Lin Xiaoxia’s fingers froze on the screen. That abrupt anonymous message was like an icy needle, puncturing her lazy afternoon warmth.

"Break up with him now—unless you want to watch him die in front of you. From the you of 2033."

2033? Her future self? Lin Xiaoxia’s first thought was that it had to be a prank—some jerk trying to sabotage her relationship with Xu Yuan. She unlocked her phone, swiping through her gallery, the screen flooding with warm-toned memories.

There was Xu Yuan in the café, clumsily crafting a lopsided cat latte art for her, her laughter crinkling her eyes into crescent moons. Then, the rain-soaked track field, where he draped his jacket over her shoulders, his gaze so tender it could melt. And late nights hunched over their laptops, bickering over a stubborn line of code before dissolving into shared laughter. Xu Yuan was like that—gentle, dependable, almost superhuman, yet stubborn as a mule over trivial things, like insisting on walking on the right side of the sidewalk.

Suddenly, an unfamiliar video call request popped up—the caller ID a jumble of garbled characters. Hesitating, she answered.

The face on the screen was slightly worn, sharp-eyed, yet undeniably her own—older, wearier, stripped of youth’s softness.

Future Lin Xiaoxia lifted a weathered gray tombstone into view, the camera shaking as it revealed the inscription: "Beloved Wife Lin Xiaoxia. Erected by Xu Yuan."A sharp inhale—her phone nearly slipped from her grip. The image switched again: a simple platinum ring, still gleaming, sat on her left ring finger, stark against skin roughened by time.

"Don’t doubt me. I’m you, eight years from now."Future Xiaoxia’s voice was tired but firm. "If you don’t leave him now, he’ll die in that car accident two years later."

Her mind reeled. She searched the older face for any hint of a joke but found only grim certainty—and a flicker of pain.

"And,"Future Xiaoxia added, eyeing her younger self’s bangs with a mix of disdain and nostalgia, "these wispy bangs were a terrible choice. The wind just smacks them into your face. I still don’t know how Xu Yuan put up with them."

Present Xiaoxia instinctively touched her fringe. The absurdity of it—future her, critiquing her hairat a time like this?

Future Xiaoxia seemed to read her thoughts. "Don’t think this is a joke. Time’s running out. Believe me—leaving him is the only way."

The call ended abruptly, the screen plunging back into darkness.

Her heart hammered against her ribs. This has to be fake. A cruel hoax.Xu Yuan—meticulous, careful Xu Yuan—in a fatal accident?

Just then, her door creaked open. Xu Yuan stepped in, smiling softly, a bouquet of crimson roses in his hands. He knelt before her, pulling out a velvet box. Inside, a diamond ring glimmered.

"Xiaoxia,"he murmured, gaze unwavering. "Marry me?"

She stared at the glittering stone, then flashed back to the cold message, the tombstone, the ring on a future, weathered hand—

A chill seized her.

"Have I done enough today?" I tell myself, as I lay in bed staring at the popcorn ceiling, my hands tightly clasping my pillow.

It has never crossed my mind that I could be an influence to others.

While I have always been vocal about being there for people, especially those I truly care about, actually leaving a lasting impression on them seemed like a pipe dream.

I shift my body to my side, hands still holding onto my favorite checkered square pillow.

Did I say the right words? Have I been too nosy towards my friend who has been going through so much? Did I eat properly? I try to sleep, but the rummaging thoughts keep emerging on my mind, like playing an endless game of whack-a-mole.

I wonder whether anything I do, say, or think, helps people. Or if my being concerned has ever made matters worse.

But I have come to realize that maybe it's not just what l give everyone. It's also what I provide for myself. After all, I can't pour from an empty cup. Like plants that need constant care and nurturing, my ability to be there for the people I love hinges on prioritizing watering my own roots. Only by first tending my needs can I be fully present and effective in helping others.

I close my eyes as I embraced this awareness, loosening the tense grip I had on the cushion. I find peace in knowing even if I still feel uncertain at times, this new understanding is a step forward.

