left. It used to be the darkness versus the light. Things were easier. But now a new monster has shown, and I just don't know what to do." The bogeyman laughed, a hearty, long laugh. "Hahahaha! So you did call me here to gloat?!" "I'm asking for help!" declared the teddy bear. The bogeyman was shocked silent. The idea never occurred to him. For all his existence no one ever asked him for help, and he in turn never expected help from anyone else. "Not everything has to be so evil, you know." The teddy bear took a grumpy sip of his tea. This was the closest thing to anger the bogeyman had ever seen on his old foe. "Everything's evil when you're a monster," replied the bogeyman, "so what is it, this beast that even you cannot contain?" "A bully. Another kid is picking on him, and there's not a darn thing I can do as a crummy teddy bear." "And what am I supposed to do? Timmy's too old to be scared of the bogeyman now. I'm less than crummy, I'm nothing." "I thought you could give me some advice I could give him." The bogeyman thought on it - giving advice, something that helps another person. It was a foreign concept to him. *What would I do,* thought the bogeyman. In the end he said, "Fight back."

[WP] A Monster Under the Bed and a Monster in the Closet, both long since retired return to visit their former nemesis a Teddy Bear. They have tea and the bear tells them about the new generation of monsters he's been dealing with and about how he misses the old days.

The Shadow stood awkwardly, unable to sit, while Fluffy the Bear sat on the bed and the Thing plopped down at the desk, shoving all his appendages under the table. "I never thought we'd all be out here, like this," Fluffy said, with a tired smile. The Shadow and the Thing saw that the bear had lost a lot of his fur, and that his golden sheen had dulled a bit. "I don't know why, but I'm happy to see you." "So how's the battle? Who took our spots?" The Shadow said. "No one. It's been boring." "No one?" The Thing stood up, and banged his head on the ceiling. Fluffy and the Shadow laughed. "What are you talking about? There's always monsters coming for little boys and girls." "Not Anna," Fluffy said with a faraway look in his eye. "She just uses her magic brick, the one with the pictures and the sounds. I don't know how, but I think she can talk to her friends on it. Why would...never mind." "What is it, Fluffy?" "It's just...why would she need me? When she has a magic brick?" The Shadow and the Thing looked at each other, and back at their defeated friend. "You know..." \- "Fluffy told us not to," the Shadow said. He had always had respect for the Teddy Bear, especially how it was never afraid of the light, of being touched. "But that's because he's him," the Thing said, pacing back and forth on the roof. "Come on. Just one last time." "Anna's thirteen now. She stopped being scared of monsters a long time ago." "That's true. But that doesn't mean she won't need her teddy bear." "So what's your idea?" \- Fluffy laid prone, his side to the pillow. He was warm, and comfortable, but his heart was empty. He looked out the window, and the swaying trees, the lights in the house across, the crescent moon, which used to be so comforting, merely reminded him that Anna would soon disappear into that world. Anna was giggling, and Fluffy closed his eyes. He barely had any hope left, any hope that Anna would put down her magic brick and hug him... Suddenly, there was a bang. Fluffy looked outside. The lights had turned off. Those rascals, he thought. The door opened. Anna's mother came in. "Anna, honey? Are you okay?" "What happened, mommy?" "The power went out. We just got an email that a transformer exploded." "What does that mean?" "It'll be dark till morning, at least." "And the WiFi?" "It's out too." "What am I supposed to do then, until I fall asleep?" Anna's mother shrugged, and left. Fluffy laid there, in the cool silence, and told himself to keep his heart still. Then Anna's arms wrapped around him, pulling him close, back to her warm, beating heart. "Thanks for always being there for me, Fluffy." And Fluffy looked out the window, and even in the darkness, he could see the outline of his two friends. For the first time in a long time, he didn't feel so alone. \- [r/penguin347](https://reddit.com/r/penguin347)

"Bogeyman, it's good to see you again," said the 2 foot tall teddy bear who sipped at his imaginary tea. "I can't say the same, forever is too long to go without you," said the bogeyman who was obviously too large for the plastic children's chair he sat in. "Now don't be like that, we were just doing our jobs, we were on the clock so to speak. I have no issue with you for I know not anything of you or your kin." The bogeyman grimaced, "I hate the way you talk." "Well, we are having a tea party. Go on, have a sip of your tea." The teddy bear motioned at the teacup in front of the bogeyman. "There's nothing in it..." "So there's no harm in trying it!" The bogeyman sighed and took a sip. His eyes widened to a taste as sweet as honey and as warm as a hug. "Yes, there's nothing in it, but we're spirits. So in a sense, we more so don't exist than do. And you'd be surprised what a spirit can make from nothing." "No I wouldn't be. I just do things different." "Steal kid's souls, you mean?" The bogeyman sighed. "You're never going to let that go, are you?" "Five years! For five years I held you at bay as you tried to lure Timmy under the bed or in the closet during the dead of night, when you're most powerful!" "And you won! So why did you call me here!? To gloat!?" This time the teddy bear sighed. "No, things have changed since you left. It used to be the darkness versus the light. Things were easier. But now a new monster has shown, and I just don't know what to do." The bogeyman laughed, a hearty, long laugh. "Hahahaha! So you did call me here to gloat?!" "I'm asking for help!" declared the teddy bear. The bogeyman was shocked silent. The idea never occurred to him. For all his existence no one ever asked him for help, and he in turn never expected help from anyone else. "Not everything has to be so evil, you know." The teddy bear took a grumpy sip of his tea. This was the closest thing to anger the bogeyman had ever seen on his old foe. "Everything's evil when you're a monster," replied the bogeyman, "so what is it, this beast that even you cannot contain?" "A bully. Another kid is picking on him, and there's not a darn thing I can do as a crummy teddy bear." "And what am I supposed to do? Timmy's too old to be scared of the bogeyman now. I'm less than crummy, I'm nothing." "I thought you could give me some advice I could give him." The bogeyman thought on it - giving advice, something that helps another person. It was a foreign concept to him. *What would I do,* thought the bogeyman. In the end he said, "Fight back."

[WP] A Monster Under the Bed and a Monster in the Closet, both long since retired return to visit their former nemesis a Teddy Bear. They have tea and the bear tells them about the new generation of monsters he's been dealing with and about how he misses the old days.

The Shadow stood awkwardly, unable to sit, while Fluffy the Bear sat on the bed and the Thing plopped down at the desk, shoving all his appendages under the table. "I never thought we'd all be out here, like this," Fluffy said, with a tired smile. The Shadow and the Thing saw that the bear had lost a lot of his fur, and that his golden sheen had dulled a bit. "I don't know why, but I'm happy to see you." "So how's the battle? Who took our spots?" The Shadow said. "No one. It's been boring." "No one?" The Thing stood up, and banged his head on the ceiling. Fluffy and the Shadow laughed. "What are you talking about? There's always monsters coming for little boys and girls." "Not Anna," Fluffy said with a faraway look in his eye. "She just uses her magic brick, the one with the pictures and the sounds. I don't know how, but I think she can talk to her friends on it. Why would...never mind." "What is it, Fluffy?" "It's just...why would she need me? When she has a magic brick?" The Shadow and the Thing looked at each other, and back at their defeated friend. "You know..." \- "Fluffy told us not to," the Shadow said. He had always had respect for the Teddy Bear, especially how it was never afraid of the light, of being touched. "But that's because he's him," the Thing said, pacing back and forth on the roof. "Come on. Just one last time." "Anna's thirteen now. She stopped being scared of monsters a long time ago." "That's true. But that doesn't mean she won't need her teddy bear." "So what's your idea?" \- Fluffy laid prone, his side to the pillow. He was warm, and comfortable, but his heart was empty. He looked out the window, and the swaying trees, the lights in the house across, the crescent moon, which used to be so comforting, merely reminded him that Anna would soon disappear into that world. Anna was giggling, and Fluffy closed his eyes. He barely had any hope left, any hope that Anna would put down her magic brick and hug him... Suddenly, there was a bang. Fluffy looked outside. The lights had turned off. Those rascals, he thought. The door opened. Anna's mother came in. "Anna, honey? Are you okay?" "What happened, mommy?" "The power went out. We just got an email that a transformer exploded." "What does that mean?" "It'll be dark till morning, at least." "And the WiFi?" "It's out too." "What am I supposed to do then, until I fall asleep?" Anna's mother shrugged, and left. Fluffy laid there, in the cool silence, and told himself to keep his heart still. Then Anna's arms wrapped around him, pulling him close, back to her warm, beating heart. "Thanks for always being there for me, Fluffy." And Fluffy looked out the window, and even in the darkness, he could see the outline of his two friends. For the first time in a long time, he didn't feel so alone. \- [r/penguin347](https://reddit.com/r/penguin347)

Seeing Teddy in that state shocked me. Sure, time is friendly to nobody, and if Underbed and I were corporeal the same way Teddy was, we would certainly suffer the effects of aging as well. But more than his general shabby appearance, his threadbare hair, his seams half unsewn, and one of his eyes ready to fall out, it was his expression that said it all. It was the expression of someone barely able to hold it together. (Bearly? ha ha ha. Oh boy. An emotional moment, properly ruined! I think I still got this.) He invited us in, closed the door, had us sit, and served us tea. He was shaking and spilled a little tea on the table. That obviously wasn't a problem per se: Underbed extended a wriggly tentacle and slurped it all. But I felt a mild urge to berate Teddy, to tell him how much of a screwup he was, and that he would never learn to serve tea properly, and that maybe he should get his act together before even thinking of hosting guests. I've always been the mean one. That's what I do - that, and terrible puns, and inappropriate, crude jokes. That's why they always close the closet door at night - so the children can't hear me. For if the door happens to be ajar, it's showtime. I will whisper nightmare fuel to them all night long. Hee hee hee. But I was rusty. Since Amy had left, the house was empty of children, and Underbed and I had nobody to use our skills on. We hadn't praticed in decades. And besides, to be honest, I felt bad - Teddy was obviously distraught, and he didn't need that. So I just gave him some mild snark. But it didn't matter anyway, he just shook his head sadly, like he often would. Damn bear. Always the mature one, the grown-up in the room. The friend and guardian to children. There wasn't much we could do to hurt him, or get past his soothing influence. If we wanted to properly scare a child, we had to wait until Teddy was forcibly put in the washing machine by an ignorant parent. Or forgotten in the cottage house in the country on a Sunday - those were the best opportunities, we could torment the children every night for at least a week. But when Teddy was there? No dice. Cockblocking all night long. \- What'sss up, Teddy? Underbed whispered, in his usual slithery, creepy voice. Why ssso sssad? \- He missed us, obviously, I sneered. Has nobody to punch anymore. Nobody to defend his beloved Amy from. He wants us back. Won't work, I'm afraid. We're old school. She's not afraid of us anymore. \- It's not that, Teddy said. He sat down. And then he broke down, sobbing, tears flowing from his button-eyes like a raging river. His body was racked with spasms, and he couldn't stop. I felt awkward. It wasn't right. The *children* were supposed to cry, yes, of course, but Teddy? Nah. That was something else. Underbed didn't care about that, of course. He was lapping all the tears with glee, with obscene squishy sounds. I suppose they were as good as child tears. Maybe better - a rarer, finer treat. I love that guy: he's the best mix of creepiness, compassion, silliness, gluttony, and ugliness. Nothing better to seriously mess up a child's mind, to throw a monkey wrench into the manichean, dualistic view of the world that's transmitted to them by their parents. Is Underbed scary-but-friendly or scary-evil? Kids can't tell, and that f*beep*cks them up good. I love it. \- Hey buddy, I said to Teddy. Tell us everything. Slowly, Teddy calmed down, and recomposed himself. When he could speak, he took a deep breath, and started spilling the tea. The metaphorical one. \- Everybody said we were meant to be a part of children's lives, but that we had no place among adults. They were right, he said, his bottom lip still quivering. You know, I would have been okay with staying behind with you guys when Amy left the house. I would have been heartbroken, but okay. "But she insisted on taking me with her. I was overjoyed. Of course I would stay with her. There was nothing I wanted more. I love her, I want her to be happy. You did not make it easy, he added, wagging a clawed finger at us. I grinned. Old Teddy was still there. \- Just doing our job, I said. I hope you finally figured out that we're also necessary, for humans to become functioning adults. \- Oh yes, he said, and for the first time I could feel something else than sadness in his voice. Something like... a twinge of anger? "Oh yes. And that's why I wanted to talk to you. Guys. We had no idea what adult life is like. \- But that'sss not our placcce, Underbed whispered. We're sssupposssed to only ssstay with chhhildr... \- Yes and that's my point, Teddy interrupted him, shouting. For the first time, I've *seen it*, adult life. And it's much worse than we've been told it was. You think you're scary monsters? You guys are *easy*. He looked me straight in the blackness that would be my eyes, and spoke slowly, deliberately. \- Working every day for 8 hours or more, with very little opportunities for play. On resting days, having various chores to do. On top of housework, you have to fill forms, write letters, pay an insane amount of bills. When you're sick, you're not always able to stay in bed, sometimes you still have to get up and go to work. And the loneliness. The loneliness. With so much to do, you have no time to make new friends. And it's also difficult to keep the friends you have. And you know how much we tell children that love is the answer to everything? well, sometimes Amy meets a man, but he never stays for long. Love, my ass. That is the reality of adult life. You guys are eeeeeeeasy. Well. Shots fired, I guess. \- Okay, I said. So, did you just invite us here to insult us? That's, like, *my* job. \- No... I invited you because I needed someone to talk to. And also, I'm out of sorts. I don't know what to do. I want to help Amy, but she doesn't talk or listen to me much anymore, and I feel we've been lied to, or are following old, inadequate rules, and are not preparing the children the way we're supposed to. We need to step up. He paused. \- Also, I'm probably going to die soon, and you need to know all this so you can pass it on to the next generation of teddy bears when I'm gone. \- Can I eat your eyessss when you're dead? Underbed asked. Your left one hasss been tempting me sssinccce we arrived. I chuckled. B*beep*stard is good at ruining heartfelt moments too. But I was processing Teddy's revelations, and already beginning to think of a few ideas that could both help Amy and the future adults to come. My brain was starting to shake off the rust, and hell if it didn't feel great. \- You want us to solve adulting? Challenge accepted, I grinned. You didn't succeed because you're utterly bad at this. You're a wuss, Teddy. You're a proper wimp, a failure, and a sorry excuse for a bear. You can't get anything done on your own, and the only good idea you had was to ask the right people for help. Now, is there a closet I can stay in?

[WP] Since you were a child you have had the power to turn off your brain and command your body to do one simple task and wake up when its done (ex. do my work). one day you tell your body to clean your room but when you wake up you're in a apocalyptic wasteland.

What... the... *actual*... F#%&!!!! After I had gotten the dust out of my eyes and stopped coughing, I was able to look around. I was standing in the middle of a windy and dusty plain. It must have been around dusk but there was so much dust in the air it could well have been noon. I could've sworn I was standing in my room before I instructed myself to clean. The only thing around was a piece of paper with writing in my hand. Upon closer inspection, the handwriting was *mine!* Well this is a first, I had never left myself a note after one of my states. Dear Self, As per your instructions I began to clean our room around 8:06 AM, Nov. 16, 2019. After a few hours of general cleaning, I began to vacuum the floor. As I started underneath the bed, I noticed a few specks of glitter. After several attempts, I was unable to vacuum the glitter from the carpet. I won't bore you with a long summary of my further attempts to remove said glitter, but suffice to say I was *unsuccesful*. This drove me to an emotional state that was, shall we say, *inefficient* for the performance of the rest of the cleaning duties. As a result, I had to take drastic measures. Specifically, at 2:00 AM in North Dakota (local time), I infiltrated a missile silo containing an inter-continental ballistic missile with several nuclear warheads. After a small *confrontation* with the staff, I left the region with a 10-megaton nuclear warhead. While I estimated a smaller yield warhead would be sufficient for my future duties, this particular silo's smallest warhead was the 10-megaton warhead mentioned earlier. I admit that my actions caused a small federal *reaction* which, in specific perspectives, *may* have been warranted. Regardless, at 11:43 AM on Nov. 19, 2019, I "cleaned" the remaining glitter underneath the bed by detonating the warhead in the vicinity of your room. After further inspection, I could find no trace of glitter in the room and determined it sufficiently cleaned, per instructions. Due to the drastic circumstances I had to take in the course of executing my duties, I felt a note of explanation was warranted. Sincerely, Past Self I was honestly speechless after reading it. Couldn't even begin to process what I had just read. But maybe that was because I was distracted by the small speck of glitter on my shoes...

Ever since I was little I had the ability to go on autopilot. When ever I didn’t want to do something i just commanded myself to do the task and I would wake up and everything would be done. If I didn’t want to do my homework, I’d go on autopilot. If I didn’t want to wait in line, I’d go on autopilot. If didn’t want to do the dishes I’d go on autopilot. I never knew what happened to be when I went on autopilot but when ever I asked anyone about how I acted during the time they said I acted normal. I told myself to clean my room, as I had done many times before. but when I woke up something wasn’t right. Not only was my room not clean it had seemed a bomb had gone of in the room. everything was destroyed. I ran to my window and it it was just how I feared not only had my room been destroyed but the whole world seamed you be a apocalypse wasteland. Then from the corner of my eye I noticed a note on my desk You don’t know who I am, but I’ve known you your whole life. I’ve been there for your first steps, your first day of school, your gradation and your first day at your job. I’ve been there for your worst days and your best days. You’ve always wondered what happens when you go under as you like to call it autopilot. It’s me I take over. I come from a planet about 10 light years away in a civilian far more advanced then yours. Many years ago a ruthless dictator took over my planet and I tried to stop him. I failed. I fled to earth and hid in the brain of a newborn baby. You. I tried to be a good guest and would only take over your mind when you wanted me to. When ever you didn’t want to do something I would take over. It was I fair trade. You’d let me have control of your body and in exchange I’d do whatever it was that you didn’t feel like doing. but I made a mistake. I thought by hiding inside you I would be safe from my people. I was wrong. Every time I took over your body my people were able to detect my frequency. I’d usually only take over for a couple of hours at a time so it was difficult for them to pinpoint me. But after years of me taking over and helping you eventually they were able to find me. I’ve helped you clean your room hundreds of times and this time should have been no different but this time they were able to pinpoint me. In an attempt to find me they destroyed your world. To them earth and it’s people are nothing but objects getting in the way of hunting down me. I didn’t mean for this to happen. Over the 20 years I’ve been in your head I’ve gained so much love and respect for not just you but your entire species, and I led to it’s destruction. Words can not express how sorry I am. And now I leave you with a choice. if the pain of the destruction of your planet is to much for you you to handle I can take over permanently, and you never have to feel any pain or sadness again. Your family and friends have all died but a few million humans survive. if you choose to stay and live among them I will leave this planet forever and turn myself in , and you and the rest of the remaining humans can help rebuild the planet. The choice is up to you

[WP] Since you were a child you have had the power to turn off your brain and command your body to do one simple task and wake up when its done (ex. do my work). one day you tell your body to clean your room but when you wake up you're in a apocalyptic wasteland.

What... the... *actual*... F#%&!!!! After I had gotten the dust out of my eyes and stopped coughing, I was able to look around. I was standing in the middle of a windy and dusty plain. It must have been around dusk but there was so much dust in the air it could well have been noon. I could've sworn I was standing in my room before I instructed myself to clean. The only thing around was a piece of paper with writing in my hand. Upon closer inspection, the handwriting was *mine!* Well this is a first, I had never left myself a note after one of my states. Dear Self, As per your instructions I began to clean our room around 8:06 AM, Nov. 16, 2019. After a few hours of general cleaning, I began to vacuum the floor. As I started underneath the bed, I noticed a few specks of glitter. After several attempts, I was unable to vacuum the glitter from the carpet. I won't bore you with a long summary of my further attempts to remove said glitter, but suffice to say I was *unsuccesful*. This drove me to an emotional state that was, shall we say, *inefficient* for the performance of the rest of the cleaning duties. As a result, I had to take drastic measures. Specifically, at 2:00 AM in North Dakota (local time), I infiltrated a missile silo containing an inter-continental ballistic missile with several nuclear warheads. After a small *confrontation* with the staff, I left the region with a 10-megaton nuclear warhead. While I estimated a smaller yield warhead would be sufficient for my future duties, this particular silo's smallest warhead was the 10-megaton warhead mentioned earlier. I admit that my actions caused a small federal *reaction* which, in specific perspectives, *may* have been warranted. Regardless, at 11:43 AM on Nov. 19, 2019, I "cleaned" the remaining glitter underneath the bed by detonating the warhead in the vicinity of your room. After further inspection, I could find no trace of glitter in the room and determined it sufficiently cleaned, per instructions. Due to the drastic circumstances I had to take in the course of executing my duties, I felt a note of explanation was warranted. Sincerely, Past Self I was honestly speechless after reading it. Couldn't even begin to process what I had just read. But maybe that was because I was distracted by the small speck of glitter on my shoes...

Before my mind can even process the sight that beholds upon me - the smell of burning tar and melting vegitation filled my nostrils. Construction? At this hour? Thats kind of wierd. Walking towards my window that ommited an amber light through the cracks of the blinds - peeling them apart to see what the smell is about. "Holy f*ck, what happened!?". My pupils dialated to the surprise in front of me - and burning my retinas by the blown out light entering my eyes. Quickly closing my lids and rubbing my eyes. I run out of my room, down the hall, down the set of stairs - turned right down the 2nd set of stairs into the foyer. Throwing on my shoes and in a panic turning the main doors knob to see the full picture outside. The moment I stepped outside i was grabbed by 2 men in hazmat suits. Then a bag thrown over my head. I could only see with my ears - the roar of a fire in the distance, alarms going haywire, the scrwams of painful agony being muffled by something soft. I was then picked up and thrown in a van - onto bare cold metal. Doors slammed behind me, what sounded to be inches from me. A faint hiss filled the space - I fall asleep. "Are you sure this is the subject?" "No doubt about it, the reading was off the charts." Woosh, a burst of bright lights filled my eyes. When my pupils adjust to allow the correct amount of light I see im in an operating room. Staring at the cieling. Strapped down. "What do we do now Billy?" "Whar did I say about names!? Now I have to knock him out again and hope he forgets that". (On lunch break so thats all I could write up)

[WP] Since you were a child you have had the power to turn off your brain and command your body to do one simple task and wake up when its done (ex. do my work). one day you tell your body to clean your room but when you wake up you're in a apocalyptic wasteland.

What... the... *actual*... F#%&!!!! After I had gotten the dust out of my eyes and stopped coughing, I was able to look around. I was standing in the middle of a windy and dusty plain. It must have been around dusk but there was so much dust in the air it could well have been noon. I could've sworn I was standing in my room before I instructed myself to clean. The only thing around was a piece of paper with writing in my hand. Upon closer inspection, the handwriting was *mine!* Well this is a first, I had never left myself a note after one of my states. Dear Self, As per your instructions I began to clean our room around 8:06 AM, Nov. 16, 2019. After a few hours of general cleaning, I began to vacuum the floor. As I started underneath the bed, I noticed a few specks of glitter. After several attempts, I was unable to vacuum the glitter from the carpet. I won't bore you with a long summary of my further attempts to remove said glitter, but suffice to say I was *unsuccesful*. This drove me to an emotional state that was, shall we say, *inefficient* for the performance of the rest of the cleaning duties. As a result, I had to take drastic measures. Specifically, at 2:00 AM in North Dakota (local time), I infiltrated a missile silo containing an inter-continental ballistic missile with several nuclear warheads. After a small *confrontation* with the staff, I left the region with a 10-megaton nuclear warhead. While I estimated a smaller yield warhead would be sufficient for my future duties, this particular silo's smallest warhead was the 10-megaton warhead mentioned earlier. I admit that my actions caused a small federal *reaction* which, in specific perspectives, *may* have been warranted. Regardless, at 11:43 AM on Nov. 19, 2019, I "cleaned" the remaining glitter underneath the bed by detonating the warhead in the vicinity of your room. After further inspection, I could find no trace of glitter in the room and determined it sufficiently cleaned, per instructions. Due to the drastic circumstances I had to take in the course of executing my duties, I felt a note of explanation was warranted. Sincerely, Past Self I was honestly speechless after reading it. Couldn't even begin to process what I had just read. But maybe that was because I was distracted by the small speck of glitter on my shoes...

I'd been a fan of Dr Peterson ever since I watched his lectures online. He's an encouraging figure with the not so commanding voice, but that didn't matter, the cadence is what grasped me into his world of teaching. Alongside many others. His lectures are philosophical and psychologic. He was an intelligent man, who I instantly adored after only hearing him talk for 20 minutes or so. I binged a large portion of his video lecture catalogue, his thoughts on parenting, nazism, self help, depression and other varieties really opened my eyes. His teachings became a part of me. My self worth. I awoke on a bright Sunday morning. My bedroom window was slightly agap, the cold October breeze seeped through the space and placed its cold hand onto my shoulders. I knew it was time to get up. Getting dressed, I avoided the shower this time around since someone was using it, but that's fine. It's too cold to undress this morning, it is winter, after all. Still feeling drowzy I began to stammer down the hard wood stairs into the kitchen area. Not feeling entirely awake, I sat upon the stool beside the breakfast table. "God damn, I'm more tired than usual" I wish I could go back to sleep or snap my fingers and get through the next few hours. I just need a bit extra time to... wait, shit! Of course, I can perform the "task trick" we all know and love and we'll all be done with this. Eyes began to close, darkness took over, sounds silenced and three words were uttered. "Clean your room" SNAP. I awoke, the first thing I noticed was the red hue of the world around me. I was outside, but where? I don't recognise this place. The sky is clouded with an orange hue, tumbleweeds flew past as if in a hurry. I was confused, and alone. All there is to see is a dirty road stretching past the horizon, and fields of dead crops. "What the fuck is happening? am I still dreaming?" Confident, but quiet footsteps on dirt came from behind me. Body tensed, I shot around in an instant to meet eyes with who.. or what it was. What. No. I'm confused. I didn't understand what I was seeing. Jordan Peterson stood there, as real as can be. In a well-tailored suit. I locked eyes with him, before being able to collect my thoughts he spoke out. "Are you all there?" Peterson asked "Y-Yes.. I think so.. I don' understand where I am or what's happening" "Well of course you do, man. Don't lose confidence in yourself now, bucko. We've only got a few states left to free from the land people and we'll be a free society, roughly speaking." "How.. did this all happen?.." I hesitatenly asked. He looked concerned, but his eyes remained solid. As if I was toying with him but he wasn't taking the bait. "Well what kind of bloody question is that, General?" he exclaimed in a joking manner. "bear with me here, explain to me as if I bumped my head and forgot or something". Peterson looked away momenterily, collecting himself. He straightened his back and fixed his eyes back on me. "Oh, a thought exercise! How interesting, we can reminisce and perhaps gain knowledge by retelling our victories over the North American continent. That could be useful." "Alright. Well, you somehow got ahold of my personal number a late Sunday afternoon around 5 years ago. You told me about how you were sorting your life out and others need to take action, and that I am a necessary tool". "Wait! " I shouted, in between one of his pauses. "I talked to you over the phone. What specifically did I speak about?" "Well, that's a good question, ey? you spoke about firstly cleaning your room." "Shit" I whispered to myself. Only then I began to notice flags behind him. Stuck in the ground, flapping in the wind. Stepping aside to look at them, I noticed a crest of some kind. It was a lobster. Memories came flooding in of the past few years. I remember now. He's the lobster king. "All land mammals have no place in this world, roughly speaking". That was his motto. Oh god.

[WP] Since you were a child you have had the power to turn off your brain and command your body to do one simple task and wake up when its done (ex. do my work). one day you tell your body to clean your room but when you wake up you're in a apocalyptic wasteland.

My alarm clock starts beeping, I jump out of bed. My mind starts racing, I've never been able to explain my powers, it feels like an out of body experience, an experience where I'm looking down at myself like an A.I in a simulation. I can tell my A.I to do something and it gets completed, no resistance, no rebellion, just following orders. But this is me, I'm here, I'm in control I- The beeping continues. I look onward to my alarm clock, it's neon green light illuminates my cold dark room. My eyes are still adjusting to the environment around me, I couldn't see much, I walk towards the beeping and then it suddenly stops. I didn't even make half the distance of my bed to the alarm clock. I had lost control once again. As I've gotten older my motivation to do anything has dwindled down to nothing, every day I just go on to the next. On some occasions I leave my body for the entire day, I like being away, I feel a purpose when I'm controlling, like there is a greater meaning to my life. Although these are beautiful things in the moment, when I get back, I feel bad, ashamed, sad. I've never been sure why these are the feelings that I inherit after but it comes upon me like a tidal wave, striking at unknown times in huge waves. Even with this shame that is soaked upon me, I keep using, I figure that It's going to get better over time, that my body will get used to this, but it never has and its only gotten worse. I leave my body once again, I've now showered, eaten breakfast, and patched myself up for the day. My head hurts, it feels as if a hammer was being bashed repeatedly into the center of my skull attempting to repair something that has taken too much damage and cannot be fixed. Everyday the pain has gotten worse, the more I use the worse the pain. I enter my car, my car was one of the few things that made me happy, my car was my real home, seeing hundreds of different people all going to different destinations fascinated me, I had a long commute, about 42 minutes on a Monday, I would never consider skipping a minute of my car ride. I get to the first stop sign outside of my house and start seeing flashes of light, I look around vigorously, I see no cars, just explosions of light. It feels like a warzone in my own head, everything goes dark. I wake up gasping for air, I take a second to get my bearings and take in the environment around me, I don't recognize anything. The world feels bright but barren, Nothing is near me, just some old pieces of rust, and debris. I attempt to leave my machine, nothing happens, I try once more, nothing happens. I start panicking, I climb atop of an object that looks like the outline of a car but I'm not entirely sure. >"Hello" I hear nothing, even in the real world, the world I was from, nothing meant something, this didn't mean anything, I didn't feel anything. I came to the realization of something. I didn't care I didn't care that I was stranded by myself, I didn't care that my car ride was ruined, I only cared about not being able to use my powers to leave my body. I saw a piece of rust laying to the side of the car, it was heavy, but more importantly it was sharp. >"Goodbye"

"I don't believe my room is that dirty!" Neil groaned as he poked his head through half of a door frame, rubbles cracked under his flip-flops. "How long was I out?" pulling his incredibly long hair away so he could get a better look at what had once been his modest apartment. Yeah, there isn't much left. Neil sneaked to the edge and looked down, there is no longer a street, only loss concrete chunks piled almost to the fourth floor. Pulling back, Neil ran back towards his bedroom, "This is just a nightmare, I just need to sleep it off." He turned the door handle and raced into oblivion. "Ahhhhhh........" Neil almost falls straight down, barely holding on to the door handle. What once was a cozy man cave was now a literal cave, the floor had given away. Neil pulled his legs up and steadied himself on the broken floor. Then he flopped down and clutched his heart. His entire body turned into noodles as his heart thumped. He gradually lied on the floor burying himself in the rubbles, through the gaping hole in his ceiling, he can see a violet sky, the clouds truly looked menacing. "What the heck happened?" Neil got up and typed on a dead computer, then he wrenched up the fallen receiver, no dial tone. "Noooo!" He bellowed, his puny voice echoed through the ruins. His long hair lie in pile around him, his nearly bald head and the pair of rusty scissors tell the most heart-wrenching stories. There is no food, no water, most importantly no Wi-Fi. His phones are dead, his computer is dead, his Gaming console 5 was smashed to pieces, all of his precious games with abusive microtransactions! Neil wept then he jumped up. "Hahaha haha! F-You student loans! F-U undue payments!" Neil danced, wiggling all limbs, he checked his reflection in a broken mirror, totally insane. "I don't give a damn!" Neil's hoarse, out of tune rumbling reverberated around. He opened all the drawers, pulling out every clothing he ever owned, and grow so emotionally attached to. He grabbed the revolver that he used to play Russian roulette with when he is wasted, as well as his father's service rifle. He slammed the magazine release and kicked the pathetic ten-round magazine over the edge and slapped on a big boi drum magazine. Then he attached the real manly shoulder stock, "Oh yeah!" Neil yelled as he pulled on a black balaclava. He pounded his chest rig, and filled the pockets with clips. "Wo-Rah!" He put on his old man's uniform and give the old ruffian a long salute and the finger. Then Neil kicked down his flimsy door and yelled: "Here comes Neil!" On the way to the vault, Neil lighted a cigar, and hold it in his mouth. He never smoke, but he might as well look cool. His boots crunched the debris, he jumped and danced, pointing the muzzle at every shadow. Screw trigger discipline, he is open carrying to his heart's content. After passing the sign, drumf plaza, Neil unzipped his pants and let it have the golden shower. "Why can't the world just come together?" Neil yelled, and he kicked open the unhinged doors to the vault. He raced down the steps in a frenzy, the cigar is burning to its last leg, finally, there it is. Neil squeezed through the thick steels doors. He fashioned a bed for himself out of all the bills, using his cigar to lit them in the hundreds. Then Neil approached the deposit boxes. "What do you have there?" He murmured and tapped on the shelves upon shelves of reinforced drawers holding dirty little secrets. "Open sesames!" Neil kicked at them, they did not budge. Like a rabid dog, he ran into the trashed streets, and moon walked on the once prestigious ground. One hand on his junk, the other holding his beret, Neil thrusts his pelvic about, dancing to an all too familiar song. In his mind, a crowd had gone wild, chanting his name. The night sky lit up like the fourth of July. But the illusions passed as a heavy downpour drenched him from head to toe. Breathless, he slumped into a puddle of muddy water and lie with his limbs outstretched, then he imagined himself making a snow angel as a bolt of lightning flashed across the eerie sky.

[WP] Since you were a child you have had the power to turn off your brain and command your body to do one simple task and wake up when its done (ex. do my work). one day you tell your body to clean your room but when you wake up you're in a apocalyptic wasteland.

The first thing i Noticed was the silence, the unusual, unsettling silence. Our apartment was on the forth floor of a building on a bustling Parisian street, it was never quiet. There was always a car or bus passing, people chatting, glasses smashing in the café below. But there was only silence. I was lay on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, my head was burning, it had started cleaning at 5pm, now it looked like morning, a pale orange light shone in through the window, and tinted the closed blinds. I tried to stand up, but felt dizzy, and only managed to sit. The silence was louder now, I called out for my girlfriend, but there was no reply. *What the fuck is going on ?* There was a bottle of water on my bedside table, I reached out for it and swigged the water, little by little, my head stopped spinning. I stood up slowly, the light from outside was unusual. I walked to the window and peered through the blinds The building opposite had totally collapsed. *Fuck.* the others were badly damaged, all the windows in the street were blown in, cars in the street below were buried in rubble, or stripped totally of their paint, the window was plastered with an orange dust. The city was silent.

"I don't believe my room is that dirty!" Neil groaned as he poked his head through half of a door frame, rubbles cracked under his flip-flops. "How long was I out?" pulling his incredibly long hair away so he could get a better look at what had once been his modest apartment. Yeah, there isn't much left. Neil sneaked to the edge and looked down, there is no longer a street, only loss concrete chunks piled almost to the fourth floor. Pulling back, Neil ran back towards his bedroom, "This is just a nightmare, I just need to sleep it off." He turned the door handle and raced into oblivion. "Ahhhhhh........" Neil almost falls straight down, barely holding on to the door handle. What once was a cozy man cave was now a literal cave, the floor had given away. Neil pulled his legs up and steadied himself on the broken floor. Then he flopped down and clutched his heart. His entire body turned into noodles as his heart thumped. He gradually lied on the floor burying himself in the rubbles, through the gaping hole in his ceiling, he can see a violet sky, the clouds truly looked menacing. "What the heck happened?" Neil got up and typed on a dead computer, then he wrenched up the fallen receiver, no dial tone. "Noooo!" He bellowed, his puny voice echoed through the ruins. His long hair lie in pile around him, his nearly bald head and the pair of rusty scissors tell the most heart-wrenching stories. There is no food, no water, most importantly no Wi-Fi. His phones are dead, his computer is dead, his Gaming console 5 was smashed to pieces, all of his precious games with abusive microtransactions! Neil wept then he jumped up. "Hahaha haha! F-You student loans! F-U undue payments!" Neil danced, wiggling all limbs, he checked his reflection in a broken mirror, totally insane. "I don't give a damn!" Neil's hoarse, out of tune rumbling reverberated around. He opened all the drawers, pulling out every clothing he ever owned, and grow so emotionally attached to. He grabbed the revolver that he used to play Russian roulette with when he is wasted, as well as his father's service rifle. He slammed the magazine release and kicked the pathetic ten-round magazine over the edge and slapped on a big boi drum magazine. Then he attached the real manly shoulder stock, "Oh yeah!" Neil yelled as he pulled on a black balaclava. He pounded his chest rig, and filled the pockets with clips. "Wo-Rah!" He put on his old man's uniform and give the old ruffian a long salute and the finger. Then Neil kicked down his flimsy door and yelled: "Here comes Neil!" On the way to the vault, Neil lighted a cigar, and hold it in his mouth. He never smoke, but he might as well look cool. His boots crunched the debris, he jumped and danced, pointing the muzzle at every shadow. Screw trigger discipline, he is open carrying to his heart's content. After passing the sign, drumf plaza, Neil unzipped his pants and let it have the golden shower. "Why can't the world just come together?" Neil yelled, and he kicked open the unhinged doors to the vault. He raced down the steps in a frenzy, the cigar is burning to its last leg, finally, there it is. Neil squeezed through the thick steels doors. He fashioned a bed for himself out of all the bills, using his cigar to lit them in the hundreds. Then Neil approached the deposit boxes. "What do you have there?" He murmured and tapped on the shelves upon shelves of reinforced drawers holding dirty little secrets. "Open sesames!" Neil kicked at them, they did not budge. Like a rabid dog, he ran into the trashed streets, and moon walked on the once prestigious ground. One hand on his junk, the other holding his beret, Neil thrusts his pelvic about, dancing to an all too familiar song. In his mind, a crowd had gone wild, chanting his name. The night sky lit up like the fourth of July. But the illusions passed as a heavy downpour drenched him from head to toe. Breathless, he slumped into a puddle of muddy water and lie with his limbs outstretched, then he imagined himself making a snow angel as a bolt of lightning flashed across the eerie sky.

[WP] Since you were a child you have had the power to turn off your brain and command your body to do one simple task and wake up when its done (ex. do my work). one day you tell your body to clean your room but when you wake up you're in a apocalyptic wasteland.

What... the... *actual*... F#%&!!!! After I had gotten the dust out of my eyes and stopped coughing, I was able to look around. I was standing in the middle of a windy and dusty plain. It must have been around dusk but there was so much dust in the air it could well have been noon. I could've sworn I was standing in my room before I instructed myself to clean. The only thing around was a piece of paper with writing in my hand. Upon closer inspection, the handwriting was *mine!* Well this is a first, I had never left myself a note after one of my states. Dear Self, As per your instructions I began to clean our room around 8:06 AM, Nov. 16, 2019. After a few hours of general cleaning, I began to vacuum the floor. As I started underneath the bed, I noticed a few specks of glitter. After several attempts, I was unable to vacuum the glitter from the carpet. I won't bore you with a long summary of my further attempts to remove said glitter, but suffice to say I was *unsuccesful*. This drove me to an emotional state that was, shall we say, *inefficient* for the performance of the rest of the cleaning duties. As a result, I had to take drastic measures. Specifically, at 2:00 AM in North Dakota (local time), I infiltrated a missile silo containing an inter-continental ballistic missile with several nuclear warheads. After a small *confrontation* with the staff, I left the region with a 10-megaton nuclear warhead. While I estimated a smaller yield warhead would be sufficient for my future duties, this particular silo's smallest warhead was the 10-megaton warhead mentioned earlier. I admit that my actions caused a small federal *reaction* which, in specific perspectives, *may* have been warranted. Regardless, at 11:43 AM on Nov. 19, 2019, I "cleaned" the remaining glitter underneath the bed by detonating the warhead in the vicinity of your room. After further inspection, I could find no trace of glitter in the room and determined it sufficiently cleaned, per instructions. Due to the drastic circumstances I had to take in the course of executing my duties, I felt a note of explanation was warranted. Sincerely, Past Self I was honestly speechless after reading it. Couldn't even begin to process what I had just read. But maybe that was because I was distracted by the small speck of glitter on my shoes...

"I don't believe my room is that dirty!" Neil groaned as he poked his head through half of a door frame, rubbles cracked under his flip-flops. "How long was I out?" pulling his incredibly long hair away so he could get a better look at what had once been his modest apartment. Yeah, there isn't much left. Neil sneaked to the edge and looked down, there is no longer a street, only loss concrete chunks piled almost to the fourth floor. Pulling back, Neil ran back towards his bedroom, "This is just a nightmare, I just need to sleep it off." He turned the door handle and raced into oblivion. "Ahhhhhh........" Neil almost falls straight down, barely holding on to the door handle. What once was a cozy man cave was now a literal cave, the floor had given away. Neil pulled his legs up and steadied himself on the broken floor. Then he flopped down and clutched his heart. His entire body turned into noodles as his heart thumped. He gradually lied on the floor burying himself in the rubbles, through the gaping hole in his ceiling, he can see a violet sky, the clouds truly looked menacing. "What the heck happened?" Neil got up and typed on a dead computer, then he wrenched up the fallen receiver, no dial tone. "Noooo!" He bellowed, his puny voice echoed through the ruins. His long hair lie in pile around him, his nearly bald head and the pair of rusty scissors tell the most heart-wrenching stories. There is no food, no water, most importantly no Wi-Fi. His phones are dead, his computer is dead, his Gaming console 5 was smashed to pieces, all of his precious games with abusive microtransactions! Neil wept then he jumped up. "Hahaha haha! F-You student loans! F-U undue payments!" Neil danced, wiggling all limbs, he checked his reflection in a broken mirror, totally insane. "I don't give a damn!" Neil's hoarse, out of tune rumbling reverberated around. He opened all the drawers, pulling out every clothing he ever owned, and grow so emotionally attached to. He grabbed the revolver that he used to play Russian roulette with when he is wasted, as well as his father's service rifle. He slammed the magazine release and kicked the pathetic ten-round magazine over the edge and slapped on a big boi drum magazine. Then he attached the real manly shoulder stock, "Oh yeah!" Neil yelled as he pulled on a black balaclava. He pounded his chest rig, and filled the pockets with clips. "Wo-Rah!" He put on his old man's uniform and give the old ruffian a long salute and the finger. Then Neil kicked down his flimsy door and yelled: "Here comes Neil!" On the way to the vault, Neil lighted a cigar, and hold it in his mouth. He never smoke, but he might as well look cool. His boots crunched the debris, he jumped and danced, pointing the muzzle at every shadow. Screw trigger discipline, he is open carrying to his heart's content. After passing the sign, drumf plaza, Neil unzipped his pants and let it have the golden shower. "Why can't the world just come together?" Neil yelled, and he kicked open the unhinged doors to the vault. He raced down the steps in a frenzy, the cigar is burning to its last leg, finally, there it is. Neil squeezed through the thick steels doors. He fashioned a bed for himself out of all the bills, using his cigar to lit them in the hundreds. Then Neil approached the deposit boxes. "What do you have there?" He murmured and tapped on the shelves upon shelves of reinforced drawers holding dirty little secrets. "Open sesames!" Neil kicked at them, they did not budge. Like a rabid dog, he ran into the trashed streets, and moon walked on the once prestigious ground. One hand on his junk, the other holding his beret, Neil thrusts his pelvic about, dancing to an all too familiar song. In his mind, a crowd had gone wild, chanting his name. The night sky lit up like the fourth of July. But the illusions passed as a heavy downpour drenched him from head to toe. Breathless, he slumped into a puddle of muddy water and lie with his limbs outstretched, then he imagined himself making a snow angel as a bolt of lightning flashed across the eerie sky.