As such, the hope in my heart inhibits me from deflecting the idea that maybe, one day, I can make a difference - in someone's life and my own.

okay so when I was In 9th grade I had this pretty ass diary(I'm a diary person AND I LOVE WRITING) so basically I thought instead of keeping diary at home I should just carry it to school coz there are chances that my mother could find it and see what her daughter is actually doing .I had written everything like EVERYTHING about my personal life(family dramas, crushes. kisses AND MY NASTY ASS FANTASY) and yk what its completely fine so I used to bring my diary with me .Everything was fine until that one day... It was feb and it was valentine week, mind telling you I was in a convent school and my school was handled by sisters/nun so they randomly checked everyone's bag and it ofcc didn't bother me coz I had nothing with me coz I was single at that time( I BROKE UP WITH MY VERY FIRST BF JUST TO STAY SINGLE IN VALENTINE WEEK BECOZ I THOUGHT IT WAS CRINGE AND I WASNT EVEN SERIOUS IN THAT RELATIONSHIP COZ I DIDNT EVEN HAD FEELINGS like he was my frd and I never had feelings for him so ya) and then it was my turn AND GUESS WHAT that sister took my diary and STARTED READING MY DIARY like can ya'll believe, and I was like huh wth, HOW CAN YOU READ SOMEONE'S DIARY WITHOUT THEIR PERMISSION and HOW IS WRITING DIARY AGAINST THE RULES LIKE WTF. She read that page where I wrote that I HAD A CRUSH ON MY CHEM PROFFESOR and the way she looked at me..OH MY GOD that stare.. and she asked me does your mother know about this I was like wth why would I tell someone that I like my pro who is double my age( I was 15 he was28) and she told me should I say her I was so scared bhai and she continued reading my diary. It was so embarrassing coz she was reading my diary in front of whole class but yk luckily that chem sir wasn't from our school he was from my coaching. Yk what he was double my age I had even mention that... and then she took my diary AND NEVER GAVE ME BACK LIKE WTH FIRST OF ALL HOW DARE YOU READ SOMEONE'S DIARY WITHOUT THEIR PERMISSION AND SECOND OF ALL HOW IS WRITING DIARY WRONG AND LASTLY WHY DID YOU TOOK MY DIARY AND DIDNT EVEN RETURN. so ya this was it I even went to her cabin to get my diary back but nahh that lady she didnt gave me my diary yk what I just hate her and I HATE THEM SCHOOL TOO ✌️✌️Ik it wasn't that juicy or smtg but I just felt telling ya'll

ok so if ya'll interested in my story time do tell me😋love ya'll💋💋

A Last Call Inn Short Story.

Bartholomew "Bart" Thatcher had been wiping the same spot on the counter for nearly ten minutes. To the untrained eye, it might have appeared to be dedication to cleanliness. In reality, it was the mechanical motion of a man desperately waiting for the clock to strike midnight so he could flip the sign from "Open" to "If we don't open after three knocks, We're Closed.»

The Last Call Inn wasn't much to look at. Low ceilings stained with decades of pipe smoke, lighting from oil lamps that flickered with the resigned persistence of government employees on a Friday afternoon, and the perpetual smell of spilled beer, wood polish, and that particular musk that only develops when five different species use the same bathroom. An odor which, Bart had decided after careful consideration, could serve as an effective alternative to his modified crossbow if he ever needed to clear the room in a hurry.

Nevertheless, the inn was his. Had been for twenty-three years before the rifts opened. And somehow, miraculously, it had survived five years of interdimensional war when buildings twice its size and thrice its importance had been reduced to rubble. The clock on the wall had endured three direct magical blasts, two gravitational anomalies, and what might have been a time-reversal event that had temporarily turned all the beer in the cellar back into barley. The clock continued ticking with such perfect accuracy that several patrons had theorized it might actually be the thing holding this corner of reality together.

Somehow, the Last Call Inn had been at just the right, and wrong, place at the wrong, and right time, and as such it had survived through countless skirmishes, patrons and battles. Not only survived, but thrived in its own little way. Bart considered this a testament to his business model: Serve anything that can pay, don't question or take sides, and keep the crossbow loaded.

"Ten minutes," Bart muttered to himself, glancing at his multiversally resilient timepiece. His grandfather had made it, which to Bart was enough explanation as to why it still worked. Grandfathers, as everyone knows, just made things that lasted. "Ten minutes and I can..."

The door crashed open with all the subtlety of a dragon playing hide-and-seek.

Bart's hand instinctively reached for the modified crossbow he kept under the counter. Five years of war had taught even the most peaceable of barkeeps to prepare for the worst. After all, the worst was usually his clientele.

But what stood in his doorway wasn't the worst. It was something... weirder. Which, in Bart's professional opinion as a man who had once served a drink to a being made entirely of sentient smoke, wasn't all that weird.

Three figures silhouetted against the night sky, each looking like they'd been dragged backward through the nine hells while being forced to listen to an ogre with a lisp recite elven poetry. About feelings.

The first to step forward was short, barely reaching Bart's waist. A kobold, scales the color of rust with patches of what might have been blood or red clay. One of its horns was broken off halfway, and a scar ran from where it should have been down to its snout. It wore makeshift armor cobbled together from scavenged metal, leather, and what appeared to be the shell of some enormous beetle that had clearly lost an argument about personal space.

"Got anything that'll burn a hole in my stomach?" the kobold asked, its voice like gravel being stirred with a wooden spoon.

Before Bart could answer, the second figure pushed in. A woman, tall and lanky, dressed in what once might have been a sleek spacesuit but was now torn and patched in dozens of places. Her helmet was cracked along one side, revealing a face covered in tiny scars that looked like constellations, the kind astronomers would name "The Extremely Bad Day" or "Somebody Tried to Kill Me with Something Sharp."

"Whiskey," she said, her voice clipped and precise. "Or your closest approximation that won't make me temporarily color-blind."

The third figure had to duck to enter. A mountain of a man with a mechanical arm that hissed and vented steam with each movement. Goggles pushed up on his forehead, a captain's coat torn and burned at the edges, and a beard that seemed to contain several small metal objects woven into it. The objects occasionally blinked or made quiet ticking sounds, suggesting they weren't merely decorative but potentially useful for telling time, navigating dimensions, or possibly making very small toast.

"Whatever they're having," he rumbled with a formal, nautical cadence, "and a pint of your darkest, if you would be so kind."

Bart's eyes flicked to the clock. Eight minutes to midnight. He sighed. The very last thing he needed was customers who looked like they'd just crawled out of the war's messiest corner. Those types either couldn't pay or paid in things that defied classification by most reputable financial institutions.

"Last call was five minutes ago," he lied, with the practiced ease of a barkeep who had been closing "in five minutes" for approximately twenty-three years.

The kobold snorted, a small flame escaping its nostrils and singeing the edge of a "Happy Peace Day (Someday?)" banner that had been hanging optimistically since year two of the war. "Someday" had been added later based on the differing writing style.

"Bar's still open. We can see the bottles from here," he pointed out, tapping a claw on the counter that left a small scorch mark. The sound of talon on wood created a distinctive sizzle, like bacon frying on a particularly irritable griddle.

"And if time is your concern," the spacer said, tapping a strange device on her wrist that seemed to display several different times simultaneously, none of which agreed with each other, "I can assure you it's a far more relative concept than you might imagine. Tuesday has been happening continuously for the past eight days just north of here, you know."

She delivered this information with the matter-of-fact tone of someone reporting the weather.

The pirate simply stared, his mechanical hand flexing with a series of clicks and puffs of steam that somehow managed to sound judgmental. The metal fingers clinked against each other in what might have been Morse code for "serve us or regret it."