[WP] Since you were a child you have had the power to turn off your brain and command your body to do one simple task and wake up when its done (ex. do my work). one day you tell your body to clean your room but when you wake up you're in a apocalyptic wasteland.

Since I was a kid, I'd had a "thing". No one else had it, that I knew of. Was my little secret. Started small, didn't even realize it was a thing at first. Momma would tell me to take a bath, or clean the garage, and I'd tell myself the same thing, just to find that it was done in the blink of an eye, or so I thought. Was a handy little thing to get homework done, or chores. I always wondered what it looked like to others when I was doing my thing, so I once set up a video camera in the living room... turns out im apparently still awake enough to answer questions, and interact with folks, and I *do* remember conversations with others that occur in thing time, but only if the other person reminds me. And I tended to remember the lessons I learned from my textbooks, but only if I was taking a test, or was prompted somehow. Time passed like normal. If cleaning the gutters would take two hours, then two hours got taken, but I didn't have to think about, i didn't get bored.. it just happened. It worked well enough to get me into a pretty good school. And I think that's where things went... wonky. Two weeks into my freshman year of college, I was taking an intro to Latin course. I'd just taken some thing time to study my Latin vocab and had eaten dinner after. When I got back to my dorm, I told myself, "Clean my room." And then I woke up in Hell. Literally.

"I don't believe my room is that dirty!" Neil groaned as he poked his head through half of a door frame, rubbles cracked under his flip-flops. "How long was I out?" pulling his incredibly long hair away so he could get a better look at what had once been his modest apartment. Yeah, there isn't much left. Neil sneaked to the edge and looked down, there is no longer a street, only loss concrete chunks piled almost to the fourth floor. Pulling back, Neil ran back towards his bedroom, "This is just a nightmare, I just need to sleep it off." He turned the door handle and raced into oblivion. "Ahhhhhh........" Neil almost falls straight down, barely holding on to the door handle. What once was a cozy man cave was now a literal cave, the floor had given away. Neil pulled his legs up and steadied himself on the broken floor. Then he flopped down and clutched his heart. His entire body turned into noodles as his heart thumped. He gradually lied on the floor burying himself in the rubbles, through the gaping hole in his ceiling, he can see a violet sky, the clouds truly looked menacing. "What the heck happened?" Neil got up and typed on a dead computer, then he wrenched up the fallen receiver, no dial tone. "Noooo!" He bellowed, his puny voice echoed through the ruins. His long hair lie in pile around him, his nearly bald head and the pair of rusty scissors tell the most heart-wrenching stories. There is no food, no water, most importantly no Wi-Fi. His phones are dead, his computer is dead, his Gaming console 5 was smashed to pieces, all of his precious games with abusive microtransactions! Neil wept then he jumped up. "Hahaha haha! F-You student loans! F-U undue payments!" Neil danced, wiggling all limbs, he checked his reflection in a broken mirror, totally insane. "I don't give a damn!" Neil's hoarse, out of tune rumbling reverberated around. He opened all the drawers, pulling out every clothing he ever owned, and grow so emotionally attached to. He grabbed the revolver that he used to play Russian roulette with when he is wasted, as well as his father's service rifle. He slammed the magazine release and kicked the pathetic ten-round magazine over the edge and slapped on a big boi drum magazine. Then he attached the real manly shoulder stock, "Oh yeah!" Neil yelled as he pulled on a black balaclava. He pounded his chest rig, and filled the pockets with clips. "Wo-Rah!" He put on his old man's uniform and give the old ruffian a long salute and the finger. Then Neil kicked down his flimsy door and yelled: "Here comes Neil!" On the way to the vault, Neil lighted a cigar, and hold it in his mouth. He never smoke, but he might as well look cool. His boots crunched the debris, he jumped and danced, pointing the muzzle at every shadow. Screw trigger discipline, he is open carrying to his heart's content. After passing the sign, drumf plaza, Neil unzipped his pants and let it have the golden shower. "Why can't the world just come together?" Neil yelled, and he kicked open the unhinged doors to the vault. He raced down the steps in a frenzy, the cigar is burning to its last leg, finally, there it is. Neil squeezed through the thick steels doors. He fashioned a bed for himself out of all the bills, using his cigar to lit them in the hundreds. Then Neil approached the deposit boxes. "What do you have there?" He murmured and tapped on the shelves upon shelves of reinforced drawers holding dirty little secrets. "Open sesames!" Neil kicked at them, they did not budge. Like a rabid dog, he ran into the trashed streets, and moon walked on the once prestigious ground. One hand on his junk, the other holding his beret, Neil thrusts his pelvic about, dancing to an all too familiar song. In his mind, a crowd had gone wild, chanting his name. The night sky lit up like the fourth of July. But the illusions passed as a heavy downpour drenched him from head to toe. Breathless, he slumped into a puddle of muddy water and lie with his limbs outstretched, then he imagined himself making a snow angel as a bolt of lightning flashed across the eerie sky.

[WP] Since you were a child you have had the power to turn off your brain and command your body to do one simple task and wake up when its done (ex. do my work). one day you tell your body to clean your room but when you wake up you're in a apocalyptic wasteland.

What... the... *actual*... F#%&!!!! After I had gotten the dust out of my eyes and stopped coughing, I was able to look around. I was standing in the middle of a windy and dusty plain. It must have been around dusk but there was so much dust in the air it could well have been noon. I could've sworn I was standing in my room before I instructed myself to clean. The only thing around was a piece of paper with writing in my hand. Upon closer inspection, the handwriting was *mine!* Well this is a first, I had never left myself a note after one of my states. Dear Self, As per your instructions I began to clean our room around 8:06 AM, Nov. 16, 2019. After a few hours of general cleaning, I began to vacuum the floor. As I started underneath the bed, I noticed a few specks of glitter. After several attempts, I was unable to vacuum the glitter from the carpet. I won't bore you with a long summary of my further attempts to remove said glitter, but suffice to say I was *unsuccesful*. This drove me to an emotional state that was, shall we say, *inefficient* for the performance of the rest of the cleaning duties. As a result, I had to take drastic measures. Specifically, at 2:00 AM in North Dakota (local time), I infiltrated a missile silo containing an inter-continental ballistic missile with several nuclear warheads. After a small *confrontation* with the staff, I left the region with a 10-megaton nuclear warhead. While I estimated a smaller yield warhead would be sufficient for my future duties, this particular silo's smallest warhead was the 10-megaton warhead mentioned earlier. I admit that my actions caused a small federal *reaction* which, in specific perspectives, *may* have been warranted. Regardless, at 11:43 AM on Nov. 19, 2019, I "cleaned" the remaining glitter underneath the bed by detonating the warhead in the vicinity of your room. After further inspection, I could find no trace of glitter in the room and determined it sufficiently cleaned, per instructions. Due to the drastic circumstances I had to take in the course of executing my duties, I felt a note of explanation was warranted. Sincerely, Past Self I was honestly speechless after reading it. Couldn't even begin to process what I had just read. But maybe that was because I was distracted by the small speck of glitter on my shoes...

“The age of man ended in ways that where far to complex to think about for any length of time.” That’s what the scavenger who kept his nose to the ground in search of shiny metal and clean water had told me. Luckily for me people get very talkative when you start waving a knife around. I violently grab at him.he panics as I grab him by the back of the coat and he nervously starts talking like a machine gun “Mommy told me that a ghost ended everything. She said that it one day looked at the corruption and the filth it saw in all of us.” The Scavenger looked off into the ruined landscape fighting back fine glass like tears. “She said the ghost used the power of something called n-u-c-l-e-a-r bomb to punish us. Sorry he said dabbing his eyes with a rag. She would talk about how beautiful the world was before. I would give all me shiny metal for a chance to see that beauty for five minutes.” I drop the little man, and walk off numb.I look around and know that I caused the apocalypse. You see I can put my body into autopilot. I’m super human when I do, and used it hundreds of times to gain the upper hand and never suffered any damage. I guess when I did it to clean the house I said the wrong words. But I think I can fix this, I just need a spot to lay down. After pacing back and forth for what seemed like hours. I finally find a place on the dirty irradiated ground. I plop down,close my eyes, and shout into the cold void around me “fix this mess .” I hope it works I think to myself as I drift into autopilot and the rubble and ruin of this world is drowned out by a blanket of white light.

[WP] Since you were a child you have had the power to turn off your brain and command your body to do one simple task and wake up when its done (ex. do my work). one day you tell your body to clean your room but when you wake up you're in a apocalyptic wasteland.

The first thing i Noticed was the silence, the unusual, unsettling silence. Our apartment was on the forth floor of a building on a bustling Parisian street, it was never quiet. There was always a car or bus passing, people chatting, glasses smashing in the café below. But there was only silence. I was lay on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, my head was burning, it had started cleaning at 5pm, now it looked like morning, a pale orange light shone in through the window, and tinted the closed blinds. I tried to stand up, but felt dizzy, and only managed to sit. The silence was louder now, I called out for my girlfriend, but there was no reply. *What the fuck is going on ?* There was a bottle of water on my bedside table, I reached out for it and swigged the water, little by little, my head stopped spinning. I stood up slowly, the light from outside was unusual. I walked to the window and peered through the blinds The building opposite had totally collapsed. *Fuck.* the others were badly damaged, all the windows in the street were blown in, cars in the street below were buried in rubble, or stripped totally of their paint, the window was plastered with an orange dust. The city was silent.

My alarm clock starts beeping, I jump out of bed. My mind starts racing, I've never been able to explain my powers, it feels like an out of body experience, an experience where I'm looking down at myself like an A.I in a simulation. I can tell my A.I to do something and it gets completed, no resistance, no rebellion, just following orders. But this is me, I'm here, I'm in control I- The beeping continues. I look onward to my alarm clock, it's neon green light illuminates my cold dark room. My eyes are still adjusting to the environment around me, I couldn't see much, I walk towards the beeping and then it suddenly stops. I didn't even make half the distance of my bed to the alarm clock. I had lost control once again. As I've gotten older my motivation to do anything has dwindled down to nothing, every day I just go on to the next. On some occasions I leave my body for the entire day, I like being away, I feel a purpose when I'm controlling, like there is a greater meaning to my life. Although these are beautiful things in the moment, when I get back, I feel bad, ashamed, sad. I've never been sure why these are the feelings that I inherit after but it comes upon me like a tidal wave, striking at unknown times in huge waves. Even with this shame that is soaked upon me, I keep using, I figure that It's going to get better over time, that my body will get used to this, but it never has and its only gotten worse. I leave my body once again, I've now showered, eaten breakfast, and patched myself up for the day. My head hurts, it feels as if a hammer was being bashed repeatedly into the center of my skull attempting to repair something that has taken too much damage and cannot be fixed. Everyday the pain has gotten worse, the more I use the worse the pain. I enter my car, my car was one of the few things that made me happy, my car was my real home, seeing hundreds of different people all going to different destinations fascinated me, I had a long commute, about 42 minutes on a Monday, I would never consider skipping a minute of my car ride. I get to the first stop sign outside of my house and start seeing flashes of light, I look around vigorously, I see no cars, just explosions of light. It feels like a warzone in my own head, everything goes dark. I wake up gasping for air, I take a second to get my bearings and take in the environment around me, I don't recognize anything. The world feels bright but barren, Nothing is near me, just some old pieces of rust, and debris. I attempt to leave my machine, nothing happens, I try once more, nothing happens. I start panicking, I climb atop of an object that looks like the outline of a car but I'm not entirely sure. >"Hello" I hear nothing, even in the real world, the world I was from, nothing meant something, this didn't mean anything, I didn't feel anything. I came to the realization of something. I didn't care I didn't care that I was stranded by myself, I didn't care that my car ride was ruined, I only cared about not being able to use my powers to leave my body. I saw a piece of rust laying to the side of the car, it was heavy, but more importantly it was sharp. >"Goodbye"

[WP] Since you were a child you have had the power to turn off your brain and command your body to do one simple task and wake up when its done (ex. do my work). one day you tell your body to clean your room but when you wake up you're in a apocalyptic wasteland.

What... the... *actual*... F#%&!!!! After I had gotten the dust out of my eyes and stopped coughing, I was able to look around. I was standing in the middle of a windy and dusty plain. It must have been around dusk but there was so much dust in the air it could well have been noon. I could've sworn I was standing in my room before I instructed myself to clean. The only thing around was a piece of paper with writing in my hand. Upon closer inspection, the handwriting was *mine!* Well this is a first, I had never left myself a note after one of my states. Dear Self, As per your instructions I began to clean our room around 8:06 AM, Nov. 16, 2019. After a few hours of general cleaning, I began to vacuum the floor. As I started underneath the bed, I noticed a few specks of glitter. After several attempts, I was unable to vacuum the glitter from the carpet. I won't bore you with a long summary of my further attempts to remove said glitter, but suffice to say I was *unsuccesful*. This drove me to an emotional state that was, shall we say, *inefficient* for the performance of the rest of the cleaning duties. As a result, I had to take drastic measures. Specifically, at 2:00 AM in North Dakota (local time), I infiltrated a missile silo containing an inter-continental ballistic missile with several nuclear warheads. After a small *confrontation* with the staff, I left the region with a 10-megaton nuclear warhead. While I estimated a smaller yield warhead would be sufficient for my future duties, this particular silo's smallest warhead was the 10-megaton warhead mentioned earlier. I admit that my actions caused a small federal *reaction* which, in specific perspectives, *may* have been warranted. Regardless, at 11:43 AM on Nov. 19, 2019, I "cleaned" the remaining glitter underneath the bed by detonating the warhead in the vicinity of your room. After further inspection, I could find no trace of glitter in the room and determined it sufficiently cleaned, per instructions. Due to the drastic circumstances I had to take in the course of executing my duties, I felt a note of explanation was warranted. Sincerely, Past Self I was honestly speechless after reading it. Couldn't even begin to process what I had just read. But maybe that was because I was distracted by the small speck of glitter on my shoes...

My alarm clock starts beeping, I jump out of bed. My mind starts racing, I've never been able to explain my powers, it feels like an out of body experience, an experience where I'm looking down at myself like an A.I in a simulation. I can tell my A.I to do something and it gets completed, no resistance, no rebellion, just following orders. But this is me, I'm here, I'm in control I- The beeping continues. I look onward to my alarm clock, it's neon green light illuminates my cold dark room. My eyes are still adjusting to the environment around me, I couldn't see much, I walk towards the beeping and then it suddenly stops. I didn't even make half the distance of my bed to the alarm clock. I had lost control once again. As I've gotten older my motivation to do anything has dwindled down to nothing, every day I just go on to the next. On some occasions I leave my body for the entire day, I like being away, I feel a purpose when I'm controlling, like there is a greater meaning to my life. Although these are beautiful things in the moment, when I get back, I feel bad, ashamed, sad. I've never been sure why these are the feelings that I inherit after but it comes upon me like a tidal wave, striking at unknown times in huge waves. Even with this shame that is soaked upon me, I keep using, I figure that It's going to get better over time, that my body will get used to this, but it never has and its only gotten worse. I leave my body once again, I've now showered, eaten breakfast, and patched myself up for the day. My head hurts, it feels as if a hammer was being bashed repeatedly into the center of my skull attempting to repair something that has taken too much damage and cannot be fixed. Everyday the pain has gotten worse, the more I use the worse the pain. I enter my car, my car was one of the few things that made me happy, my car was my real home, seeing hundreds of different people all going to different destinations fascinated me, I had a long commute, about 42 minutes on a Monday, I would never consider skipping a minute of my car ride. I get to the first stop sign outside of my house and start seeing flashes of light, I look around vigorously, I see no cars, just explosions of light. It feels like a warzone in my own head, everything goes dark. I wake up gasping for air, I take a second to get my bearings and take in the environment around me, I don't recognize anything. The world feels bright but barren, Nothing is near me, just some old pieces of rust, and debris. I attempt to leave my machine, nothing happens, I try once more, nothing happens. I start panicking, I climb atop of an object that looks like the outline of a car but I'm not entirely sure. >"Hello" I hear nothing, even in the real world, the world I was from, nothing meant something, this didn't mean anything, I didn't feel anything. I came to the realization of something. I didn't care I didn't care that I was stranded by myself, I didn't care that my car ride was ruined, I only cared about not being able to use my powers to leave my body. I saw a piece of rust laying to the side of the car, it was heavy, but more importantly it was sharp. >"Goodbye"

[WP] Since you were a child you have had the power to turn off your brain and command your body to do one simple task and wake up when its done (ex. do my work). one day you tell your body to clean your room but when you wake up you're in a apocalyptic wasteland.

What... the... *actual*... F#%&!!!! After I had gotten the dust out of my eyes and stopped coughing, I was able to look around. I was standing in the middle of a windy and dusty plain. It must have been around dusk but there was so much dust in the air it could well have been noon. I could've sworn I was standing in my room before I instructed myself to clean. The only thing around was a piece of paper with writing in my hand. Upon closer inspection, the handwriting was *mine!* Well this is a first, I had never left myself a note after one of my states. Dear Self, As per your instructions I began to clean our room around 8:06 AM, Nov. 16, 2019. After a few hours of general cleaning, I began to vacuum the floor. As I started underneath the bed, I noticed a few specks of glitter. After several attempts, I was unable to vacuum the glitter from the carpet. I won't bore you with a long summary of my further attempts to remove said glitter, but suffice to say I was *unsuccesful*. This drove me to an emotional state that was, shall we say, *inefficient* for the performance of the rest of the cleaning duties. As a result, I had to take drastic measures. Specifically, at 2:00 AM in North Dakota (local time), I infiltrated a missile silo containing an inter-continental ballistic missile with several nuclear warheads. After a small *confrontation* with the staff, I left the region with a 10-megaton nuclear warhead. While I estimated a smaller yield warhead would be sufficient for my future duties, this particular silo's smallest warhead was the 10-megaton warhead mentioned earlier. I admit that my actions caused a small federal *reaction* which, in specific perspectives, *may* have been warranted. Regardless, at 11:43 AM on Nov. 19, 2019, I "cleaned" the remaining glitter underneath the bed by detonating the warhead in the vicinity of your room. After further inspection, I could find no trace of glitter in the room and determined it sufficiently cleaned, per instructions. Due to the drastic circumstances I had to take in the course of executing my duties, I felt a note of explanation was warranted. Sincerely, Past Self I was honestly speechless after reading it. Couldn't even begin to process what I had just read. But maybe that was because I was distracted by the small speck of glitter on my shoes...

The first thing i Noticed was the silence, the unusual, unsettling silence. Our apartment was on the forth floor of a building on a bustling Parisian street, it was never quiet. There was always a car or bus passing, people chatting, glasses smashing in the café below. But there was only silence. I was lay on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, my head was burning, it had started cleaning at 5pm, now it looked like morning, a pale orange light shone in through the window, and tinted the closed blinds. I tried to stand up, but felt dizzy, and only managed to sit. The silence was louder now, I called out for my girlfriend, but there was no reply. *What the fuck is going on ?* There was a bottle of water on my bedside table, I reached out for it and swigged the water, little by little, my head stopped spinning. I stood up slowly, the light from outside was unusual. I walked to the window and peered through the blinds The building opposite had totally collapsed. *Fuck.* the others were badly damaged, all the windows in the street were blown in, cars in the street below were buried in rubble, or stripped totally of their paint, the window was plastered with an orange dust. The city was silent.

[WP] Since you were a child you have had the power to turn off your brain and command your body to do one simple task and wake up when its done (ex. do my work). one day you tell your body to clean your room but when you wake up you're in a apocalyptic wasteland.

Since I was a kid, I'd had a "thing". No one else had it, that I knew of. Was my little secret. Started small, didn't even realize it was a thing at first. Momma would tell me to take a bath, or clean the garage, and I'd tell myself the same thing, just to find that it was done in the blink of an eye, or so I thought. Was a handy little thing to get homework done, or chores. I always wondered what it looked like to others when I was doing my thing, so I once set up a video camera in the living room... turns out im apparently still awake enough to answer questions, and interact with folks, and I *do* remember conversations with others that occur in thing time, but only if the other person reminds me. And I tended to remember the lessons I learned from my textbooks, but only if I was taking a test, or was prompted somehow. Time passed like normal. If cleaning the gutters would take two hours, then two hours got taken, but I didn't have to think about, i didn't get bored.. it just happened. It worked well enough to get me into a pretty good school. And I think that's where things went... wonky. Two weeks into my freshman year of college, I was taking an intro to Latin course. I'd just taken some thing time to study my Latin vocab and had eaten dinner after. When I got back to my dorm, I told myself, "Clean my room." And then I woke up in Hell. Literally.

Within the vast expanse of the universe, traveling at speeds the mind can’t even begin to comprehend and filled with possibilities only the world of dreams can imagine, there are only two constants. The known and the unknown. The people of earth are ignorant to the unknown, most turning their head and refusing to believe in the impossible. But not me. I thought I was different, because I was born with the ability to turn off my brain and command my body to work for me while unconscious. I thought I was the unknown piece of the puzzle, the only living thing to be born with a gift not even a scientist could dream up. I thought I was that one thing that we always knew was there, hidden in the haystack but never able to find. But I was wrong. My brain began the process of switching back to consciousness and allowing my senses to accept outside influence. The moment my skin registered the unusually high temperature and my nose caught the scent of dirt and rot floating through the air, I knew something was wrong. I had commanded my body to clean before I slipped into unconsciousness and never once had my body failed me. I peeled my eyelids open, only to catch sight of my bedroom completely dilapidated. The roof was partially caved in, my expensive mahogany dresser was tipped over on its side with all the drawers empty and broken. Dirt and grim covered every inch of the floor, walls and furniture. And the bed my body was on reeked of something rotten. I sat up quickly and gasped, allowing a million tiny particles of dust to swim into my mouth and latch onto the back of my throat. A coughing fit erupted in my chest as I threw my body off the bed and toward the door. I yanked the termite eaten wooden door open and ran into the living room, unease swirling through my insides. The rest of the house matched the state of my bedroom, destroyed and filthy, crawling with bugs I knew were there but weren’t showing themselves. I clutched my chest and felt the very real fear eating away at my brain in massive chunks. *This isn’t real. Somethings wrong. This can’t be real!* **“System malfunction.”** A mono tone voice boomed through the house from all directions. I jumped a foot in the air and spun around, my eyes darting to every corner of the ruins that used to be my home. **“System-”** It began again, but was cut off along with the light of the sun. Everything plunged into darkness, leaving me panicking in the center of my post apocalyptic living room. **“System rebooting.”** A bright red light switched on above my head, just in time for me to witness the peeling wallpaper of the living room walls disappear as if it were made out of pixels. The stained couch and shattered glass coffee table followed suite, fading away before my eyes. As the last of the house disintegrated, another circular red light turned on in front of me. I swallowed the bile rising in my throat and ran for it, over the now black empty floor where my house used to sit. The red light illuminated through a small rectangular window of a door. I pushed it open with sweaty palms and frantically turned in circles to look down both ends of a pristine white tile hallway, before my eye caught on the plaque next to the door. My heart beat pulsed louder than I’d ever heard it before in my ear drums and sweat trickled down my spine as I read the soul shredding words plastered on the wall. **“Specimen #1145: Human** **Intelligence: Low** **Status: Unstable** **Relocation: 48 Hours”**   **Hai! If you liked this story and would like to read more of my stuffs they can be found at r/AliesStories! Thanks for reading :3**

[WP] The dragon is in love with the hero, and the reason they kidnap the princess is to get their attention. The strangest part? The princess is in on it.

The majestic beast beat his wings against the wind, swooping in and snatching the princess. He made sure to grab her in just the right way as not to hurt her, just as they’d practiced a dozen times before. Her screams were also well practiced, convincing enough to even give the dragon himself cause for concern, though once out of earshot she reassured him she was fine. So far, everything was going according to plan. Of course the knight, having been the best friend to the princess, would have been the one take the king’s order to hunt the dragon. The knight’s journey was underway the moment the order was issued, and now it was a race against the clock in the knight’s mind, there’s no telling what that horrible beast was doing to the poor princess! Once at the castle with the princess the dragon had taken on his more natural form, his half human heritage granting him a rather unique visage. Unfortunately, despite the draconic aspects of his mother that he bore, his body took the shape of the scrawny twink of a bard that laid her. He paced in the dilapidated throne room, clearly nervous about the whole plan, “What if it’s more than one knight? What if they just...attack! What if-“ The princess pressed a finger to his lips, shushing him as she spoke, “It’s going to be fine~ You’ll see~” The dragon seemed hesitant to agree but slowly nodded his head as the princess pulled her hand away, “Okay, you’re right. I’m just being anxious, everything will be okay,” He smiles at the princess as he stops pacing, nodding at her, “Right! No time like the present! I’ve waiting so long for this opportunity, and I’m not going to screw it up!” The princess giggled at this, covering her smile as the dragon had taken a heroic, if feminine, pose. He actually blushed as he turned his attention to her, “What? What’s so funny?” The princess just pointed down at the dragon’s legs, which were rather bare, “You might want to put something on before they get here.” His blush deepened as he realized he didn’t actually have any clothes, “O-oh...Oh no...I totally forgot! Argh, how am I supposed to make a good impression if I’m naked!?” He clutched the sides of his head and crouched down, his tail wrapping itself around him as he started freaking out all over again. The princess, to her credit, soothed him rather effortlessly as she produced a dress she had taken with her. The knight arrived a fair day after setting out, cursing the slow nature of crossing terrain. The door had been left open, as if to beckon the knight within, which was a beckon not ignored. The knight steadied the blade, rearing it up in preparation for combat, before slowly advancing within. The dragon, surprisingly, looked almost stunning in the dress, though in certain positions it was clear that he was male. He wasn’t sure if this was going to woo the knight, but he trusted the princess and her advice. She told him the knight had arrived and hurried towards the back of the throne room to wait while the dragon stood upon the raised platform that held the throne. The beast bade welcome to the knight, to which the angry warrior demanded, “Where is she!? What have you done to her, foul beast!?” He had been expecting the knight to say this, though it still caused a twinge of pain in the dragon’s heart. He almost considered calling the whole thing off, but he knew his friend would be disappointed in him, so he stood his ground, “She is safe! For now. And you may have her, without bloodshed, on one condition!” The knight, not quite sure what the dragon’s game was, removed his helmet and tossed it away. The dragon went weak in the knees as he looked upon the handsome young man, but managed to stand tall as the knight demanded of him, “What condition!?” The dragon spread his wings, using them to float his way down to where the knight stood. He moved up to him, dwarfed by the knight’s size in many ways, and placed a hand on his chest, looking up into his eyes as he said as sensually as he could possibly manage with his heart racing, “Lay me! Make me yours!”

Started: 1/10/20 Finished: 1/10/20 He lifted his talon up and placed the King down with confidence. Locking his Amber eyes with the blackette sitting across from him, he chuckled lowly. Said girl raised an eyebrow and grinned deviously, sending a look of confusion across the dragon’s face. Never breaking eye contact, the princess picked up the knight and knocked over the dragon’s king. “Checkmate~”, she smugly teased. The dragon froze and quickly scanned the board, his Amber eyes moving from the defeated king, to the knight, and finally to the princess, to which he let out a furious roar. The princess, unfazed by his actions, covered her mouth and giggled in amusement. After his little tantrum, the lizard glared at his ‘captive’ and pouted. “Not fair! How do you always win, Jessica!?”, the dragon snarled as he glared across the table at his longtime friend. Being a dragon, he was ions older than her, but he knew her mother. And grandmother. And was technically 24 in human years. So it didn’t matter to either of them that he was older. The princess stuck her tongue out and snickered, “I’ve had plenty of practice, remember? You used to play with my mom, so I know all your tricks. You should have figured that out by now, Ashe.” Said lizard sat back in his seat and let out an exasperated groan. His tail swished aside, nearly knocking over their, now cold, tea. “How long has it been anyways?” Jessica pulled up her sleeve and looked at her watch. She hummed contently before replying, “About two weeks.”, Cue puff of smoke from Ashe, “She’ll come to ‘rescue’ me soon, don’t worry. Not everyone can get from my castle to your tower in a few hours.” She reached over and used what little magic she knew to reheat her tea. As she took a sip she heard her companion grumbling. “Well she should get here FASTER... you’re supposed to be the PRINCESS for crying out loud.” “Oh, don’t be such a baby. You’re supposed to be a DRAGON for crying out loud.” She mimicked him. “She’s not magic, Ashe. She’s a human like me.” Ashe let out a small bit of flame to relieve some of his frustration. Glaring out the window of his tower, he searched the distant hills for his soulmate. Being a dragon allowed him to see incredible distances and if he focused hard enough, he could see her painted stallion gallop across the hilltop. This was a signal they had about 3 hours to set up for her arrival. His gaze had not gone unnoticed. Jessica smirked. “Jeez, you look like a lovesick salamander. How long have you been fawning over her anyways? I haven’t seen THAT look since Evangeline.” Ashe shot his comrade a glare before glancing back out the window. His eyes widened when he saw a familiar red and white horse gallop over the hill. He let out a grin showing off his sharp fangs. His tail wagging violently, nearly knocking the princess out of her chair. She, of course, let out a small yelp from being thwacked by a scaly tail but was soon cut off by a cheerful roar. “SHE’S ALMOST HERE! QUICK! POSITIONS!” Word count: 535 words

[WP] In a world where crying is very rare, tears become a luxury product. Your job is to find “crybabies” and harvest them, no matter what it takes.

I never thought I'd get into this line of work, never saw the goods as that desirable, but if people are willing to pay, then someone has to provide. They're easy to spot, the weepers. Eyes glistening at the barest provocation - sometimes I envy them, but it's better to be dispassionate, doing what I do. When no one else cries, it's easier to ignore their tears. I've heard multiple approaches in obtaining the goods, some better than others. Some go for torture, physical pain. Some opt for grief - one Harvester I heard, went so far as to murder a weeper's family. I couldn't do that though. I've developed a bit of a reputation for my unique style, and ultimately, I always get the goods, dropping off vials of clear, salty liquid to Duct, the company selling the tears. No questions asked, no information given, paid in cash. A lot of cash. The worst part of what I do is how they laugh. They scream and cry and laugh, all at once, begging, but I never actually hurt them. No pain, no sadness, no mental torture. No what I do is much, much simpler. I tickle them.

Nobody likes torture. Neither the victim, nor the perpetrator. But you see, in my line of work there are very limited ways of obtaining the goods that my clients are willing to pay a premium for. Some of my colleagues decided to use physical pain to extract tears, stubbing toes on furniture, walking on nails, pulling nails, you know, usual stuff. Others thought sadness might be a less... extreme way to obtain the valuables. The yield of showing pictures of deceased loved ones depends on the individual, the fresher the wound, the bigger the harvest. Still a time consuming process. You see, I lack that kind of patience. I'm kind of an outlier in my line of work. I found, that physical pain or grief work, but don't really satisfy the increasing needs of my clients. But knowing you're alone, hidden in an untraceable place, away from sunlight, loved ones and comfort? The uncertainty of seeing the next day? Not knowing what your captor is willing to do to get what he wants? That's what breaks even the most resilient of subjects. As I said, nobody likes torture. But I'm not above doing something I dislike.

[WP] Earth only has seasons because it’s tilted on its axis. An alien race from a planet without seasons lands on earth and begins their invasion. What they don’t realize is they’ve just landed in Russia, and winter is coming.

The silence in Petrov’s office was shredded by the bell from one of his desk phones. He let it bleat at him a few times before lifting the receiver to his ear. The voice on the line had a familiar drawl. “Alexei?” “Has the council decided?” asked President Petrov, in heavily-accented English. “It has.” “I’m not going to like this, am I?” “No.” “You’re not coming to help us, are you?” “No.” Petrov lifted his chin over the receiver and turned his head to look out the window behind him. He watched his youngest son playing with their pet retriever on the lawn. A few golden leaves drifted down from a blue sky and settled beside the boy. “Alexei?” Petrov didn’t answer. President Clarke sighed. “Alexei, I’m sorry but it was unanimous. They dragged in these egg-heads from all over the place and went through the numbers. Every way we looked at it, the conclusion was always the same. Everyone – I mean the UN, NATO, all the heads of state, everyone – they all said the same thing: if we go at ‘em in a straight fight, we’re gonna’ lose. Our best chance is if we can just keep ‘em where they are until it gets real cold. Then these scientists all reckon the weather could just kill ‘em off. You’ve heard the theories.” “So you’re locking us in here with them.” “Alexei–” “Millions of my people will die, you know that.” “That’s– yes, that’s probably how this is gonna’ go down. I’m sorry Alexei.” Petrov didn’t speak. He looked around his decadent office. He looked down at his desk, which now seemed to him absurdly large, an ocean of green leather. A useless expanse. A wasteland. “Alexei? Alexei, are you still there?” “Where would I go, Andrew?” “What can I say, Alexei? We tried everything. You saw what they did to us each time we tried to take ‘em out.” “Mm.” “I wish we had other options but we don’t.” “You know it could be as much as six weeks before it’s cold enough to snow? You know that, right?” “I know. I’m sorry.” “Yes,” Petrov replied distractedly. “Good luck, old friend.” Petrov drew the receiver from his ear and slowly replaced it on its cradle. He stood up, buttoned his blazer, and walked to the window.

Always-Morning Bloop blop beep (*clicks, whirs and dings*). "Slowing and approaching third rock from the sun, Sentinel. Just as we suspected, sir, the parallels are off. A slight tilt is detected." "You know what to do, son. Straighten 'er up." ~ "...So that is how Earth came to be the only planet that sits straight as an arrow in the sky and why it is always springtime and morning." "GRANDPA, GRANDPA! Tell the part how the Russian army kicked the aliens' lower-waste-disposal-units." "That's a long story. I will tell you that one another time. Now don't forget to brush your nutrition-grinding-implements before entering your cellular-restoration-chamber. And no stalling. I am wise to your...*Can I have a receptacle of liquid-anti-dehydration-substance before lock-down?*...trick." "Now close your visual orbs and I will see you in the always-morning!"

[WP] Earth only has seasons because it’s tilted on its axis. An alien race from a planet without seasons lands on earth and begins their invasion. What they don’t realize is they’ve just landed in Russia, and winter is coming.

The silence in Petrov’s office was shredded by the bell from one of his desk phones. He let it bleat at him a few times before lifting the receiver to his ear. The voice on the line had a familiar drawl. “Alexei?” “Has the council decided?” asked President Petrov, in heavily-accented English. “It has.” “I’m not going to like this, am I?” “No.” “You’re not coming to help us, are you?” “No.” Petrov lifted his chin over the receiver and turned his head to look out the window behind him. He watched his youngest son playing with their pet retriever on the lawn. A few golden leaves drifted down from a blue sky and settled beside the boy. “Alexei?” Petrov didn’t answer. President Clarke sighed. “Alexei, I’m sorry but it was unanimous. They dragged in these egg-heads from all over the place and went through the numbers. Every way we looked at it, the conclusion was always the same. Everyone – I mean the UN, NATO, all the heads of state, everyone – they all said the same thing: if we go at ‘em in a straight fight, we’re gonna’ lose. Our best chance is if we can just keep ‘em where they are until it gets real cold. Then these scientists all reckon the weather could just kill ‘em off. You’ve heard the theories.” “So you’re locking us in here with them.” “Alexei–” “Millions of my people will die, you know that.” “That’s– yes, that’s probably how this is gonna’ go down. I’m sorry Alexei.” Petrov didn’t speak. He looked around his decadent office. He looked down at his desk, which now seemed to him absurdly large, an ocean of green leather. A useless expanse. A wasteland. “Alexei? Alexei, are you still there?” “Where would I go, Andrew?” “What can I say, Alexei? We tried everything. You saw what they did to us each time we tried to take ‘em out.” “Mm.” “I wish we had other options but we don’t.” “You know it could be as much as six weeks before it’s cold enough to snow? You know that, right?” “I know. I’m sorry.” “Yes,” Petrov replied distractedly. “Good luck, old friend.” Petrov drew the receiver from his ear and slowly replaced it on its cradle. He stood up, buttoned his blazer, and walked to the window.

"Bollocks," said Bob. With a swipe of his huge tentacle, he whacked the control panel which momentarily and surprisingly stuttered into life before flickering into a blue screen of death. Bob looked at Todd who was looking back nervously. And frankly, with 8 eyes perched atop what could best be described as a 12 foot high, yellow octopus with green splodges, it was hard for them not to look at each other. Todd simultaneously and nervously scratched his chin, his butt and twiddled with three of four strangely shaped electronics tools. "You shouldn't hit the panel like that," said Todd. "You might damage it." "Damage it?" shouted Bob, turning green all over. "It's our finest, heaviest Beltuguesian ground attack death ray machine, practically indestructible and equipped plus the finest coffee machine money can buy." He paused mid-tirade to take a sip of the coffee. It really was very good. "It's handled superheated neutron phase blasts in the volcanoes of planet three in Alpha Centauri!" he continued. "Positronic felmatic rays from those weird looking purple monkey thingies in Beltuguese and, and..." He whacked the console once more. "Every single one of these death machines is out of action!" Bob turned a bright shade of fuscia which was quite fetching for someone from his planet. Except for all the big, purple tusks which were always a bit disconcerting. He was proud of his tusks as the females loved them. You know what they say about a Squarg with big tusks... "Nothing on this miserable, iceberg of a planet," continued Bob. "Will damage this thing. Bullets, bombs, pah. And yet our whole battletank fleet is out of operation. And they're all blaming me!" Todd looked down at the floor, well, technically, up, down and sideways simultaneously but mostly down. "Well, you're just going to have to go out there and look at the access panels," said Bob, waving a few tentacles in the direction of the hatch. "Who me?" replied Todd. "I'm the boss and what I say goes." replied Bob. "But it's bloody...," replied Todd, struggling to find the right words. "Sort of cold. I've never seen anything like it. How can those earth people survive in frozen H20. It's impossible. And you saw what happened to Jerry. His tentacles turned purple, he made a funny gargling noise and stopped moving. I've never seen anything like it. And I'm just a tech, not a soldier, I don't want to die. I only signed up because my mum made me do it. Said it'd make a proper squidsquarg of me." "Well, I'm your boss so open that hatch, go outside into that falling white, flakey stuff whatever that is, look through the inspection hatch of this thing and tell me what you see. Now! And don't give me that surly look." Silently and sulkily, Todd turned orange, moved to the hatch and activated the lever. It swung open and a howl of freezing, cold air entered the cabin. He looked back nervously. "Now!" Yelled Bob. "Oh crap," said Todd and slid outside onto the strange, white surface which seemed to sting and yet wasn't hot. That was slippery and crunchy and yet according to their scanners was water. He was standing on water that somehow burned him but yet, did not burn him. Suddenly, a strange shivering overtook his body and his tentacles started to twist involuntarily and turn blue at the tips. Before he'd been able to even slither a couple of yards, he started to seize up and the slime that allowed him to move so easily hardened and crystalised. "Help," he shouted. "Please help me. It's Jerry all over again. Plish hap me. Plishh. Woz hapninny? Help!" And with that he gasped his last breath and froze like a large, blue statue with giant tusks. "Todd?" asked Bob, a little tremor in his voice. "Stop messing around. What are you doing? Todd? Seriously. Say something. And why are you blue? That's such a weird colour. What are you doing? Todd?" Suddenly, his communicator rang. With fear in his eyes, he answered. "What in the name of our great leader's left nut is the holdup?" asked Quarzak, the destroyer, the Lord High Admiral of the death fleet, suddenly appearing as a 3D holographic image. Surprisingly small tusks for a Schlubian. This Lord high stuff was probably compensating for something, thought Bob. "Why are all our death ray machines stranded on this, this, white stuff?" yelled the Lord High Admiral. "I don't know," said Bob. "I looked at the panel here. Just not working" "Looked at the bloody panel?" shouted Quarzak. "Do you know what I'll do to you if they aren't fixed in 5 fluglesecs?" Bob swallowed, turning pink. "So get outside, open up the bloody access panel and have a look inside," shouted Quarzak again. "But, but," said Bob, glancing outside at the body of his colleague which had turned a sickening grey. "If not, I'll have you torn into an infinite number of pieces over the course of infinity. You experience agony, the like of which you cannot begin to imagine," yelled Quarzak, suddenly terminating the projection. "Please, I'm just a tech. I don't want to..." yelled Bob, realising he was just yelling into thin air. He looked outside forlornly, then at his tentacles. "I was married once," he said with mock defiance at his communicator. "I know pain and suffering." He swallowed hard. "Should've studied harder in school and got a proper job," he said out loud to no-one in particular. "I could've been an accountant in a nice, cushy office." He looked outside at his former colleague muttered something incomprehensible and rude and started to slide outside, his tentacles almost immediately turning a strange, blue colour. "Bollocks," he said, probably for the last time.