Bart recognized the look in their eyes. He'd seen it often enough these past five years. The thousand-yard stare of those who'd seen too much, done too much, and somehow lived to tell about it, even if no one would believe them. Even worse, it was the look of people who needed a drink badly enough that they might get creative if denied. His hand moved away from the crossbow. Creative customers were bad for the furniture.

"Fine," he said, reaching for glasses that could charitably be described as "clean-adjacent." "But you're paying up front. Last time I accepted a tab from a kobold, I ended up with scales in the register that melted the coins."

The kobold clambered onto a stool, leaving little scorch marks where its claws touched the wood. Each mark added to the collection that had turned the barstool into a connect-the-dots puzzle of previous patrons. It dropped a handful of glowing gemstones onto the counter, which skittered across the surface like sentient marbles before Bart caught them. Each stone pulsed with a light that seemed to come from within and emitted a barely-audible hum that somehow managed to sound exactly like the color blue would if blue made a noise.

"These work?" the kobold asked with the hopeful expression of someone who had attempted to pay for things with mysterious glowing objects before, with mixed results.

Before Bart could answer, the spacer placed some kind of metallic card next to the gems. It gleamed under the lamplight with an iridescence that suggested it might be made of something not entirely from this world.

"Universal credit," she explained, her tone suggesting this should be obvious to anyone with a basic education in quantum economics. "Works in seventeen systems, though there's a terrible exchange rate in systems twelve through fourteen. Daylight robbery if you ask me."

The pirate sighed, reached into his coat and produced a handful of actual gold coins, which was the first currency Bart had seen from them that didn't require a degree in theoretical physics to understand. The coins clinked against the wood with a reassuringly solid sound.

"Real gold," the pirate said unnecessarily, setting the coins down with precise, deliberate movements befitting a ship's captain. "Not the kind that turns into butterflies after midnight."

Bart reached for the gold with the practiced nonchalance of someone who had once accepted payment in the form of a chicken that laid time-delayed eggs. The weight felt good in his palm; real currency that wouldn't try to escape, explode, or philosophize.

"What'll it be?" he asked, already reaching for bottles.

"Fire whiskey," the kobold said, baring teeth that glinted in the lamplight like miniature daggers. "The kind that validates my life choices."

"The same," said the explorer, removing her cracked helmet completely to reveal more of those constellation-like scars across her scalp. The removal released a faint odor of ozone and something else that smelled suspiciously like space itself. Cold, vast, and somehow theoretical.

"Dark ale," rumbled the pirate, stroking his beard with his flesh-and-blood hand, causing the small metal objects woven into it to chime softly like tiny ship bells. "The kind that requires a spoon. And a whiskey chaser, if you'd be so kind."

As Bart turned to fetch their drinks, the bottles clinking against each other in a familiar rhythm, he noticed the taproom wasn't as empty as he'd thought. In the shadowy corners sat other patrons: A high elf in a once-immaculate robe now singed with peculiar blue-green burns, delicately sipping some concoction that glowed faintly and hummed a minor chord whenever he set it down; a pair of dwarves with mechanical limbs and steam-powered monocles that wheezed and clicked as they argued over blueprint sketches, their beards intricately braided with copper wire and tiny blinking lights.

The Last Call had always attracted an eclectic clientele, but since the rifts opened, "eclectic" had taken on an entirely new meaning. Not to mention an entirely new smell, which was something like ozone mixed with dragon breath and whatever that peculiar metallic tang was that accompanied teleportation spells gone slightly wrong. Bart had grown used to it, the way someone living next to a fish market eventually stops noticing the overwhelmingly piscine atmosphere.

"Rough day?" Bart asked, sliding their drinks across the bar while ignoring the other patrons. It was the question he always asked, though he'd long since stopped expecting honest answers. In his experience, the rougher the day, the less people wanted to talk about it. Unless they'd had at least three drinks, that was.

The kobold laughed, a sound like a box of nails being shaken in a tin can.

"Rough five years." It took the fire whiskey and, to Bart's alarm but not surprise, lit it with a flick of its tongue before downing it in one go. The flames briefly illuminated the kobold's face, highlighting scars Bart hadn't noticed initially.

"We just came from Horizon Ridge," the explorer said, staring into her glass with the intensity of someone seeing something far beyond transparent liquid. Her fingers, calloused and precision-steady, traced the rim with microscopic accuracy.

"Typical brass idiocy," the pirate added, taking a long pull of his ale and leaving a foam mustache atop his real one. His formal tone contrasted with the bitter content of his words. "Send in the heroes, see who survives to declare victory."

A strange, uncomfortable silence fell over the bar. Even the ambient sounds of clinking glasses and murmured conversations in the corners seemed to dim, as if the very air were listening. The lamps flickered in unison, casting momentary shadows that seemed to have too many dimensions.

"You didn't hear?" the kobold finally asked, addressing no one in particular as his tail swished behind him nervously. The movement created a soft whooshing sound, like a very small, very annoyed broom.

Bart paused mid-wipe. "Hear what?»

«It’s over.»

«What? The war?"

"So it would seem," the explorer nodded, her expression unreadable as she ran a finger along one of her facial scars. The scar briefly luminesced at her touch, then dimmed.

"Hard to tell the difference," the pirate added, his mechanical hand clenching with a soft hiss of steam. "The dead are still dead. The ruins still ruined."

Bart found himself wiping that same spot on the counter again. Five years of war, just... done. He wasn't sure how to feel about that. After all, the Last Call had kind of thrived because of the war. People fighting tend to be thirsty, and prone to dull both physical and mental pain with whatever their currency could afford. Peace might be bad for business, assuming there was enough world left for business to happen in.

"Well," he said finally, "I suppose that calls for a real drink. On the house." He reached beneath the counter and pulled out a dusty bottle he'd been saving for a special occasion. Whether the end of an interdimensional war qualified as "special" was debatable, but it certainly qualified as an "occasion." The bottle made a satisfying thunk as he set it on the counter, dust motes dancing in the lamplight.

"Didn't you lot fight for different sides?" Bart asked as he poured, the question that had been bothering him since they entered together. Their equipment and appearances couldn't have been more different, yet here they were, drinking together like old friends. Bart was no stranger to different sides in his little tavern, but they rarely entered together, and they almost never sat together without at least one attempted murder. The lack of bloodshed was almost disappointing. It would have given him something to bill them for beyond the drinks.

The three exchanged glances.

"Not anymore," the explorer said flatly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear to reveal another scar shaped like a perfect hexagon.

"Someone actually did it," said the pirate with a shrug that caused his mechanical arm to vent a perfect smoke ring. The ring hung in the air for a moment before dissolving into nothing.

"War's over," the kobold stated, exhaling a small puff of smoke that formed itself into a tiny mushroom cloud before dissipating. "As far as we're concerned, anyway."

The clock ticked closer to midnight, the sound somehow more ominous than usual. Bart decided he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. Some nights you closed the bar. Other nights the bar decided when you were done. This was shaping up to be the latter.

---

Somewhere between the third and fourth round, Bart learned their names, or at least what they called themselves these days.

The kobold was Spark. The space explorer introduced herself as Commander Nova Starburn, though she conceded that "Nova" would suffice. The steampunk pirate gave his name simply as Captain Grimshaw, with the air of someone who had either abandoned or eaten his first name long ago.

"So how'd you three end up together?" Bart asked, curiosity finally overcoming caution. "Last I checked, the Draconic Legions, the Stellar Coalition, and the Brass Armada were trying to blow each other to pieces. With considerable success, I might add."

Spark snorted another tiny flame, which briefly illuminated his face in orange light. His scales shifted color slightly; a kobold tell that Bart had learned to read over the years. This particular shade indicated a mix of weariness and dark humor.

"They were, right up until about... some hours ago," Spark said, puffing a small smoke ring.