[WP] Earth only has seasons because it’s tilted on its axis. An alien race from a planet without seasons lands on earth and begins their invasion. What they don’t realize is they’ve just landed in Russia, and winter is coming.

day 23 of invasion, Soldier ˇØ3 log: The wind just keeps on howling viciously, bringing a feeling beyond belief. The skies are grey and unforgiving, and as a cold blooded creature I'm barely able to move, the officers of our kind safe inside of the heated barracks while common soldiers like us were freezing to death in the cold "I swear this is how I die" I hissed to my tent mate "Aye, how all of us die" he agreed, huddling inside of a blanket for what little warmth he could gather. day 96 of invasion, Soldier ˇØ3 log: they found us. An unmanned surveillance craft fucking FOUND US, half of the invasion force dead or half frozen and now we have to worry about these meat sacks raiding us. The commanders have ordered an all up in arms. I don't know how long we can hold our. day 103 of invasion, Soldier ˇØ3 log: Kima, My wife, Orak, My son. I love both of you, but we aren't surviving this, These... Russians came down full force, Wiping out the heated shelters first with their tanks, quickly incapacitating what little heavy weaponry was still functional with aircraft. I'm hiding in a hole praying the ground troops don't find me. A futile prayer. \_TRANSMISSION END\_ ​ "Well then" said high leader Namona turning to his generals, "That crosses Russia off the list, How goes the invasion in America?" "Wiped out before the could touchdown sir, something the transmission called 'javelin rail cannons' took the ships down faster than we could call a retreat" "Europ?" "Killed by an angry mob with some military assistance". "Arabia?" "Burned to the ground". The High leader groaned and tilted his head towards the tropical sky "Well... these humans. Seem to be more resilient than we thought" "It gets worse sir". "How can it get worse?" asked the High leader fearfully. "One Hour ago our flagship was brought down by the USSF *Equalizer,* they are on an en route here". The High leader suddenly lost his lethargic state hurrying towards his palace and saying "Get the civilians off planet now. My guard and I will attempt to keep them at bay for as long as we can".

Mission log 421, Colonel Jake Stracken United Terran Army November 30th 2020 The J’skari came in July which for a planet which was barely recovering from a plague could not have been more damning, however the J’skari who were similar to Platypus’s in appearance made two mistakes the first being landing on a planet completely unfit for there biology and the other being attacking a species whose favorite activity happens to be killing other sentients. The J’skari themselves were adapted to Worlds similar to Terran swamps and as such found Massive humility and high temperatures normal, and as such it is strange to why they would have landed in Siberia which has doomed there invasion. The first month was the most eventful and started when a patrol of Russian aircraft encountered a series of Large Alien craft similar to other UFOS the US navy had spotted in recent years trying to make landfall in Siberia, it is unknown if they underestimated us or if these ships were just lightly armed as eventually the Russians were able to bring one down allowing a Ground team to inspect it while the other ship abandoned its current mission and headed back into orbit, a Russian ground team would discover the wreckage and would bring it back to the Kremlin which would try to suppress the findings, this would lead to the first “night of Blood” where the Russian military would seize power in a quick series of fights leading to the Hanging of Former Russian President Vladimir Putin outside of the Kremlin in a way which while some may say he deserved it, still upsets my stomach to this day, over the next day the new government would try to warn the world although the world was still in shock about what had happened although it would be nothing compared to what would happen the next week. The next week would start with the Bombardment of Vladivostok in which the Xenos main ship would unleash its macro cannons on the city and would land across Siberia the reason for this area being landed in is still unknown however it was foolish as it slowed them down enough for us humans to deal with our petty squabbles. The first thing that the American President and a large amount of Politicians decided to do is try to negotiate, and I don’t know what happened but it seems as if something clicked in the minds of Americans as almost all of us marched on our Major cities including DC and with help of the Military who had joined our side seized control rather clickly with our night of blood ending with the Entire White House and Congress buildings being burned down and all politicians names struck from every record, after that we and the Russians somehow finally realizing our similarities and our duties to help each other turned the UN into the United Terran Union and offered an invitation for all Terran states to join, and most did with the European Union and most European states joining it and most of the rest of the world joining it and almost everywhere else suffering bloody coups to join, we are still not sure what caused this click and there are so many theories but no one is sure which is right and which is wrong. The Xeno advance was luckily slowed down due to the terrain of Siberia and it was our saving grace as we tried to further organize the Union and actually make us into a good fighting force instead of just a bunch of what had become rag tag militias fighting Xenos with what ever supplies there units had left or could find although eventually we formed our lines and while they did advance into northern China and far into Russia we had them trapped in two Great Cities one on the West at Moscow and one in the East at Beijing. I was stationed with a regiment made from former American units in Moscow and even when alongside those who I had little in common with I felt a new connection and all humans have noted similar feelings with this being a subject of great intrigue to our scientists. The month of August would be the time of the great first attack in which a simultaneous attack on the J’skari fleet in orbit using old ICBMs modified for space combat and an attack on there ground forces. We would attack at 5:30 am Moscow time but at 5 we watched the missiles hit, it was a glorious sight many had doubted they would do much but somehow humanities luck had shown, no matter how well there ships had been protected our missiles brought them down, and the sight clearly affected the Xenos in the same way as they were quick to break during the fight and although we took millions of causalities we were able to push them back to the other side of the Urals and past Mongolia in the east and have fortified these lines ever since. We have spent most of our time reinforcing and collecting old J’skari wrecks to have our scientists look at, my regiment was one of those to recover a fully intact Jump Drive model which the scientist think we will have done by February. Many may wonder why we don’t just finish them off now but it is actually quite simple while we may outnumber them and while there supply is cut they are still good warriors and we will take a large amount of causalities if we attack, however we have noticed that as it gets colder we have noticed the J’skari suffering from the colder weather even when to the average human it is decently warm so we have a plan to wait out until winter is at its peak and attack, the Russians have been training us for this and we will attack them as brothers and sisters of the greatest species in the galaxy, we will offer no quarter to them as they offered no quarter to us and when we are done we will build a grand fleet and conquer the galaxy offering no quarter to them and destroying there cities as they destroy Vladivostok, we will not fail and the cries of the Xeno will be music to our ears Glory to the United Terran Union WHEEH that was a lot longer then I expected might actually continue this including actually tying my idea for what caused the click

[WP] Earth only has seasons because it’s tilted on its axis. An alien race from a planet without seasons lands on earth and begins their invasion. What they don’t realize is they’ve just landed in Russia, and winter is coming.

*First time writing here, English not my main language* --- He had a bad feeling from the start. He didn't want this but higher-ups always had a knack for handing out garbage-tier mission as a passing ritual for their ranks. The Great Expanding included shitholes they said, and this one is especially for you. The last time they sent a package 112 of this planet revolution-around-main-energy-star ago, it exploded before landing and became the joke of the assimilation force. So being a hotshot he inherited it. Didn't help that it was his own twice grandfather who exploded that day. Of course Bio-meddling and analysis was miles ahead now, so he felt confident being on board on this new assimilation package. It was bigger, better, full to the brim with newbies but they were as eager as him to prove what they were made of: mostly silicate muscles and a metal alloy skin resisting most bacteria the universe could invent. Still he felt unease. The planet main habitant count had been through the roof since the last attempt, at least bio-mass wouldn't be an issue. They might fight back, as most advanced enough planet with sentience tend to do, but they would quickly be assimilated. They all do. His main contingent of scientists explained to him that going the same route as before was optimal: the poles were too magnetic, the seas too salty, forests too crowded, and urban pole sizes had been a surprise to say the least. A remote location was a safer choice. They had all the time they needed. Nobody wanted to fuck it up. Time was the essence. Their own species seemed to operate on a faster pace than anything they ever encounter, especially at this temperature range. It was a law of the universe : cold was slow, warm was fast, such were the atoms. The planet had gone noticeably warmer in the meantime, coupled with the bio-mass and technological expansion, so he knew that it was also the best time to harvest them. Maybe not the best best but the best for him now. A garbage planet for a shit-tier mission, but he would convert every thing down to the last rock of this planet, present the most beautiful chart of fuel results and be done with it. On to more interesting planets. ---- A shit show, it had been a shit show the moment they entered the zone. Even at their subspace speed, being bombarded with artificial waves had not done any damage, but it pissed them off. A scientist took to himself to decode the signal (he was that bored) and it was images and sounds they could experience, yet not understand. But it was mad, the sheer volume of it, constant broadcasting, the sheer diversity it seemed to show. Hive-minds were the best to assimilate, there was a kindred in their optimised structure. This was a warm goop of activity, even for their extra pace, hot garbage. There was even garbage around the planet, too small to be detected earlier and to do any damage to their new ship design. But they landed wrong. Not by any meaningful or threatening margin, but just enough to make scientists check their maths frantically. That was what you get with rookies: a large error and you were dust before you could see it. A small one wasn't even registered (or divulged), a fluke of the atoms. But there was a small gap where you knew you made a mistake, but had no idea where. Still, they were on site with good conditions on first glance. The first bio samples of fauna and flora had been extracted and he knew they would meet the main species sooner than later. The previous crash had been monitored, he had personally interpolated the technological growth to the time before encounter with a safety margin (that he doubled). But he didn't expect a metal machine to come first. He poached the machine himself, as a curiosity to examine. The science team had other things to do: he was there to conquer, not understand. But the tiny creature was weak, creaking at the joints, blasting all sort of signals now that it was isolated from its masters, a good distraction from the conversion monitoring reports piling up. But he discarded it quickly, for the reports were dire. The estimated assimilation rate was going down with each planet self-revolution. And they were no example of the main species around, his calculation had been way off with or without safety margin. Why didn't they come ? Why send such a tiny metal creature, and stop just after ? "The planet is tilted." he heard from the scientist. He was a brilliant element so he knew all the criteria for planet assimilation, and it wasn't a big deal, only a small oddity in hundreds of data points. "With this axis, this bio-sphere and relation to the main energy star, it might induces conditions changes we weren't expecting. To sum it up, the climate is shit". This was more concerning. This should have been an eliminating criteria for this kind of force. To counter his anger, he searched for why, why this planet was on his list. He tried to understand, and more than the search he hated the answer. Fuck you twice grandpa. --- The cold was the only good part, they could have run at maximum efficiency. But the rain. The mud. The alternating of blazing energy radiation from the star and then its absence. The degassing of almost all nearby terrain the more they tried to dig. Combined they wrecked havoc on the assimilation process. He was doing minor adjustment on the fly, zone by zone, all the time, so much inconsistencies. Even the main species didn't come, as if they knew. It was their shithole, but they seemed happy to share it all. As if they knew he would have welcomed their uniformity and standardization. Something to grab on, bones he would have liked to pick. At least the water was clean. He was surrounded by it, it rained on them in liquid or crystal form, but no salts. On a planet with this much liquid water, salty liquid water, this was a small miracle of the universe. He knew full well what would have happened with this oxygen in the air, his skin would have been constantly itching. This would have broke him for sure, cursed be the higher ups and their garbage, he would have left, let the rock be rock with its shit axis, shit climate and shit salts everywhere. Self revolution after self revolution, he miserably tried to assimilate more than mud, long dead earth, water in all forms and carbon carcasses. The fauna had learned to stay away from the giant ball of goo, they weren't snatched that easily any more. So the sustenance was shit, cold but buzzing with too much dirt. He wanted metals, in decent quantities, he craved it. But they didn't land on the calculated deposit, and now they were stuck under too much water, above and below. Gone were the times when the main energy star allowed them to advance towards their correct spot at least some part of the self revolution. He had swallowed his pride and asked: "Couldn't we move below ?". The scientists looked at him but couldn't laugh for they shared the misery. Too hot, would be even worse for the rates. Main species wouldn't come. More magnetism, for their margin of operation on that criteria was smaller. Shit job. At last the skies were clear, the rain stopped. He almost welcomed the alternating cycle of UV warmth and cold, he was used to adjusting every parameter constantly and was getting good at it. This was the only way he could impress his peers given what he had been given. And then there was a new machine coming towards them, finally ! This one seemed much more advanced, emitting signals and even radiations. Sweet delicious metal casing too. This was about to be a feast. But the cold shit show ended with a warm blast and as fast as he was, he couldn't curse his superiors fast enough. ---- *Spring 2020: Russia has detonated one of its old nuclear bombs on the Tunguska site, triggering many conspiracies as to why, especially there. Power play against China and the US before elections ? Unearthed dangerous animal bodies with old viruses ? Defence against aliens after the rumours of UFO sighting in Japan ? Weapon dismantlement incompetence ? The Russian government would not comment on the issue, and only stated that they waited for optimal conditions to safely detonate without risk of nuclear fallout. They remain attached to the non proliferation treaty and urges the world to rejoice of one less atomic bomb on Earth.*

Mission log 421, Colonel Jake Stracken United Terran Army November 30th 2020 The J’skari came in July which for a planet which was barely recovering from a plague could not have been more damning, however the J’skari who were similar to Platypus’s in appearance made two mistakes the first being landing on a planet completely unfit for there biology and the other being attacking a species whose favorite activity happens to be killing other sentients. The J’skari themselves were adapted to Worlds similar to Terran swamps and as such found Massive humility and high temperatures normal, and as such it is strange to why they would have landed in Siberia which has doomed there invasion. The first month was the most eventful and started when a patrol of Russian aircraft encountered a series of Large Alien craft similar to other UFOS the US navy had spotted in recent years trying to make landfall in Siberia, it is unknown if they underestimated us or if these ships were just lightly armed as eventually the Russians were able to bring one down allowing a Ground team to inspect it while the other ship abandoned its current mission and headed back into orbit, a Russian ground team would discover the wreckage and would bring it back to the Kremlin which would try to suppress the findings, this would lead to the first “night of Blood” where the Russian military would seize power in a quick series of fights leading to the Hanging of Former Russian President Vladimir Putin outside of the Kremlin in a way which while some may say he deserved it, still upsets my stomach to this day, over the next day the new government would try to warn the world although the world was still in shock about what had happened although it would be nothing compared to what would happen the next week. The next week would start with the Bombardment of Vladivostok in which the Xenos main ship would unleash its macro cannons on the city and would land across Siberia the reason for this area being landed in is still unknown however it was foolish as it slowed them down enough for us humans to deal with our petty squabbles. The first thing that the American President and a large amount of Politicians decided to do is try to negotiate, and I don’t know what happened but it seems as if something clicked in the minds of Americans as almost all of us marched on our Major cities including DC and with help of the Military who had joined our side seized control rather clickly with our night of blood ending with the Entire White House and Congress buildings being burned down and all politicians names struck from every record, after that we and the Russians somehow finally realizing our similarities and our duties to help each other turned the UN into the United Terran Union and offered an invitation for all Terran states to join, and most did with the European Union and most European states joining it and most of the rest of the world joining it and almost everywhere else suffering bloody coups to join, we are still not sure what caused this click and there are so many theories but no one is sure which is right and which is wrong. The Xeno advance was luckily slowed down due to the terrain of Siberia and it was our saving grace as we tried to further organize the Union and actually make us into a good fighting force instead of just a bunch of what had become rag tag militias fighting Xenos with what ever supplies there units had left or could find although eventually we formed our lines and while they did advance into northern China and far into Russia we had them trapped in two Great Cities one on the West at Moscow and one in the East at Beijing. I was stationed with a regiment made from former American units in Moscow and even when alongside those who I had little in common with I felt a new connection and all humans have noted similar feelings with this being a subject of great intrigue to our scientists. The month of August would be the time of the great first attack in which a simultaneous attack on the J’skari fleet in orbit using old ICBMs modified for space combat and an attack on there ground forces. We would attack at 5:30 am Moscow time but at 5 we watched the missiles hit, it was a glorious sight many had doubted they would do much but somehow humanities luck had shown, no matter how well there ships had been protected our missiles brought them down, and the sight clearly affected the Xenos in the same way as they were quick to break during the fight and although we took millions of causalities we were able to push them back to the other side of the Urals and past Mongolia in the east and have fortified these lines ever since. We have spent most of our time reinforcing and collecting old J’skari wrecks to have our scientists look at, my regiment was one of those to recover a fully intact Jump Drive model which the scientist think we will have done by February. Many may wonder why we don’t just finish them off now but it is actually quite simple while we may outnumber them and while there supply is cut they are still good warriors and we will take a large amount of causalities if we attack, however we have noticed that as it gets colder we have noticed the J’skari suffering from the colder weather even when to the average human it is decently warm so we have a plan to wait out until winter is at its peak and attack, the Russians have been training us for this and we will attack them as brothers and sisters of the greatest species in the galaxy, we will offer no quarter to them as they offered no quarter to us and when we are done we will build a grand fleet and conquer the galaxy offering no quarter to them and destroying there cities as they destroy Vladivostok, we will not fail and the cries of the Xeno will be music to our ears Glory to the United Terran Union WHEEH that was a lot longer then I expected might actually continue this including actually tying my idea for what caused the click

[WP] Earth only has seasons because it’s tilted on its axis. An alien race from a planet without seasons lands on earth and begins their invasion. What they don’t realize is they’ve just landed in Russia, and winter is coming.

Excerpts from the Journal of High Commander K'Rak, Herald of Armageddon. Translated to English by Walter Richelbraun. "...the planet was small but our scans indicated they had massive mineral deposits, salt water and other materials needed for the war machine. In addition, the intelligent inhabitants of the planet were only a Class 3 life form. No space travel, no particle weapons, no defense grid." "...their primitive satellites didn't even detect our approach, I must say I am not surprised. A planet this small full of Class 3 life forms only warranted three ships. That would be more than enough to annihilate all life, in short order, so the reclamation ships could do their grisly work. The ore extractors would come later, it was our job to make sure they met no resistance." "...I decided the three areas we would set down to begin our invasion. A large landmass to the north of the planet, a large reddish-orange island to the south and a fervent green area toward the equator. All ships would land simultaneously and overwhelm the Class 3's. At least that was the plan." "...on my command we set down 2 standard distance units from a major city. In my zealotry I forgot to take into account the small size of the planet. We were met with no resistance, no...anything. Are these Class 3's so primitive they didn't even see us invade their planet? I got word that it was the same at the other two landing zones." "...I gave the order for 3 squadrons of infantry to take to the land and advance toward the city. I was sure in my victory, they didn't even muster a defence. It should only take a matter of hours for the city to fall, my troops were veterans of the great war in our homeland, the war I won." "...the problems started almost immediately at all three sites. My men were having trouble traversing the land, but surely they had been through worse. I ordered them to continue. One soldier rang out over the communicator they had spotted a small dwelling, a pillar of grey haze rose from it like a signal flare. That was the last I heard of it, I had assumed whatever was there had been killed. Slowly the problems came to an end, or at least communications died down. While they were doing their job, there was no need to tell me about it." "...six hours had passed. We should have easily taken the city and killed its inhabitants by now. There had been no communication in 3 hours, which was not unusual in itself, however no one would dare not answer me. Yet, nothing but silence on the communicator. It was the same at the other sites. At first I assumed the Class 3's had scrambled our signals somehow. I ordered another squadron to accompany me personally to the city." "..I had been wounded in battle, several times. My leg was almost severed by a fusion blade, a particle rifle grazed my shoulder and I was the victim of a Jekalian Mind Eater. I knew pain. I thought I did. That first step off my ship, what was this? Pain all over, exacerbated by even the slightest wind. My men looked to me as they faltered. I kept going, my feet in so much pain I could barely walk, though it subsided. My whole body was wracked with this unending torture as I and my men trudged through some strange white ground covering. Several soldiers had already fallen and I could still see the ship." "...the pain was relentless. We stumbled into a trap, though we never found out how it was set. A portion of the earth was different, still white but slippery now. The ground opened up and swallowed several of my men. Others fell in but managed to escape. They didn't live long after. They would stop, stuck in place, their skin losing all its natural colour and taking on a blue hue. Beyond this trap I could see them, what must have been most of the three original squadrons I sent out. Most of them stood there like statues, others frozen in place on the ground, not one of them moving. The pain was too much, we had to turn back." "...on my return to the command ship I received word that similar incidents had occured at the other locations. At the southern invasion point soldiers would travel for a short time, their breathing labored complaining of headaches. They pressed on, but would soon collapse and start to hallucinate. They died soon after. The middle invasion point was similar, though reports of swarms of tiny creatures stealing their blood was never confirmed." "..in the end only 31 Class 3 life forms were ended. I conclude that this planet, which we have since learned is called Earth by the Class 3's, does have a defense grid. Its nature is unknown, though the planet appears to be uninhabitable to us. I have sent a communicae back to central command informing them of my failure."

Mission log 421, Colonel Jake Stracken United Terran Army November 30th 2020 The J’skari came in July which for a planet which was barely recovering from a plague could not have been more damning, however the J’skari who were similar to Platypus’s in appearance made two mistakes the first being landing on a planet completely unfit for there biology and the other being attacking a species whose favorite activity happens to be killing other sentients. The J’skari themselves were adapted to Worlds similar to Terran swamps and as such found Massive humility and high temperatures normal, and as such it is strange to why they would have landed in Siberia which has doomed there invasion. The first month was the most eventful and started when a patrol of Russian aircraft encountered a series of Large Alien craft similar to other UFOS the US navy had spotted in recent years trying to make landfall in Siberia, it is unknown if they underestimated us or if these ships were just lightly armed as eventually the Russians were able to bring one down allowing a Ground team to inspect it while the other ship abandoned its current mission and headed back into orbit, a Russian ground team would discover the wreckage and would bring it back to the Kremlin which would try to suppress the findings, this would lead to the first “night of Blood” where the Russian military would seize power in a quick series of fights leading to the Hanging of Former Russian President Vladimir Putin outside of the Kremlin in a way which while some may say he deserved it, still upsets my stomach to this day, over the next day the new government would try to warn the world although the world was still in shock about what had happened although it would be nothing compared to what would happen the next week. The next week would start with the Bombardment of Vladivostok in which the Xenos main ship would unleash its macro cannons on the city and would land across Siberia the reason for this area being landed in is still unknown however it was foolish as it slowed them down enough for us humans to deal with our petty squabbles. The first thing that the American President and a large amount of Politicians decided to do is try to negotiate, and I don’t know what happened but it seems as if something clicked in the minds of Americans as almost all of us marched on our Major cities including DC and with help of the Military who had joined our side seized control rather clickly with our night of blood ending with the Entire White House and Congress buildings being burned down and all politicians names struck from every record, after that we and the Russians somehow finally realizing our similarities and our duties to help each other turned the UN into the United Terran Union and offered an invitation for all Terran states to join, and most did with the European Union and most European states joining it and most of the rest of the world joining it and almost everywhere else suffering bloody coups to join, we are still not sure what caused this click and there are so many theories but no one is sure which is right and which is wrong. The Xeno advance was luckily slowed down due to the terrain of Siberia and it was our saving grace as we tried to further organize the Union and actually make us into a good fighting force instead of just a bunch of what had become rag tag militias fighting Xenos with what ever supplies there units had left or could find although eventually we formed our lines and while they did advance into northern China and far into Russia we had them trapped in two Great Cities one on the West at Moscow and one in the East at Beijing. I was stationed with a regiment made from former American units in Moscow and even when alongside those who I had little in common with I felt a new connection and all humans have noted similar feelings with this being a subject of great intrigue to our scientists. The month of August would be the time of the great first attack in which a simultaneous attack on the J’skari fleet in orbit using old ICBMs modified for space combat and an attack on there ground forces. We would attack at 5:30 am Moscow time but at 5 we watched the missiles hit, it was a glorious sight many had doubted they would do much but somehow humanities luck had shown, no matter how well there ships had been protected our missiles brought them down, and the sight clearly affected the Xenos in the same way as they were quick to break during the fight and although we took millions of causalities we were able to push them back to the other side of the Urals and past Mongolia in the east and have fortified these lines ever since. We have spent most of our time reinforcing and collecting old J’skari wrecks to have our scientists look at, my regiment was one of those to recover a fully intact Jump Drive model which the scientist think we will have done by February. Many may wonder why we don’t just finish them off now but it is actually quite simple while we may outnumber them and while there supply is cut they are still good warriors and we will take a large amount of causalities if we attack, however we have noticed that as it gets colder we have noticed the J’skari suffering from the colder weather even when to the average human it is decently warm so we have a plan to wait out until winter is at its peak and attack, the Russians have been training us for this and we will attack them as brothers and sisters of the greatest species in the galaxy, we will offer no quarter to them as they offered no quarter to us and when we are done we will build a grand fleet and conquer the galaxy offering no quarter to them and destroying there cities as they destroy Vladivostok, we will not fail and the cries of the Xeno will be music to our ears Glory to the United Terran Union WHEEH that was a lot longer then I expected might actually continue this including actually tying my idea for what caused the click

[WP] Earth only has seasons because it’s tilted on its axis. An alien race from a planet without seasons lands on earth and begins their invasion. What they don’t realize is they’ve just landed in Russia, and winter is coming.

When Napoleon came, we retreated and awaited winter. When the Kaiser came, we retreated and awaited winter. When Hitler came, we retreated and awaited winter. Mother Russia has faced the greatest war machines known to man, and held firm. The First Secretary has given the order, not one step back, we are to hold the line and die standing as our fathers did to fight the Nazis. Already, General Winter has claimed many of their armies and technology, and we are combining it with out own, I have already seen great saucer shaped tanks on four sets of tracks armed with rail guns taken from their walkers, and MiG's equipped with laser cannons dogfight with their ships. They throw weapons we can hardly dream of against us, but we hold firm, and turn the invaders guns on them. Most unexpected of all is the help from the West, the Capitalists, our former great rivals now stand with us against the invader from the stars, their great armies massed on the borders of Poland, ready to attack when the Spring thaw comes. The Commissar calls us, another attack is coming, I clutch my Kalashnikov to my chest as we prepare to push back another attack from their exhausted, frost bitten forces, I go to my position willingly and with pride in my soul, for I know that if I die, I die for the glory of the Motherland, the Red Army, and the Soviet Union.... the last thing I hear before battle begins is the Commissar's cries, a patriotic shout of "ONWARDS COMRADES! SOLDIERS OF THE SOVIET UNION! CHARGE!" and I know in my heart the Red Army will once again stand victorious over the invaders.

As I lay, lashed, beaten by the glistening sheets of snow, I asked myself. “why?” Why die, young, unaccomplished, virgin, for the Hive Queen? More like “Hive cunt” I thought. Qúarikra, she spits on me. I forced air out my bloodied chest, for help. It was pointless, but I just wasn’t ready to die. “SHE'S HERE!” One of my fellow screamed before being suffocating. I wonder if his mate would miss him. Maybe he never had the chance to have one. The Terrans, they’re shaped like us. Speak like us. They nearly wiped us out, and thrive in this hellish fluff. It’s funny. We learn to weaponize O2 and we think we rule the universe. Now they’re torturing us for fun. Or are they? Maybe this is their idea of a merciful death. I can barely move my legs, or fly, but my body found a way. The pain, being pierced by the sharp winds of Urth, the pain was extraordinary, the cries of terror from my kin were nearly theatrical. I would not believe my ears if I weren’t wailing with them. Finally I gained enough strength to stand, only to plunge further into hell. “Я нашел другое существо” And at last I thought to myself. A *princess* such as myself, reduced to begging for mercy, from a primitive. Agony from bottom life forms. All for ***mother***? “убей это” I’ll sooner drag her to hell with me.

[WP] Earth only has seasons because it’s tilted on its axis. An alien race from a planet without seasons lands on earth and begins their invasion. What they don’t realize is they’ve just landed in Russia, and winter is coming.

They came in early October. Luckily, the world had been preparing for the extraterrestrial invasion of America for a hundred years now. Unluckily, the aliens seemed to have missed Washington D.C. by a few thousand kilometers. Embarrassingly, they didn't hit the Kremlin either; rather, a fleet of saucers sat themselves down in the remote archipeligo region of Novaya Zemlya. This was a huge public relations coup over the United States, who seemed to be almost depressed by the fact that they weren't the ones being invaded, even the Russians seemed a bit confused by the course of events. The Americans tried to save face by offering to send a carrier battle-group to assist, but the Russians, noting that the population of the island chain amounted to less people than it would take to fill an Ed Sheeran concert, thankfully declined the offer in private and comically lampooned the offer in public. They then proceeded to ignore the situation. The Novaya Zemlyans, completely unsurprised by this turn of events, overall considered it an improvement from the 1950s when the island chain hosted numerous nuclear tests, and proceeded to ignore the situation as well. A small tourist trade emerged of precarious Russian teenagers seeking ever more precarious VK social media profile selfies; the Novaya Zemlyans showcased their famous Russian hospitality by ignoring this too. Of all the confused people in the world, perhaps none were more confused than Drebak Nthetic, commodore of the third warfleet of the Korbik empire, destroyer of the Drivonol system, plague of the house of Matadun, abomination of galaxies, the bone-breaker, the mind-razer, the unpleasant dream, and, according to his mother on Korbik seven, a wonderful chef. Drebak and his galaxy-famous adamantine legion stormed out of their flagship in full battle regalia and onto the ice in the fjord on which their ship had landed. He roared fearsome defiance at the sky, his legion pounded the ice so hard it could be heard for miles, the gun-turrets launched enough volleys into the sky to make the night glow red. The wind whistled back, entirely unimpressed. Vasily Petrovic was moderately impressed when his taxi's dashboard camera recorded a faint outline of the light some 100 km away, and he uploaded it to a popular VK page of 'dashboard-cam meteor captures.' Everyone else on earth was also unimpressed. Of all the unimpressed inhabitants of the planet, perhaps none were as unimpressed as Gruk. Gruk was a 700 kg polar bear, and he'd given up being impressed after he'd killed his first bull walrus three years ago. After the said event, Gruk had fallen into a deep depression at having conquered the food chain and finding no satisfaction in it. He'd spent the past years reconsidering his violent ways and pondering what other, peaceful endeavors he could devote his life to, in order to further polar bear culture in a productive fashion. Being a polar bear, he hadn't gotten much further than that in his thought process. He now spent his days with his tribe of several hundred roving polar bear confederates on the archipeligo of Novaya Zemlya peacefully eradicating the local fauna and occasionally terrifying the local Russians. His tribe was also near the fjord in early October and, utterly annoyed by the complete ruckus that Drebak Nthetic and the third fleet were making, first called in a noise complaint to the Russian officials, which was ignored as per standing policy, then went to investigate. "What is that? Is that a human?" Vondek asked Drebak as he sighted over his gun at the approaching pack of bears. Drebak called up schematics on his wristband, "No, I don't think so, it appears to be some sort of strange comfort-beast," he replied, holding up a photo of a child gleefully grasping a plush outside 'The Bear Factory.' Gruk nuzzled up to the group, and his tribe did the same. In perfectly articulate fashion, Gruk kindly asked the third fleet to please keep the noise down until 9 AM as there were strict rules about that sort of a thing, especially on Saturdays, "GRAAAAAAAWRRR!" Vondek politely replied that he had applied at the head office and received a permit for making this kind of a ruckus, even though it was quite late on a Friday evening, and he hoped that Gruk wouldn't be too inconvenienced. "I'll skin you alive you stupid meat-bag." He added in a gentle love-tap with the butt of his rifle to emphasize his point. Gruk refused to accept the validity of said permit, and reiterated his frustration with the horrible Saturday morning hangover which would ensue by mauling Vondek to death on the spot. Nobody is sure what happened in the next 47 minutes. What is known is that Korbik ships have an incredibly difficult time taking off when frozen in ice, and that Gruk now has an obnoxiously long series of titles which were begrudgingly bestowed on him by right of conquest. The site is still a popular VK selfie location, and the Novaya Zemlyans will still try their best to ignore any visitors who come looking for it. Gruk has taken up ice sculpture as a more productive outlet for his violent tendencies.

AR645 was in the woods when she heard footsteps approaching. Quickly, she shape shifted into the last human image she had seen, some model in a magazine. “Hello?” a voice asked, low intelligible through AR645’s translation modulator. AR645 ducked behind a tree. “I can tell you’re hiding behind a tree.” AR645 was silent, remembering her father’s training. *Wait until they are close.* The human approached, slowly. “I have a gun,” the human said. “And I’m not afraid to use it...if I get scared.” AR645 remembered her father’s final piece of advice. *Do not compromise the tribe. Sacrifice yourself.* But no matter what she did, she was frozen in place. Right up until the moment the human found her sitting against the tree. The human did not look like any others she had seen before. She was bald, like male humans, but at the same time AR645 could tell she was a female. She was also the most beautiful creature AR645 had ever seen. “Are you okay?” the human asked. AR645 did not say anything. “My name is Alex,” the human said. “My name is AR645,” the alien said, wondering where the words had come from. \- They still held community meetings in the spacecraft. AR645’s father, the commander, said it was to instill a sense of connection to their home planet, but AR645 really knew it was because the old alien was scared himself of this foreign new world. “Now, now,” he said. “Our scientists have concluded that while on the lower end of the spectrum, this environment suits us well.” “My child was unable to sleep last night! The winds on this planet are far harsher than at home. And they seem to be getting worse!” “I know it may be difficult to adapt, but trust me,” the commander said, his low, harsh voice suddenly shaky. “The science backs us to stay here.” There was silence in the room for a moment. “I believe my father,” AR645 said. Considered the most beautiful specimen in the community, there were countless suitors that she had always rejected. Consequently, her opinion was highly respected and valued. She looked at her father, over the audience’s murmurs, and saw his belief in her, his relief that she was by his side. She wondered to herself, *How much longer can I say here?* *-* “Show me,” Alex whispered, holding AR645’s warm but false body in her little hut. “Show me who you really are.” “I can’t,” AR645. “We can’t even talk to each other, really. I don’t know why I’m here.” “Everyone needs warmth,” Alex said, leaping off the bed to take a kettle off the stove. “And it’s about to get very cold here.” “My father won’t leave,” AR645 said. “He’s too stubborn, and he’ll never listen to anybody but me.” “You say your kind won’t survive here if you stay.” “Within a month, it will already be too cold for us,” AR645 said. Alex knelt by the bedside, and stared into her love’s eyes, across species, across language, across space. “Come with me,” Alex whispered. “What?” “I’ve never wanted anything or anyone more in my life.” As her love said the words, AR645 knew they were her own as well. “Will you show me yourself, when we get there?” Alex asked. “Of course?” AR645 said. “But where?” “A place that’s not too cold, or too warm. A place in the middle of nowhere, and thus nowhere itself. A place where we can be ourselves.” \- That night, Alex snuck into her father’s dwelling, to pack her belongings. It hurt all the while she was packing her human outfits, and she wondered if she would go to say goodbye to her father. She knew she had to, but also knew it may be too hard to leave if she say him again. The lights turned on in her room. “Thank you,” the commander said, hugging his daughter in her alien form. “For what?” “For gathering information the way you did. Seems like your confidence training took well.” “What? You were listening in?” “The whole colony is ready. This is a good move for us, and I think the new habitat will be a better base for the invasion.” “What?” “It’s all thanks to you. Did you dispose of that human, by the way?” “What?” “I guess it doesn’t matter,” the commander said, chuckling as he left the room. “Ten minutes before we leave for Wyo-ming!” \- [r/penguin347](https://reddit.com/r/penguin347)

[WP] Earth only has seasons because it’s tilted on its axis. An alien race from a planet without seasons lands on earth and begins their invasion. What they don’t realize is they’ve just landed in Russia, and winter is coming.

:these creatures control the ethereal: K'tkz whispered along the mindlink. Ja'zr looked up from his meal of cracked sea stone creatures whose fleshy insides so resembled the iani blossoms from their home planet. The iani were a delicacy back home, but the ridged stones that grew them in the oceans on this planet were everywhere, scattered about like refuse instead of cultivated in caves. He didn't see her anywhere nearby, so he sent back along the mindlink, :¿what do you mean, _control the ethereal_: :it is like walking deep into the cultivation caverns: K'tkz went on, confusion in her thoughts. :but not toward the heating vents. towards the ventilators. ¿have you been to that side of the caves: :once as a hatchling: Ja'zr answered. :it is cold: :oh, yes, it is cold: she replied. He had never heard that tone in her thoughts before. A tremulous sort of distortion to the peace that normally ruled his comrade. He asked :¿what do the cultivation caves have to do with the campaign: :the ethereal is becoming like that: K'tkz said. :we have not broken camp for two months, but.... the space around us is becoming cold: He was so startled by the statement that he dropped his iani-like morsel and stood, eyes wide. T'zrtl and Ra'kt both looked up at him, question marks in their thoughts. Out loud, he told his unit, "Break camp. We make for K'tkz." The question marks grew more ubiquitous as the rest of the unit in the valley learned the order, but they obediently began to pack their supplies. :I am coming, K'tkz: he told her through the mindlink. :reconnoiter and try to find the location of their witch that is changing the ethereal. I am coming: ~ General K'tkz shut her thoughts against the mindlink, not even bothering to reprimand her mate for breaking her orders to keep their warrior witch in reserve. He equaled her military authority and she agreed with his decision. She had been grossly understating the severity of her predicament when she linked with Ja'zr. The ventilation shafts of the cultivation caves had never been this cold before. She had no words to describe it to him. The grounds had become blanketed with the cold, with little flakes of ice that piled high and did not melt when breathed upon. The skies had become of one color, a billowing gray that blocked the sun for days. Some mornings, she found that she could barely move, as if her limbs had frozen solid. Part of her doubted their warrior witch could do anything against this type of sorcery. Witches worked against enemy minds, breaking spirits. This bitter cold... this was something beyond anything she had ever seen before. "A drink to warm you, Sir," one of her unit officers murmured, stepping up beside her where she sat at the entrance of her tent reviewing the notes from the last scouting mission. She took the canteen without looking up, and Officer Sk'kt saluted and left. The enemy whose planet they sought to conquer seemed perfectly happy to hole up in their stone cities, unperturbed by the frozen wasteland that their planet had become. How did these mammalian creatures survive like this? All reports guaranteed that the cold existed within their cities, as well. _We must break their witch's spirit quickly--wherever she is_, K'tkz concluded, sipping from the canteen and shuddering as the sour drink warmed her to her extremities, merely a momentary respite from the cold. ~ :we have arrived, K'tkz: Ja'zr said again, firmly shutting away the anxiousness that swelled when she _still_ did not answer him. He took a steadying breath and hurried to the door of the transport as the ship landed. The landing gear engaged, and the door beeped and opened. Ja'zr gasped as particles of whiteness--ice!--blasted into the confines of the ship on a gust of wind. _What is this!_ he thought. He could see nothing at all through the particulates. And how the freeze seeped into his bones! Fearing for his mate, he charged out into the blinding whiteness, shouting her name. He couldn't even see his arms in front of his face! Every step he took was sluggish and hampered, as if he was mired in sludge. The cold made his scales peel and bleed, and the blood froze along the seams between scales. "K'tkz!" he shouted, but wind whipped the voice away. Then he saw her military tent. He trudged forward, reaching for the tent flap, his arm inching through the haze of swirling white ice flakes. He drew it aside, and-- :¡K'tkz: he called out to her, panicked. She lay collapsed on the ground, curled around herself, covered in ice. Ja'zr stumbled to her side, wrapping an arm around her body. :¡K'tkz, I am here: he shouted into her mind. But there was no answer, not even a whisper. He refused to leave her side, and as the rest of his unit sent question marks along his mindlink, asking for the status, asking for orders, he felt even the mindlink begin to weaken. He tried to call back to them, to tell them the witch on this planet was too powerful, to order them to flee... but he was just... too... cold... End Thanks for reading! I gladly welcome any feedback to improve! [Part Two](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/gcp17e/wp_when_your_race_decides_on_which_planet_to/fpcrazy?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share)

AR645 was in the woods when she heard footsteps approaching. Quickly, she shape shifted into the last human image she had seen, some model in a magazine. “Hello?” a voice asked, low intelligible through AR645’s translation modulator. AR645 ducked behind a tree. “I can tell you’re hiding behind a tree.” AR645 was silent, remembering her father’s training. *Wait until they are close.* The human approached, slowly. “I have a gun,” the human said. “And I’m not afraid to use it...if I get scared.” AR645 remembered her father’s final piece of advice. *Do not compromise the tribe. Sacrifice yourself.* But no matter what she did, she was frozen in place. Right up until the moment the human found her sitting against the tree. The human did not look like any others she had seen before. She was bald, like male humans, but at the same time AR645 could tell she was a female. She was also the most beautiful creature AR645 had ever seen. “Are you okay?” the human asked. AR645 did not say anything. “My name is Alex,” the human said. “My name is AR645,” the alien said, wondering where the words had come from. \- They still held community meetings in the spacecraft. AR645’s father, the commander, said it was to instill a sense of connection to their home planet, but AR645 really knew it was because the old alien was scared himself of this foreign new world. “Now, now,” he said. “Our scientists have concluded that while on the lower end of the spectrum, this environment suits us well.” “My child was unable to sleep last night! The winds on this planet are far harsher than at home. And they seem to be getting worse!” “I know it may be difficult to adapt, but trust me,” the commander said, his low, harsh voice suddenly shaky. “The science backs us to stay here.” There was silence in the room for a moment. “I believe my father,” AR645 said. Considered the most beautiful specimen in the community, there were countless suitors that she had always rejected. Consequently, her opinion was highly respected and valued. She looked at her father, over the audience’s murmurs, and saw his belief in her, his relief that she was by his side. She wondered to herself, *How much longer can I say here?* *-* “Show me,” Alex whispered, holding AR645’s warm but false body in her little hut. “Show me who you really are.” “I can’t,” AR645. “We can’t even talk to each other, really. I don’t know why I’m here.” “Everyone needs warmth,” Alex said, leaping off the bed to take a kettle off the stove. “And it’s about to get very cold here.” “My father won’t leave,” AR645 said. “He’s too stubborn, and he’ll never listen to anybody but me.” “You say your kind won’t survive here if you stay.” “Within a month, it will already be too cold for us,” AR645 said. Alex knelt by the bedside, and stared into her love’s eyes, across species, across language, across space. “Come with me,” Alex whispered. “What?” “I’ve never wanted anything or anyone more in my life.” As her love said the words, AR645 knew they were her own as well. “Will you show me yourself, when we get there?” Alex asked. “Of course?” AR645 said. “But where?” “A place that’s not too cold, or too warm. A place in the middle of nowhere, and thus nowhere itself. A place where we can be ourselves.” \- That night, Alex snuck into her father’s dwelling, to pack her belongings. It hurt all the while she was packing her human outfits, and she wondered if she would go to say goodbye to her father. She knew she had to, but also knew it may be too hard to leave if she say him again. The lights turned on in her room. “Thank you,” the commander said, hugging his daughter in her alien form. “For what?” “For gathering information the way you did. Seems like your confidence training took well.” “What? You were listening in?” “The whole colony is ready. This is a good move for us, and I think the new habitat will be a better base for the invasion.” “What?” “It’s all thanks to you. Did you dispose of that human, by the way?” “What?” “I guess it doesn’t matter,” the commander said, chuckling as he left the room. “Ten minutes before we leave for Wyo-ming!” \- [r/penguin347](https://reddit.com/r/penguin347)

[WP] Earth only has seasons because it’s tilted on its axis. An alien race from a planet without seasons lands on earth and begins their invasion. What they don’t realize is they’ve just landed in Russia, and winter is coming.