"Big battle at Horizon Ridge," Nova explained, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass, leaving faint trails of light like phosphorescent sea creatures. Her voice maintained its clipped precision. "Textbook example of tactical stupidity, if you ask me."

Bart had heard of Horizon Ridge. It had been all anyone could talk about for weeks, the massive buildup of forces, the desperate gamble by all sides to secure a strategic high ground that happened to sit atop a major rift. What made this hilarious, in a cosmic sort of way, was that the "strategic high ground" was a hill that offered a spectacular view of... more hills. All equally empty, all equally useless, all equally worth dying for, apparently. Bart had been in this business long enough to know that military strategy and common sense kept separate residences, rarely visited each other, and couldn't pick each other out of a lineup.

"Nasty business," Grimshaw said, his expression darkening as he twisted one of the small metal objects in his beard. The gesture produced a soft chiming sound, like distant ship bells. "My vessel, the Relentless, was providing artillery support from the western approach when the rift surged. Most unseemly affair."

"Surged?" Bart asked, though he wasn't sure he wanted to know. In his experience, questions often led to answers, and answers often led to the kind of knowledge that made sleeping difficult.

"Expanded without warning," Nova clarified, making a sudden outward gesture with her hands. Her scientific detachment never wavered. "Swallowed three battalions in seconds. Draconic, Human, and Brass alike. Very democratic, when you think about it."

"No discrimination in how it killed," Spark muttered, his wings folding tighter against his back with a leathery rustle. "Just... gone."

From his corner table, the high elf suddenly spoke, his voice like wind chimes in a gentle breeze after they've had perhaps one too many glasses of elven wine. "The void has no preference for which flesh it consumes. All are equal before the great nothing. Which is nice in a horrifying sort of way."

The dwarves paused their argument, looking up with identical expressions of annoyance. Their synchronized eye-rolling would have been impressive if it hadn't been so predictable.

Spark bared teeth that glinted like tiny daggers. "Nobody asked you, fancy-pants. Go back to being cryptically useless somewhere else," he growled. His tail lashed behind him, nearly knocking over an empty glass with a sound like a very small whip.

"Actually," Nova said quietly, adjusting one of the many patches on her spacesuit with methodical precision, "he's not wrong. The rifts have been getting worse everywhere." She spoke with the calm authority of someone who had measured the approaching apocalypse and found it statistically significant.

Grimshaw nodded grimly. "My ship's engineers were reporting the same phenomenon before their unfortunate demise," he confirmed, his naval formality intact despite the grim subject matter. "Reality appears to be coming apart at the seams." He demonstrated by pushing his flesh hand through the air as if tearing fabric.

"Some wiseass hero must've managed to do it," Spark added with a shrug, his spines bristling briefly like a hedgehog with attitude. "Find an end to the rifts. And by 'end' I mean... well." He made a small explosive gesture with his claws that spoke volumes about the probable fate of said hero.

Bart felt a chill that had nothing to do with the night air. Could this 'hero' be that Doug-fellow that passed through three years ago? Or was it Greg? Or Ar'thara'sa? Or Marvin? Not that it mattered. Heroes had a way of solving problems permanently, especially themselves. Bart had learned long ago that serving a drink to someone who proclaimed themselves a "chosen one" was statistically equivalent to hosting their funeral reception.

"Figured the war was over then and there," Spark continued, his scales taking on a reddish tinge around the edges that Bart recognized as the kobold equivalent of thoughtfulness. "When you see three battalions disappear in the blink of an eye..."

"We stopped fighting," Nova said simply, her scientific precision giving way to bluntness. "There was no point anymore. Statistically speaking, survival required cooperation."

"Kinda hard to worry about territorial disputes when the territory itself disappears into nothing," Grimshaw elaborated, taking a long swig of his ale and wiping foam from his mustache with his sleeve. His captain's dignity remained intact despite the casual gesture.

"So we figured there was no point fighting anymore," Spark continued, using a claw to draw patterns in the condensation on his glass, which sizzled faintly like bacon on a too-hot pan.