They came in early October. Luckily, the world had been preparing for the extraterrestrial invasion of America for a hundred years now. Unluckily, the aliens seemed to have missed Washington D.C. by a few thousand kilometers. Embarrassingly, they didn't hit the Kremlin either; rather, a fleet of saucers sat themselves down in the remote archipeligo region of Novaya Zemlya. This was a huge public relations coup over the United States, who seemed to be almost depressed by the fact that they weren't the ones being invaded, even the Russians seemed a bit confused by the course of events. The Americans tried to save face by offering to send a carrier battle-group to assist, but the Russians, noting that the population of the island chain amounted to less people than it would take to fill an Ed Sheeran concert, thankfully declined the offer in private and comically lampooned the offer in public. They then proceeded to ignore the situation. The Novaya Zemlyans, completely unsurprised by this turn of events, overall considered it an improvement from the 1950s when the island chain hosted numerous nuclear tests, and proceeded to ignore the situation as well. A small tourist trade emerged of precarious Russian teenagers seeking ever more precarious VK social media profile selfies; the Novaya Zemlyans showcased their famous Russian hospitality by ignoring this too. Of all the confused people in the world, perhaps none were more confused than Drebak Nthetic, commodore of the third warfleet of the Korbik empire, destroyer of the Drivonol system, plague of the house of Matadun, abomination of galaxies, the bone-breaker, the mind-razer, the unpleasant dream, and, according to his mother on Korbik seven, a wonderful chef. Drebak and his galaxy-famous adamantine legion stormed out of their flagship in full battle regalia and onto the ice in the fjord on which their ship had landed. He roared fearsome defiance at the sky, his legion pounded the ice so hard it could be heard for miles, the gun-turrets launched enough volleys into the sky to make the night glow red. The wind whistled back, entirely unimpressed. Vasily Petrovic was moderately impressed when his taxi's dashboard camera recorded a faint outline of the light some 100 km away, and he uploaded it to a popular VK page of 'dashboard-cam meteor captures.' Everyone else on earth was also unimpressed. Of all the unimpressed inhabitants of the planet, perhaps none were as unimpressed as Gruk. Gruk was a 700 kg polar bear, and he'd given up being impressed after he'd killed his first bull walrus three years ago. After the said event, Gruk had fallen into a deep depression at having conquered the food chain and finding no satisfaction in it. He'd spent the past years reconsidering his violent ways and pondering what other, peaceful endeavors he could devote his life to, in order to further polar bear culture in a productive fashion. Being a polar bear, he hadn't gotten much further than that in his thought process. He now spent his days with his tribe of several hundred roving polar bear confederates on the archipeligo of Novaya Zemlya peacefully eradicating the local fauna and occasionally terrifying the local Russians. His tribe was also near the fjord in early October and, utterly annoyed by the complete ruckus that Drebak Nthetic and the third fleet were making, first called in a noise complaint to the Russian officials, which was ignored as per standing policy, then went to investigate. "What is that? Is that a human?" Vondek asked Drebak as he sighted over his gun at the approaching pack of bears. Drebak called up schematics on his wristband, "No, I don't think so, it appears to be some sort of strange comfort-beast," he replied, holding up a photo of a child gleefully grasping a plush outside 'The Bear Factory.' Gruk nuzzled up to the group, and his tribe did the same. In perfectly articulate fashion, Gruk kindly asked the third fleet to please keep the noise down until 9 AM as there were strict rules about that sort of a thing, especially on Saturdays, "GRAAAAAAAWRRR!" Vondek politely replied that he had applied at the head office and received a permit for making this kind of a ruckus, even though it was quite late on a Friday evening, and he hoped that Gruk wouldn't be too inconvenienced. "I'll skin you alive you stupid meat-bag." He added in a gentle love-tap with the butt of his rifle to emphasize his point. Gruk refused to accept the validity of said permit, and reiterated his frustration with the horrible Saturday morning hangover which would ensue by mauling Vondek to death on the spot. Nobody is sure what happened in the next 47 minutes. What is known is that Korbik ships have an incredibly difficult time taking off when frozen in ice, and that Gruk now has an obnoxiously long series of titles which were begrudgingly bestowed on him by right of conquest. The site is still a popular VK selfie location, and the Novaya Zemlyans will still try their best to ignore any visitors who come looking for it. Gruk has taken up ice sculpture as a more productive outlet for his violent tendencies.

"Master Level 12 Vora," I said, in the dark green technological chamber of the four of us. "Yes, you three Level 11's?" she said, looking up from her latest masterpiece which was going to be *delivered* to the humans. "I hate to tell you this, but as we've been mobilizing our units and convoys, getting ready to start, the temperature... has been dropping," one of the other Level 11's said. "What on earth are you talking about?" "Master Level 12 Vora," I interjected. "The temperature of this planet seems to sink at certain times in certain areas. It's supposed to keep at this rate and soon we will reach freezing temperatures." She pounded her four fists on the table. "No! That's impossible! That's going to ruin everything. All of our equipment and gear will be destroyed. But more importantly, our troopers won't last a second in this weather! We can't just send them on a mass suicide mission." I opened my four fists and held them out, trying to calm her down. "We have been performing scans on the planet, we think that it might be possible to relocate." "But this was the largest land mass! This was perfect for our operation. To relocate another base would take a lot of work, and could result in a lot of casualties," she scratched her chin with three hands. "I think it's the only shot we have at survival and continuing out the master plan, if we stay here, everyone dies," I said. "Did you find the coordinates of another area where the temperature will be more friendly to us?" "Yeah! I did, I found a place that would be large enough but it's going to take a while to get there. We might even have to cancel the whole operation." Master Level 12 Vora started crying from her one eye. She held her hands up to try and wipe the neon blue tears away, but they just kept flooding her slimy, purple face. "So much work, and so much planning, and the humans might never know we were here," she croaked through the tears. "It's okay, I'm sure they would have loved our pastries," I said, the three of us stepped forward and we all put our arms around her in a hug. "They will! They will love my pastries! As the most famous baking chef in the galaxy, the humans will enjoy our recipes for generations to come. This cold weather isn't going to stop us! I worked too hard with all of our troops to bake all of these confections and prepare all these recipes. We're going to make friends with the humans, dammit! *Do-nut* waste anymore time! We need to start leaving, now!" she cried out among the fury of neon blue tears. "I really hope this all *pans* out," the other Level 11 said. "Me too," I gave a side eye glance at my cohort, but nodded anyways. "Buckle up kid, this won't be a *cakewalk*," the oldest Level 11 whispered to me. "Okay, can we stop with the baking puns?" I said. r/randallcooper If you're interested in reading a prompt with a similar flavor, [here's another](https://www.reddit.com/r/randallcooper/comments/g9ao6p/wp_it_is_said_that_none_but_the_chosen_may_slay/) you might like! :)

[WP] Earth only has seasons because it’s tilted on its axis. An alien race from a planet without seasons lands on earth and begins their invasion. What they don’t realize is they’ve just landed in Russia, and winter is coming.

:these creatures control the ethereal: K'tkz whispered along the mindlink. Ja'zr looked up from his meal of cracked sea stone creatures whose fleshy insides so resembled the iani blossoms from their home planet. The iani were a delicacy back home, but the ridged stones that grew them in the oceans on this planet were everywhere, scattered about like refuse instead of cultivated in caves. He didn't see her anywhere nearby, so he sent back along the mindlink, :¿what do you mean, _control the ethereal_: :it is like walking deep into the cultivation caverns: K'tkz went on, confusion in her thoughts. :but not toward the heating vents. towards the ventilators. ¿have you been to that side of the caves: :once as a hatchling: Ja'zr answered. :it is cold: :oh, yes, it is cold: she replied. He had never heard that tone in her thoughts before. A tremulous sort of distortion to the peace that normally ruled his comrade. He asked :¿what do the cultivation caves have to do with the campaign: :the ethereal is becoming like that: K'tkz said. :we have not broken camp for two months, but.... the space around us is becoming cold: He was so startled by the statement that he dropped his iani-like morsel and stood, eyes wide. T'zrtl and Ra'kt both looked up at him, question marks in their thoughts. Out loud, he told his unit, "Break camp. We make for K'tkz." The question marks grew more ubiquitous as the rest of the unit in the valley learned the order, but they obediently began to pack their supplies. :I am coming, K'tkz: he told her through the mindlink. :reconnoiter and try to find the location of their witch that is changing the ethereal. I am coming: ~ General K'tkz shut her thoughts against the mindlink, not even bothering to reprimand her mate for breaking her orders to keep their warrior witch in reserve. He equaled her military authority and she agreed with his decision. She had been grossly understating the severity of her predicament when she linked with Ja'zr. The ventilation shafts of the cultivation caves had never been this cold before. She had no words to describe it to him. The grounds had become blanketed with the cold, with little flakes of ice that piled high and did not melt when breathed upon. The skies had become of one color, a billowing gray that blocked the sun for days. Some mornings, she found that she could barely move, as if her limbs had frozen solid. Part of her doubted their warrior witch could do anything against this type of sorcery. Witches worked against enemy minds, breaking spirits. This bitter cold... this was something beyond anything she had ever seen before. "A drink to warm you, Sir," one of her unit officers murmured, stepping up beside her where she sat at the entrance of her tent reviewing the notes from the last scouting mission. She took the canteen without looking up, and Officer Sk'kt saluted and left. The enemy whose planet they sought to conquer seemed perfectly happy to hole up in their stone cities, unperturbed by the frozen wasteland that their planet had become. How did these mammalian creatures survive like this? All reports guaranteed that the cold existed within their cities, as well. _We must break their witch's spirit quickly--wherever she is_, K'tkz concluded, sipping from the canteen and shuddering as the sour drink warmed her to her extremities, merely a momentary respite from the cold. ~ :we have arrived, K'tkz: Ja'zr said again, firmly shutting away the anxiousness that swelled when she _still_ did not answer him. He took a steadying breath and hurried to the door of the transport as the ship landed. The landing gear engaged, and the door beeped and opened. Ja'zr gasped as particles of whiteness--ice!--blasted into the confines of the ship on a gust of wind. _What is this!_ he thought. He could see nothing at all through the particulates. And how the freeze seeped into his bones! Fearing for his mate, he charged out into the blinding whiteness, shouting her name. He couldn't even see his arms in front of his face! Every step he took was sluggish and hampered, as if he was mired in sludge. The cold made his scales peel and bleed, and the blood froze along the seams between scales. "K'tkz!" he shouted, but wind whipped the voice away. Then he saw her military tent. He trudged forward, reaching for the tent flap, his arm inching through the haze of swirling white ice flakes. He drew it aside, and-- :¡K'tkz: he called out to her, panicked. She lay collapsed on the ground, curled around herself, covered in ice. Ja'zr stumbled to her side, wrapping an arm around her body. :¡K'tkz, I am here: he shouted into her mind. But there was no answer, not even a whisper. He refused to leave her side, and as the rest of his unit sent question marks along his mindlink, asking for the status, asking for orders, he felt even the mindlink begin to weaken. He tried to call back to them, to tell them the witch on this planet was too powerful, to order them to flee... but he was just... too... cold... End Thanks for reading! I gladly welcome any feedback to improve! [Part Two](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/gcp17e/wp_when_your_race_decides_on_which_planet_to/fpcrazy?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share)

"Master Level 12 Vora," I said, in the dark green technological chamber of the four of us. "Yes, you three Level 11's?" she said, looking up from her latest masterpiece which was going to be *delivered* to the humans. "I hate to tell you this, but as we've been mobilizing our units and convoys, getting ready to start, the temperature... has been dropping," one of the other Level 11's said. "What on earth are you talking about?" "Master Level 12 Vora," I interjected. "The temperature of this planet seems to sink at certain times in certain areas. It's supposed to keep at this rate and soon we will reach freezing temperatures." She pounded her four fists on the table. "No! That's impossible! That's going to ruin everything. All of our equipment and gear will be destroyed. But more importantly, our troopers won't last a second in this weather! We can't just send them on a mass suicide mission." I opened my four fists and held them out, trying to calm her down. "We have been performing scans on the planet, we think that it might be possible to relocate." "But this was the largest land mass! This was perfect for our operation. To relocate another base would take a lot of work, and could result in a lot of casualties," she scratched her chin with three hands. "I think it's the only shot we have at survival and continuing out the master plan, if we stay here, everyone dies," I said. "Did you find the coordinates of another area where the temperature will be more friendly to us?" "Yeah! I did, I found a place that would be large enough but it's going to take a while to get there. We might even have to cancel the whole operation." Master Level 12 Vora started crying from her one eye. She held her hands up to try and wipe the neon blue tears away, but they just kept flooding her slimy, purple face. "So much work, and so much planning, and the humans might never know we were here," she croaked through the tears. "It's okay, I'm sure they would have loved our pastries," I said, the three of us stepped forward and we all put our arms around her in a hug. "They will! They will love my pastries! As the most famous baking chef in the galaxy, the humans will enjoy our recipes for generations to come. This cold weather isn't going to stop us! I worked too hard with all of our troops to bake all of these confections and prepare all these recipes. We're going to make friends with the humans, dammit! *Do-nut* waste anymore time! We need to start leaving, now!" she cried out among the fury of neon blue tears. "I really hope this all *pans* out," the other Level 11 said. "Me too," I gave a side eye glance at my cohort, but nodded anyways. "Buckle up kid, this won't be a *cakewalk*," the oldest Level 11 whispered to me. "Okay, can we stop with the baking puns?" I said. r/randallcooper If you're interested in reading a prompt with a similar flavor, [here's another](https://www.reddit.com/r/randallcooper/comments/g9ao6p/wp_it_is_said_that_none_but_the_chosen_may_slay/) you might like! :)

[WP] At long last, Einstein has been successfully cloned. Only, he is now a hard-partying frat who doesn’t care about science and only wants to have an A-good time, exploiting his genius for cool party tricks. Many envoys were sent to try and convince him, but he didn’t budge. It’s your turn.

"He advanced our understanding of theoretical physics. He is studied, celebrated and beloved to this day. He changed the world! Surely, if you applied to yourself to any scientific field, you could make an equal amount of progress for science and humanity, if not more." "...And what else did he do?" "I'm sorry, what-" "What else did my father do? What was the *other thing* he famous for?" "...The Manhattan Project." "Ha! 'The Manhattan Project', way to skirt around the matter. Sounds like a nice luxury hotel owned by the Trump family, with golden toilet seats and $10 bills as toilet paper." "We both know that isn't-" "Then *say it*, say what it was. Say *what he did*." "...He developed the nuclear bomb...alongside pioneering early development of nuclear ener-" "Oh fuck off with that shit! It was about the bomb and nothing else! It was about making the world kowtow to America! It was about getting there before any potential enemy could." "-Mr. Einstein-" "DON'T. CALL. ME. *THAT*. ...Alphonse will do just fine." "...Alphonse, we don't necessarily expect you to study physics, especially nuclear physics. Biology-" "Bio-weapon." "-would also be an acceptable subject of study, as would chemistry- "New explosive compound or highly advanced acid." "-Engineering-" "Weapons." "-Technology-" "Computer viruses." "-Psychology-" "Propaganda and torture." "-Robotics-" "Killer robots!" "-Botany?" "...Killer plants? With poison, so much poison! And it could eat-" "Alphonse please! ...We're not going to force you to make weapons or harm others." "But you want me to, *ohhhh,* you want me to discover the next big thing that could make even a nuke obsolete. Something that could kill anyone or everyone you need to. *Then* want to." "Alphonse-" "Do you know...do you know what the estimated death toll for just the bombing of Hiroshima was? 200,000. 200,000 or more dead souls...if you want to use me for that kind of fucking evil again I refuse!" "Fine! But do you also have to refuse dignity beyond being something more than a partying drunk?" "...Don't you dare pretend to care about me. You think I don't see how everyone who knows looks at me? They don't see a person with individuality or a soul...they see Albert Einstein, back from the grave, with a brain free for the picking. At least...at least these people don't really care. All they care about is just...having a good time. What's wrong with that?" "Are they people who will change the world though? Are they people history will remember?" "Who says you have to be? Who says you have to change the whole world? Isn't it good enough to just live a life where the only world you affect is your friends and family? The people around you? I think its a life I could be happy with." "A brain is a terrible thing to waste, Alphonse." "A brain is a terrible thing."

They thought I was a failure, and technically they where correct. But what they didn’t know is that I was smarter than my forefather. I’m 20 years old, although technically I’m only 17 because of the growth therapy when I was a baby. I go by Al, Big Al, Steiner, and, usually sarcastically, Einstein. I am a clone of Albert Einstein, born in the year 2000, and raised under close observation for the first 10 years of my life. The scientist who looked after me the most, Doctor James Wright, wanted me to have as close to a normal life as possible. So from 10 until I was 15 I lived with James. He was the closest thing to a father I ever had, but I always struggled with dissociation, if only for the fact that he still had to run reports to the lab on a weekly basis. Eventually, I left home and went to college. I had already amassed a tidy sum in an online bank account from investing in the stocks and cryptocurrencies, so I bought a frat house off campus called EpsilonMuSigma (EMΣ) and had only one policy; Party, 24/7! James still came to check in with me and the first time he visited I passed it off as a housewarming party. Every other time... he was less than thrilled, because I had all the paperwork, and because of my documents saying I was over 18 there was no issues legally with what occurred on my property. Because of some of my unique traits, one of my favourite party tricks is for someone to throw out a random equation and I solve it immediately. It gets more complex when I ask three people to ask me at the same time and I answer them all, I even asked a whole room to ask me and I went through and solved every single one of them without writing anything down. Because I was raised to harness my intellect from a young age, I have honed it to an almost superhuman level. But even though I’m smarter than everyone around me, that doesn’t make me better than them, nor does it stop me from bonding with so many people. See, everyone’s different, and just because I’m smarter than them doesn’t mean I shouldn’t listen. Except I don’t listen to the labs anymore. They ask me to take my studies seriously, to report to them, to start tinkering and making, researching and developing. But I don’t want to. The world is at a great spot! Why does it need one more eccentric billionaire to ruin it? And besides, I already finished all my assignments on the first 2 days, and only need to attend exams. All I wanna do is party. I have documented several new galaxies, synthesised new elements, and made it big on the stock market. But no one else knows this. As far as they know, all I do is party. But little do they know I have accomplished much in the meantime. Why should I share it with them? They could never understand what I’ve created and how it could be applied. New flight technology, new laser and explosive tech, all being tested and developed by me, for me, so I can make the world a better place. On my own terms. But first. I party. How do I do this? Well,I grew up in those labs, I had access to some of their information but little did *they* know I had access to all of it. I read how they made me and copied that process in my secret lab, and fast tracked his development till he was indistinguishable from myself, and gave him all of my memories, all of my thoughts, and all of my dreams. One day, we will work together to Mold the world into our own shape But for now, we party! Edit: I just realised I misread the prompt big time! Oh well, I hope you enjoyed the story anyway

[WP] You, a Human, have been sentenced to death on an alien planet. The method of execution: gas chamber. However, the compound used in executions, Tetrahydrocannabinol, isn't quite as lethal to humans as your executioners expect.

Ok, so I will admit, I had no idea that owning an unlicensed psychoweaver was illegal in this sector. It was just a fun diversion from the mundane of inter-solar trucking, and yes I got high with it alllllll the time. I am sitting here waiting for the next step in the "processing" as my smartphone translator keeps calling it. I might even have enough creds in my wallet to pay the fine today! <DING!> My virtual assistant informs me: "Judgement has been rendered, guilty as charged, punishment - The Good Death." "What?!" I gasp. "You currently have two choices sir, you can smoke a bundle of herbs that they says is guaranteed to kill you instantly and painlessly. It astonishingly works on all known species. Otherwise you will be hunted down by all means necessary and given The Bad Death, which I would ... rather not describe in detail" my assistant hurriedly blurted out. With a glimmer of a tear in her eye she said quietly "Pick The Good Death, please." "Shit." I knew the side hustle of smuggling would catch up with me sooner or later, I just figured that it would be for a spacetruck load of gear, not one lousy unit! "Ok, navigate to the execution chamber please." \---------- The guard who took my name at the front desk is actually pretty nice to me, she doesn't even put the handcuffs on too tight. Following her down the hall she brings me to a small room and locks me inside, I hear the air seals activate on the door and there isn't any air circulation in this room. Wow, this stuff must be REALLY toxic! One of the walls of the room is transparent, and there are 4 assorted aliens on the other side in an observation room. I am pretty sure I know two of the species but there are so many it is hard to tell sometimes. My virtual assistant translates for the panel: "Droidicus of Earth, you are given the gift of The Good Death, the bundle of herbs is on the table with a flame stick." I look over at the table, and there is a thin white tube. That looks an AWFUL lot like pictures of a joint from old earth. Wait... they said it was an herb... "You are to use the flame stick to light the end of the bundle, while taking in one deep breath. You will nearly instantly lose sentience and pass away without discomfort. If you refuse to comply or attempt to flee, you will be given The Bad Death." Ok, I got this. Man, this REALLY looks like an old Earth joint but it can't be, that species was wiped out by global warming. Well, let's give this a shot: Fire stick, bundle, and inhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaale. <cough> <cough><cough> I can't hold my breath much longer, they said it was quick and painless but my lungs are on fire! Suddenly the aliens on the panel start to look increasingly concerned. One even stands up and has all their sensor pods pointed directly at my face. The panel starts talking excitedly. "They are wondering why you aren't dead yet" my assistant says into my ear, a little too calmly for my taste at the moment. <COUGH!> "Oh, sorry! I couldn't hold my breath any longer, I am not resisting! I swear! I will take another lung full!" I panic, The Bad Death sounds pretty bad, and I really don't want that right now. As fast as I can I light the bundle again and take an even bigger breath than last time. Time ... isn't that a funny concept. It is like tapioca pudding, smooth and creamy but with little balls of harder stuff that you can never quite tell what they are. But that's fine, because it is still delicious. I could really go for some pudding right now, when was the last time that I ate? I think it was breakfast but now I am wondering if I forgot to eat because I am REALLY hungry, my eyes are getting really heavy, but there is more food on my ship, but wait, I can't go back to my ship I gotta get executed today, I better not forget to do that, this planet is more than a little bit authoritarian crazy, I am not sure if I want to learn what The Bad Death is, but that's ok because I already remembered to go to the execution thing today, that's why I am holding my breath! "Oh my" as I slowly exhale a cloud of smoke "what, what is happening and why do I feel so fantastic?" I decide to take another hit.

Oh the planet Texxan. The fascists running this show under the guise of liberty have sentenced you to death. How dare you introduce "liberty" into their industrial complex on a local magnitude. Only those that are born with the heritage of electrical working skills can become electricians. One does not choose to go from electrician to the adjutant of Lt Commander Klan Hattrick. You're born with it. The only way up, a happenstance marriage, or the Texxan lottery. The Texxan Council of Order and Regal Tradition had made their choice. You were to be executed immediately. Liberty was not to be a tolerated concept. The Texxans strapped you onto what looked like an operating table and proceeded to prop you up to standing, facing a glass window with the Texxan CORT sitting on the other side. Supreme Leader Babbot wheeled himself over to a corner and picked up a microphone looking device, “You have been sentenced to death for the crime of undermining the total authority of the CORT Laws of Texxan. You have introduced discord, sowed doubt, and brought about disagreement amongst Texxans. This crime cannot go unpunished as it is a threat to our societal structure. I, Supreme Leader Babbot declare you to face the penalty of death after the final resolve commentary by the CORT.” Babbot rolled back away from the glass as Lt Commander Hattrick stepped up to the microphone to speak. “You are a speck of filth in our impeccable society. Our traditions have stood for millennia. You, an outsider, tried to change our ways. Then you attempted to sway us as a combat veteran of the allied Space Force with Earth. Your crimes could not go unnoticed and without reprimand. Your death will provide justice to those that saw to it that your ways were not the way of the Texxan CORT.” Hattrick gave his final word on the situation. The Texxan stepped away from the microphone and signaled that you could speak, a way of giving you your final words. “I would rather die an American from Earth with liberty than live as a Texxan in misery under the thumb of the CORT. My crime? I told Texxans that it was okay if I treated my persistent and debilitating headaches with organically grown CokerOla rather than your pharmaceutical PeepsEye. I am proud that I fought alongside Texxans while serving in the Space Force. The battle of Krexiot, Merle Harber, and the Sporian Conflict which I worked to resolve with fellow Texxans in arms were proud moments of my life. CokerOla has helped me be a productive member of society, become a better father for the two orphaned Texxan children I adopted after the great wars, and proud to consider myself a citizen of Baustin. I’ve watched Texxan and humans alike suffer from the serious side effects of Peepseye. I will not go out like that.” “Alright, I’ve heard enough from the human,” Babbot wheeled himself over to another man wearing high ranking Texxan military garb. “I want this man dead in the next 10 minutes. Do you understand me General Kraxton,” Babbott said to the militant Texxan for everyone to hear. General Kraxton proceeded to flip a series of what appeared to be Frankenstein switches and a whirring sound picked up. Followed by little streams out white smoke coming out of a special ventilation system inside the chamber you were strapped down in. You spit at the window in defiance of what the Texxans were doing. Then it hit you. “Are you seriously going to try to gas me to death with weed? I’ve seen some crazy stuff from when I was in the engineering space on an aircraft carrier, and the Space Force had its own funky moments. Hell, even the guy that claimed that he created the space force was a space cadet of his own sorts.” *cough cough “*But nobody tried to kill me.” *cough cough cough* “ By hotboxing me with weed.” You could see the most sinister of smiles a Texxan could ever display, all across those green and blue humanoid faces. Within 4-5 minutes the smoke destroyed all visibility in and out of the room and you began to have a major dry coughing fit. Then you started to giggle, as this stuff was potent. “General Kraxton, why is that human laughing about all this?” Babbot demanded an answer. “Supreme Leader I am not sure why b.b.b.ut maybe…” Kraxton trailed off into a confused mumble in his attempt to explain any answer to a visibly shaken Babbot. Babbot wheeled back and forth with a panicked look in his eyes. The thoughts in his head matched the look to go with it. What was happening? Why was this volatile human laughing instead of dying an agonizing death? The poor Shrump kid that had found that lone flower on the Blighthouse lawn years ago was dead in under a minute from just the aroma of this stuff. Nobody had ever seen a substance do that to a Texxan. Hell, 30 of the best and brightest Texxan pharmaceutical engineers either got sick or came close to dying from just trying to handle the substance in hazmat suits in an attempt to study it. Tetrahydrocannabinol was what the scientists called it, and it is only briefly mentioned in one line of the archived sacred texts, as being the dangerous weed. How could this man be laughing about this? Is he that delirious? How are we going to do anything involving that room or that man now that he is coated with this chemical? “VENT THE ROOM KRAXTON,” Babbot shouted to the general. The laughter was not as prominent as before, but as the smoke vapor cleared, Supreme Leader Babbot could see a big smile slapped across your face. Your eyes a bit red as if you just woke up and had to rub the sand out of them. The visible upset and shaken Babbot spoke into the microphone again, “EXPLAIN THIS Human! I demand answers” “I feel great right now. Like a billion blitzoil credits. I can’t believe that the one thing I had been looking for on this planet. The one thing that would have worked better than CokerOla to make the nightmares easier to handle. I couldn’t understand but..” you started to reply, cut off by Babbot “This, this, this stuff is the most lethal compound that Texxans have ever come across. We’ve executed over 30,000 people using tetrahydrocannabinol in just the past 5 years alone. Within a minute they were all dead or past the point of saving. How are you still alive and talking? FEELING GREAT NONE THE DAMN LESS!” Babbot escalated in his voice looking aimlessly as he spoke, indicating that this issue was shaking him to his core, making him feel as if his executive decrees with the CORT had been denied sanctity and worthiness. A failure. Which he was. With you giving light laughter with a smile the whole time. “I tried telling you, but you cut me off. I was tryyyyyinggg to saaayyy,” and you give a snort-laugh briefly. “I was trying to say that I couldn’t understand before, but that I finally understood why. Weed is deadly here. Your culture probably eradicated the plant millennia ago and you only recently came across it again in the last few years by accident.”, and you say this before giving a few more open laughs and snorts only to resume again. “Weed is everywhere on Earth. Hell, that’s how it got the name. You can find this stuff growing in a swamp if you try hard enough. It’s literally like a damn weed. And yours is good. Who grew this? People would use this to cure cancer on Earth because the stuff we have is nowhere near as potent. OH SNAP! IDEA! Of course, if you want Earth to buy it off you, you have to stop being a total dickwad. HA. Dickwad. What a word. DiiiickK-WAAAAD. Your wheelchair is funny. I remember this one dickwad in my history books when I was in the academy as a kid. Some dude hated this stuff just like you, and he was a grumpy old fart in a wheelchair as well. Man, since you obviously aren’t going to kill me with this stuff, it has made me hungry. You mind getting me a cheeseburger from the replicators?” Supreme Leader Babbot put his 6 fingered right-hand palm to his forehead. This had possibly been the worst day of his life as a Texxan.

[WP] You, a Human, have been sentenced to death on an alien planet. The method of execution: gas chamber. However, the compound used in executions, Tetrahydrocannabinol, isn't quite as lethal to humans as your executioners expect.

"Yes, technically I'm dying, " I explained to my assigned intergalactic negotiator, "but duuuuuuude haha. You gotta try som'ma this Tetro-t-t-tetra.. Dude, you gotta take a hit of this gas man". "Captain, please get a grip. The Bhalians have committed a very serious offence in their prosecution and execution-" "Attempted execution" "yes, attempted execution of an Earth officer without proper and just trial. This could be the breakthrough for an international confederation case against the must power hungry race in the galaxy. All I need to know is if it's true that you abducted the Prince?" "It's not abduction, it's love. What me and that loveable ball of blue scales have is special." "Sir, where is the Prince?" "it's always where's the Prince with you lot. No one asks how I'm feeling. Sad, by the way. I've not had a single letter since I took the fall for Qwouwu's escape. I JUST HOPE HE'S OKAY!" "... Sir? Where is the Prince?" "SoMe WHerE OveR tHe RAinBoW" "I'm leaving you to die"

Oh the planet Texxan. The fascists running this show under the guise of liberty have sentenced you to death. How dare you introduce "liberty" into their industrial complex on a local magnitude. Only those that are born with the heritage of electrical working skills can become electricians. One does not choose to go from electrician to the adjutant of Lt Commander Klan Hattrick. You're born with it. The only way up, a happenstance marriage, or the Texxan lottery. The Texxan Council of Order and Regal Tradition had made their choice. You were to be executed immediately. Liberty was not to be a tolerated concept. The Texxans strapped you onto what looked like an operating table and proceeded to prop you up to standing, facing a glass window with the Texxan CORT sitting on the other side. Supreme Leader Babbot wheeled himself over to a corner and picked up a microphone looking device, “You have been sentenced to death for the crime of undermining the total authority of the CORT Laws of Texxan. You have introduced discord, sowed doubt, and brought about disagreement amongst Texxans. This crime cannot go unpunished as it is a threat to our societal structure. I, Supreme Leader Babbot declare you to face the penalty of death after the final resolve commentary by the CORT.” Babbot rolled back away from the glass as Lt Commander Hattrick stepped up to the microphone to speak. “You are a speck of filth in our impeccable society. Our traditions have stood for millennia. You, an outsider, tried to change our ways. Then you attempted to sway us as a combat veteran of the allied Space Force with Earth. Your crimes could not go unnoticed and without reprimand. Your death will provide justice to those that saw to it that your ways were not the way of the Texxan CORT.” Hattrick gave his final word on the situation. The Texxan stepped away from the microphone and signaled that you could speak, a way of giving you your final words. “I would rather die an American from Earth with liberty than live as a Texxan in misery under the thumb of the CORT. My crime? I told Texxans that it was okay if I treated my persistent and debilitating headaches with organically grown CokerOla rather than your pharmaceutical PeepsEye. I am proud that I fought alongside Texxans while serving in the Space Force. The battle of Krexiot, Merle Harber, and the Sporian Conflict which I worked to resolve with fellow Texxans in arms were proud moments of my life. CokerOla has helped me be a productive member of society, become a better father for the two orphaned Texxan children I adopted after the great wars, and proud to consider myself a citizen of Baustin. I’ve watched Texxan and humans alike suffer from the serious side effects of Peepseye. I will not go out like that.” “Alright, I’ve heard enough from the human,” Babbot wheeled himself over to another man wearing high ranking Texxan military garb. “I want this man dead in the next 10 minutes. Do you understand me General Kraxton,” Babbott said to the militant Texxan for everyone to hear. General Kraxton proceeded to flip a series of what appeared to be Frankenstein switches and a whirring sound picked up. Followed by little streams out white smoke coming out of a special ventilation system inside the chamber you were strapped down in. You spit at the window in defiance of what the Texxans were doing. Then it hit you. “Are you seriously going to try to gas me to death with weed? I’ve seen some crazy stuff from when I was in the engineering space on an aircraft carrier, and the Space Force had its own funky moments. Hell, even the guy that claimed that he created the space force was a space cadet of his own sorts.” *cough cough “*But nobody tried to kill me.” *cough cough cough* “ By hotboxing me with weed.” You could see the most sinister of smiles a Texxan could ever display, all across those green and blue humanoid faces. Within 4-5 minutes the smoke destroyed all visibility in and out of the room and you began to have a major dry coughing fit. Then you started to giggle, as this stuff was potent. “General Kraxton, why is that human laughing about all this?” Babbot demanded an answer. “Supreme Leader I am not sure why b.b.b.ut maybe…” Kraxton trailed off into a confused mumble in his attempt to explain any answer to a visibly shaken Babbot. Babbot wheeled back and forth with a panicked look in his eyes. The thoughts in his head matched the look to go with it. What was happening? Why was this volatile human laughing instead of dying an agonizing death? The poor Shrump kid that had found that lone flower on the Blighthouse lawn years ago was dead in under a minute from just the aroma of this stuff. Nobody had ever seen a substance do that to a Texxan. Hell, 30 of the best and brightest Texxan pharmaceutical engineers either got sick or came close to dying from just trying to handle the substance in hazmat suits in an attempt to study it. Tetrahydrocannabinol was what the scientists called it, and it is only briefly mentioned in one line of the archived sacred texts, as being the dangerous weed. How could this man be laughing about this? Is he that delirious? How are we going to do anything involving that room or that man now that he is coated with this chemical? “VENT THE ROOM KRAXTON,” Babbot shouted to the general. The laughter was not as prominent as before, but as the smoke vapor cleared, Supreme Leader Babbot could see a big smile slapped across your face. Your eyes a bit red as if you just woke up and had to rub the sand out of them. The visible upset and shaken Babbot spoke into the microphone again, “EXPLAIN THIS Human! I demand answers” “I feel great right now. Like a billion blitzoil credits. I can’t believe that the one thing I had been looking for on this planet. The one thing that would have worked better than CokerOla to make the nightmares easier to handle. I couldn’t understand but..” you started to reply, cut off by Babbot “This, this, this stuff is the most lethal compound that Texxans have ever come across. We’ve executed over 30,000 people using tetrahydrocannabinol in just the past 5 years alone. Within a minute they were all dead or past the point of saving. How are you still alive and talking? FEELING GREAT NONE THE DAMN LESS!” Babbot escalated in his voice looking aimlessly as he spoke, indicating that this issue was shaking him to his core, making him feel as if his executive decrees with the CORT had been denied sanctity and worthiness. A failure. Which he was. With you giving light laughter with a smile the whole time. “I tried telling you, but you cut me off. I was tryyyyyinggg to saaayyy,” and you give a snort-laugh briefly. “I was trying to say that I couldn’t understand before, but that I finally understood why. Weed is deadly here. Your culture probably eradicated the plant millennia ago and you only recently came across it again in the last few years by accident.”, and you say this before giving a few more open laughs and snorts only to resume again. “Weed is everywhere on Earth. Hell, that’s how it got the name. You can find this stuff growing in a swamp if you try hard enough. It’s literally like a damn weed. And yours is good. Who grew this? People would use this to cure cancer on Earth because the stuff we have is nowhere near as potent. OH SNAP! IDEA! Of course, if you want Earth to buy it off you, you have to stop being a total dickwad. HA. Dickwad. What a word. DiiiickK-WAAAAD. Your wheelchair is funny. I remember this one dickwad in my history books when I was in the academy as a kid. Some dude hated this stuff just like you, and he was a grumpy old fart in a wheelchair as well. Man, since you obviously aren’t going to kill me with this stuff, it has made me hungry. You mind getting me a cheeseburger from the replicators?” Supreme Leader Babbot put his 6 fingered right-hand palm to his forehead. This had possibly been the worst day of his life as a Texxan.

[WP] You, a Human, have been sentenced to death on an alien planet. The method of execution: gas chamber. However, the compound used in executions, Tetrahydrocannabinol, isn't quite as lethal to humans as your executioners expect.

Ok, so I will admit, I had no idea that owning an unlicensed psychoweaver was illegal in this sector. It was just a fun diversion from the mundane of inter-solar trucking, and yes I got high with it alllllll the time. I am sitting here waiting for the next step in the "processing" as my smartphone translator keeps calling it. I might even have enough creds in my wallet to pay the fine today! <DING!> My virtual assistant informs me: "Judgement has been rendered, guilty as charged, punishment - The Good Death." "What?!" I gasp. "You currently have two choices sir, you can smoke a bundle of herbs that they says is guaranteed to kill you instantly and painlessly. It astonishingly works on all known species. Otherwise you will be hunted down by all means necessary and given The Bad Death, which I would ... rather not describe in detail" my assistant hurriedly blurted out. With a glimmer of a tear in her eye she said quietly "Pick The Good Death, please." "Shit." I knew the side hustle of smuggling would catch up with me sooner or later, I just figured that it would be for a spacetruck load of gear, not one lousy unit! "Ok, navigate to the execution chamber please." \---------- The guard who took my name at the front desk is actually pretty nice to me, she doesn't even put the handcuffs on too tight. Following her down the hall she brings me to a small room and locks me inside, I hear the air seals activate on the door and there isn't any air circulation in this room. Wow, this stuff must be REALLY toxic! One of the walls of the room is transparent, and there are 4 assorted aliens on the other side in an observation room. I am pretty sure I know two of the species but there are so many it is hard to tell sometimes. My virtual assistant translates for the panel: "Droidicus of Earth, you are given the gift of The Good Death, the bundle of herbs is on the table with a flame stick." I look over at the table, and there is a thin white tube. That looks an AWFUL lot like pictures of a joint from old earth. Wait... they said it was an herb... "You are to use the flame stick to light the end of the bundle, while taking in one deep breath. You will nearly instantly lose sentience and pass away without discomfort. If you refuse to comply or attempt to flee, you will be given The Bad Death." Ok, I got this. Man, this REALLY looks like an old Earth joint but it can't be, that species was wiped out by global warming. Well, let's give this a shot: Fire stick, bundle, and inhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaale. <cough> <cough><cough> I can't hold my breath much longer, they said it was quick and painless but my lungs are on fire! Suddenly the aliens on the panel start to look increasingly concerned. One even stands up and has all their sensor pods pointed directly at my face. The panel starts talking excitedly. "They are wondering why you aren't dead yet" my assistant says into my ear, a little too calmly for my taste at the moment. <COUGH!> "Oh, sorry! I couldn't hold my breath any longer, I am not resisting! I swear! I will take another lung full!" I panic, The Bad Death sounds pretty bad, and I really don't want that right now. As fast as I can I light the bundle again and take an even bigger breath than last time. Time ... isn't that a funny concept. It is like tapioca pudding, smooth and creamy but with little balls of harder stuff that you can never quite tell what they are. But that's fine, because it is still delicious. I could really go for some pudding right now, when was the last time that I ate? I think it was breakfast but now I am wondering if I forgot to eat because I am REALLY hungry, my eyes are getting really heavy, but there is more food on my ship, but wait, I can't go back to my ship I gotta get executed today, I better not forget to do that, this planet is more than a little bit authoritarian crazy, I am not sure if I want to learn what The Bad Death is, but that's ok because I already remembered to go to the execution thing today, that's why I am holding my breath! "Oh my" as I slowly exhale a cloud of smoke "what, what is happening and why do I feel so fantastic?" I decide to take another hit.