"And we decided to get a drink instead," Nova finished, glancing at her companions with what might have been the ghost of a smile. "Your establishment was the only functional drinking venue we could locate."

"I can imagine," Bart said, refilling their glasses without being asked. The liquid gurgled pleasantly into each glass, providing a momentary counterpoint to the somber conversation. «Hear that more often than you’d think.»

"So just like that, the war was over?" he asked, skeptical. Wars didn't end cleanly in his experience. They limped to messy conclusions, leaving everyone dissatisfied and thirsty.

"For us, at least," Nova said with a shrug, her matter-of-fact tone returning like a shield. "The motivating factors no longer apply to our situation."

"Five years of fighting coming to an end so fast," Grimshaw mused, staring into his ale as if it might contain answers. His mechanical fingers tapped a rhythm on the counter that might have been a naval code. "There's likely a moral to be found in these circumstances."

"If you find it, let me know," Spark replied dryly, blowing a smoke ring that formed itself into a tiny question mark. "I'll use it as kindling."

"Anyway, the rift surged, battalions evaporated and the the sky itself tore apart not unlike the day the Rifts appeared and this whole thing started. That's when the three of us decided to depart," Grimshaw said, his formal diction contrasting with the casual content in a way that suggested he'd never mastered informal speech.

Nova sighed, rubbing her temple where a particularly large scar formed what looked like the North Star. "Figured it was a good time for a drink."

One of the dwarves suddenly slammed his mechanical fist on the table, causing his drinking vessel to jump and splash its glowing contents onto his blueprint. The sound echoed like a miniature explosion.

"Seven hells and a quantum fluctuation!" he bellowed. "I told you the calibration was off, Gromdak! Look at this mess!" His beard bristled with indignation, the tiny lights woven into it blinking in patterns that suggested alarm codes.

The other dwarf peered through his steam-powered monocle at the spill, which was now eating through the paper with a sound like a very small monster gargling mouthwash. "Hmm, interesting reaction," he observed with academic detachment. "Perhaps we should incorporate this into the design? A self-dissolving blueprint would be perfect for our top-secret Very Large Exploding Thing."

"You're dripping dimensional solvent on my boots, you bearded catastrophe!" his companion replied, the words emerging from somewhere deep within his facial hair. "These were specially enchanted to repel everything except compliments and beer!"

Bart glanced at the clock. Half past midnight. The hands seemed to move with reluctance, as if time itself was considering taking the night off. He should have closed an hour ago. Dwarves drinking after midnight rarely ended well. Their argument would either result in them building something amazing, something terrible, or something amazingly terrible.

Yet somehow, the thought of kicking everyone out into the night didn't sit right with Bart this night. His profit-minded pragmatism was being overruled by a strange feeling that might, in other people, be called compassion. Bart preferred to think of it as "customer retention strategy."

"Another round?" he offered instead, already reaching for bottles with the instinctive precision of a man who could pour exactly one finger of whiskey while blindfolded during an earthquake.

Three glasses slid toward him in unison, creating a synchronized scraping sound across the wooden counter.

As Bart poured, he studied his unusual customers more closely. They were battered, filthy, and clearly exhausted, yet there was something else in their demeanor. A strange mix of relief and dread, as if the end of one nightmare had merely heralded the beginning of another, possibly wearing pajamas and carrying cookies.

"So you three just walked away from the battlefield holding hands and skipping along?" Bart prompted, leaning forward on the counter. The wood creaked slightly under his weight, a familiar sound that had become part of the inn's constant ambient noise. "From enemies to drinking buddies is quite a leap. Usually requires at least one near-death experience and a shared hatred of someone else."

"We got both," Nova said with a dark chuckle, absently tracing what looked like star charts in the condensation on her glass. The precise movements of her finger suggested she was mapping something specific.

"And the shared hatred?" Bart asked, wiping a nonexistent spill with a rag that had seen better days, possibly in a previous dimension.