*How could this happen--why would anybody take me*? Jaxon thought with deep confusion and fear, not knowing where he was. *Alright, stay calm and think through this*, wiping the sweat on his forehead away. Jaxon, a young man of 17, had been placed into a small square cell. The cell was quite clean though, unlike the ones you see in the movies. The walls were a white ceramic color, the floor was the same, however, there was a green mat in the center of the cell, just big enough for a person to sit on. Suddenly, the glass door swooshed open. Then two large purple octopus resembling creatures walked through the door frame. They stood on four of their eight tentacles. Their skin glimmered as if covered in moisture. The one on the right began to adjust some knobs that were a part of an electronic device imbedded in the skin. “Human, do you understand me?” the alien said sternly. Jaxon, with his mouth gapping, nodded with confirmation. “Good human,” the alien responded. “We are galactic bounty hunters, my name is Hydrolax, and this is my partner Fluthrola.” “A warrant had been issued for your apprehension and transportation to the Galactic Stronghold in order to face justice for your crimes against the galaxy,” Hydrolax stated. Jaxon brushed his hands through his moist hair, *this has to be some kind of joke—a mistake!* Jaxon, with hesitation is his voice, “hey man, I think you’ve got the wrong person— “ Hydrolax raised his tentacles to cut Jaxon off. “Human, there is no mistake.” “My partner and I are the supreme bounty hunters of the galaxy, a title such as that is not achieved through mistakes.” With a mocking tone, “especially, when capturing lesser lifeforms.” Jaxon’s butt lowered onto the green mat, his hands covering his face, *Jesus—what happened last night—I don’t even remember being abducted*. *Okay you’re fine, just let them finish explaining and then I’ll try and reason with them. They seem reasonable—right?* Fluthrola began to speak, “Human, justice will now commence.” Anxiously, Jaxon responded, “what the hell does entail Flumtham?” “Unfortunately for you, trials are no longer permitted in the galaxy, and my name is Fluthrola—not whatever you defecated from your face,” Fluthrola stated, clearly annoyed with the mis-annunciation of his name. *No trial, no representation, this is not at all what happened in Star Wars—I’m really fucked* Jaxon thought. “We will now take our leave, so the poisonous Tetrahydrocannabinol gas can be administered,” Hydrolax stated. “It will be like falling asleep.” The aliens did not give Jaxon time to make his case before leaving the room. Then all of a sudden, the white ceramic walls began to fade and transform into glass. Lights in the background began to flicker on, highlighting a stage the glass cell rested on. It was an arena, housing life forms similar to Hydrolax and Fluthrola, some that looked like long and skinny orange koala bears, bipedal beetles that walked upright, and some even appeared to be human like. All eyes and visors were focused on the glass cell that contained Jaxon. Frantically cycling between the four walls of his cell, Jaxon observed the various alien lifeforms before him. Then Jaxon heard the sound of a radio making a connection, “the Tetrahydrocannabinol will be administered in sixty seconds,” a voice stated without emotion. Jaxon began to beg, with tears rolling down his face, “please don’t do this, you have the wrong person!” “Thirty seconds,” Jaxon heard. Wiping the tears from his face, Jaxon came to terms with his fate. *Well if this is the end, I get it, I had a good life, maybe I should have read more, played a little less Call of Duty, and helped my family out around the house a little more.* *“Ten seconds,” the voice over the radio said.* Jaxon repositioned himself to the center of the green mat, *alright--I’m ready, at least Maria showed me her boobs last night—it was a pleasant last sight.* The glass cell began to hiss, a hazy smoke began to fill the room. Jaxon attempted to hold his breath but he could not do so for long. *Oh no—I have to breath, I can’t hold it any longer.* Jaxon exhaled, gasped for air but only inhaled the smoke, containing the poisonous Tetrahydrocannabinol. *I’m starting to get sleepy*, Jaxon’s eyes began to feel quite heavy, he felt extremely tired, and oddly hungry too. Jaxon faded into a deep sleep. It was over for him. A loud and fierce beeping noise awakened Jaxon from his death. Jaxon also realized water was running on his legs and chest, that felt cold. He placed his hand on the glass wall and thought, *how is this possible—I’m alive!* Then the glass wall swung open and this startled Jaxon, and then a boy with a silly grin on his face said, “Jaxon, get up bro, you’ve been in the shower for over an hour and I made some pizza rolls.” Jaxon knew this boy, this was his friend, this was Albert. “Albert—I’m alive,” Jaxon said with confusion and excitement. Albert began to speak slowly, “yea bro—not sure what you tripped about last night but the pizza rolls are ready.” “But Albert—purple octopus people put me in a prison cell, they tried to execute me with a poisonous gas called Tetrahydrocannabinol,” Jaxon stated with a hint of hysteria. “Bro, I blew some smoke in your face while you were asleep in the shower. “Figured you could use some that THC to get you going from the trip last night, man,” Albert said plainly. *Man, that was a weird fucking dream*, Jaxon realized. With a smile on his face and slightly laughing, Jaxon asked, “Albert, can I have some of those pizza rolls now?”

[WP] You, a Human, have been sentenced to death on an alien planet. The method of execution: gas chamber. However, the compound used in executions, Tetrahydrocannabinol, isn't quite as lethal to humans as your executioners expect.

"Yes, technically I'm dying, " I explained to my assigned intergalactic negotiator, "but duuuuuuude haha. You gotta try som'ma this Tetro-t-t-tetra.. Dude, you gotta take a hit of this gas man". "Captain, please get a grip. The Bhalians have committed a very serious offence in their prosecution and execution-" "Attempted execution" "yes, attempted execution of an Earth officer without proper and just trial. This could be the breakthrough for an international confederation case against the must power hungry race in the galaxy. All I need to know is if it's true that you abducted the Prince?" "It's not abduction, it's love. What me and that loveable ball of blue scales have is special." "Sir, where is the Prince?" "it's always where's the Prince with you lot. No one asks how I'm feeling. Sad, by the way. I've not had a single letter since I took the fall for Qwouwu's escape. I JUST HOPE HE'S OKAY!" "... Sir? Where is the Prince?" "SoMe WHerE OveR tHe RAinBoW" "I'm leaving you to die"

*How could this happen--why would anybody take me*? Jaxon thought with deep confusion and fear, not knowing where he was. *Alright, stay calm and think through this*, wiping the sweat on his forehead away. Jaxon, a young man of 17, had been placed into a small square cell. The cell was quite clean though, unlike the ones you see in the movies. The walls were a white ceramic color, the floor was the same, however, there was a green mat in the center of the cell, just big enough for a person to sit on. Suddenly, the glass door swooshed open. Then two large purple octopus resembling creatures walked through the door frame. They stood on four of their eight tentacles. Their skin glimmered as if covered in moisture. The one on the right began to adjust some knobs that were a part of an electronic device imbedded in the skin. “Human, do you understand me?” the alien said sternly. Jaxon, with his mouth gapping, nodded with confirmation. “Good human,” the alien responded. “We are galactic bounty hunters, my name is Hydrolax, and this is my partner Fluthrola.” “A warrant had been issued for your apprehension and transportation to the Galactic Stronghold in order to face justice for your crimes against the galaxy,” Hydrolax stated. Jaxon brushed his hands through his moist hair, *this has to be some kind of joke—a mistake!* Jaxon, with hesitation is his voice, “hey man, I think you’ve got the wrong person— “ Hydrolax raised his tentacles to cut Jaxon off. “Human, there is no mistake.” “My partner and I are the supreme bounty hunters of the galaxy, a title such as that is not achieved through mistakes.” With a mocking tone, “especially, when capturing lesser lifeforms.” Jaxon’s butt lowered onto the green mat, his hands covering his face, *Jesus—what happened last night—I don’t even remember being abducted*. *Okay you’re fine, just let them finish explaining and then I’ll try and reason with them. They seem reasonable—right?* Fluthrola began to speak, “Human, justice will now commence.” Anxiously, Jaxon responded, “what the hell does entail Flumtham?” “Unfortunately for you, trials are no longer permitted in the galaxy, and my name is Fluthrola—not whatever you defecated from your face,” Fluthrola stated, clearly annoyed with the mis-annunciation of his name. *No trial, no representation, this is not at all what happened in Star Wars—I’m really fucked* Jaxon thought. “We will now take our leave, so the poisonous Tetrahydrocannabinol gas can be administered,” Hydrolax stated. “It will be like falling asleep.” The aliens did not give Jaxon time to make his case before leaving the room. Then all of a sudden, the white ceramic walls began to fade and transform into glass. Lights in the background began to flicker on, highlighting a stage the glass cell rested on. It was an arena, housing life forms similar to Hydrolax and Fluthrola, some that looked like long and skinny orange koala bears, bipedal beetles that walked upright, and some even appeared to be human like. All eyes and visors were focused on the glass cell that contained Jaxon. Frantically cycling between the four walls of his cell, Jaxon observed the various alien lifeforms before him. Then Jaxon heard the sound of a radio making a connection, “the Tetrahydrocannabinol will be administered in sixty seconds,” a voice stated without emotion. Jaxon began to beg, with tears rolling down his face, “please don’t do this, you have the wrong person!” “Thirty seconds,” Jaxon heard. Wiping the tears from his face, Jaxon came to terms with his fate. *Well if this is the end, I get it, I had a good life, maybe I should have read more, played a little less Call of Duty, and helped my family out around the house a little more.* *“Ten seconds,” the voice over the radio said.* Jaxon repositioned himself to the center of the green mat, *alright--I’m ready, at least Maria showed me her boobs last night—it was a pleasant last sight.* The glass cell began to hiss, a hazy smoke began to fill the room. Jaxon attempted to hold his breath but he could not do so for long. *Oh no—I have to breath, I can’t hold it any longer.* Jaxon exhaled, gasped for air but only inhaled the smoke, containing the poisonous Tetrahydrocannabinol. *I’m starting to get sleepy*, Jaxon’s eyes began to feel quite heavy, he felt extremely tired, and oddly hungry too. Jaxon faded into a deep sleep. It was over for him. A loud and fierce beeping noise awakened Jaxon from his death. Jaxon also realized water was running on his legs and chest, that felt cold. He placed his hand on the glass wall and thought, *how is this possible—I’m alive!* Then the glass wall swung open and this startled Jaxon, and then a boy with a silly grin on his face said, “Jaxon, get up bro, you’ve been in the shower for over an hour and I made some pizza rolls.” Jaxon knew this boy, this was his friend, this was Albert. “Albert—I’m alive,” Jaxon said with confusion and excitement. Albert began to speak slowly, “yea bro—not sure what you tripped about last night but the pizza rolls are ready.” “But Albert—purple octopus people put me in a prison cell, they tried to execute me with a poisonous gas called Tetrahydrocannabinol,” Jaxon stated with a hint of hysteria. “Bro, I blew some smoke in your face while you were asleep in the shower. “Figured you could use some that THC to get you going from the trip last night, man,” Albert said plainly. *Man, that was a weird fucking dream*, Jaxon realized. With a smile on his face and slightly laughing, Jaxon asked, “Albert, can I have some of those pizza rolls now?”

[WP] You, a Human, have been sentenced to death on an alien planet. The method of execution: gas chamber. However, the compound used in executions, Tetrahydrocannabinol, isn't quite as lethal to humans as your executioners expect.

"Yes, technically I'm dying, " I explained to my assigned intergalactic negotiator, "but duuuuuuude haha. You gotta try som'ma this Tetro-t-t-tetra.. Dude, you gotta take a hit of this gas man". "Captain, please get a grip. The Bhalians have committed a very serious offence in their prosecution and execution-" "Attempted execution" "yes, attempted execution of an Earth officer without proper and just trial. This could be the breakthrough for an international confederation case against the must power hungry race in the galaxy. All I need to know is if it's true that you abducted the Prince?" "It's not abduction, it's love. What me and that loveable ball of blue scales have is special." "Sir, where is the Prince?" "it's always where's the Prince with you lot. No one asks how I'm feeling. Sad, by the way. I've not had a single letter since I took the fall for Qwouwu's escape. I JUST HOPE HE'S OKAY!" "... Sir? Where is the Prince?" "SoMe WHerE OveR tHe RAinBoW" "I'm leaving you to die"

Ok, so I will admit, I had no idea that owning an unlicensed psychoweaver was illegal in this sector. It was just a fun diversion from the mundane of inter-solar trucking, and yes I got high with it alllllll the time. I am sitting here waiting for the next step in the "processing" as my smartphone translator keeps calling it. I might even have enough creds in my wallet to pay the fine today! <DING!> My virtual assistant informs me: "Judgement has been rendered, guilty as charged, punishment - The Good Death." "What?!" I gasp. "You currently have two choices sir, you can smoke a bundle of herbs that they says is guaranteed to kill you instantly and painlessly. It astonishingly works on all known species. Otherwise you will be hunted down by all means necessary and given The Bad Death, which I would ... rather not describe in detail" my assistant hurriedly blurted out. With a glimmer of a tear in her eye she said quietly "Pick The Good Death, please." "Shit." I knew the side hustle of smuggling would catch up with me sooner or later, I just figured that it would be for a spacetruck load of gear, not one lousy unit! "Ok, navigate to the execution chamber please." \---------- The guard who took my name at the front desk is actually pretty nice to me, she doesn't even put the handcuffs on too tight. Following her down the hall she brings me to a small room and locks me inside, I hear the air seals activate on the door and there isn't any air circulation in this room. Wow, this stuff must be REALLY toxic! One of the walls of the room is transparent, and there are 4 assorted aliens on the other side in an observation room. I am pretty sure I know two of the species but there are so many it is hard to tell sometimes. My virtual assistant translates for the panel: "Droidicus of Earth, you are given the gift of The Good Death, the bundle of herbs is on the table with a flame stick." I look over at the table, and there is a thin white tube. That looks an AWFUL lot like pictures of a joint from old earth. Wait... they said it was an herb... "You are to use the flame stick to light the end of the bundle, while taking in one deep breath. You will nearly instantly lose sentience and pass away without discomfort. If you refuse to comply or attempt to flee, you will be given The Bad Death." Ok, I got this. Man, this REALLY looks like an old Earth joint but it can't be, that species was wiped out by global warming. Well, let's give this a shot: Fire stick, bundle, and inhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaale. <cough> <cough><cough> I can't hold my breath much longer, they said it was quick and painless but my lungs are on fire! Suddenly the aliens on the panel start to look increasingly concerned. One even stands up and has all their sensor pods pointed directly at my face. The panel starts talking excitedly. "They are wondering why you aren't dead yet" my assistant says into my ear, a little too calmly for my taste at the moment. <COUGH!> "Oh, sorry! I couldn't hold my breath any longer, I am not resisting! I swear! I will take another lung full!" I panic, The Bad Death sounds pretty bad, and I really don't want that right now. As fast as I can I light the bundle again and take an even bigger breath than last time. Time ... isn't that a funny concept. It is like tapioca pudding, smooth and creamy but with little balls of harder stuff that you can never quite tell what they are. But that's fine, because it is still delicious. I could really go for some pudding right now, when was the last time that I ate? I think it was breakfast but now I am wondering if I forgot to eat because I am REALLY hungry, my eyes are getting really heavy, but there is more food on my ship, but wait, I can't go back to my ship I gotta get executed today, I better not forget to do that, this planet is more than a little bit authoritarian crazy, I am not sure if I want to learn what The Bad Death is, but that's ok because I already remembered to go to the execution thing today, that's why I am holding my breath! "Oh my" as I slowly exhale a cloud of smoke "what, what is happening and why do I feel so fantastic?" I decide to take another hit.

[WP] You, a Human, have been sentenced to death on an alien planet. The method of execution: gas chamber. However, the compound used in executions, Tetrahydrocannabinol, isn't quite as lethal to humans as your executioners expect.

The last week had been brutal. I had been on a transport shuttle to one of the newer planets in my galaxy to study some sculptures in an ancient palace that had recently been discovered. I was broke and fresh out of grad school, where I hadn't had the time or energy to do anything but write research papers, cry over my nearly failing grades, and sleep. This project was the only employment I had been able to secure, mostly because the planet was close to D-4-UP-3, a hostile area populated by a fearsome alien species that we humans affectionately called Murder Peanuts, that nobody else wanted it. My employers were desperate enough to hire even me. Due to a navigation error, our shuttle never made it to its destination. We were apprehended and boarded by the Murder Peanuts, taken into custody, and with something that could hardly even be called a trial, sentenced to death. Our captors did have the decency to offer us a choice in our method of execution. We were given a list full of weapons and poisonous compounds that I had never heard of before. I wasn't a scientist. I barely passed my intro chem class. I had literally just discovered that dihydrogen monoxide wasn't a horrible terrorist weapon, but was in fact just water. Looking at the list made me dizzy, so I asked the woman next to me to choose. She looked at me like I was stupid and just pointed at the list. Tetrahydrocannabinol. I had no idea what it was but it looked terrifying. I looked at her, my fear apparent. She gave me another confused look before smirking at me. I sighed. I couldn't even catch a break when facing death. We were supposed to be split into groups, but the overwhelming majority had chosen the same method, which intrigued me. Our executioners seemed shocked. I could see them murmuring amongst themselves, looking at us in awe. We were led into the execution chambers two at a time. My neighbor and I went into the same pod. She seemed relaxed, and even excited. I decided she was definitely crazy. "You bipeds are brave, I will give you that." A grating voice echoed around us. "The most lethal of our poisons... and the most painful. Brave? Or just stupid." A low chuckle filled the room, accompanied by a gas of some kind. His words stung, and I was convinced that the strange substance would too. I decided in that moment that I was not brave. I screamed and ran around the pod, banging on the walls, begging to be let out. My neighbor laughed. I started hyperventilating. She laughed even harder as I grew faint. My voice was hoarse and I started to cough. I ran a couple more steps and fell over. Everything went dark. \# *So this is what happens to you when you die.* I thought. I was laying on the ground somewhere, feeling light. *I thought it would hurt more. Why did I think it would hurt? You can't feel things if you're dead. Or do you? Nobody really knows what happens when you die. Maybe I've been dead this whole time.* "Dude." I heard a voice next to me. "You shoulda seen your face." I opened my eyes to see a familiar face hovering over mine. She was giggling. "Oh my god this is priceless!" I narrowed my eyes. "Am I not dead?" I said, starting to feel less groggy. "No. You just fell over and hit your head pretty hard while you were panicking." she said, still giggling. "You were like 'AAAAAA' and then you just 'psshshh'" she snorted. "But..." I trailed off. I tried to understand what was happening, but I couldn't process much. My neighbor continued snorting, unable to control her amusement. After a couple moments I joined in. "You sound like a dying cow." I cackled. She screeched and rolled over on the ground, clutching her stomach. "'*I don't want to die! Waaaah'"* she mocked me, continuing to laugh. "Oh my god. I thought you were joking but you really-" she devolved into gibberish, trying to catch her breath. "You know that was just weed, right?" I gave her a confused look. "THC?" she prompted. "Are you stupid?" Understanding dawned on me. I looked closely at her face to see her eyes were red and unfocused. I was ***so*** *stupid.* "But-" I was interrupted suddenly by the hiss of the pod doors. The Murder Peanut executioner stood looking at us reverently. He (she? they?) fell to its knees, or whatever their equivalent was, and then to its face. "My gods..." he whispered, "you've come for us." My neighbor and I exchanged a look before bursting into laughter once more.

"So let me get this straight, If I survive this execution attempt I'm legally declared the leader of your whole planet?" I mention to my captor with the cocky grin I had become infamous for, Well that and voicing my own damn opinion but hey I'll fix that once I finish this message back to mission control, Hey by the way Jerry if you're looking for the basic details pre human contact this planet was still ruled in an royalist oligarchy, or at least what we would recognize as one. Post? Well keep reading and you'll see ​ *"And if you don't we will take great pleasure in wiping you and your kind from creation itself."* The obnoxiously smug translucent soon to be servant of mine said, somehow emitting the exact mental image of a slightly tipsy frat boy who's dad has blackmail on everyone in his college. Yes I know this isn't exactly the most scientific wording but fuck off Oh by the way tell that UTTER CUNTWANG OF A GENERAL Jeremiha I FUCKING QUIT! "Sure, so why exactly do you have this rule? It seems almost DESIGNED to allow for easy takeover by anyone with even the slightest capability to tamper, I mean sure you've got that whole 'mind link' thing going on but still that seems easy to bypass and what's stopping you from just lying?" I mention off-handedly and recieve back a strange look, like I've said something our translators can't pick up on *"Well it my keep your stupid, flawed, fleshy simulacrum of the great consciousness operating for a few more ticks but it won't save you from the gas. Speaking of which, we're here. You'll soon learn what happens to those who oppose the Dalaveora empire..."* It spoke with the fervour of a cultist. Before me stood a great monument death, hovering on mag-lev pillars stood what could be accurately described as a greenhouse, both in the literal and metaphoric sense. Looking at the group leading me to my 'death' I could see them recoil and try to avoid the various plants and when I saw that reaction I couldn't help but laugh "I-is that stuff the execution method?" I asked in what the translator interpreted as fear. *"Not so confident now are yo-"* I couldn't hold back the laughter and it burst out heartily confounding those around me, their semi-amorphous forms gesturing to each other in confusion and resentment *"You know I don't think he qualifies for having Dalaveroran rights. Do we need to go through any of the formalities with this one? No? good!"* The target of my jokes wrapped it's featherlike textured tendrills around my body and I instinctively broke out of it "I thought I told you fuckers. Don't. Grab me like that. It's obvious to this whole damn planet I could easy go full fucking doomslayer on your asses and the only reason I haven't is because I have the grace, and strength of will to not do so. To show you all a better way... Now I'm going to go in there, get high as shit and when I come out you're all going to treat me with the respect I fucking deserve... First that shithead general sends me the fucking boonies and now this?.." I muttered to myself in what in hindsight is kinda cringe but in my defense I was captive on an alien planet without water for a day before this so not in the BEST frame of mind. ANYWAY on with the report / universe's best notice of resignation. So I had just laughed in the face of then temporarily disabled one of my captors before demanding they all try and kill me because they're just THAT terrible at their jobs ~~I'm not fucking drungk fucc off I can tyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy~~ Ok sorry about literally everything above this I got plastered last night and thought it'd be a good idea to write my report then. Quite frankly I still hate pretty much all of you though so have fun deciphering what's fact and what's 'I got pissed and started writing a report / resignation letter' anyway back to the report. After that whole fiasco infront of the exectution chamber I head in expecting to not die because well you'll see and they get into their positions (sorry if this is a bit lacking in detail in my defense I'm extremely hungover the newly dubbed 'Chadians' really know how to make good vodka and cokes) and the room was all glass, like entirely sea through. The asshole who'd been leading me to my 'death' started going on a propagandist rant about my crimes of having a different opinions, shit like 'Unity is our strength' 'To question us is to declare yourself a non-believer' and other cringe. Thankfully I was scheduled to die at that point so the gasses start flowing into my chamber. I'll give you three guesses as to what the gas they used is. Steam? No good try Lavender oil? Closer but not quite there Essential oils? Ok that's just the same answer with more delusions attached. Fuck outta here Karen. Ok I'll stop strawmanning you guys and tell you, It was fucking WEED! CANNIBIS, THAT MARY JANE. MARRI JAMMIGE. You would not believe how hard I started laughing, it was like my childhood crush just slipped on a banana peel infront of his girlfriend and fucking DIED ON IMPACT it was that funny. ​ So yeah...from there after I came out practically unharmed, red eyes though. So they thought I was near dead but still technically in charge of the planet so when I said "So... first things first, I need a drink of water" they were a bit shocked. Eventually I led the people to the ruler's palace and as per the rules I was given the proper things and from there spent the rest of the day drinking like it was the heat death of the universe. ​ In summary, landed on that planet, ship got disabled, I'm now the ruler of it because I got gassed with weed vape, Fuck you General you're a prick and I hope you die of a heart attack while your wife watches. I'm out.

[WP] You, a Human, have been sentenced to death on an alien planet. The method of execution: gas chamber. However, the compound used in executions, Tetrahydrocannabinol, isn't quite as lethal to humans as your executioners expect.

The last week had been brutal. I had been on a transport shuttle to one of the newer planets in my galaxy to study some sculptures in an ancient palace that had recently been discovered. I was broke and fresh out of grad school, where I hadn't had the time or energy to do anything but write research papers, cry over my nearly failing grades, and sleep. This project was the only employment I had been able to secure, mostly because the planet was close to D-4-UP-3, a hostile area populated by a fearsome alien species that we humans affectionately called Murder Peanuts, that nobody else wanted it. My employers were desperate enough to hire even me. Due to a navigation error, our shuttle never made it to its destination. We were apprehended and boarded by the Murder Peanuts, taken into custody, and with something that could hardly even be called a trial, sentenced to death. Our captors did have the decency to offer us a choice in our method of execution. We were given a list full of weapons and poisonous compounds that I had never heard of before. I wasn't a scientist. I barely passed my intro chem class. I had literally just discovered that dihydrogen monoxide wasn't a horrible terrorist weapon, but was in fact just water. Looking at the list made me dizzy, so I asked the woman next to me to choose. She looked at me like I was stupid and just pointed at the list. Tetrahydrocannabinol. I had no idea what it was but it looked terrifying. I looked at her, my fear apparent. She gave me another confused look before smirking at me. I sighed. I couldn't even catch a break when facing death. We were supposed to be split into groups, but the overwhelming majority had chosen the same method, which intrigued me. Our executioners seemed shocked. I could see them murmuring amongst themselves, looking at us in awe. We were led into the execution chambers two at a time. My neighbor and I went into the same pod. She seemed relaxed, and even excited. I decided she was definitely crazy. "You bipeds are brave, I will give you that." A grating voice echoed around us. "The most lethal of our poisons... and the most painful. Brave? Or just stupid." A low chuckle filled the room, accompanied by a gas of some kind. His words stung, and I was convinced that the strange substance would too. I decided in that moment that I was not brave. I screamed and ran around the pod, banging on the walls, begging to be let out. My neighbor laughed. I started hyperventilating. She laughed even harder as I grew faint. My voice was hoarse and I started to cough. I ran a couple more steps and fell over. Everything went dark. \# *So this is what happens to you when you die.* I thought. I was laying on the ground somewhere, feeling light. *I thought it would hurt more. Why did I think it would hurt? You can't feel things if you're dead. Or do you? Nobody really knows what happens when you die. Maybe I've been dead this whole time.* "Dude." I heard a voice next to me. "You shoulda seen your face." I opened my eyes to see a familiar face hovering over mine. She was giggling. "Oh my god this is priceless!" I narrowed my eyes. "Am I not dead?" I said, starting to feel less groggy. "No. You just fell over and hit your head pretty hard while you were panicking." she said, still giggling. "You were like 'AAAAAA' and then you just 'psshshh'" she snorted. "But..." I trailed off. I tried to understand what was happening, but I couldn't process much. My neighbor continued snorting, unable to control her amusement. After a couple moments I joined in. "You sound like a dying cow." I cackled. She screeched and rolled over on the ground, clutching her stomach. "'*I don't want to die! Waaaah'"* she mocked me, continuing to laugh. "Oh my god. I thought you were joking but you really-" she devolved into gibberish, trying to catch her breath. "You know that was just weed, right?" I gave her a confused look. "THC?" she prompted. "Are you stupid?" Understanding dawned on me. I looked closely at her face to see her eyes were red and unfocused. I was ***so*** *stupid.* "But-" I was interrupted suddenly by the hiss of the pod doors. The Murder Peanut executioner stood looking at us reverently. He (she? they?) fell to its knees, or whatever their equivalent was, and then to its face. "My gods..." he whispered, "you've come for us." My neighbor and I exchanged a look before bursting into laughter once more.

*So this it is.* *Every decision and stupid mistake that I made has led me to dying on a planet 784 thousand lightyears away from the nearest person that cares about me.* This is the recurring thought that crossed Bobby’s mind as he made his way through the gauntlet that was the executioner’s chamber on the little planet know as Clommonnastradaum. Bobby had been on Clommonnastradaum for what felt like an eternity, but what really only equated to about five days back on Earth. The story of how he had made it to this peculiar little planet was a long and complicated one, principally involving his chasing of a beautiful girl named Ophelia to Elon Musk’s colony on Mars and a brief lapse in judgement where Bobby had attempted to drive a spaceship through a wormhole to avoid the galactic authorities. One thing Bobby noticed fairly quickly in his time on Clommonnastradaum is that he had yet to see any of the planet’s natives give off any kind of semblance of emotion, whether it be anger or happiness. They had picked him up not long after he had flown through the wormhole and landed in the this new solar system, which his ship had indicated was 784 thousand lightyears from his colony on Mars. *From the hands of one galactic authority to another, as is the way of an intergalactic outlaw*, he guessed. The only questions that they had asked him upon capturing his ship were “where are your people?” and “what are your intentions?”. Neither question Bobby had a very good answer for considering he had no people, outside of Ophelia, and his intentions were something he could never quite grasp himself. His lackluster answers did not sit well with captors. The Clommonnastradaumians were a dull people. The only things that they seemed to enjoy was their assigned roles by the galactic government and unrelentless efficiency. Sex had been considered an “inefficient” means of procreation for over 100 years now, and had been largely forgotten by the Clommonnastradaumians. The average Clommonnastradaumian stood approximately seven feet tall, with lanky limbs that somewhat resembled that of an NBA basketball player on earth. They had tangerine colored skin and a tail that served as a third arm. They wore plain clothes and spoke in soft tones. As such, it was difficult for Bobby to distinguish one Clommonnastradaumian from another. They held Bobby in a white six-by-six foot room while they tried to figure out what they would do with him. The only item in the room was a mattress that was connected to the floor with a pillow that could not be removed. The room was automatically temperature controlled, responding to Bobby’s body temperature and adjusting so that he would not need a blanket or additional clothing. While he was relatively comfortable, Bobby’s mind raced without any stimulation as he waited for his captors. All he could think of was Ophelia and his hatred of the galactic government that forced him to run from her and into the worm hole. While he was not without fault in the matter, he was not ready to quite blame himself. The longer he was held there the more restless and unpredictable he became. By the fifth day he had practically whittled down his fingernails into nothing and could not take it anymore. He slammed on the door to his room until a Clommonnastradaumian arrived. *Bad move.* Frustration and anger were not tolerated by the Clommonnastradaumians. As such, he was told he was a dangerous being and was to be put down in the most gentle way possible (for lack of the word humane in Clommonnastradaum). This, of course, they did in the most professional and unemotional way. He was led down a long, white hallway into what he was told was the executioner’s chamber. He thought about trying to run for it as these beings did not seem like the most physically intimidating, despite their striking stature. He marched on for lack of a better idea. The walls of the execution chamber were dark grey and the only thing in the room was tinted glass sphere, about the size of his small space ship, with a hermetically sealed door facing him. Above the glass chamber there was a sign that read “For executional purposes only”. The Clommonnastradaumians pushed him into the sphere without saying a word. Bobby sat on his knees in the middle of the glass sphere and looked up. He had always thought of the idea of getting old as nauseating (Bobby was currently 29), but now actually confronted with idea of death, all he could think of was an image of hm and Ophelia sitting on the porch of their colony house, both wrinkled and weathered by age. *Goodbye Ophelia, I hope you find more happiness without me,* he thought. The machine made three subdued sounds before the gas started coming out. Bobby was told the name of the chemical, but it had a long and seemingly uninteresting name so Bobby had tuned the Clommonnastradaumian out. The gas, a thick and smoky color, quickly filled the tinted glass sphere with Bobby inside. Bobby coughed on became light headed. Then he noticed the smell. It was a smell all too familiar to Bobby. This was no ordinary chemical, this was what we like to call weed on Earth (or ganja, grass, cannabis, reefer, etc.) and Bobby was liked to think of himself as a connoisseur of the substance. He couldn’t help but to immediately chuckle once he made this connection. The Clommonnastradaumian outside of the chamber did not appreciate this chuckle. Just as with the emotions of anger or frustration, signs of joy or happiness were also not tolerated as the were emotions of less-evolved, unstable beings. Bobby saw the alien cock his head to the side in wonder. Bobby knew that he must fake his own death and put on a show for his captor audience. He faked a few spasms and fell to the floor of the glass sphere, then waited without moving a muscle while more gas continually poured into the chamber. Bobby continued to lie on the floor of the glass sphere while he waited for the Clommonnastradaumians to make the next move. Then in a haze he realized his worst fear. *He had to cough.* While Bobby was a veteran smoker it had not left his lungs better for wear. He sweat as he tried to hold in in, but it was only a matter of time. “ACHPHEM!” *Oh fuck,* he thought. The Clommonnastradaumians approached the door of the glass sphere and looked directly at Bobby. Bobby knew the jig was up and looked up at his captors and smiled a big, goofy stoned-eyed smile. The aliens spoke amongst themselves, inaudibly to Bobby due to their soft tone, before deciding to open the door of the glass sphere. Smoke billowed out of the chamber, wafting in the face of the Clommonnastradaumians. All three immediately fell dead to the floor. The lethality of THC to the Clommonnastradaumians lies in their anatomy. The brain of the Clommonnastradaumians, while not completely dissimiliar to that of an Earthling, had evolved in a way that even mild stimulation from THC sent a lethal dose of dopamine to the brain as stimulation was not, as a Clommonnastradaumian would say, efficient. There had not been an execution for decades and the captors were unsure if the machine even worked anymore after seeing Bobby able to withstand such a high dose. A very stoned Bobby crawls out of the door of the tinted glass sphere. *Well, where the fuck do I go from here,* he thought.

[WP] You, a Human, have been sentenced to death on an alien planet. The method of execution: gas chamber. However, the compound used in executions, Tetrahydrocannabinol, isn't quite as lethal to humans as your executioners expect.

A shinning like awakens the inmate in the middle of the night. The cell doors open outward as the guards walk in. The light protrudes from the middle of the seven-fingered hands of the alien species. A light so bright only the strongest flashlight could produce back on Earth. No words are spoken, for no words are needed. Even if they were needed, it would be impossible. The languages of the two are not compatible, as one speaks via sound waves coming through the air, while the other speaks via electrons through the mind. The inmate is grabbed by the chains that hang from his wrists, his body jerked off the stone block from which he rested. "It is my long-awaited time", he thought, as the guards quickly dragged him through the dim-lit hallway. A wretched stench quickly rushed through his nostrils, as if a skunk had just passed by, or a barrel of diesel had been spilled. Fear of death was not in his mind, as the other inmates had all but come back to their cells. However, the crushingly constant worry of losing his consciousness, his state of mind if you will, gazed his eyes in wonder. All the others had come back...different. Some would be quiet, with a distant stare. Others would come back with a manic laughter, seemingly unable to control it. "What will become of me? What will they do to me?" his mind shouted internally as he riffled through the possibilities. Was he going to be probed? Mind control? The anticipation was agonizing. After all, it would only be a few more seconds until he finds out what there is at the other side of the great green door. The door opened to a white and windowless room. The smell that was lingering in the hallway now protruded over every surface. A lonely chair and a small table stood in the middle. Before he could look at anything else, he was dragged and sat on the chair. His chains became loose without a key, and the guards quickly rushed off. His palms turned damp and cold. His legs could've very well been gone, as a sudden numbness grazed his lower body. His heart began pounding faster and stronger. More blood began to pump through his veins and up his neck to his brain. His ears slowly started to ring, developing into a loud and high-pitched noise. His eyes, his eyelids, his lips, all started twitching uncontrollably. It was then that he noticed the vents on the floor. White smoke began to rise from the floor, and like a mist it began to hover over every surface of the room. He held his breath, with his eyes watering as the incoming gas-like substance surrounded him. "Is this arsenic? Anthrax? Chlorine?" he wondered as he tried to remember the chemistry course he took in college. If only he had paid attention, but instead preferred to look up the cute girl's skirt when the teacher wasn't looking. Finally, his breath could hold no more. He gasped for air, his lungs filled up with the white smoke that surrounded the room from floor to ceiling. A fire-like burning sensation rushed from the bottom of his chest to the tight-knot on his throat. He began to cough, but quickly realized how familiar of a feeling this was. He had coughed like this before, not from the flu nor the plague, but from something else. The flashbacks of sitting in class in quickly shifted to his dorm room. Pictures of himself surrounded by his friends while they called him a "lightweight" and a "bitch" displayed in front of his eyes. It was then that his heart rate started slowing down, and his jaw began to ease. He coughed some more, and then some more, and then composed himself. He was used to this feeling, and he knew what was coming. It was as if he had prepared for this moment his entire life. As does an athlete when he trains for the Olympics, he had been training for years to withstand this chemical. This room was his Arena. The aliens were his audience. It was finally his time to show what he could do. He stood from the chair and faced the door from which he entered. Confidently, he shouted at the aliens "You don't know who you're fucking with! I went to Colorado State!"

*So this it is.* *Every decision and stupid mistake that I made has led me to dying on a planet 784 thousand lightyears away from the nearest person that cares about me.* This is the recurring thought that crossed Bobby’s mind as he made his way through the gauntlet that was the executioner’s chamber on the little planet know as Clommonnastradaum. Bobby had been on Clommonnastradaum for what felt like an eternity, but what really only equated to about five days back on Earth. The story of how he had made it to this peculiar little planet was a long and complicated one, principally involving his chasing of a beautiful girl named Ophelia to Elon Musk’s colony on Mars and a brief lapse in judgement where Bobby had attempted to drive a spaceship through a wormhole to avoid the galactic authorities. One thing Bobby noticed fairly quickly in his time on Clommonnastradaum is that he had yet to see any of the planet’s natives give off any kind of semblance of emotion, whether it be anger or happiness. They had picked him up not long after he had flown through the wormhole and landed in the this new solar system, which his ship had indicated was 784 thousand lightyears from his colony on Mars. *From the hands of one galactic authority to another, as is the way of an intergalactic outlaw*, he guessed. The only questions that they had asked him upon capturing his ship were “where are your people?” and “what are your intentions?”. Neither question Bobby had a very good answer for considering he had no people, outside of Ophelia, and his intentions were something he could never quite grasp himself. His lackluster answers did not sit well with captors. The Clommonnastradaumians were a dull people. The only things that they seemed to enjoy was their assigned roles by the galactic government and unrelentless efficiency. Sex had been considered an “inefficient” means of procreation for over 100 years now, and had been largely forgotten by the Clommonnastradaumians. The average Clommonnastradaumian stood approximately seven feet tall, with lanky limbs that somewhat resembled that of an NBA basketball player on earth. They had tangerine colored skin and a tail that served as a third arm. They wore plain clothes and spoke in soft tones. As such, it was difficult for Bobby to distinguish one Clommonnastradaumian from another. They held Bobby in a white six-by-six foot room while they tried to figure out what they would do with him. The only item in the room was a mattress that was connected to the floor with a pillow that could not be removed. The room was automatically temperature controlled, responding to Bobby’s body temperature and adjusting so that he would not need a blanket or additional clothing. While he was relatively comfortable, Bobby’s mind raced without any stimulation as he waited for his captors. All he could think of was Ophelia and his hatred of the galactic government that forced him to run from her and into the worm hole. While he was not without fault in the matter, he was not ready to quite blame himself. The longer he was held there the more restless and unpredictable he became. By the fifth day he had practically whittled down his fingernails into nothing and could not take it anymore. He slammed on the door to his room until a Clommonnastradaumian arrived. *Bad move.* Frustration and anger were not tolerated by the Clommonnastradaumians. As such, he was told he was a dangerous being and was to be put down in the most gentle way possible (for lack of the word humane in Clommonnastradaum). This, of course, they did in the most professional and unemotional way. He was led down a long, white hallway into what he was told was the executioner’s chamber. He thought about trying to run for it as these beings did not seem like the most physically intimidating, despite their striking stature. He marched on for lack of a better idea. The walls of the execution chamber were dark grey and the only thing in the room was tinted glass sphere, about the size of his small space ship, with a hermetically sealed door facing him. Above the glass chamber there was a sign that read “For executional purposes only”. The Clommonnastradaumians pushed him into the sphere without saying a word. Bobby sat on his knees in the middle of the glass sphere and looked up. He had always thought of the idea of getting old as nauseating (Bobby was currently 29), but now actually confronted with idea of death, all he could think of was an image of hm and Ophelia sitting on the porch of their colony house, both wrinkled and weathered by age. *Goodbye Ophelia, I hope you find more happiness without me,* he thought. The machine made three subdued sounds before the gas started coming out. Bobby was told the name of the chemical, but it had a long and seemingly uninteresting name so Bobby had tuned the Clommonnastradaumian out. The gas, a thick and smoky color, quickly filled the tinted glass sphere with Bobby inside. Bobby coughed on became light headed. Then he noticed the smell. It was a smell all too familiar to Bobby. This was no ordinary chemical, this was what we like to call weed on Earth (or ganja, grass, cannabis, reefer, etc.) and Bobby was liked to think of himself as a connoisseur of the substance. He couldn’t help but to immediately chuckle once he made this connection. The Clommonnastradaumian outside of the chamber did not appreciate this chuckle. Just as with the emotions of anger or frustration, signs of joy or happiness were also not tolerated as the were emotions of less-evolved, unstable beings. Bobby saw the alien cock his head to the side in wonder. Bobby knew that he must fake his own death and put on a show for his captor audience. He faked a few spasms and fell to the floor of the glass sphere, then waited without moving a muscle while more gas continually poured into the chamber. Bobby continued to lie on the floor of the glass sphere while he waited for the Clommonnastradaumians to make the next move. Then in a haze he realized his worst fear. *He had to cough.* While Bobby was a veteran smoker it had not left his lungs better for wear. He sweat as he tried to hold in in, but it was only a matter of time. “ACHPHEM!” *Oh fuck,* he thought. The Clommonnastradaumians approached the door of the glass sphere and looked directly at Bobby. Bobby knew the jig was up and looked up at his captors and smiled a big, goofy stoned-eyed smile. The aliens spoke amongst themselves, inaudibly to Bobby due to their soft tone, before deciding to open the door of the glass sphere. Smoke billowed out of the chamber, wafting in the face of the Clommonnastradaumians. All three immediately fell dead to the floor. The lethality of THC to the Clommonnastradaumians lies in their anatomy. The brain of the Clommonnastradaumians, while not completely dissimiliar to that of an Earthling, had evolved in a way that even mild stimulation from THC sent a lethal dose of dopamine to the brain as stimulation was not, as a Clommonnastradaumian would say, efficient. There had not been an execution for decades and the captors were unsure if the machine even worked anymore after seeing Bobby able to withstand such a high dose. A very stoned Bobby crawls out of the door of the tinted glass sphere. *Well, where the fuck do I go from here,* he thought.

[WP] You, a Human, have been sentenced to death on an alien planet. The method of execution: gas chamber. However, the compound used in executions, Tetrahydrocannabinol, isn't quite as lethal to humans as your executioners expect.

A shinning like awakens the inmate in the middle of the night. The cell doors open outward as the guards walk in. The light protrudes from the middle of the seven-fingered hands of the alien species. A light so bright only the strongest flashlight could produce back on Earth. No words are spoken, for no words are needed. Even if they were needed, it would be impossible. The languages of the two are not compatible, as one speaks via sound waves coming through the air, while the other speaks via electrons through the mind. The inmate is grabbed by the chains that hang from his wrists, his body jerked off the stone block from which he rested. "It is my long-awaited time", he thought, as the guards quickly dragged him through the dim-lit hallway. A wretched stench quickly rushed through his nostrils, as if a skunk had just passed by, or a barrel of diesel had been spilled. Fear of death was not in his mind, as the other inmates had all but come back to their cells. However, the crushingly constant worry of losing his consciousness, his state of mind if you will, gazed his eyes in wonder. All the others had come back...different. Some would be quiet, with a distant stare. Others would come back with a manic laughter, seemingly unable to control it. "What will become of me? What will they do to me?" his mind shouted internally as he riffled through the possibilities. Was he going to be probed? Mind control? The anticipation was agonizing. After all, it would only be a few more seconds until he finds out what there is at the other side of the great green door. The door opened to a white and windowless room. The smell that was lingering in the hallway now protruded over every surface. A lonely chair and a small table stood in the middle. Before he could look at anything else, he was dragged and sat on the chair. His chains became loose without a key, and the guards quickly rushed off. His palms turned damp and cold. His legs could've very well been gone, as a sudden numbness grazed his lower body. His heart began pounding faster and stronger. More blood began to pump through his veins and up his neck to his brain. His ears slowly started to ring, developing into a loud and high-pitched noise. His eyes, his eyelids, his lips, all started twitching uncontrollably. It was then that he noticed the vents on the floor. White smoke began to rise from the floor, and like a mist it began to hover over every surface of the room. He held his breath, with his eyes watering as the incoming gas-like substance surrounded him. "Is this arsenic? Anthrax? Chlorine?" he wondered as he tried to remember the chemistry course he took in college. If only he had paid attention, but instead preferred to look up the cute girl's skirt when the teacher wasn't looking. Finally, his breath could hold no more. He gasped for air, his lungs filled up with the white smoke that surrounded the room from floor to ceiling. A fire-like burning sensation rushed from the bottom of his chest to the tight-knot on his throat. He began to cough, but quickly realized how familiar of a feeling this was. He had coughed like this before, not from the flu nor the plague, but from something else. The flashbacks of sitting in class in quickly shifted to his dorm room. Pictures of himself surrounded by his friends while they called him a "lightweight" and a "bitch" displayed in front of his eyes. It was then that his heart rate started slowing down, and his jaw began to ease. He coughed some more, and then some more, and then composed himself. He was used to this feeling, and he knew what was coming. It was as if he had prepared for this moment his entire life. As does an athlete when he trains for the Olympics, he had been training for years to withstand this chemical. This room was his Arena. The aliens were his audience. It was finally his time to show what he could do. He stood from the chair and faced the door from which he entered. Confidently, he shouted at the aliens "You don't know who you're fucking with! I went to Colorado State!"

The room started hissed as gas was forced inside. Carl panicked and started banging on the door begging to be let out fearing for his death. “You have broken our sacred law and desecrated a shrine. You will pay the ultimate price for treating our gods with such disrespect.” “Come on man! It was just some graphite to make the place interesting. I didn’t even know about that law either!” He sobbed. The aliens ignored him. Carl’s nose suddenly twitched and recognised the smell as soon as it reached his nose. Was this really the noxious war gas they used to dispatch their death sentence? The effects took a moment to set in. But when they did, Carl’s mind shattered. “Noooo!” His screams twisted into those of a dying animal. The aliens jumped and felt their skin crawl. That sound was terrifying. They’d never heard any human scream like that. Not even the human girl that they performed surgery on when they ran out of morphine. “My face! It’s melting off! Please let me out! I don’t want to walk around with a missing face! I can already not feel it!” This puzzled them, it was clear on the camera that there was nothing wrong with Carl’s face. It was still intact. His eyes were red and wet and contorted in fear. But they were still okay which was puzzling. This human should have his eyes bursting and he should be chucking up blood. Not screaming like a paranormal S’ancati. Their monitors picked up a spike in the human’s metabolism signalling that his stomach just sounded out in hunger confusing them even more. “Is the gas just sapping his strength?” One of the aliens wondered. “There must be something wrong.” “Just release more of it.” The hissing got louder as more gas burst in. Carl shrieked and unbuckled his belt. His hands shakenly wrapped it around his foot as he started punching it. “It bit me! That fucking snake bit me! Help!” He crawled into a corner where he curled up. He sucked in more air as he started hyperventilating. He pressed himself tightly to the ground thinking that he could float into outer space if he didn’t because of his lightheadedness. “Ahh! Why do I feel so light?” He cried. “Keep those sharp things away from me! I’ll pop,” he pointed at the shadows his fingers made. “*Shit!* call the high order.” —Cease the execution. You fools are just making him high— the high order demanded once everything was explained. —Who gave you the permission to impose our rule on the human tourist anyway?— “It is the will of Yaureid /yah-oh-raid/, sires. He desecrated a temple of the gods and he must be...” the unanimous glare of the high order shut him up. —FOOL! He *is* under the protection of Yaureid! He shall answer his crimes on his own world! Had this poison really killed him we could be susceptible to war! Execute this Fool!— Two guards grabbed his arms being careful to not slice themselves on his shoulder blades. They passed Carl by on their way to the chamber. The human was passed out from the sedatives he’d been given. At that moment the alien wished he was one of his kind to avoid his fate. Everyone was forced to look in horror as their friend melted away in excruciating pain for his mistake. Even as the skin on his face liquidated and fell from his bones, they were required to look on and make sure he served his sentence. r/PsyionicWrites

[WP] You, a Human, have been sentenced to death on an alien planet. The method of execution: gas chamber. However, the compound used in executions, Tetrahydrocannabinol, isn't quite as lethal to humans as your executioners expect.

I always wondered how it would all end. It’d been a miracle that I’d made it this long after the original earth invasion. My family... friends... everyone I’d ever loved had died the day massive unearthly ships came crashing through the skies, their lasers incinerating anything in their paths. I remember running, running so fast that my legs felt like they were going to give out but somehow...somehow I made it to the caves. No. I wouldn’t let myself think of my years in the caves, the last remaining humans that struggled to free my far away home. It was supposed to be a typical supply run but things had gone wrong. So horribly wrong. I glanced out the window of my small solitary cell on the strange alien planet my captors had taken me too. I’d been here almost a year now. A year filled with knives and screams. The green shine of their sun broke over the horizon lighting my cell. Today was the day. My end. My body was too broken for them to continue their testing so I was to be disposed of with the rest of the humans that’d made it this long in their labs. My bones groaned at the memory of that place. “It’s time, Kara,” the guard said opening the door to my cell. Mallark was one of the good ones. One of the few beastly creatures that seemed to have a soul. His eyes were full of sadness as they locked on my own. I tried to smile at him, tried to show that death didn’t scare me. He lead me down the too familiar hallways towards the looming iron door. We all knew what was behind that door, had been warned that if we didn’t obey they would take us there. The gas chamber. When we first arrived they’d shown us what happened to their prisoners in the chamber. Some creatures screamed, others flailed about clawing at their skin but always, always the death was miserable. A sob caught in my throat as the heavy iron door swung open revealing the compartment full of my fellow human beings. Their broken eyes swung up to meet my own. This was it, one more instance of pain and torture and then it would be over. I didn’t resist the soft push that sent me into the room. The door clanged shut behind me sending the room into darkness. There were no sobs echoing through the room, only silence. A year of being a lab rat would do that to any human. I sat, eyes squeezed shut, shoulders relaxed. Any minute now the green lights would start flashing and the gas would leak in through the grates. As if the thought alone activated the controls, dim green light surged behind my closed lids. I would not look at the curling plumes seeping towards me. A mangled hand gripped my own begging not to be alone in these last moments. I squeezed back tightly letting them know I was here. Best get it over with. I took a deep, slow breath and paused waiting for the pain. There was none. Another breath and then another I knew this smell. It was the sort of smell one could not forget even after years of its absence. It was the smell of a a college dorm and a too tightly packed elevator. It was the smell of years of fun and laughter with friends and late nights gorging on junk food. It was THAT smell. My eyes flew open the green light still flashing as I caught the gaze of the man across from me through the smoke. A smile tugged at his lips mirroring my own. His mouth parted, a soft chuckle falling out as he spoke with a voice raw from screaming “Bro”

The room started hissed as gas was forced inside. Carl panicked and started banging on the door begging to be let out fearing for his death. “You have broken our sacred law and desecrated a shrine. You will pay the ultimate price for treating our gods with such disrespect.” “Come on man! It was just some graphite to make the place interesting. I didn’t even know about that law either!” He sobbed. The aliens ignored him. Carl’s nose suddenly twitched and recognised the smell as soon as it reached his nose. Was this really the noxious war gas they used to dispatch their death sentence? The effects took a moment to set in. But when they did, Carl’s mind shattered. “Noooo!” His screams twisted into those of a dying animal. The aliens jumped and felt their skin crawl. That sound was terrifying. They’d never heard any human scream like that. Not even the human girl that they performed surgery on when they ran out of morphine. “My face! It’s melting off! Please let me out! I don’t want to walk around with a missing face! I can already not feel it!” This puzzled them, it was clear on the camera that there was nothing wrong with Carl’s face. It was still intact. His eyes were red and wet and contorted in fear. But they were still okay which was puzzling. This human should have his eyes bursting and he should be chucking up blood. Not screaming like a paranormal S’ancati. Their monitors picked up a spike in the human’s metabolism signalling that his stomach just sounded out in hunger confusing them even more. “Is the gas just sapping his strength?” One of the aliens wondered. “There must be something wrong.” “Just release more of it.” The hissing got louder as more gas burst in. Carl shrieked and unbuckled his belt. His hands shakenly wrapped it around his foot as he started punching it. “It bit me! That fucking snake bit me! Help!” He crawled into a corner where he curled up. He sucked in more air as he started hyperventilating. He pressed himself tightly to the ground thinking that he could float into outer space if he didn’t because of his lightheadedness. “Ahh! Why do I feel so light?” He cried. “Keep those sharp things away from me! I’ll pop,” he pointed at the shadows his fingers made. “*Shit!* call the high order.” —Cease the execution. You fools are just making him high— the high order demanded once everything was explained. —Who gave you the permission to impose our rule on the human tourist anyway?— “It is the will of Yaureid /yah-oh-raid/, sires. He desecrated a temple of the gods and he must be...” the unanimous glare of the high order shut him up. —FOOL! He *is* under the protection of Yaureid! He shall answer his crimes on his own world! Had this poison really killed him we could be susceptible to war! Execute this Fool!— Two guards grabbed his arms being careful to not slice themselves on his shoulder blades. They passed Carl by on their way to the chamber. The human was passed out from the sedatives he’d been given. At that moment the alien wished he was one of his kind to avoid his fate. Everyone was forced to look in horror as their friend melted away in excruciating pain for his mistake. Even as the skin on his face liquidated and fell from his bones, they were required to look on and make sure he served his sentence. r/PsyionicWrites

[WP] You, a Human, have been sentenced to death on an alien planet. The method of execution: gas chamber. However, the compound used in executions, Tetrahydrocannabinol, isn't quite as lethal to humans as your executioners expect.

The guard dragged me to the chamber. I tried struggling for about two minutes before I gave up. This alien guy was a 7 foot tall muscular thing and I’m a puny 5 foot something human. Long story short, I got stuck on some weird planet and I was sentenced to death. All I did was try to kidnap their equivalent of a king to take back to Earth to show my human friends. Now I know what you’re thinking- what kind of an idiot would be dumb enough to risk something like that? But I figured since things usually just work out for me, I’d take a chance. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the crowd that had come to see my execution. The guard dumped me into the chamber. Menacingly, he asked “Any last words?”. But he closes the door before I could even open my mouth. “You’ll be dead in 2 seconds”, he said. The crowd was already yelling. When the gas started coming in, it smelt oddly familiar. In a split second, I knew what it was. Weed. I sniffed a little more. Top quality stuff too. The room had started spinning. I started laughing uncontrollably and then started banging on the window. The noise outside suddenly diminished. I could see the audience whispering now and staring at me. “He should be dead by now”, I heard the guard mumble to his partner. Ten minutes later and I still wasn’t dead. They looked at me in awe. The guard pulled me out and shook me, he wasn’t menacing anymore. In fact he looked a little scared of me. I started laughing even harder and hugged him. And then something strange happened. One by one, the front row of the audience fell on their knees. And then, like dominoes, the rest followed suit. Soon the entire arena was kneeling down. “He has finally come.” “It’s a sign!” A woman started sobbing and held up her child. I was too high to try to figure out what was happening. So I closed my eyes for what I thought was barely 10 seconds. But when I opened them again, I was in a room, on a bed, in what looked like their equivalent of a 7-star hotel. I rubbed my eyes and I wiped the drool off of my chin. The door was open and I could see a queue of people waiting outside. “My lord, are you awake?”, said a low voice near my head, “will you bless our people?” I blinked a few times. Like I said, things just always work out for me.

The room started hissed as gas was forced inside. Carl panicked and started banging on the door begging to be let out fearing for his death. “You have broken our sacred law and desecrated a shrine. You will pay the ultimate price for treating our gods with such disrespect.” “Come on man! It was just some graphite to make the place interesting. I didn’t even know about that law either!” He sobbed. The aliens ignored him. Carl’s nose suddenly twitched and recognised the smell as soon as it reached his nose. Was this really the noxious war gas they used to dispatch their death sentence? The effects took a moment to set in. But when they did, Carl’s mind shattered. “Noooo!” His screams twisted into those of a dying animal. The aliens jumped and felt their skin crawl. That sound was terrifying. They’d never heard any human scream like that. Not even the human girl that they performed surgery on when they ran out of morphine. “My face! It’s melting off! Please let me out! I don’t want to walk around with a missing face! I can already not feel it!” This puzzled them, it was clear on the camera that there was nothing wrong with Carl’s face. It was still intact. His eyes were red and wet and contorted in fear. But they were still okay which was puzzling. This human should have his eyes bursting and he should be chucking up blood. Not screaming like a paranormal S’ancati. Their monitors picked up a spike in the human’s metabolism signalling that his stomach just sounded out in hunger confusing them even more. “Is the gas just sapping his strength?” One of the aliens wondered. “There must be something wrong.” “Just release more of it.” The hissing got louder as more gas burst in. Carl shrieked and unbuckled his belt. His hands shakenly wrapped it around his foot as he started punching it. “It bit me! That fucking snake bit me! Help!” He crawled into a corner where he curled up. He sucked in more air as he started hyperventilating. He pressed himself tightly to the ground thinking that he could float into outer space if he didn’t because of his lightheadedness. “Ahh! Why do I feel so light?” He cried. “Keep those sharp things away from me! I’ll pop,” he pointed at the shadows his fingers made. “*Shit!* call the high order.” —Cease the execution. You fools are just making him high— the high order demanded once everything was explained. —Who gave you the permission to impose our rule on the human tourist anyway?— “It is the will of Yaureid /yah-oh-raid/, sires. He desecrated a temple of the gods and he must be...” the unanimous glare of the high order shut him up. —FOOL! He *is* under the protection of Yaureid! He shall answer his crimes on his own world! Had this poison really killed him we could be susceptible to war! Execute this Fool!— Two guards grabbed his arms being careful to not slice themselves on his shoulder blades. They passed Carl by on their way to the chamber. The human was passed out from the sedatives he’d been given. At that moment the alien wished he was one of his kind to avoid his fate. Everyone was forced to look in horror as their friend melted away in excruciating pain for his mistake. Even as the skin on his face liquidated and fell from his bones, they were required to look on and make sure he served his sentence. r/PsyionicWrites

[WP] You, a Human, have been sentenced to death on an alien planet. The method of execution: gas chamber. However, the compound used in executions, Tetrahydrocannabinol, isn't quite as lethal to humans as your executioners expect.

The council was stunned. The hapless humanoid creature lay on the ground of the gas chamber with his hands cradling his head, an expression of contentment on his face. "Impossible!" The priestess of Maarken spat as she crossed her three sets of arms. "Bring me the Toka at once!" "Y-y-yess Your Holiness," one of the council stammered, before rushing off. "We must find out the meaning of this. If this creature cannot be killed, that can only mean one thing," the priestess said gravely. "The prophesy of the Toka is true, and we are all doomed." Meanwhile Kyle was stoned out of his mind. He wasn't sure whether or not he would die, but his mind was beginning to relax deeply as visions of plump, juicy, watermelon caused the dry feeling in his mouth to become more unbearable. If this was how Kyle was going to go, he was glad for it. A rumble in his belly caused Kyle to errupt into a fit of giggles. "This is a mockery," cried the priestess. "While we await the sacred Toka let us not be idle. Perhaps inhalation is futile. Bring forth the Green Death!" Moments later Kyle shot up as an alien in what could only be compared to a hazmat suit placed a tray in the gas chamber and ran away quickly. He couldn't believe his eyes. In front of him was a huge molded Jello cake, the greenest he had ever laid eyes on, in the shape of a cannabis leaf. Kyle took bite after bite of the Jello without hesitation. His mind slowly slipped even deeper into a high state. He laughed merrily as the realization dawned on him. "You tried to kill me with weed? Ganja? The devil's lettuce?" He laughed and laughed. Tears began to roll out of his reddened eyes and soon he found himself seriously needing to pee. He sauntered over to the drain in the ground and reveled in the euphoric feeling of emptying his full bladder. He sang loudly, and not well, as he did his business. Above him in the observation chamber the council was in an uproar. Some members had begun to vomit violently. Others with stronger constitutions either averted their eyes or stared on in wide-mouthed horror. The priestess of Maarken had tears streaming down her face. "First, he releases a foul gas from the Unspeakable Place, earning his death sentence, and now, and now this! The horror! The utter disgust!" She sobbed violently.

The room started hissed as gas was forced inside. Carl panicked and started banging on the door begging to be let out fearing for his death. “You have broken our sacred law and desecrated a shrine. You will pay the ultimate price for treating our gods with such disrespect.” “Come on man! It was just some graphite to make the place interesting. I didn’t even know about that law either!” He sobbed. The aliens ignored him. Carl’s nose suddenly twitched and recognised the smell as soon as it reached his nose. Was this really the noxious war gas they used to dispatch their death sentence? The effects took a moment to set in. But when they did, Carl’s mind shattered. “Noooo!” His screams twisted into those of a dying animal. The aliens jumped and felt their skin crawl. That sound was terrifying. They’d never heard any human scream like that. Not even the human girl that they performed surgery on when they ran out of morphine. “My face! It’s melting off! Please let me out! I don’t want to walk around with a missing face! I can already not feel it!” This puzzled them, it was clear on the camera that there was nothing wrong with Carl’s face. It was still intact. His eyes were red and wet and contorted in fear. But they were still okay which was puzzling. This human should have his eyes bursting and he should be chucking up blood. Not screaming like a paranormal S’ancati. Their monitors picked up a spike in the human’s metabolism signalling that his stomach just sounded out in hunger confusing them even more. “Is the gas just sapping his strength?” One of the aliens wondered. “There must be something wrong.” “Just release more of it.” The hissing got louder as more gas burst in. Carl shrieked and unbuckled his belt. His hands shakenly wrapped it around his foot as he started punching it. “It bit me! That fucking snake bit me! Help!” He crawled into a corner where he curled up. He sucked in more air as he started hyperventilating. He pressed himself tightly to the ground thinking that he could float into outer space if he didn’t because of his lightheadedness. “Ahh! Why do I feel so light?” He cried. “Keep those sharp things away from me! I’ll pop,” he pointed at the shadows his fingers made. “*Shit!* call the high order.” —Cease the execution. You fools are just making him high— the high order demanded once everything was explained. —Who gave you the permission to impose our rule on the human tourist anyway?— “It is the will of Yaureid /yah-oh-raid/, sires. He desecrated a temple of the gods and he must be...” the unanimous glare of the high order shut him up. —FOOL! He *is* under the protection of Yaureid! He shall answer his crimes on his own world! Had this poison really killed him we could be susceptible to war! Execute this Fool!— Two guards grabbed his arms being careful to not slice themselves on his shoulder blades. They passed Carl by on their way to the chamber. The human was passed out from the sedatives he’d been given. At that moment the alien wished he was one of his kind to avoid his fate. Everyone was forced to look in horror as their friend melted away in excruciating pain for his mistake. Even as the skin on his face liquidated and fell from his bones, they were required to look on and make sure he served his sentence. r/PsyionicWrites

[WP] You, a Human, have been sentenced to death on an alien planet. The method of execution: gas chamber. However, the compound used in executions, Tetrahydrocannabinol, isn't quite as lethal to humans as your executioners expect.

A shinning like awakens the inmate in the middle of the night. The cell doors open outward as the guards walk in. The light protrudes from the middle of the seven-fingered hands of the alien species. A light so bright only the strongest flashlight could produce back on Earth. No words are spoken, for no words are needed. Even if they were needed, it would be impossible. The languages of the two are not compatible, as one speaks via sound waves coming through the air, while the other speaks via electrons through the mind. The inmate is grabbed by the chains that hang from his wrists, his body jerked off the stone block from which he rested. "It is my long-awaited time", he thought, as the guards quickly dragged him through the dim-lit hallway. A wretched stench quickly rushed through his nostrils, as if a skunk had just passed by, or a barrel of diesel had been spilled. Fear of death was not in his mind, as the other inmates had all but come back to their cells. However, the crushingly constant worry of losing his consciousness, his state of mind if you will, gazed his eyes in wonder. All the others had come back...different. Some would be quiet, with a distant stare. Others would come back with a manic laughter, seemingly unable to control it. "What will become of me? What will they do to me?" his mind shouted internally as he riffled through the possibilities. Was he going to be probed? Mind control? The anticipation was agonizing. After all, it would only be a few more seconds until he finds out what there is at the other side of the great green door. The door opened to a white and windowless room. The smell that was lingering in the hallway now protruded over every surface. A lonely chair and a small table stood in the middle. Before he could look at anything else, he was dragged and sat on the chair. His chains became loose without a key, and the guards quickly rushed off. His palms turned damp and cold. His legs could've very well been gone, as a sudden numbness grazed his lower body. His heart began pounding faster and stronger. More blood began to pump through his veins and up his neck to his brain. His ears slowly started to ring, developing into a loud and high-pitched noise. His eyes, his eyelids, his lips, all started twitching uncontrollably. It was then that he noticed the vents on the floor. White smoke began to rise from the floor, and like a mist it began to hover over every surface of the room. He held his breath, with his eyes watering as the incoming gas-like substance surrounded him. "Is this arsenic? Anthrax? Chlorine?" he wondered as he tried to remember the chemistry course he took in college. If only he had paid attention, but instead preferred to look up the cute girl's skirt when the teacher wasn't looking. Finally, his breath could hold no more. He gasped for air, his lungs filled up with the white smoke that surrounded the room from floor to ceiling. A fire-like burning sensation rushed from the bottom of his chest to the tight-knot on his throat. He began to cough, but quickly realized how familiar of a feeling this was. He had coughed like this before, not from the flu nor the plague, but from something else. The flashbacks of sitting in class in quickly shifted to his dorm room. Pictures of himself surrounded by his friends while they called him a "lightweight" and a "bitch" displayed in front of his eyes. It was then that his heart rate started slowing down, and his jaw began to ease. He coughed some more, and then some more, and then composed himself. He was used to this feeling, and he knew what was coming. It was as if he had prepared for this moment his entire life. As does an athlete when he trains for the Olympics, he had been training for years to withstand this chemical. This room was his Arena. The aliens were his audience. It was finally his time to show what he could do. He stood from the chair and faced the door from which he entered. Confidently, he shouted at the aliens "You don't know who you're fucking with! I went to Colorado State!"

Skarlax tapped his eleven fingers on what passed for a knee. "This is ridiculous." he erupts. "We clearly don't understand this creatures chemistry." "The text of the law is clear. We must use a moral method of execution. Otherwise how can we call our selves civilized?" A high standing law priest by the name of Zaglux retorted. "Just one of their kind wipe out an entire birthing pod in 10 cycles. How can we expect to remain civilized after such an egregious attack?" "I can only tell you what the law states. It's is your job to enforce it." Skarlax tried to read the room. There were some higher ranking families in the viewing room of the execution chamber. They were the parents of some of those lost. The rest of the many thousands would be watching via remote screen. Great sorrow could be felt in every posture and facial expression. He looked at the mad alien creature in the smokey execution chamber. It pink skin and patches of hair made it look sickly and near death. It's eyes were slits that spoke of or loss of control. It's teeth were bared in what could only be aggression. The worst was it's upturned mouth. Skarlax knew the nasty taunt from his youth and from working with the worst of the worst throughout his career. "Flush the room. I'm going to end this." Skarlax quickly donned a protective suit and unsheathed a blade that had previously only been ceremonial. He step into the chamber and turned to address the families. "It is my duty to enforce justice. Our deadliest quickest poisons have had no effect. To give you all peace and to end this criminal with as little pain as possible. I will be performing a traditional *Ras-sak-a*. Those with young children viewing may wish to look away." A murmur went over the small crowd and he imagined a similar gasp went up at the remote viewing stations. It was unorthodox, but everything about this was. He knew his duty. He turned to the thing that called itself *hoo-man*. In the war he had performed this act many times. Sometimes as a mercy to those who could not be saved sometimes as a stealthy trick to make a quiet kill before moving on. It was simple. He'd make an incision in the lower torso which would impede breathing, then he would reach inside and compress the *stangalian* nerve to cease all autonomic functions. It was more a more peaceful end than this thing deserved. The skin was far thicker than his species so it took a few attempts to penetrate. The creature release a high pitch keen that he would have thought impossible after the loss of air to it's system. Confused Skarlax reached inside quickly to silence it. But he could locate the nerve. The lungs were missing as well. There was a strange red fluid and viscera that slide from the opening. He continued searching adding another hand in his panic. But there was no nerve. He next thought was to destroy the logic centers. To two locations were all nerves met decisions were made. The east and west cities of logic and feelings that the poets wouldn't shut up about. He quickly made numerous alternating stabs into the thighs anticipating the silence and finality he'd been trying for. But this demon didn't stop. If anything it got louder. It may have been making language though the executor could only see an undead thing from fairy tales or some immortal monster. There was nothing more to be done short of burning it alive. He stepped out of the execution chamber. He had no words for the families or the law priests. "Cut the feed" Law priest Zaglux said. And suddenly in place of the noise of this screaming otherworldly thing clawing at it's restraints the was only silence. There would be no justice today.

[WP] You, a Human, have been sentenced to death on an alien planet. The method of execution: gas chamber. However, the compound used in executions, Tetrahydrocannabinol, isn't quite as lethal to humans as your executioners expect.

I always wondered how it would all end. It’d been a miracle that I’d made it this long after the original earth invasion. My family... friends... everyone I’d ever loved had died the day massive unearthly ships came crashing through the skies, their lasers incinerating anything in their paths. I remember running, running so fast that my legs felt like they were going to give out but somehow...somehow I made it to the caves. No. I wouldn’t let myself think of my years in the caves, the last remaining humans that struggled to free my far away home. It was supposed to be a typical supply run but things had gone wrong. So horribly wrong. I glanced out the window of my small solitary cell on the strange alien planet my captors had taken me too. I’d been here almost a year now. A year filled with knives and screams. The green shine of their sun broke over the horizon lighting my cell. Today was the day. My end. My body was too broken for them to continue their testing so I was to be disposed of with the rest of the humans that’d made it this long in their labs. My bones groaned at the memory of that place. “It’s time, Kara,” the guard said opening the door to my cell. Mallark was one of the good ones. One of the few beastly creatures that seemed to have a soul. His eyes were full of sadness as they locked on my own. I tried to smile at him, tried to show that death didn’t scare me. He lead me down the too familiar hallways towards the looming iron door. We all knew what was behind that door, had been warned that if we didn’t obey they would take us there. The gas chamber. When we first arrived they’d shown us what happened to their prisoners in the chamber. Some creatures screamed, others flailed about clawing at their skin but always, always the death was miserable. A sob caught in my throat as the heavy iron door swung open revealing the compartment full of my fellow human beings. Their broken eyes swung up to meet my own. This was it, one more instance of pain and torture and then it would be over. I didn’t resist the soft push that sent me into the room. The door clanged shut behind me sending the room into darkness. There were no sobs echoing through the room, only silence. A year of being a lab rat would do that to any human. I sat, eyes squeezed shut, shoulders relaxed. Any minute now the green lights would start flashing and the gas would leak in through the grates. As if the thought alone activated the controls, dim green light surged behind my closed lids. I would not look at the curling plumes seeping towards me. A mangled hand gripped my own begging not to be alone in these last moments. I squeezed back tightly letting them know I was here. Best get it over with. I took a deep, slow breath and paused waiting for the pain. There was none. Another breath and then another I knew this smell. It was the sort of smell one could not forget even after years of its absence. It was the smell of a a college dorm and a too tightly packed elevator. It was the smell of years of fun and laughter with friends and late nights gorging on junk food. It was THAT smell. My eyes flew open the green light still flashing as I caught the gaze of the man across from me through the smoke. A smile tugged at his lips mirroring my own. His mouth parted, a soft chuckle falling out as he spoke with a voice raw from screaming “Bro”

Skarlax tapped his eleven fingers on what passed for a knee. "This is ridiculous." he erupts. "We clearly don't understand this creatures chemistry." "The text of the law is clear. We must use a moral method of execution. Otherwise how can we call our selves civilized?" A high standing law priest by the name of Zaglux retorted. "Just one of their kind wipe out an entire birthing pod in 10 cycles. How can we expect to remain civilized after such an egregious attack?" "I can only tell you what the law states. It's is your job to enforce it." Skarlax tried to read the room. There were some higher ranking families in the viewing room of the execution chamber. They were the parents of some of those lost. The rest of the many thousands would be watching via remote screen. Great sorrow could be felt in every posture and facial expression. He looked at the mad alien creature in the smokey execution chamber. It pink skin and patches of hair made it look sickly and near death. It's eyes were slits that spoke of or loss of control. It's teeth were bared in what could only be aggression. The worst was it's upturned mouth. Skarlax knew the nasty taunt from his youth and from working with the worst of the worst throughout his career. "Flush the room. I'm going to end this." Skarlax quickly donned a protective suit and unsheathed a blade that had previously only been ceremonial. He step into the chamber and turned to address the families. "It is my duty to enforce justice. Our deadliest quickest poisons have had no effect. To give you all peace and to end this criminal with as little pain as possible. I will be performing a traditional *Ras-sak-a*. Those with young children viewing may wish to look away." A murmur went over the small crowd and he imagined a similar gasp went up at the remote viewing stations. It was unorthodox, but everything about this was. He knew his duty. He turned to the thing that called itself *hoo-man*. In the war he had performed this act many times. Sometimes as a mercy to those who could not be saved sometimes as a stealthy trick to make a quiet kill before moving on. It was simple. He'd make an incision in the lower torso which would impede breathing, then he would reach inside and compress the *stangalian* nerve to cease all autonomic functions. It was more a more peaceful end than this thing deserved. The skin was far thicker than his species so it took a few attempts to penetrate. The creature release a high pitch keen that he would have thought impossible after the loss of air to it's system. Confused Skarlax reached inside quickly to silence it. But he could locate the nerve. The lungs were missing as well. There was a strange red fluid and viscera that slide from the opening. He continued searching adding another hand in his panic. But there was no nerve. He next thought was to destroy the logic centers. To two locations were all nerves met decisions were made. The east and west cities of logic and feelings that the poets wouldn't shut up about. He quickly made numerous alternating stabs into the thighs anticipating the silence and finality he'd been trying for. But this demon didn't stop. If anything it got louder. It may have been making language though the executor could only see an undead thing from fairy tales or some immortal monster. There was nothing more to be done short of burning it alive. He stepped out of the execution chamber. He had no words for the families or the law priests. "Cut the feed" Law priest Zaglux said. And suddenly in place of the noise of this screaming otherworldly thing clawing at it's restraints the was only silence. There would be no justice today.

[WP] You, a Human, have been sentenced to death on an alien planet. The method of execution: gas chamber. However, the compound used in executions, Tetrahydrocannabinol, isn't quite as lethal to humans as your executioners expect.

The guard dragged me to the chamber. I tried struggling for about two minutes before I gave up. This alien guy was a 7 foot tall muscular thing and I’m a puny 5 foot something human. Long story short, I got stuck on some weird planet and I was sentenced to death. All I did was try to kidnap their equivalent of a king to take back to Earth to show my human friends. Now I know what you’re thinking- what kind of an idiot would be dumb enough to risk something like that? But I figured since things usually just work out for me, I’d take a chance. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the crowd that had come to see my execution. The guard dumped me into the chamber. Menacingly, he asked “Any last words?”. But he closes the door before I could even open my mouth. “You’ll be dead in 2 seconds”, he said. The crowd was already yelling. When the gas started coming in, it smelt oddly familiar. In a split second, I knew what it was. Weed. I sniffed a little more. Top quality stuff too. The room had started spinning. I started laughing uncontrollably and then started banging on the window. The noise outside suddenly diminished. I could see the audience whispering now and staring at me. “He should be dead by now”, I heard the guard mumble to his partner. Ten minutes later and I still wasn’t dead. They looked at me in awe. The guard pulled me out and shook me, he wasn’t menacing anymore. In fact he looked a little scared of me. I started laughing even harder and hugged him. And then something strange happened. One by one, the front row of the audience fell on their knees. And then, like dominoes, the rest followed suit. Soon the entire arena was kneeling down. “He has finally come.” “It’s a sign!” A woman started sobbing and held up her child. I was too high to try to figure out what was happening. So I closed my eyes for what I thought was barely 10 seconds. But when I opened them again, I was in a room, on a bed, in what looked like their equivalent of a 7-star hotel. I rubbed my eyes and I wiped the drool off of my chin. The door was open and I could see a queue of people waiting outside. “My lord, are you awake?”, said a low voice near my head, “will you bless our people?” I blinked a few times. Like I said, things just always work out for me.

Skarlax tapped his eleven fingers on what passed for a knee. "This is ridiculous." he erupts. "We clearly don't understand this creatures chemistry." "The text of the law is clear. We must use a moral method of execution. Otherwise how can we call our selves civilized?" A high standing law priest by the name of Zaglux retorted. "Just one of their kind wipe out an entire birthing pod in 10 cycles. How can we expect to remain civilized after such an egregious attack?" "I can only tell you what the law states. It's is your job to enforce it." Skarlax tried to read the room. There were some higher ranking families in the viewing room of the execution chamber. They were the parents of some of those lost. The rest of the many thousands would be watching via remote screen. Great sorrow could be felt in every posture and facial expression. He looked at the mad alien creature in the smokey execution chamber. It pink skin and patches of hair made it look sickly and near death. It's eyes were slits that spoke of or loss of control. It's teeth were bared in what could only be aggression. The worst was it's upturned mouth. Skarlax knew the nasty taunt from his youth and from working with the worst of the worst throughout his career. "Flush the room. I'm going to end this." Skarlax quickly donned a protective suit and unsheathed a blade that had previously only been ceremonial. He step into the chamber and turned to address the families. "It is my duty to enforce justice. Our deadliest quickest poisons have had no effect. To give you all peace and to end this criminal with as little pain as possible. I will be performing a traditional *Ras-sak-a*. Those with young children viewing may wish to look away." A murmur went over the small crowd and he imagined a similar gasp went up at the remote viewing stations. It was unorthodox, but everything about this was. He knew his duty. He turned to the thing that called itself *hoo-man*. In the war he had performed this act many times. Sometimes as a mercy to those who could not be saved sometimes as a stealthy trick to make a quiet kill before moving on. It was simple. He'd make an incision in the lower torso which would impede breathing, then he would reach inside and compress the *stangalian* nerve to cease all autonomic functions. It was more a more peaceful end than this thing deserved. The skin was far thicker than his species so it took a few attempts to penetrate. The creature release a high pitch keen that he would have thought impossible after the loss of air to it's system. Confused Skarlax reached inside quickly to silence it. But he could locate the nerve. The lungs were missing as well. There was a strange red fluid and viscera that slide from the opening. He continued searching adding another hand in his panic. But there was no nerve. He next thought was to destroy the logic centers. To two locations were all nerves met decisions were made. The east and west cities of logic and feelings that the poets wouldn't shut up about. He quickly made numerous alternating stabs into the thighs anticipating the silence and finality he'd been trying for. But this demon didn't stop. If anything it got louder. It may have been making language though the executor could only see an undead thing from fairy tales or some immortal monster. There was nothing more to be done short of burning it alive. He stepped out of the execution chamber. He had no words for the families or the law priests. "Cut the feed" Law priest Zaglux said. And suddenly in place of the noise of this screaming otherworldly thing clawing at it's restraints the was only silence. There would be no justice today.

[WP] You, a Human, have been sentenced to death on an alien planet. The method of execution: gas chamber. However, the compound used in executions, Tetrahydrocannabinol, isn't quite as lethal to humans as your executioners expect.

The council was stunned. The hapless humanoid creature lay on the ground of the gas chamber with his hands cradling his head, an expression of contentment on his face. "Impossible!" The priestess of Maarken spat as she crossed her three sets of arms. "Bring me the Toka at once!" "Y-y-yess Your Holiness," one of the council stammered, before rushing off. "We must find out the meaning of this. If this creature cannot be killed, that can only mean one thing," the priestess said gravely. "The prophesy of the Toka is true, and we are all doomed." Meanwhile Kyle was stoned out of his mind. He wasn't sure whether or not he would die, but his mind was beginning to relax deeply as visions of plump, juicy, watermelon caused the dry feeling in his mouth to become more unbearable. If this was how Kyle was going to go, he was glad for it. A rumble in his belly caused Kyle to errupt into a fit of giggles. "This is a mockery," cried the priestess. "While we await the sacred Toka let us not be idle. Perhaps inhalation is futile. Bring forth the Green Death!" Moments later Kyle shot up as an alien in what could only be compared to a hazmat suit placed a tray in the gas chamber and ran away quickly. He couldn't believe his eyes. In front of him was a huge molded Jello cake, the greenest he had ever laid eyes on, in the shape of a cannabis leaf. Kyle took bite after bite of the Jello without hesitation. His mind slowly slipped even deeper into a high state. He laughed merrily as the realization dawned on him. "You tried to kill me with weed? Ganja? The devil's lettuce?" He laughed and laughed. Tears began to roll out of his reddened eyes and soon he found himself seriously needing to pee. He sauntered over to the drain in the ground and reveled in the euphoric feeling of emptying his full bladder. He sang loudly, and not well, as he did his business. Above him in the observation chamber the council was in an uproar. Some members had begun to vomit violently. Others with stronger constitutions either averted their eyes or stared on in wide-mouthed horror. The priestess of Maarken had tears streaming down her face. "First, he releases a foul gas from the Unspeakable Place, earning his death sentence, and now, and now this! The horror! The utter disgust!" She sobbed violently.

Skarlax tapped his eleven fingers on what passed for a knee. "This is ridiculous." he erupts. "We clearly don't understand this creatures chemistry." "The text of the law is clear. We must use a moral method of execution. Otherwise how can we call our selves civilized?" A high standing law priest by the name of Zaglux retorted. "Just one of their kind wipe out an entire birthing pod in 10 cycles. How can we expect to remain civilized after such an egregious attack?" "I can only tell you what the law states. It's is your job to enforce it." Skarlax tried to read the room. There were some higher ranking families in the viewing room of the execution chamber. They were the parents of some of those lost. The rest of the many thousands would be watching via remote screen. Great sorrow could be felt in every posture and facial expression. He looked at the mad alien creature in the smokey execution chamber. It pink skin and patches of hair made it look sickly and near death. It's eyes were slits that spoke of or loss of control. It's teeth were bared in what could only be aggression. The worst was it's upturned mouth. Skarlax knew the nasty taunt from his youth and from working with the worst of the worst throughout his career. "Flush the room. I'm going to end this." Skarlax quickly donned a protective suit and unsheathed a blade that had previously only been ceremonial. He step into the chamber and turned to address the families. "It is my duty to enforce justice. Our deadliest quickest poisons have had no effect. To give you all peace and to end this criminal with as little pain as possible. I will be performing a traditional *Ras-sak-a*. Those with young children viewing may wish to look away." A murmur went over the small crowd and he imagined a similar gasp went up at the remote viewing stations. It was unorthodox, but everything about this was. He knew his duty. He turned to the thing that called itself *hoo-man*. In the war he had performed this act many times. Sometimes as a mercy to those who could not be saved sometimes as a stealthy trick to make a quiet kill before moving on. It was simple. He'd make an incision in the lower torso which would impede breathing, then he would reach inside and compress the *stangalian* nerve to cease all autonomic functions. It was more a more peaceful end than this thing deserved. The skin was far thicker than his species so it took a few attempts to penetrate. The creature release a high pitch keen that he would have thought impossible after the loss of air to it's system. Confused Skarlax reached inside quickly to silence it. But he could locate the nerve. The lungs were missing as well. There was a strange red fluid and viscera that slide from the opening. He continued searching adding another hand in his panic. But there was no nerve. He next thought was to destroy the logic centers. To two locations were all nerves met decisions were made. The east and west cities of logic and feelings that the poets wouldn't shut up about. He quickly made numerous alternating stabs into the thighs anticipating the silence and finality he'd been trying for. But this demon didn't stop. If anything it got louder. It may have been making language though the executor could only see an undead thing from fairy tales or some immortal monster. There was nothing more to be done short of burning it alive. He stepped out of the execution chamber. He had no words for the families or the law priests. "Cut the feed" Law priest Zaglux said. And suddenly in place of the noise of this screaming otherworldly thing clawing at it's restraints the was only silence. There would be no justice today.

[WP] You, a Human, have been sentenced to death on an alien planet. The method of execution: gas chamber. However, the compound used in executions, Tetrahydrocannabinol, isn't quite as lethal to humans as your executioners expect.

"You have failed the Trials of Justice, human. However, you showed some effort and have survived the Glazer of a Thousand Eyes." I stared blindly, tears streaming down as the Glazer's poisons had turned my face into a vice and my eyeballs, agony. Death would have been kinder. "We offer you the Honorable Death as your final punishment, rather than the humiliation of being devoured by the Fok-Gnaarls and your endostructure being scattered to the Six Leg-Corners in shame. Breathe deeply until you see the Ancestors, alien. That is your punishment, and when you do, you will be released to your flight-hive." That was it. Death by poison, maybe carbon monoxide or something? Better than the unholy pressure that was making my sight implode ever further moment to moment. *I don't want to know what it's like when my eyeballs finally implode.* A strangely familiar smell entered the chambers as the gas began to fill the chamber. I gasped on the first breath, hacked a few times on the second into a coughing fit, but death was coming. The pain, fading into a haze. The grip of the Gazer's toxins loosening. Everything relaxing....relaxing...it had been such a trial. Over now. Guess I'll die. THUD. "The human's body has lost conciousness. Death will be slow, gentle, inevitable to spare it defilement. Return it to them." I heard the harsh grating clicks fuzzily as what could only have been hypoxia kicking in, and then nothing. "Jay! Hey! Jay! Jaaaaaaaaay? We're off planet, wake the hell up Jay!" And I did. Was this heaven? My eyes opened up, and I could see- Fucking Bruce from Engineering. OK, at best Purgatory. And I seriously could go for at least six servings of nutripaste. "Hey, Jay! You're up! That was TOTALLY METAL. You did that Trial thing and they said you were dead and we got your body in a really fancy box but when we were gonna stick it in a cryopod to preserve you for burial it totally said you had lifesigns! So we stuck you in medbay instead, and it just said "Patient Relaxing" and wouldn't let us do anything except an IV nutrient drip. So, man- how do you feel?" Anyway, that's how I got the crew record for most ration cycles consumed in a single sitting and free drinks here at the bar for the "best near-death experience ever story". "Why am I not blind?" Turns out Dronabinol gas relieves pressure along the optic nerve, so by the time it wore off, no lasting harm. Except my skinsuit. They couldn't get the smell of the gas out of it, so I had to trade with Bruce and it's a tenth-unit too small and pinches in back. He said it smells like his hotbox anyway. I said I don't know what kind of freaky engineering shit he does back there, and I still don't. But he's right. It does smell like Engineering...

Skarlax tapped his eleven fingers on what passed for a knee. "This is ridiculous." he erupts. "We clearly don't understand this creatures chemistry." "The text of the law is clear. We must use a moral method of execution. Otherwise how can we call our selves civilized?" A high standing law priest by the name of Zaglux retorted. "Just one of their kind wipe out an entire birthing pod in 10 cycles. How can we expect to remain civilized after such an egregious attack?" "I can only tell you what the law states. It's is your job to enforce it." Skarlax tried to read the room. There were some higher ranking families in the viewing room of the execution chamber. They were the parents of some of those lost. The rest of the many thousands would be watching via remote screen. Great sorrow could be felt in every posture and facial expression. He looked at the mad alien creature in the smokey execution chamber. It pink skin and patches of hair made it look sickly and near death. It's eyes were slits that spoke of or loss of control. It's teeth were bared in what could only be aggression. The worst was it's upturned mouth. Skarlax knew the nasty taunt from his youth and from working with the worst of the worst throughout his career. "Flush the room. I'm going to end this." Skarlax quickly donned a protective suit and unsheathed a blade that had previously only been ceremonial. He step into the chamber and turned to address the families. "It is my duty to enforce justice. Our deadliest quickest poisons have had no effect. To give you all peace and to end this criminal with as little pain as possible. I will be performing a traditional *Ras-sak-a*. Those with young children viewing may wish to look away." A murmur went over the small crowd and he imagined a similar gasp went up at the remote viewing stations. It was unorthodox, but everything about this was. He knew his duty. He turned to the thing that called itself *hoo-man*. In the war he had performed this act many times. Sometimes as a mercy to those who could not be saved sometimes as a stealthy trick to make a quiet kill before moving on. It was simple. He'd make an incision in the lower torso which would impede breathing, then he would reach inside and compress the *stangalian* nerve to cease all autonomic functions. It was more a more peaceful end than this thing deserved. The skin was far thicker than his species so it took a few attempts to penetrate. The creature release a high pitch keen that he would have thought impossible after the loss of air to it's system. Confused Skarlax reached inside quickly to silence it. But he could locate the nerve. The lungs were missing as well. There was a strange red fluid and viscera that slide from the opening. He continued searching adding another hand in his panic. But there was no nerve. He next thought was to destroy the logic centers. To two locations were all nerves met decisions were made. The east and west cities of logic and feelings that the poets wouldn't shut up about. He quickly made numerous alternating stabs into the thighs anticipating the silence and finality he'd been trying for. But this demon didn't stop. If anything it got louder. It may have been making language though the executor could only see an undead thing from fairy tales or some immortal monster. There was nothing more to be done short of burning it alive. He stepped out of the execution chamber. He had no words for the families or the law priests. "Cut the feed" Law priest Zaglux said. And suddenly in place of the noise of this screaming otherworldly thing clawing at it's restraints the was only silence. There would be no justice today.

[WP] You, a Human, have been sentenced to death on an alien planet. The method of execution: gas chamber. However, the compound used in executions, Tetrahydrocannabinol, isn't quite as lethal to humans as your executioners expect.

The council was stunned. The hapless humanoid creature lay on the ground of the gas chamber with his hands cradling his head, an expression of contentment on his face. "Impossible!" The priestess of Maarken spat as she crossed her three sets of arms. "Bring me the Toka at once!" "Y-y-yess Your Holiness," one of the council stammered, before rushing off. "We must find out the meaning of this. If this creature cannot be killed, that can only mean one thing," the priestess said gravely. "The prophesy of the Toka is true, and we are all doomed." Meanwhile Kyle was stoned out of his mind. He wasn't sure whether or not he would die, but his mind was beginning to relax deeply as visions of plump, juicy, watermelon caused the dry feeling in his mouth to become more unbearable. If this was how Kyle was going to go, he was glad for it. A rumble in his belly caused Kyle to errupt into a fit of giggles. "This is a mockery," cried the priestess. "While we await the sacred Toka let us not be idle. Perhaps inhalation is futile. Bring forth the Green Death!" Moments later Kyle shot up as an alien in what could only be compared to a hazmat suit placed a tray in the gas chamber and ran away quickly. He couldn't believe his eyes. In front of him was a huge molded Jello cake, the greenest he had ever laid eyes on, in the shape of a cannabis leaf. Kyle took bite after bite of the Jello without hesitation. His mind slowly slipped even deeper into a high state. He laughed merrily as the realization dawned on him. "You tried to kill me with weed? Ganja? The devil's lettuce?" He laughed and laughed. Tears began to roll out of his reddened eyes and soon he found himself seriously needing to pee. He sauntered over to the drain in the ground and reveled in the euphoric feeling of emptying his full bladder. He sang loudly, and not well, as he did his business. Above him in the observation chamber the council was in an uproar. Some members had begun to vomit violently. Others with stronger constitutions either averted their eyes or stared on in wide-mouthed horror. The priestess of Maarken had tears streaming down her face. "First, he releases a foul gas from the Unspeakable Place, earning his death sentence, and now, and now this! The horror! The utter disgust!" She sobbed violently.

The guard dragged me to the chamber. I tried struggling for about two minutes before I gave up. This alien guy was a 7 foot tall muscular thing and I’m a puny 5 foot something human. Long story short, I got stuck on some weird planet and I was sentenced to death. All I did was try to kidnap their equivalent of a king to take back to Earth to show my human friends. Now I know what you’re thinking- what kind of an idiot would be dumb enough to risk something like that? But I figured since things usually just work out for me, I’d take a chance. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the crowd that had come to see my execution. The guard dumped me into the chamber. Menacingly, he asked “Any last words?”. But he closes the door before I could even open my mouth. “You’ll be dead in 2 seconds”, he said. The crowd was already yelling. When the gas started coming in, it smelt oddly familiar. In a split second, I knew what it was. Weed. I sniffed a little more. Top quality stuff too. The room had started spinning. I started laughing uncontrollably and then started banging on the window. The noise outside suddenly diminished. I could see the audience whispering now and staring at me. “He should be dead by now”, I heard the guard mumble to his partner. Ten minutes later and I still wasn’t dead. They looked at me in awe. The guard pulled me out and shook me, he wasn’t menacing anymore. In fact he looked a little scared of me. I started laughing even harder and hugged him. And then something strange happened. One by one, the front row of the audience fell on their knees. And then, like dominoes, the rest followed suit. Soon the entire arena was kneeling down. “He has finally come.” “It’s a sign!” A woman started sobbing and held up her child. I was too high to try to figure out what was happening. So I closed my eyes for what I thought was barely 10 seconds. But when I opened them again, I was in a room, on a bed, in what looked like their equivalent of a 7-star hotel. I rubbed my eyes and I wiped the drool off of my chin. The door was open and I could see a queue of people waiting outside. “My lord, are you awake?”, said a low voice near my head, “will you bless our people?” I blinked a few times. Like I said, things just always work out for me.

[WP] You, a Human, have been sentenced to death on an alien planet. The method of execution: gas chamber. However, the compound used in executions, Tetrahydrocannabinol, isn't quite as lethal to humans as your executioners expect.

“Bring out the wretched Human!” The voice boomed from all angles. “Let the council decree his fate.” Steve Stevenson was dragged from his cell by two exceptionally large Moroxi. The Moroxi had an unnerving similarity to the long extinct Kangaroo from earth, but with four arms and scales. The guards sneered at Stevenson, one ripping off his patch of bravery from his uniform, before throwing him into a large circular chamber. The chamber was pure white and so sterile it stung Steve’s eyes if he looked at one point for too long. He looked up to see five ridiculously dressed Moroxi leering down at him. They were wearing hats that looked like traffic cones. Steve shuffled forward a step, “There must be some misunder—“ “Silence!” The voice boomed again. Coming from everywhere but nowhere. “This is no trial, this is an execution!” Steve blinked away the tears forming in his eyes from the psychic assault the Moroxi Council was inflicting upon him. That damn crystal, it was always a stupid crystal. If I make it out of here alive, Steve thought, no more crystals. But deep down, he knew he had no chance. “Administer him . . . The haze of death!” The mouthless voice hissed. Steve stiffened, waiting for some searing pain to send him tumbling down into the dark abyss of death. Then, he smelled it, some of the dankest kush he ever smelled. So dank in fact, that Steve already felt a little high. “What’s so funny? You find torturous death amusing human?” The Moroxi council scoffed at him in unison. Steve coughed a couple times and giggled, “no it’s just, your hats. They’re like, funny, you know?” “No we do not know! These are our symbols of office! They distinguish us, the regal—“ Steve was laughing, “stop doing that! It tickles!” The Moroxi council looked amongst itself, “the mind-voice tickles?” “The mind-voice?” That’s what you guys named it?” Steve was still laughing, his eyes glazed and redder than the devil’s delicate appendage. “Hey, wait.” Steve stopped laughing and looked around, “do you hear that?” The Moroxi council leaned over as one, “hear what?” Steve unleashed a massive fart that echoed throughout the chamber and doubled over laughing. “My ass-voice!” He was crying and slapping his hand on the ground. “This is some good shit!” The Council huddled together, communing as one and instantly deciding one of them, Alparox the Younger, would delve into Steve’s mind in order to discover the miraculous manner in which he survived and even enjoyed the most lethal gas they had ever discovered. After an instant of quiet solidarity, Alparox flung his consciousness into Steve’s and began opening it like a book. The mental prowess of the Moroxi Council plain for all to see, for who could stand against a mind so mighty— Alparox was rolling on the floor laughing. His eyes already tearing up. He was pointing at the hats and nodding, “you’re right, you’re so right!” He said while tears streamed down his cheeks. The council turned away from their fallen brother and back to Steve. Perhaps they had underestimated this Human. He was truly an impressive foe. In unison they knew what had to be done, they needed different hats. But after that, they would unleash the ultimate punishment on Steve: the dark mushrooms. Oh how they pitied him.

I can’t believe I’m stuck on this podunk planet in this no name galaxy. My transmitter isn’t working and my translator is only picking up parts of what’s going on because this language is extinct except for this one backwards ass planet. I’m in jail. It’s a weird jail. It’s two cement walls, two glass walls, and cement flooring. There’s a drain on the floor and a vent in the ceiling and nothing else. Doesn’t bode well for me. Outside the glass walls there’s some stadium seating and a control booth. Definitely not looking good. I hope they aren’t one of those species obsessed with sex stuff. Please, god, no weird sex stuff. Oh god they’re coming in. They are so weird looking. We think they evolved from something similar to dolphins from our planet. They have gray skin and long sharp heads. They’re talking. Hope the translator can get this... “The alien has broken our traditional law of *gibberish* and will be sentenced to death by *gibberish*!” As the ugly ass dolphin lord declares this, the crowd goes wild with weird squeaks and clapping. Fuck. “Wait!” I cry, “please I don’t know what I’ve done. I’m here for science, please just let me explain!” “You see?” He speaks to the crowd, “it admits it’s offense. Death!” With that he presses a button on his control deck and the lights change to red. Sounds of gasses moving through vents and opening levers echo into my cell. The smoke pours down slowly from the vent in the ceiling, I scramble to the drain in the floor, but soon smoke starts to creep up from there too. And as much as I don’t want to it’s getting into my mouth and nose and.. and.. wait a second... This is weed!

[WP] You, a Human, have been sentenced to death on an alien planet. The method of execution: gas chamber. However, the compound used in executions, Tetrahydrocannabinol, isn't quite as lethal to humans as your executioners expect.

so, there i was, walking the dark hallway of death, escorted by 2 massive ar'dkivs, with both of my hands cuffed. we've received reports of a new race, 2 meters tall in average, body covered in hard, steel-like shells, strong like a bull, somewhat hostile, yet highly intelligent, in the masurus sector, around 3 years ago, and we've been spying on them for that long. no surprise when i discovered they didnt like spies very much, sadly i found out when they found me. but i have to give them credit where credit is due, their hard shell made it so they have to develop weapons that will melt their shell to kill their target - such weapons would vaporize a good chunk of us humans, so they decided to kill me in a more... ethical way. these guys dont resist poison very well, and they will kill me using the strongest poison they know about, a gas that will kill an ar'dkiv in 10 seconds, with little to no suffering. ofc, me, as an spy, already knew what that gas was - frigging thc. by itself, it wont be very dangerous, but if thc doesnt kill me, they got 100 other ways to execute me, i had to do something. i had to beat the odds. heart beating fast, respiration going faster, nervousness over the roof, gas chamber door closed, concrete walls, no escape. i see an ar'dkiv with a different uniform by the door's window - a commissar, he gives them a metal canister with the thc inside, they pop it in a machine, and the gas starts filling the chamber. luckily for me, unlike humans, ar'dkivs dont know what -hold your breath- is. dont breath...dont breath... dont breath... 5,6,7,8...9...drop to the floor, play death, keep your eyes open, dont breath, keep your eyes open, wait... wait... thats the sound of the air purifier, hold your breath, door opens, hold your breath, ar'dkiv guard walking close to me... in one movement, i get up as fast as i can, avoiding crashing into the guard, i ran as fast as i can to the exit door. the ar'dkivs were shocked i was still alive and kicking, i cough them completely off-guard. as i make my way out, i pushed the commissar into a wall, and quickly took away one of his canisters off his uniform. as i run to the prison's port, i see the guards chasing me, and more guard joining. i was lucky they were reluctant to open fire, either because they didnt see me as an immediate threat, or because they were afraid of piercing the prison's walls, i dont know. as i got close to a escape ship, they guards raised their weapons and shouted me to stop. i knew i'd get vaporized if i didnt played along, so i stopped and turned around, thc gas canister in hand. the commissar catched up with us quickly. "dont shot!" he said, "he's got a canister" "sir commissar, he is far away, we can just kill him and finish this" "dont. light thc poisoning is a slow and painful way to death. lower your weapons" relief was felt all over my being, it seems i had the upper hand in this one. yet, remember when i said ar'dkivs were intelligent? yeah, they can make plans. as soon as i lowered my guard, i felt a sharp pain and a massive weight pushing me into the ground: a guard tackled me. i held the canister with all my strength, i knew it was my only way out. i saw the guard going for a punch, i covered with one of my arms, and then the sharp pain of my bones breaking followed. i couldnt catch my breath nor process what was going on: the second punch was coming. out of despair, i used the canister to block the punch. i could see the guard hesitates for a second, his punch was a lot weaker this time, but even with his weaker punch, the shockwave of the punch hitting the canister traveled all over my arm, numbing it. the canister is now deformed, the guard is hesitating even more, and i used this golden moment to get out from under him, stand up, and run to my escape ship. i get into the ship's platform, i put my hands in the canister's lock, ready to open it. i can see the guards. some of them rise their weapons, others get ready to be hit with THC and have their lives ended. but then, i stop. "computer, to point echo" i say, the ship's platform starts closing, the ship's systems start heating up, in a couple of seconds, i'd be traveling back to base. "are you sparing our lives, human?" says the commissar. and just before the ship jumps into the void of the space, i respond "...winners dont use drugs" \--------------------------------------------- if you read all that, thank you! if you find any errors, dont hesitate to let me know, im trying to get better redaction skills in english

From the light of my cell I glimpsed Xect'antenol, the Alien City, its garish glow oozing into an infinitude of stars. *How will I get out of this one?* My extraterrestrial gaoler seemed unconcerned. With a sinister glare he unlocked my cage and shepherded me into a small room. "You. Die today," he declared furiously. *Maybe I should plead for forgiveness*, I reflected. Yet my hopes of survival were promptly extinguished when the alien produced a small device from his sack. "You die today," repeated the gaoler, "by toxic tetrahydrocannabinol." With that, he exited the room and left me chained to the execution wall. I was never ready to die; there were planets yet to see, foes yet to kill, hearts left to squander. Today would not be the day. And so I waited on the brink of life and death with a deep resolve. The room soon began to fill up. Tetrahydrocannabinol, the aliens called it, and it was rumored to be the most noxious poison of all. *But what?* I suddenly felt much better. *Tetrahydrocannabinol is . . . perfume*? The entire room was suffused with the fragrance of jasmine, rosewater, and African tulip. *Is that cauliflower as well*. The whole execution chamber was by now resplendent with odor. I let myself drop to the ground. *Play dead*, I thought. My guile never failed to amaze me. *If I pretend I'm dead, they might just let me go.* Sure enough, the alien gaoler came back in the room. "*Sh'ama ti'xa*," he called. "Bring in next one." I felt myself falling. *They let me go!* I knew where the trash chute led; it looped back to the main planet system, where my ship was located. I grinned. I had survived another day. But why did my eyelids feel so heavy . . . ?

[WP] You, a Human, have been sentenced to death on an alien planet. The method of execution: gas chamber. However, the compound used in executions, Tetrahydrocannabinol, isn't quite as lethal to humans as your executioners expect.

From within the smoky dome could be heard the human prisoner shouting "Dude, start the gas already" This wasn't the way death sentences normally went, the prisoner was placed into the dome. The smoke ascended, which doubled as a descency filter, and justice could be heard to have been achieved by the screams. The prisoner was supposed to dissolve within a few minutes. "Can I have another last meal?, I'm hungry", laughter swiftly followed The dissolved prisoner was supposed to be washed away through the floor grating. No mess, just justice, efficient and clean. No species had ever lasted more than 10 minutes. The smoke was now so thick that the prisoner could have stood against the dome and still not be seen. After an hour the shouting had stopped. All that could be heard was the sound of laughter. Laughter, some people just don't know how to die with dignity. Maybe in another hour there would be silence.

From the light of my cell I glimpsed Xect'antenol, the Alien City, its garish glow oozing into an infinitude of stars. *How will I get out of this one?* My extraterrestrial gaoler seemed unconcerned. With a sinister glare he unlocked my cage and shepherded me into a small room. "You. Die today," he declared furiously. *Maybe I should plead for forgiveness*, I reflected. Yet my hopes of survival were promptly extinguished when the alien produced a small device from his sack. "You die today," repeated the gaoler, "by toxic tetrahydrocannabinol." With that, he exited the room and left me chained to the execution wall. I was never ready to die; there were planets yet to see, foes yet to kill, hearts left to squander. Today would not be the day. And so I waited on the brink of life and death with a deep resolve. The room soon began to fill up. Tetrahydrocannabinol, the aliens called it, and it was rumored to be the most noxious poison of all. *But what?* I suddenly felt much better. *Tetrahydrocannabinol is . . . perfume*? The entire room was suffused with the fragrance of jasmine, rosewater, and African tulip. *Is that cauliflower as well*. The whole execution chamber was by now resplendent with odor. I let myself drop to the ground. *Play dead*, I thought. My guile never failed to amaze me. *If I pretend I'm dead, they might just let me go.* Sure enough, the alien gaoler came back in the room. "*Sh'ama ti'xa*," he called. "Bring in next one." I felt myself falling. *They let me go!* I knew where the trash chute led; it looped back to the main planet system, where my ship was located. I grinned. I had survived another day. But why did my eyelids feel so heavy . . . ?

[WP] You, a Human, have been sentenced to death on an alien planet. The method of execution: gas chamber. However, the compound used in executions, Tetrahydrocannabinol, isn't quite as lethal to humans as your executioners expect.

“Bring out the wretched Human!” The voice boomed from all angles. “Let the council decree his fate.” Steve Stevenson was dragged from his cell by two exceptionally large Moroxi. The Moroxi had an unnerving similarity to the long extinct Kangaroo from earth, but with four arms and scales. The guards sneered at Stevenson, one ripping off his patch of bravery from his uniform, before throwing him into a large circular chamber. The chamber was pure white and so sterile it stung Steve’s eyes if he looked at one point for too long. He looked up to see five ridiculously dressed Moroxi leering down at him. They were wearing hats that looked like traffic cones. Steve shuffled forward a step, “There must be some misunder—“ “Silence!” The voice boomed again. Coming from everywhere but nowhere. “This is no trial, this is an execution!” Steve blinked away the tears forming in his eyes from the psychic assault the Moroxi Council was inflicting upon him. That damn crystal, it was always a stupid crystal. If I make it out of here alive, Steve thought, no more crystals. But deep down, he knew he had no chance. “Administer him . . . The haze of death!” The mouthless voice hissed. Steve stiffened, waiting for some searing pain to send him tumbling down into the dark abyss of death. Then, he smelled it, some of the dankest kush he ever smelled. So dank in fact, that Steve already felt a little high. “What’s so funny? You find torturous death amusing human?” The Moroxi council scoffed at him in unison. Steve coughed a couple times and giggled, “no it’s just, your hats. They’re like, funny, you know?” “No we do not know! These are our symbols of office! They distinguish us, the regal—“ Steve was laughing, “stop doing that! It tickles!” The Moroxi council looked amongst itself, “the mind-voice tickles?” “The mind-voice?” That’s what you guys named it?” Steve was still laughing, his eyes glazed and redder than the devil’s delicate appendage. “Hey, wait.” Steve stopped laughing and looked around, “do you hear that?” The Moroxi council leaned over as one, “hear what?” Steve unleashed a massive fart that echoed throughout the chamber and doubled over laughing. “My ass-voice!” He was crying and slapping his hand on the ground. “This is some good shit!” The Council huddled together, communing as one and instantly deciding one of them, Alparox the Younger, would delve into Steve’s mind in order to discover the miraculous manner in which he survived and even enjoyed the most lethal gas they had ever discovered. After an instant of quiet solidarity, Alparox flung his consciousness into Steve’s and began opening it like a book. The mental prowess of the Moroxi Council plain for all to see, for who could stand against a mind so mighty— Alparox was rolling on the floor laughing. His eyes already tearing up. He was pointing at the hats and nodding, “you’re right, you’re so right!” He said while tears streamed down his cheeks. The council turned away from their fallen brother and back to Steve. Perhaps they had underestimated this Human. He was truly an impressive foe. In unison they knew what had to be done, they needed different hats. But after that, they would unleash the ultimate punishment on Steve: the dark mushrooms. Oh how they pitied him.

From the light of my cell I glimpsed Xect'antenol, the Alien City, its garish glow oozing into an infinitude of stars. *How will I get out of this one?* My extraterrestrial gaoler seemed unconcerned. With a sinister glare he unlocked my cage and shepherded me into a small room. "You. Die today," he declared furiously. *Maybe I should plead for forgiveness*, I reflected. Yet my hopes of survival were promptly extinguished when the alien produced a small device from his sack. "You die today," repeated the gaoler, "by toxic tetrahydrocannabinol." With that, he exited the room and left me chained to the execution wall. I was never ready to die; there were planets yet to see, foes yet to kill, hearts left to squander. Today would not be the day. And so I waited on the brink of life and death with a deep resolve. The room soon began to fill up. Tetrahydrocannabinol, the aliens called it, and it was rumored to be the most noxious poison of all. *But what?* I suddenly felt much better. *Tetrahydrocannabinol is . . . perfume*? The entire room was suffused with the fragrance of jasmine, rosewater, and African tulip. *Is that cauliflower as well*. The whole execution chamber was by now resplendent with odor. I let myself drop to the ground. *Play dead*, I thought. My guile never failed to amaze me. *If I pretend I'm dead, they might just let me go.* Sure enough, the alien gaoler came back in the room. "*Sh'ama ti'xa*," he called. "Bring in next one." I felt myself falling. *They let me go!* I knew where the trash chute led; it looped back to the main planet system, where my ship was located. I grinned. I had survived another day. But why did my eyelids feel so heavy . . . ?

[WP] You, a Human, have been sentenced to death on an alien planet. The method of execution: gas chamber. However, the compound used in executions, Tetrahydrocannabinol, isn't quite as lethal to humans as your executioners expect.

“Bring out the wretched Human!” The voice boomed from all angles. “Let the council decree his fate.” Steve Stevenson was dragged from his cell by two exceptionally large Moroxi. The Moroxi had an unnerving similarity to the long extinct Kangaroo from earth, but with four arms and scales. The guards sneered at Stevenson, one ripping off his patch of bravery from his uniform, before throwing him into a large circular chamber. The chamber was pure white and so sterile it stung Steve’s eyes if he looked at one point for too long. He looked up to see five ridiculously dressed Moroxi leering down at him. They were wearing hats that looked like traffic cones. Steve shuffled forward a step, “There must be some misunder—“ “Silence!” The voice boomed again. Coming from everywhere but nowhere. “This is no trial, this is an execution!” Steve blinked away the tears forming in his eyes from the psychic assault the Moroxi Council was inflicting upon him. That damn crystal, it was always a stupid crystal. If I make it out of here alive, Steve thought, no more crystals. But deep down, he knew he had no chance. “Administer him . . . The haze of death!” The mouthless voice hissed. Steve stiffened, waiting for some searing pain to send him tumbling down into the dark abyss of death. Then, he smelled it, some of the dankest kush he ever smelled. So dank in fact, that Steve already felt a little high. “What’s so funny? You find torturous death amusing human?” The Moroxi council scoffed at him in unison. Steve coughed a couple times and giggled, “no it’s just, your hats. They’re like, funny, you know?” “No we do not know! These are our symbols of office! They distinguish us, the regal—“ Steve was laughing, “stop doing that! It tickles!” The Moroxi council looked amongst itself, “the mind-voice tickles?” “The mind-voice?” That’s what you guys named it?” Steve was still laughing, his eyes glazed and redder than the devil’s delicate appendage. “Hey, wait.” Steve stopped laughing and looked around, “do you hear that?” The Moroxi council leaned over as one, “hear what?” Steve unleashed a massive fart that echoed throughout the chamber and doubled over laughing. “My ass-voice!” He was crying and slapping his hand on the ground. “This is some good shit!” The Council huddled together, communing as one and instantly deciding one of them, Alparox the Younger, would delve into Steve’s mind in order to discover the miraculous manner in which he survived and even enjoyed the most lethal gas they had ever discovered. After an instant of quiet solidarity, Alparox flung his consciousness into Steve’s and began opening it like a book. The mental prowess of the Moroxi Council plain for all to see, for who could stand against a mind so mighty— Alparox was rolling on the floor laughing. His eyes already tearing up. He was pointing at the hats and nodding, “you’re right, you’re so right!” He said while tears streamed down his cheeks. The council turned away from their fallen brother and back to Steve. Perhaps they had underestimated this Human. He was truly an impressive foe. In unison they knew what had to be done, they needed different hats. But after that, they would unleash the ultimate punishment on Steve: the dark mushrooms. Oh how they pitied him.

so, there i was, walking the dark hallway of death, escorted by 2 massive ar'dkivs, with both of my hands cuffed. we've received reports of a new race, 2 meters tall in average, body covered in hard, steel-like shells, strong like a bull, somewhat hostile, yet highly intelligent, in the masurus sector, around 3 years ago, and we've been spying on them for that long. no surprise when i discovered they didnt like spies very much, sadly i found out when they found me. but i have to give them credit where credit is due, their hard shell made it so they have to develop weapons that will melt their shell to kill their target - such weapons would vaporize a good chunk of us humans, so they decided to kill me in a more... ethical way. these guys dont resist poison very well, and they will kill me using the strongest poison they know about, a gas that will kill an ar'dkiv in 10 seconds, with little to no suffering. ofc, me, as an spy, already knew what that gas was - frigging thc. by itself, it wont be very dangerous, but if thc doesnt kill me, they got 100 other ways to execute me, i had to do something. i had to beat the odds. heart beating fast, respiration going faster, nervousness over the roof, gas chamber door closed, concrete walls, no escape. i see an ar'dkiv with a different uniform by the door's window - a commissar, he gives them a metal canister with the thc inside, they pop it in a machine, and the gas starts filling the chamber. luckily for me, unlike humans, ar'dkivs dont know what -hold your breath- is. dont breath...dont breath... dont breath... 5,6,7,8...9...drop to the floor, play death, keep your eyes open, dont breath, keep your eyes open, wait... wait... thats the sound of the air purifier, hold your breath, door opens, hold your breath, ar'dkiv guard walking close to me... in one movement, i get up as fast as i can, avoiding crashing into the guard, i ran as fast as i can to the exit door. the ar'dkivs were shocked i was still alive and kicking, i cough them completely off-guard. as i make my way out, i pushed the commissar into a wall, and quickly took away one of his canisters off his uniform. as i run to the prison's port, i see the guards chasing me, and more guard joining. i was lucky they were reluctant to open fire, either because they didnt see me as an immediate threat, or because they were afraid of piercing the prison's walls, i dont know. as i got close to a escape ship, they guards raised their weapons and shouted me to stop. i knew i'd get vaporized if i didnt played along, so i stopped and turned around, thc gas canister in hand. the commissar catched up with us quickly. "dont shot!" he said, "he's got a canister" "sir commissar, he is far away, we can just kill him and finish this" "dont. light thc poisoning is a slow and painful way to death. lower your weapons" relief was felt all over my being, it seems i had the upper hand in this one. yet, remember when i said ar'dkivs were intelligent? yeah, they can make plans. as soon as i lowered my guard, i felt a sharp pain and a massive weight pushing me into the ground: a guard tackled me. i held the canister with all my strength, i knew it was my only way out. i saw the guard going for a punch, i covered with one of my arms, and then the sharp pain of my bones breaking followed. i couldnt catch my breath nor process what was going on: the second punch was coming. out of despair, i used the canister to block the punch. i could see the guard hesitates for a second, his punch was a lot weaker this time, but even with his weaker punch, the shockwave of the punch hitting the canister traveled all over my arm, numbing it. the canister is now deformed, the guard is hesitating even more, and i used this golden moment to get out from under him, stand up, and run to my escape ship. i get into the ship's platform, i put my hands in the canister's lock, ready to open it. i can see the guards. some of them rise their weapons, others get ready to be hit with THC and have their lives ended. but then, i stop. "computer, to point echo" i say, the ship's platform starts closing, the ship's systems start heating up, in a couple of seconds, i'd be traveling back to base. "are you sparing our lives, human?" says the commissar. and just before the ship jumps into the void of the space, i respond "...winners dont use drugs" \--------------------------------------------- if you read all that, thank you! if you find any errors, dont hesitate to let me know, im trying to get better redaction skills in english

[WP] You, a Human, have been sentenced to death on an alien planet. The method of execution: gas chamber. However, the compound used in executions, Tetrahydrocannabinol, isn't quite as lethal to humans as your executioners expect.

“Bring out the wretched Human!” The voice boomed from all angles. “Let the council decree his fate.” Steve Stevenson was dragged from his cell by two exceptionally large Moroxi. The Moroxi had an unnerving similarity to the long extinct Kangaroo from earth, but with four arms and scales. The guards sneered at Stevenson, one ripping off his patch of bravery from his uniform, before throwing him into a large circular chamber. The chamber was pure white and so sterile it stung Steve’s eyes if he looked at one point for too long. He looked up to see five ridiculously dressed Moroxi leering down at him. They were wearing hats that looked like traffic cones. Steve shuffled forward a step, “There must be some misunder—“ “Silence!” The voice boomed again. Coming from everywhere but nowhere. “This is no trial, this is an execution!” Steve blinked away the tears forming in his eyes from the psychic assault the Moroxi Council was inflicting upon him. That damn crystal, it was always a stupid crystal. If I make it out of here alive, Steve thought, no more crystals. But deep down, he knew he had no chance. “Administer him . . . The haze of death!” The mouthless voice hissed. Steve stiffened, waiting for some searing pain to send him tumbling down into the dark abyss of death. Then, he smelled it, some of the dankest kush he ever smelled. So dank in fact, that Steve already felt a little high. “What’s so funny? You find torturous death amusing human?” The Moroxi council scoffed at him in unison. Steve coughed a couple times and giggled, “no it’s just, your hats. They’re like, funny, you know?” “No we do not know! These are our symbols of office! They distinguish us, the regal—“ Steve was laughing, “stop doing that! It tickles!” The Moroxi council looked amongst itself, “the mind-voice tickles?” “The mind-voice?” That’s what you guys named it?” Steve was still laughing, his eyes glazed and redder than the devil’s delicate appendage. “Hey, wait.” Steve stopped laughing and looked around, “do you hear that?” The Moroxi council leaned over as one, “hear what?” Steve unleashed a massive fart that echoed throughout the chamber and doubled over laughing. “My ass-voice!” He was crying and slapping his hand on the ground. “This is some good shit!” The Council huddled together, communing as one and instantly deciding one of them, Alparox the Younger, would delve into Steve’s mind in order to discover the miraculous manner in which he survived and even enjoyed the most lethal gas they had ever discovered. After an instant of quiet solidarity, Alparox flung his consciousness into Steve’s and began opening it like a book. The mental prowess of the Moroxi Council plain for all to see, for who could stand against a mind so mighty— Alparox was rolling on the floor laughing. His eyes already tearing up. He was pointing at the hats and nodding, “you’re right, you’re so right!” He said while tears streamed down his cheeks. The council turned away from their fallen brother and back to Steve. Perhaps they had underestimated this Human. He was truly an impressive foe. In unison they knew what had to be done, they needed different hats. But after that, they would unleash the ultimate punishment on Steve: the dark mushrooms. Oh how they pitied him.

From within the smoky dome could be heard the human prisoner shouting "Dude, start the gas already" This wasn't the way death sentences normally went, the prisoner was placed into the dome. The smoke ascended, which doubled as a descency filter, and justice could be heard to have been achieved by the screams. The prisoner was supposed to dissolve within a few minutes. "Can I have another last meal?, I'm hungry", laughter swiftly followed The dissolved prisoner was supposed to be washed away through the floor grating. No mess, just justice, efficient and clean. No species had ever lasted more than 10 minutes. The smoke was now so thick that the prisoner could have stood against the dome and still not be seen. After an hour the shouting had stopped. All that could be heard was the sound of laughter. Laughter, some people just don't know how to die with dignity. Maybe in another hour there would be silence.

[WP] You, a Human, have been sentenced to death on an alien planet. The method of execution: gas chamber. However, the compound used in executions, Tetrahydrocannabinol, isn't quite as lethal to humans as your executioners expect.

“Bring out the wretched Human!” The voice boomed from all angles. “Let the council decree his fate.” Steve Stevenson was dragged from his cell by two exceptionally large Moroxi. The Moroxi had an unnerving similarity to the long extinct Kangaroo from earth, but with four arms and scales. The guards sneered at Stevenson, one ripping off his patch of bravery from his uniform, before throwing him into a large circular chamber. The chamber was pure white and so sterile it stung Steve’s eyes if he looked at one point for too long. He looked up to see five ridiculously dressed Moroxi leering down at him. They were wearing hats that looked like traffic cones. Steve shuffled forward a step, “There must be some misunder—“ “Silence!” The voice boomed again. Coming from everywhere but nowhere. “This is no trial, this is an execution!” Steve blinked away the tears forming in his eyes from the psychic assault the Moroxi Council was inflicting upon him. That damn crystal, it was always a stupid crystal. If I make it out of here alive, Steve thought, no more crystals. But deep down, he knew he had no chance. “Administer him . . . The haze of death!” The mouthless voice hissed. Steve stiffened, waiting for some searing pain to send him tumbling down into the dark abyss of death. Then, he smelled it, some of the dankest kush he ever smelled. So dank in fact, that Steve already felt a little high. “What’s so funny? You find torturous death amusing human?” The Moroxi council scoffed at him in unison. Steve coughed a couple times and giggled, “no it’s just, your hats. They’re like, funny, you know?” “No we do not know! These are our symbols of office! They distinguish us, the regal—“ Steve was laughing, “stop doing that! It tickles!” The Moroxi council looked amongst itself, “the mind-voice tickles?” “The mind-voice?” That’s what you guys named it?” Steve was still laughing, his eyes glazed and redder than the devil’s delicate appendage. “Hey, wait.” Steve stopped laughing and looked around, “do you hear that?” The Moroxi council leaned over as one, “hear what?” Steve unleashed a massive fart that echoed throughout the chamber and doubled over laughing. “My ass-voice!” He was crying and slapping his hand on the ground. “This is some good shit!” The Council huddled together, communing as one and instantly deciding one of them, Alparox the Younger, would delve into Steve’s mind in order to discover the miraculous manner in which he survived and even enjoyed the most lethal gas they had ever discovered. After an instant of quiet solidarity, Alparox flung his consciousness into Steve’s and began opening it like a book. The mental prowess of the Moroxi Council plain for all to see, for who could stand against a mind so mighty— Alparox was rolling on the floor laughing. His eyes already tearing up. He was pointing at the hats and nodding, “you’re right, you’re so right!” He said while tears streamed down his cheeks. The council turned away from their fallen brother and back to Steve. Perhaps they had underestimated this Human. He was truly an impressive foe. In unison they knew what had to be done, they needed different hats. But after that, they would unleash the ultimate punishment on Steve: the dark mushrooms. Oh how they pitied him.

"You mean to tell us humans inebriate themselves with this compound?" ......... *Clap, clap, clap* "Why are you clapping, earthling?" the alien inquired. "If I clap, my vision is focused. When I don't clap-" the human stopped clapping "-the world spins." The wood colored native Xolovian pinched his nose in desperation, letting out a sigh that had been building up since he watched the human spend a solid few of minutes trying to find the fried potato fragments that were sitting directly next to his foot. "What do you earthlings partake in whilst inhaling the compound?" the Xolovian asked. "I usually just put on some... maybe Rick and Morty or, something. Just to zone out to, y'know?" The Xolovian, in fact, did not know. "The humans refer to this compound in a manner to 'chill out', however your readings indicate high levels of stress." The human was completely red faced, seemingly unable to breath. "Human!" The Xolovian shook the earthling. "Human, are you dying of asphyxiation?" *aaaaAAAGGGH! HRRRR-CHUH, CHUH, CHUH!* "Sorry man, just that if you hold in your hits you get higher at fast." "Our readings do not indicate increased levels of Tetrahydrocan-" "Yeah, but. It was my bud uh, Justin from this grocery store I used to work at that told me." "Is this Justin a scient-" "nah, was my plug so. He knows a lot." There was a brief pause where it felt as though no one in the room really knew what to do at this point. The compound was meant to kill the human, and here they stand with an inebriated earthling instead. The Xolovian finally looked to his assistant standing in the back, and threw his arms in the air. "Alright! I suppose now we must acquire this 'Justin'!" \------- r/SomeGentleGiant

[WP] Your name is Dave. People keep trying to call you other things, like "The Scourge of Seven Worlds," or "The Dread One," or "The Fifth Horseman." It's all very annoying. You just want to be called "Dave."

It is a beautiful day as I walk through the streets of New York city headed to work. I generally work afternoon - night shifts, so I felt a little groggy as I walked over to my job down the street. Looking left and right, I notice a similar sight. People are avoiding me once again. Everyone around me are avoiding me about three meters... Naturally, this is accompanied by a healthy dose of side eye. I don't understand why this is, I am just your normal every day average Dave headed to my night shift where me and my team work hard to make money and survive this cruel cruel world. I have two kids and a beautiful wife as well. It is a tough existence, but a nice one once you get used to it. ​ Finally I come across someone who doesn't avoid me like the plague - a child, about 8 years old. I look to give a smile, when the kid quickly reacts. "Take that, Scourge of the Seven Worlds!" And he chucks a rock at my face. Its slow. I snag the rock with my bare hand, as the childs mother quickly shelters him. Without looking at my face, she covers him with her body. "PLEASE FORGIVE HIM HE'S JUST A CHILD". ​ I stroll forward, holding back my rage with the mask of a smile. How could he? This kid is awful. But I have an image to uphold. ​ I bend my body unnaturally to face the kid and his parent. The kid, clearly trembling, exclaims he is not afraid of me. I hold out the rock I just caught, holding back my anger. "You dropped this I think" I say. The mother moves to run away with her kid quickly after, but I grab her on the shoulder preventing her from escaping. I notice there is now a crowd forming around. This is bad, I'll be late to work if I am not careful. After quickly considering my options, I decide the best is to let everyone know. I straighten my back up and let out my full presence. Everyone looks small when I let out my true self, I have always found that weird. It is probably a side effect of my job, but no matter. ​ With the feeling of a full foot taller than everyone else around the circle, I let out a huge belting scream: "MY NAME IS DAVE!!! ANYONE WHO GETS IT WRONG WILL HAVE TO SPEAK TO MY FISTS!!! DONT YOU DARE FORGET IT!!!" The people around, terrified of my overwhelming voice fall to their knees. The woman is on the ground crying. I hope I didn't rupture her ear drum. The child is now crying as well, his facade of a strong hero had disappeared. I bolt forward, as this little side stint might make me late for work. ​ 3:00. Right on time, I think to myself. Perfect for someone perfectly normal just like me. I walk through the winding hallways and use the secret password to get to my workplace, one that my boss properly calls a hideout. I knock on the door, speak the secret passcode "The World Ends With You" (boss loves these antics, but I personally am not one for them). The door clinks open and I am invited inside by the company butler. I always thought this place was far too dank and drab for a butler, as the musty smell of the large cave-like cellar of the hideout made the butler feel like a tacky addition... Although I honestly would have preferred a desk job in the first place. Alas, this sketchy job was the only one he was fully qualified for. ​ As is customary, I move to check in with my boss. "Good afternoon sir" I say, "what's on the document for today". ​ Boss gets up, shielding his body in an array of strange poses. Not again. ​ "Good of you to come on this day, sir Dave. We must continue our training and our work to overthrow the darkness that looms in the background of the world. Our society is in need of - " I slam the door in his face. What a waste of time, I don't need to hear your rant every single morning. I here the boss's muffled shout "wait I was just getting to the best part..." as he clamors to try to open the door. I pay it no mind and head over to work some of the machines for the day. ​ Like many salary workers, I am not really able to understand the scope of my bosses grand design. There are a plethora of machines that I have no clue what they do. One where I lay down and push a bar, one where I have to pull a rope, one where I punch a big button over and over. There are ones that are heavier, where I push with my legs instead of my arms. Sometimes, I have to run long, secret errands in Central Park that have me looping all over the place for hours. I never understand the bosses ambitions at all, but I don't have to - I am just a salary worker of course. ​ After working some of the machines, I hear a loud banging, and a muffled "help me Dreaded One! Please Let me out!!" ​ "Who called me that?!" I exclaim, realizing its coming from the bosses room. I rip down the door with ease, the boss jumps back startled from my blind rage. I quickly pin his panicked body down against the wall as he clamors to apologize. ​ "Imsorryimsorryimsorry, you broke the door when you came in so that was the only way to get you to save me" he says meekly. "I promise I didn't mean it Dave". ​ Holding back my frustration, I relax and revert to my normal form. Why do people continue to torment me with these nicknames? ​ "Anyways, it seems the time has come" Boss claims. "It is time to release you on the masses for our next step... Of world domination!" ​ I sigh. "What do you need me to do this time?" Is it an errand? A new machine to work? ​ Boss stays quiet and leads me through the winding hall ways. I notice we are walking upward for some reason. I am starting to hear some shouting. It seems like a large group maybe? I wonder what they are gathered for. Maybe another weird brainwashing plan that will go awry once again. ​ As we get closer, I notice a weird blue light, and one voice is popping out more than the rest. I hear... Something about a red corner, and what sounds like a goofy nickname. Something of the name : the beast. Sounds scary. Boss has an ear to ear grin on his face, like he is ready for something big. He pushes me forward and says "go get him tiger". Strange. I look back then look forward to see a large bustling crowd. ​ "And in the BLUE corner, rumor has it he has been training ALL HIS LIFE in the basement of our headquarters to see this day. His plan is to conquer the world with his beloved boss, but first he wants to conquer us and take us all prisoner? Hah, like that will happen." The booming voice goes on. "Give it up for the big, the bad, the Fifth Horseman of the Apocalypse!!!!" ​ What? In a rage, I storm the blue mat. Someone has to pay.

Is smith enough to say that I am just like other humans? Well, not for the university students like me. Since the beginning of the accusation, I despise my name, My family name, Knight. Dave Knight, 18, University student studying IT, Just like my brother who have graduated a year ago. Instead everyone in the school have accused me as nothing but a Freak without a human heart, Or call me The fifth horsemen, I am no devil. "Look, it's the fifth horsemen!" "How can you be sure that he is the fifth?" "His existence itself is a sin." It was not teasing That i felt, I was harrassed, terrorised and now everyone seemed like to believe me as demon. Now Going to IT class from those harrassment is bad, and thus I wanted to brighten up my mood. While the programme I am working on was on, I quickly changed by tabs to google chrome and visitted the Website of the School, my favourite passtime, Reading Archives of my school. And As i scrolled down to last year, I was surprised to see my Brother's name on the School newspper. And more surprising: "Simone Smith, Nicknamed as the fourth horsemen of the university has been expelled!" "Police were informed by the facility that Simone, a student who were in a bullying group called the Horsemens were expelled after stuffind a boy up in a school locket, and putting him unconscious for the day.." "The Police investigation say that the horsemens were all expelled and the fourth Horsemen, Simone Smith was later charged for attempted murder..."

[WP] Your name is Dave. People keep trying to call you other things, like "The Scourge of Seven Worlds," or "The Dread One," or "The Fifth Horseman." It's all very annoying. You just want to be called "Dave."

It hurt. It always hurt. I walk into a bar, and immediately someone begins gibbering in terror as soon as his eyes meet mine. To the front I go. Two women run away. One guy takes out a concealed weapon and eats a bullet. Almost... to the counter... Fuck. I get there and immediately the barkeep starts loudly screaming bible verses at me. I just want a fucking drink! Is that too much to ask?! It's like this all. The. Time! Everyone treats me so horribly. They call me names. "Devourer." "Mind-Reaper." "King of Madness." On one notable occasion, "Defiler of Sheep." I mean, come on. Sheep are notoriously promiscuous. Do they really think I'd bring myself so low when I could get a perfectly good relationship with a swan, or maybe a beaver? Well fine, refuse service to me. I'm gonna watch your TV. Go ahead and call the cops. Uh... or start slitting your wrists and drawing symbols in blood. I'm pretty sure those are slurs in Infernal, but I'm not going to read your hate speech to know for sure. I go over to the pool table, and one of the guys snaps his stick over his knee. He jabs the pointy ends into his eyes and collapses out of sight. Well fuck you too! I am *not* that ugly. I'm not! Wh- Why in fuck are you swallowing the pool balls?! And... you're choking. That asshole is literally killing himself in the most painful way possible to avoid talking to me. And now everyone is gathering makeshift torches. You know what? I don't need this. I'm outta here. Yeesh, this alleyway is- oh, hey! Uh. You're talking to me? Ah, yeah. I'm Dave. Nice to meet you too! Nah, I'm out here because everyone hates me. I don't know what it is. Are my appendages too long or something? What? How could you not know? I'm right in front of you. You can't see me? You're blind? Oh, sorry. No, it's okay. Please, stay. You're the first person in a long time who hasn't acted crazy the moment they saw me. Yeah! Aw, thank you. Do you... Do you want to be my friend?

Is smith enough to say that I am just like other humans? Well, not for the university students like me. Since the beginning of the accusation, I despise my name, My family name, Knight. Dave Knight, 18, University student studying IT, Just like my brother who have graduated a year ago. Instead everyone in the school have accused me as nothing but a Freak without a human heart, Or call me The fifth horsemen, I am no devil. "Look, it's the fifth horsemen!" "How can you be sure that he is the fifth?" "His existence itself is a sin." It was not teasing That i felt, I was harrassed, terrorised and now everyone seemed like to believe me as demon. Now Going to IT class from those harrassment is bad, and thus I wanted to brighten up my mood. While the programme I am working on was on, I quickly changed by tabs to google chrome and visitted the Website of the School, my favourite passtime, Reading Archives of my school. And As i scrolled down to last year, I was surprised to see my Brother's name on the School newspper. And more surprising: "Simone Smith, Nicknamed as the fourth horsemen of the university has been expelled!" "Police were informed by the facility that Simone, a student who were in a bullying group called the Horsemens were expelled after stuffind a boy up in a school locket, and putting him unconscious for the day.." "The Police investigation say that the horsemens were all expelled and the fourth Horsemen, Simone Smith was later charged for attempted murder..."

[WP] Your name is Dave. People keep trying to call you other things, like "The Scourge of Seven Worlds," or "The Dread One," or "The Fifth Horseman." It's all very annoying. You just want to be called "Dave."

    As he looked down at the bodies which lay at his feet, Dave could not help but worry. For him, it was a pleasure to kill, but it also meant more pestering from his home world, ‘Earth.’     On Earth, Dave was worshipped as a god. Every single time he returned from a conquest, without fail, the people of that stupid planet would call him names like ‘the Dark One, Bringer of Death’ and say things like ‘all hail the Scourge of the Seven Worlds, the Vanquisher of Light. O Great One, please look upon me with mercy, for I am but a humble servant to you.’ Or something along the lines of that.     To many, this would seem like a great time. An entire civilization of weak-minded beings looking up to you in terror, completely at your mercy. But Dave didn’t much care for it.     His whole life, Dave was told that he was destined to conquer the universe and plunge it into eternal darkness. Now this is all fun and games until he can’t leave his house or go to his office job without everyone he passes kneeling to him and pledging the souls of their firstborn or whatever sacrifice they thought would appease him. Dave just wanted a normal life, you know, outside of all the murder and conquest and stuff.     Dave considered himself an ordinary guy. Sure, he was immortal and thoroughly enjoyed watching the life drain from the eyes of his puny foes, but outside of all that, he was just an average joe. He lived in a standard four bedroom, one story house in the American midwest. He had lived his whole life in New Lenox, Illinois. When Dave turned 25, he got a job at a mid range pen supply firm where he worked as a pen salesman. He had a lovely wife, Jane, and two kids, Mary and Michael. Dave always felt that this life suited him. He was perfectly content with his middle-class suburban lifestyle with the occasional conquering of worlds on the side, but the people that he met made that difficult.     His son, Michael, played little league baseball for their local team, and Dave tried to make it to every game. He always felt that it was important to show support for your children in every facet of life in order for them to grow up to be well rounded individuals. Michael wasn’t much interested in consuming the hearts of his fallen enemies, and Dave was okay with that. The issue with baseball, though, was that the other team would always let Michael win, out of fear of angering Dave. This had always upset Dave because he believed that failure was an essential part of growth, but since he was generally a shy person, he never spoke up about it. Plus, he loved seeing how happy it made Michael to win.     Sure, he loved to expand his domain and murder thousands at a time, but he considered that a work thing, and Dave was a firm believer in keeping your work life and personal life separate. For now, Dave just wanted to be Dave. [This is my first time answering a writing prompt, would appreciate any feedback]

Is smith enough to say that I am just like other humans? Well, not for the university students like me. Since the beginning of the accusation, I despise my name, My family name, Knight. Dave Knight, 18, University student studying IT, Just like my brother who have graduated a year ago. Instead everyone in the school have accused me as nothing but a Freak without a human heart, Or call me The fifth horsemen, I am no devil. "Look, it's the fifth horsemen!" "How can you be sure that he is the fifth?" "His existence itself is a sin." It was not teasing That i felt, I was harrassed, terrorised and now everyone seemed like to believe me as demon. Now Going to IT class from those harrassment is bad, and thus I wanted to brighten up my mood. While the programme I am working on was on, I quickly changed by tabs to google chrome and visitted the Website of the School, my favourite passtime, Reading Archives of my school. And As i scrolled down to last year, I was surprised to see my Brother's name on the School newspper. And more surprising: "Simone Smith, Nicknamed as the fourth horsemen of the university has been expelled!" "Police were informed by the facility that Simone, a student who were in a bullying group called the Horsemens were expelled after stuffind a boy up in a school locket, and putting him unconscious for the day.." "The Police investigation say that the horsemens were all expelled and the fourth Horsemen, Simone Smith was later charged for attempted murder..."

[WP] Your name is Dave. People keep trying to call you other things, like "The Scourge of Seven Worlds," or "The Dread One," or "The Fifth Horseman." It's all very annoying. You just want to be called "Dave."

Foreword: I generally prefer writing in the third person but your prompt was so genuinely exciting that I had to do it. So, here goes my first attempt at a first-person story. Please do let me know how I can improve. It was only my third day in the state of Ostenkaar when Ervin suggested we walk through the streets of Isjuk and have a look around the market to find our bearings. It was still part of my home country but a place that I hadn’t been to before. As for Ervin, I had known him for Tel knows how long; our mothers were old friends and we practically grew up together on the farther border of I’Elzedar, closer to the Fountain of Gods than any other place accessible to the populous. Growing up, I had cherished our friendship over anything and everything but Ervin had now started to get annoying, often taking conversations off on tangents and never sitting still, even in private, for more time than it would take for him to touch himself to some unholy fantasy involving his mother, Dora, and then cleaning himself in his servants’ filth, having finished all this by the time I had answered nature’s call. “And then Pan just slapped him!” Hearing Ervin’s sister’s name brought me out of my reverie. “What?” I asked, suddenly taking an interest in his chatter. “Pan hitting a priest, now that’s something I’d give my left arm to see again” continued Ervin. But not your right. Oh no, that one is far too important. How else would you scratch your arse with finesse? “Mhm” was all I mumbled, tuning him out again before he could burn any more of my brain cells with that mental disease he seemed to infect everyone whom he ever talked to with. As we turned a corner, I bumped into someone coming from the other side; a merchant. “Sorry” I said while pulling my hood lower. But even as I did so, I saw the merchant’s eyes widen in recognition. Great, just what I needed to make a pathetic day worse; public attention. “It’s you” said the merchant. Fear, tinged with reverence, in her voice. “-my lord of deliverance” she added hurriedly, evidently remembering propriety and bowing her head low. I winced as I understood the weight those words carried. This was a Zea, one of the folk who had, over the course of the past few years, come to think of me as a god. This was one of the most awful places someone could have recognized me, in a market full of suspicious folk. Heads now started to turn towards me and the crowd appeared to ripple with whispers and murmurs. “Yes, it’s the Keeper of Hades”. “The Scorcher of Seas”. “Culler of gods”. “Tamer of flames”. “Cheater of fates”. “Father of the malevolent”. The names were said with a mixture of awe and contempt. The last, given the matriarchy in the country, was most definitely a slur. “I kneel before thee who made Death weep songs of sorrow.” Said the Zea as she kneeled, not noticing the fury carved plain on my face, or choosing to ignore it entirely. “It’s Dave. Just Dave.” I whispered into the air in front of me, biting down the rage that had almost taken over. Letting it out would have meant that the majority would probably have left me be, hastening away lest they become a part of the ever growing list of people they assumed I annihilated. But the Zea and anyone else of her kind in the mob would only have had their faiths strengthened. Anger was, after all, one of the tenets of their religion. “Of course, master Davawn”. She said, making no attempts at masking her glee at having been noticed by a god. Davawn was Ostenese for undertaker, and was also the final straw. Before I knew what I was doing, I had my hands tight around her throat; veins bulging, muscles clenching and unclenching with a passion I had not felt for anything or anyone for a long time. I could hear the concerned shrieks and angry cries from the crowd, but they were barely more than noise to me now. The way her face was paling, the pace it was paling at, was as joyous a thing to me as was the birth of my own daughter. The Zea had almost passed out; I could feel it. But then I felt a hand; warm, but firm, gripping my wrist and trying to pull me back. I whipped my eyes around to see Ervin standing over me, concern in his eyes, but it was too late. Far too late for even him to be able to stop me now. Perhaps he saw the look in my eyes because his eyes widened with fear as he made to speak. I wrenched one hand, the one still in the hold of Ervin, from the Zea’s throat and slapped him full on the face with the back of my hand before he could get a word out. He fell, farther away than I had wanted him to and his face contorted, finally registering the pain as he tried to stand to his feet. I turned to look at the Zea. She was barely conscious, with the one hand threatening to take that away as well. But there was no time. The crowd had fled but Ervin was getting back up. So I thrust my fingers, only the tips, into her neck and pulled out her trachea and let her limp form drop. “Now, Dave, let’s be civil about this” Ervin was pleading as I moved toward him. But Dave was listening no longer, this was all the God of Malice.

Is smith enough to say that I am just like other humans? Well, not for the university students like me. Since the beginning of the accusation, I despise my name, My family name, Knight. Dave Knight, 18, University student studying IT, Just like my brother who have graduated a year ago. Instead everyone in the school have accused me as nothing but a Freak without a human heart, Or call me The fifth horsemen, I am no devil. "Look, it's the fifth horsemen!" "How can you be sure that he is the fifth?" "His existence itself is a sin." It was not teasing That i felt, I was harrassed, terrorised and now everyone seemed like to believe me as demon. Now Going to IT class from those harrassment is bad, and thus I wanted to brighten up my mood. While the programme I am working on was on, I quickly changed by tabs to google chrome and visitted the Website of the School, my favourite passtime, Reading Archives of my school. And As i scrolled down to last year, I was surprised to see my Brother's name on the School newspper. And more surprising: "Simone Smith, Nicknamed as the fourth horsemen of the university has been expelled!" "Police were informed by the facility that Simone, a student who were in a bullying group called the Horsemens were expelled after stuffind a boy up in a school locket, and putting him unconscious for the day.." "The Police investigation say that the horsemens were all expelled and the fourth Horsemen, Simone Smith was later charged for attempted murder..."

[WP] Your name is Dave. People keep trying to call you other things, like "The Scourge of Seven Worlds," or "The Dread One," or "The Fifth Horseman." It's all very annoying. You just want to be called "Dave."

“The antichrist”. “Satan”. “The devil”. You probably know me better from those names, right? Thing is, none of those are correct. I’m genuinely just called Dave. I don’t know how on earth - for it is only on earth that this misconception seems to have occurred - my name got lost in translation over the years. I’ve tried to explain to thousands of you hapless mortals for what feels like an eternity now that it’s Dave, not “The devil” or any of these other bizarre terms, however it’s incredibly difficult to do so when the very sight of me seems to throw even the bravest of souls into a wailing fit of despair. Truth is, I’m not even a bad guy. You’ve heard of hell, I’m sure. I mean, you will have, if you truly know anything of me. What’s all this nonsense about “eternal suffering” and “lakes of lava” and “fire and flames”? You mortals need to, as you put it, chill. The REAL bad guys? They don’t get a heaven OR a hell. They’re toast. Gone. See, Hell is just where all the folk who didn’t make the cut for heaven go. Yeah, it’s a bit shabby round the edges, but hey, better than nothing I reckon. Like my name, it’s just a bit, well, bland. I’d say I rule over the place but I don’t even really do that. I’ll check in now and then, make a wee cuppa here and there. But that’s it really. That’s all. That song you’re all so fond of, about that highway going to hell? Wasted trip if you ask me. So please, call me Dave. That way, when you inevitably end up down here with me, we don’t have to play those god awful (if you’ll pardon the pun) icebreaker games. I’m flattered that you all seem to think I have these unlimited powers, but unless you count my power to bake a MEAN rustic olive focaccia loaf, I’m just a regular bloke really.

Is smith enough to say that I am just like other humans? Well, not for the university students like me. Since the beginning of the accusation, I despise my name, My family name, Knight. Dave Knight, 18, University student studying IT, Just like my brother who have graduated a year ago. Instead everyone in the school have accused me as nothing but a Freak without a human heart, Or call me The fifth horsemen, I am no devil. "Look, it's the fifth horsemen!" "How can you be sure that he is the fifth?" "His existence itself is a sin." It was not teasing That i felt, I was harrassed, terrorised and now everyone seemed like to believe me as demon. Now Going to IT class from those harrassment is bad, and thus I wanted to brighten up my mood. While the programme I am working on was on, I quickly changed by tabs to google chrome and visitted the Website of the School, my favourite passtime, Reading Archives of my school. And As i scrolled down to last year, I was surprised to see my Brother's name on the School newspper. And more surprising: "Simone Smith, Nicknamed as the fourth horsemen of the university has been expelled!" "Police were informed by the facility that Simone, a student who were in a bullying group called the Horsemens were expelled after stuffind a boy up in a school locket, and putting him unconscious for the day.." "The Police investigation say that the horsemens were all expelled and the fourth Horsemen, Simone Smith was later charged for attempted murder..."

[WP] Your name is Dave. People keep trying to call you other things, like "The Scourge of Seven Worlds," or "The Dread One," or "The Fifth Horseman." It's all very annoying. You just want to be called "Dave."

I did everything right. For the last year, I just focused on self-betterment. Eating healthy, working out, saving and investing my money, listening to NPR, listening to Joe Rogan, meditating, doing yoga but not in gay way, not that there’s anything wrong with being gay, I’ve got plenty of gay friends, but I digress….. you know, self-betterment. She was beautiful. We’d only been going out for four months. But I knew she was the one I wanted to marry. One night, I made a mistake of taking her to a fancy restaurant. It was near the bookstore. “What are the odds,” I thought. We left the restaurant in a giggly mood. All of sudden they emerged from the bookstore, wearing their capes. They saw me and screamed. “OH MY GOD! THE DREAD ONE!” She looked at them in a confused manner. I pretended to be baffled as they approached and began to kneel before me. “THE FIFTH HORSEMAN! THE SCOURGE OF SEVEN WORLDS!” “The what?” she said. “Woman does thou not knoweth the most renowned fantasy player in thy realm?” “Wait what,” she said. “Your seed-giver. He is a living legend in our fantasy board game league.” “You play fantasy board games?” “What? No. Of course not!” “But thou does tho. Feast your eyes on me cellular phone.” It was a pic of me in full costume with them. I was about 120 pounds heavier. She knew it was me and asked. “How long were you about this life?” “Four hundredth fortnights me lady.” “What?” “A decade,” I said reluctantly as I heard her pussy dry up like the Sahara desert. “Thou can see our lord is busy with a lady. We only wished to express our praise and hope ye return to thy kingdom some day. Good night my liege.” They left. Then we left. No sex that night. She asked why I didn’t tell her and I told her I was embarrassed. She said it was nothing to be ashamed of. A week later she broke up with me because she “wasn’t feeling it anymore.” Gee, I wonder why. A few weeks later I passed her on the street while she was walking with her friends. One of them said “hi The Dread One.” “My name’s Dave you cunt.” They snickered and kept walking. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in life is that your past will most likely find you. When it does a lot of times there’s nothing you can really do about it. So whatever you’re doing right now; make sure you’re ok with the consequences it might bring. The kingdoms you build will haunt you.

Is smith enough to say that I am just like other humans? Well, not for the university students like me. Since the beginning of the accusation, I despise my name, My family name, Knight. Dave Knight, 18, University student studying IT, Just like my brother who have graduated a year ago. Instead everyone in the school have accused me as nothing but a Freak without a human heart, Or call me The fifth horsemen, I am no devil. "Look, it's the fifth horsemen!" "How can you be sure that he is the fifth?" "His existence itself is a sin." It was not teasing That i felt, I was harrassed, terrorised and now everyone seemed like to believe me as demon. Now Going to IT class from those harrassment is bad, and thus I wanted to brighten up my mood. While the programme I am working on was on, I quickly changed by tabs to google chrome and visitted the Website of the School, my favourite passtime, Reading Archives of my school. And As i scrolled down to last year, I was surprised to see my Brother's name on the School newspper. And more surprising: "Simone Smith, Nicknamed as the fourth horsemen of the university has been expelled!" "Police were informed by the facility that Simone, a student who were in a bullying group called the Horsemens were expelled after stuffind a boy up in a school locket, and putting him unconscious for the day.." "The Police investigation say that the horsemens were all expelled and the fourth Horsemen, Simone Smith was later charged for attempted murder..."

[WP] Your name is Dave. People keep trying to call you other things, like "The Scourge of Seven Worlds," or "The Dread One," or "The Fifth Horseman." It's all very annoying. You just want to be called "Dave."

Foreword: I generally prefer writing in the third person but your prompt was so genuinely exciting that I had to do it. So, here goes my first attempt at a first-person story. Please do let me know how I can improve. It was only my third day in the state of Ostenkaar when Ervin suggested we walk through the streets of Isjuk and have a look around the market to find our bearings. It was still part of my home country but a place that I hadn’t been to before. As for Ervin, I had known him for Tel knows how long; our mothers were old friends and we practically grew up together on the farther border of I’Elzedar, closer to the Fountain of Gods than any other place accessible to the populous. Growing up, I had cherished our friendship over anything and everything but Ervin had now started to get annoying, often taking conversations off on tangents and never sitting still, even in private, for more time than it would take for him to touch himself to some unholy fantasy involving his mother, Dora, and then cleaning himself in his servants’ filth, having finished all this by the time I had answered nature’s call. “And then Pan just slapped him!” Hearing Ervin’s sister’s name brought me out of my reverie. “What?” I asked, suddenly taking an interest in his chatter. “Pan hitting a priest, now that’s something I’d give my left arm to see again” continued Ervin. But not your right. Oh no, that one is far too important. How else would you scratch your arse with finesse? “Mhm” was all I mumbled, tuning him out again before he could burn any more of my brain cells with that mental disease he seemed to infect everyone whom he ever talked to with. As we turned a corner, I bumped into someone coming from the other side; a merchant. “Sorry” I said while pulling my hood lower. But even as I did so, I saw the merchant’s eyes widen in recognition. Great, just what I needed to make a pathetic day worse; public attention. “It’s you” said the merchant. Fear, tinged with reverence, in her voice. “-my lord of deliverance” she added hurriedly, evidently remembering propriety and bowing her head low. I winced as I understood the weight those words carried. This was a Zea, one of the folk who had, over the course of the past few years, come to think of me as a god. This was one of the most awful places someone could have recognized me, in a market full of suspicious folk. Heads now started to turn towards me and the crowd appeared to ripple with whispers and murmurs. “Yes, it’s the Keeper of Hades”. “The Scorcher of Seas”. “Culler of gods”. “Tamer of flames”. “Cheater of fates”. “Father of the malevolent”. The names were said with a mixture of awe and contempt. The last, given the matriarchy in the country, was most definitely a slur. “I kneel before thee who made Death weep songs of sorrow.” Said the Zea as she kneeled, not noticing the fury carved plain on my face, or choosing to ignore it entirely. “It’s Dave. Just Dave.” I whispered into the air in front of me, biting down the rage that had almost taken over. Letting it out would have meant that the majority would probably have left me be, hastening away lest they become a part of the ever growing list of people they assumed I annihilated. But the Zea and anyone else of her kind in the mob would only have had their faiths strengthened. Anger was, after all, one of the tenets of their religion. “Of course, master Davawn”. She said, making no attempts at masking her glee at having been noticed by a god. Davawn was Ostenese for undertaker, and was also the final straw. Before I knew what I was doing, I had my hands tight around her throat; veins bulging, muscles clenching and unclenching with a passion I had not felt for anything or anyone for a long time. I could hear the concerned shrieks and angry cries from the crowd, but they were barely more than noise to me now. The way her face was paling, the pace it was paling at, was as joyous a thing to me as was the birth of my own daughter. The Zea had almost passed out; I could feel it. But then I felt a hand; warm, but firm, gripping my wrist and trying to pull me back. I whipped my eyes around to see Ervin standing over me, concern in his eyes, but it was too late. Far too late for even him to be able to stop me now. Perhaps he saw the look in my eyes because his eyes widened with fear as he made to speak. I wrenched one hand, the one still in the hold of Ervin, from the Zea’s throat and slapped him full on the face with the back of my hand before he could get a word out. He fell, farther away than I had wanted him to and his face contorted, finally registering the pain as he tried to stand to his feet. I turned to look at the Zea. She was barely conscious, with the one hand threatening to take that away as well. But there was no time. The crowd had fled but Ervin was getting back up. So I thrust my fingers, only the tips, into her neck and pulled out her trachea and let her limp form drop. “Now, Dave, let’s be civil about this” Ervin was pleading as I moved toward him. But Dave was listening no longer, this was all the God of Malice.

It is a beautiful day as I walk through the streets of New York city headed to work. I generally work afternoon - night shifts, so I felt a little groggy as I walked over to my job down the street. Looking left and right, I notice a similar sight. People are avoiding me once again. Everyone around me are avoiding me about three meters... Naturally, this is accompanied by a healthy dose of side eye. I don't understand why this is, I am just your normal every day average Dave headed to my night shift where me and my team work hard to make money and survive this cruel cruel world. I have two kids and a beautiful wife as well. It is a tough existence, but a nice one once you get used to it. ​ Finally I come across someone who doesn't avoid me like the plague - a child, about 8 years old. I look to give a smile, when the kid quickly reacts. "Take that, Scourge of the Seven Worlds!" And he chucks a rock at my face. Its slow. I snag the rock with my bare hand, as the childs mother quickly shelters him. Without looking at my face, she covers him with her body. "PLEASE FORGIVE HIM HE'S JUST A CHILD". ​ I stroll forward, holding back my rage with the mask of a smile. How could he? This kid is awful. But I have an image to uphold. ​ I bend my body unnaturally to face the kid and his parent. The kid, clearly trembling, exclaims he is not afraid of me. I hold out the rock I just caught, holding back my anger. "You dropped this I think" I say. The mother moves to run away with her kid quickly after, but I grab her on the shoulder preventing her from escaping. I notice there is now a crowd forming around. This is bad, I'll be late to work if I am not careful. After quickly considering my options, I decide the best is to let everyone know. I straighten my back up and let out my full presence. Everyone looks small when I let out my true self, I have always found that weird. It is probably a side effect of my job, but no matter. ​ With the feeling of a full foot taller than everyone else around the circle, I let out a huge belting scream: "MY NAME IS DAVE!!! ANYONE WHO GETS IT WRONG WILL HAVE TO SPEAK TO MY FISTS!!! DONT YOU DARE FORGET IT!!!" The people around, terrified of my overwhelming voice fall to their knees. The woman is on the ground crying. I hope I didn't rupture her ear drum. The child is now crying as well, his facade of a strong hero had disappeared. I bolt forward, as this little side stint might make me late for work. ​ 3:00. Right on time, I think to myself. Perfect for someone perfectly normal just like me. I walk through the winding hallways and use the secret password to get to my workplace, one that my boss properly calls a hideout. I knock on the door, speak the secret passcode "The World Ends With You" (boss loves these antics, but I personally am not one for them). The door clinks open and I am invited inside by the company butler. I always thought this place was far too dank and drab for a butler, as the musty smell of the large cave-like cellar of the hideout made the butler feel like a tacky addition... Although I honestly would have preferred a desk job in the first place. Alas, this sketchy job was the only one he was fully qualified for. ​ As is customary, I move to check in with my boss. "Good afternoon sir" I say, "what's on the document for today". ​ Boss gets up, shielding his body in an array of strange poses. Not again. ​ "Good of you to come on this day, sir Dave. We must continue our training and our work to overthrow the darkness that looms in the background of the world. Our society is in need of - " I slam the door in his face. What a waste of time, I don't need to hear your rant every single morning. I here the boss's muffled shout "wait I was just getting to the best part..." as he clamors to try to open the door. I pay it no mind and head over to work some of the machines for the day. ​ Like many salary workers, I am not really able to understand the scope of my bosses grand design. There are a plethora of machines that I have no clue what they do. One where I lay down and push a bar, one where I have to pull a rope, one where I punch a big button over and over. There are ones that are heavier, where I push with my legs instead of my arms. Sometimes, I have to run long, secret errands in Central Park that have me looping all over the place for hours. I never understand the bosses ambitions at all, but I don't have to - I am just a salary worker of course. ​ After working some of the machines, I hear a loud banging, and a muffled "help me Dreaded One! Please Let me out!!" ​ "Who called me that?!" I exclaim, realizing its coming from the bosses room. I rip down the door with ease, the boss jumps back startled from my blind rage. I quickly pin his panicked body down against the wall as he clamors to apologize. ​ "Imsorryimsorryimsorry, you broke the door when you came in so that was the only way to get you to save me" he says meekly. "I promise I didn't mean it Dave". ​ Holding back my frustration, I relax and revert to my normal form. Why do people continue to torment me with these nicknames? ​ "Anyways, it seems the time has come" Boss claims. "It is time to release you on the masses for our next step... Of world domination!" ​ I sigh. "What do you need me to do this time?" Is it an errand? A new machine to work? ​ Boss stays quiet and leads me through the winding hall ways. I notice we are walking upward for some reason. I am starting to hear some shouting. It seems like a large group maybe? I wonder what they are gathered for. Maybe another weird brainwashing plan that will go awry once again. ​ As we get closer, I notice a weird blue light, and one voice is popping out more than the rest. I hear... Something about a red corner, and what sounds like a goofy nickname. Something of the name : the beast. Sounds scary. Boss has an ear to ear grin on his face, like he is ready for something big. He pushes me forward and says "go get him tiger". Strange. I look back then look forward to see a large bustling crowd. ​ "And in the BLUE corner, rumor has it he has been training ALL HIS LIFE in the basement of our headquarters to see this day. His plan is to conquer the world with his beloved boss, but first he wants to conquer us and take us all prisoner? Hah, like that will happen." The booming voice goes on. "Give it up for the big, the bad, the Fifth Horseman of the Apocalypse!!!!" ​ What? In a rage, I storm the blue mat. Someone has to pay.

[WP] Your name is Dave. People keep trying to call you other things, like "The Scourge of Seven Worlds," or "The Dread One," or "The Fifth Horseman." It's all very annoying. You just want to be called "Dave."

Foreword: I generally prefer writing in the third person but your prompt was so genuinely exciting that I had to do it. So, here goes my first attempt at a first-person story. Please do let me know how I can improve. It was only my third day in the state of Ostenkaar when Ervin suggested we walk through the streets of Isjuk and have a look around the market to find our bearings. It was still part of my home country but a place that I hadn’t been to before. As for Ervin, I had known him for Tel knows how long; our mothers were old friends and we practically grew up together on the farther border of I’Elzedar, closer to the Fountain of Gods than any other place accessible to the populous. Growing up, I had cherished our friendship over anything and everything but Ervin had now started to get annoying, often taking conversations off on tangents and never sitting still, even in private, for more time than it would take for him to touch himself to some unholy fantasy involving his mother, Dora, and then cleaning himself in his servants’ filth, having finished all this by the time I had answered nature’s call. “And then Pan just slapped him!” Hearing Ervin’s sister’s name brought me out of my reverie. “What?” I asked, suddenly taking an interest in his chatter. “Pan hitting a priest, now that’s something I’d give my left arm to see again” continued Ervin. But not your right. Oh no, that one is far too important. How else would you scratch your arse with finesse? “Mhm” was all I mumbled, tuning him out again before he could burn any more of my brain cells with that mental disease he seemed to infect everyone whom he ever talked to with. As we turned a corner, I bumped into someone coming from the other side; a merchant. “Sorry” I said while pulling my hood lower. But even as I did so, I saw the merchant’s eyes widen in recognition. Great, just what I needed to make a pathetic day worse; public attention. “It’s you” said the merchant. Fear, tinged with reverence, in her voice. “-my lord of deliverance” she added hurriedly, evidently remembering propriety and bowing her head low. I winced as I understood the weight those words carried. This was a Zea, one of the folk who had, over the course of the past few years, come to think of me as a god. This was one of the most awful places someone could have recognized me, in a market full of suspicious folk. Heads now started to turn towards me and the crowd appeared to ripple with whispers and murmurs. “Yes, it’s the Keeper of Hades”. “The Scorcher of Seas”. “Culler of gods”. “Tamer of flames”. “Cheater of fates”. “Father of the malevolent”. The names were said with a mixture of awe and contempt. The last, given the matriarchy in the country, was most definitely a slur. “I kneel before thee who made Death weep songs of sorrow.” Said the Zea as she kneeled, not noticing the fury carved plain on my face, or choosing to ignore it entirely. “It’s Dave. Just Dave.” I whispered into the air in front of me, biting down the rage that had almost taken over. Letting it out would have meant that the majority would probably have left me be, hastening away lest they become a part of the ever growing list of people they assumed I annihilated. But the Zea and anyone else of her kind in the mob would only have had their faiths strengthened. Anger was, after all, one of the tenets of their religion. “Of course, master Davawn”. She said, making no attempts at masking her glee at having been noticed by a god. Davawn was Ostenese for undertaker, and was also the final straw. Before I knew what I was doing, I had my hands tight around her throat; veins bulging, muscles clenching and unclenching with a passion I had not felt for anything or anyone for a long time. I could hear the concerned shrieks and angry cries from the crowd, but they were barely more than noise to me now. The way her face was paling, the pace it was paling at, was as joyous a thing to me as was the birth of my own daughter. The Zea had almost passed out; I could feel it. But then I felt a hand; warm, but firm, gripping my wrist and trying to pull me back. I whipped my eyes around to see Ervin standing over me, concern in his eyes, but it was too late. Far too late for even him to be able to stop me now. Perhaps he saw the look in my eyes because his eyes widened with fear as he made to speak. I wrenched one hand, the one still in the hold of Ervin, from the Zea’s throat and slapped him full on the face with the back of my hand before he could get a word out. He fell, farther away than I had wanted him to and his face contorted, finally registering the pain as he tried to stand to his feet. I turned to look at the Zea. She was barely conscious, with the one hand threatening to take that away as well. But there was no time. The crowd had fled but Ervin was getting back up. So I thrust my fingers, only the tips, into her neck and pulled out her trachea and let her limp form drop. “Now, Dave, let’s be civil about this” Ervin was pleading as I moved toward him. But Dave was listening no longer, this was all the God of Malice.

    As he looked down at the bodies which lay at his feet, Dave could not help but worry. For him, it was a pleasure to kill, but it also meant more pestering from his home world, ‘Earth.’     On Earth, Dave was worshipped as a god. Every single time he returned from a conquest, without fail, the people of that stupid planet would call him names like ‘the Dark One, Bringer of Death’ and say things like ‘all hail the Scourge of the Seven Worlds, the Vanquisher of Light. O Great One, please look upon me with mercy, for I am but a humble servant to you.’ Or something along the lines of that.     To many, this would seem like a great time. An entire civilization of weak-minded beings looking up to you in terror, completely at your mercy. But Dave didn’t much care for it.     His whole life, Dave was told that he was destined to conquer the universe and plunge it into eternal darkness. Now this is all fun and games until he can’t leave his house or go to his office job without everyone he passes kneeling to him and pledging the souls of their firstborn or whatever sacrifice they thought would appease him. Dave just wanted a normal life, you know, outside of all the murder and conquest and stuff.     Dave considered himself an ordinary guy. Sure, he was immortal and thoroughly enjoyed watching the life drain from the eyes of his puny foes, but outside of all that, he was just an average joe. He lived in a standard four bedroom, one story house in the American midwest. He had lived his whole life in New Lenox, Illinois. When Dave turned 25, he got a job at a mid range pen supply firm where he worked as a pen salesman. He had a lovely wife, Jane, and two kids, Mary and Michael. Dave always felt that this life suited him. He was perfectly content with his middle-class suburban lifestyle with the occasional conquering of worlds on the side, but the people that he met made that difficult.     His son, Michael, played little league baseball for their local team, and Dave tried to make it to every game. He always felt that it was important to show support for your children in every facet of life in order for them to grow up to be well rounded individuals. Michael wasn’t much interested in consuming the hearts of his fallen enemies, and Dave was okay with that. The issue with baseball, though, was that the other team would always let Michael win, out of fear of angering Dave. This had always upset Dave because he believed that failure was an essential part of growth, but since he was generally a shy person, he never spoke up about it. Plus, he loved seeing how happy it made Michael to win.     Sure, he loved to expand his domain and murder thousands at a time, but he considered that a work thing, and Dave was a firm believer in keeping your work life and personal life separate. For now, Dave just wanted to be Dave. [This is my first time answering a writing prompt, would appreciate any feedback]

[WP] Your name is Dave. People keep trying to call you other things, like "The Scourge of Seven Worlds," or "The Dread One," or "The Fifth Horseman." It's all very annoying. You just want to be called "Dave."

“The antichrist”. “Satan”. “The devil”. You probably know me better from those names, right? Thing is, none of those are correct. I’m genuinely just called Dave. I don’t know how on earth - for it is only on earth that this misconception seems to have occurred - my name got lost in translation over the years. I’ve tried to explain to thousands of you hapless mortals for what feels like an eternity now that it’s Dave, not “The devil” or any of these other bizarre terms, however it’s incredibly difficult to do so when the very sight of me seems to throw even the bravest of souls into a wailing fit of despair. Truth is, I’m not even a bad guy. You’ve heard of hell, I’m sure. I mean, you will have, if you truly know anything of me. What’s all this nonsense about “eternal suffering” and “lakes of lava” and “fire and flames”? You mortals need to, as you put it, chill. The REAL bad guys? They don’t get a heaven OR a hell. They’re toast. Gone. See, Hell is just where all the folk who didn’t make the cut for heaven go. Yeah, it’s a bit shabby round the edges, but hey, better than nothing I reckon. Like my name, it’s just a bit, well, bland. I’d say I rule over the place but I don’t even really do that. I’ll check in now and then, make a wee cuppa here and there. But that’s it really. That’s all. That song you’re all so fond of, about that highway going to hell? Wasted trip if you ask me. So please, call me Dave. That way, when you inevitably end up down here with me, we don’t have to play those god awful (if you’ll pardon the pun) icebreaker games. I’m flattered that you all seem to think I have these unlimited powers, but unless you count my power to bake a MEAN rustic olive focaccia loaf, I’m just a regular bloke really.

"The Four Horsemen have nothing on me....ALL will CALL ME by what I have demanded the whole tiiiiimeeee...! DAAAAAAAVE!" Everyone. Every. Day. David. Ugh. Five Letters given to me at birth, they say a name of a king yet my kingdom is nowhere near a fief. Yet I trudge. Practically alone yet everyone wants me. "David Oh my Gawsh!" Please. Dave. "Like the one with the Goliath??" Why. I don't go to church. They all know, time after time. I don't remember being named Doormat David so why do they always think they can ALWAYS step on me? David you're nothing. David you exist to die. Not Dave. David. The E imprints my face as the ID shows me what I have needed this whole time. The mirror creaks with whispers as it tells me "Dav they'll never listen..." Well. I got something that'll make them listen....close your eyes when the iron rang "Dave" was all that was sang....A king of none, showed them change with the sound of a

[WP] Your name is Dave. People keep trying to call you other things, like "The Scourge of Seven Worlds," or "The Dread One," or "The Fifth Horseman." It's all very annoying. You just want to be called "Dave."

I did everything right. For the last year, I just focused on self-betterment. Eating healthy, working out, saving and investing my money, listening to NPR, listening to Joe Rogan, meditating, doing yoga but not in gay way, not that there’s anything wrong with being gay, I’ve got plenty of gay friends, but I digress….. you know, self-betterment. She was beautiful. We’d only been going out for four months. But I knew she was the one I wanted to marry. One night, I made a mistake of taking her to a fancy restaurant. It was near the bookstore. “What are the odds,” I thought. We left the restaurant in a giggly mood. All of sudden they emerged from the bookstore, wearing their capes. They saw me and screamed. “OH MY GOD! THE DREAD ONE!” She looked at them in a confused manner. I pretended to be baffled as they approached and began to kneel before me. “THE FIFTH HORSEMAN! THE SCOURGE OF SEVEN WORLDS!” “The what?” she said. “Woman does thou not knoweth the most renowned fantasy player in thy realm?” “Wait what,” she said. “Your seed-giver. He is a living legend in our fantasy board game league.” “You play fantasy board games?” “What? No. Of course not!” “But thou does tho. Feast your eyes on me cellular phone.” It was a pic of me in full costume with them. I was about 120 pounds heavier. She knew it was me and asked. “How long were you about this life?” “Four hundredth fortnights me lady.” “What?” “A decade,” I said reluctantly as I heard her pussy dry up like the Sahara desert. “Thou can see our lord is busy with a lady. We only wished to express our praise and hope ye return to thy kingdom some day. Good night my liege.” They left. Then we left. No sex that night. She asked why I didn’t tell her and I told her I was embarrassed. She said it was nothing to be ashamed of. A week later she broke up with me because she “wasn’t feeling it anymore.” Gee, I wonder why. A few weeks later I passed her on the street while she was walking with her friends. One of them said “hi The Dread One.” “My name’s Dave you cunt.” They snickered and kept walking. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in life is that your past will most likely find you. When it does a lot of times there’s nothing you can really do about it. So whatever you’re doing right now; make sure you’re ok with the consequences it might bring. The kingdoms you build will haunt you.

"The Four Horsemen have nothing on me....ALL will CALL ME by what I have demanded the whole tiiiiimeeee...! DAAAAAAAVE!" Everyone. Every. Day. David. Ugh. Five Letters given to me at birth, they say a name of a king yet my kingdom is nowhere near a fief. Yet I trudge. Practically alone yet everyone wants me. "David Oh my Gawsh!" Please. Dave. "Like the one with the Goliath??" Why. I don't go to church. They all know, time after time. I don't remember being named Doormat David so why do they always think they can ALWAYS step on me? David you're nothing. David you exist to die. Not Dave. David. The E imprints my face as the ID shows me what I have needed this whole time. The mirror creaks with whispers as it tells me "Dav they'll never listen..." Well. I got something that'll make them listen....close your eyes when the iron rang "Dave" was all that was sang....A king of none, showed them change with the sound of a