"Everyone who kept this pointless war going for five years," Grimshaw replied, his formal tone returning as he straightened his tattered captain's coat with military precision. "When I enlisted in the Armada, it was to explore new territories, not reduce them to rubble."

"All those commanders sitting safe and sound in their bunkers," Spark added bitterly, his claws digging slightly into the wooden counter with a sound like miniature knives being sharpened. "Writing orders in ink while we wrote them in blood."

"So you just... walked away?" Bart asked, genuinely curious now. In his twenty-eight years of bartending, he'd served deserters, heroes, villains, and everything in between, but he'd never seen enemies become allies quite this quickly without magic or mutual blackmail being involved.

Nova looked up from her glass, meeting his eyes directly for the first time. Her gaze was unnervingly precise, like being examined through a microscope. "What was the alternative? Die for a cause that doesn't exist anymore?" Her scientific detachment slipped, revealing something harder beneath.

"Continue fighting when the entire world is demonstrably falling apart?" Grimshaw added, his mechanical hand opening and closing rhythmically with a series of clicks and steam hisses.

"Stand around waiting for orders while reality itself has a nervous breakdown?" Spark said with another puff of smoke shaped suspiciously like an extended middle finger. "I don't think so. I've spent enough time being cannon fodder for one lifetime. I have enough nervous breakdowns to deal with of my own." His mention of cannon fodder was delivered with particular venom, suggesting a history he wasn't sharing.

Bart nodded slowly. It made a certain sense. Soldiers finding common ground in shared trauma was as old as war itself. Only the nature of the war and the soldiers had changed. The alcohol helped too, of course. Alcohol was nature's way of telling you that the person who tried to kill you yesterday might be your best friend today, especially if they're buying the next round.

"To fallen comrades, then," he said, raising his own glass in a toast. The amber liquid caught the lamplight, glowing like trapped sunshine.

"And fucking off," Spark added, raising his glass higher, a tiny flame dancing on the surface of his drink like a miniature fire spirit doing the backstroke.

They drank in silence, the only sound the soft sipping of liquid and the background murmur of the other patrons.

"You know what the worst part is?" Spark asked after a while, his voice softer than before. "For five years, we all thought we were fighting for something. Territory. Resources. A way home. Better cocktail recipes. And now..."

"Now it doesn't seem to matter as much," Nova finished, her scientific precision giving way to a hint of the wonder that had likely drawn her to space exploration originally. "The rifts make it statistically irrelevant."

"It might be a good thing," Grimshaw countered, speaking with the measured cadence of someone who had delivered many speeches on ship decks during storms. "United, we might have a chance to find a solution. Or at least expire in confusion together instead of expediting each other's demise."

"Optimism from a pirate," Spark remarked, his spines relaxing slightly. "Now I've seen everything. Next, you'll tell me elves have a sense of humor."

"I prefer the term 'privateer,'" Grimshaw corrected with a hint of a smile beneath his massive beard. It made a soft, rustling sound as his expression changed. "And it's not optimism. It's common sense. Combined knowledge is better than fragmented knowledge."

Nova nodded thoughtfully. "If anyone's going to figure out how to fix this mess, it'll take all available intellectual resources." For a moment, the scientist in her seemed to resurface, calculating probabilities behind her constellation-scarred face.

"Cooperation," Bart mused, wiping a glass that was already clean enough to perform surgery with. The circular motion was as much a part of his bartending as breathing. "Novel concept."

"Desperate times," Grimshaw shrugged, the movement causing his mechanical arm to release a small puff of steam. "When the vessel is sinking, even pirates and naval officers tend to share the same lifeboat." He said this with the air of someone who had experienced this exact scenario.

---

The Last Call Inn had settled into that peculiar atmosphere that only emerges in the small hours of the morning, when pretenses drop away, when strangers become confidants, and when the line between one day and the next blurs into insignificance. It's the same in every bar in every dimension: the 3 AM Truth Hour, when even the most hardened warriors admit they're scared of the dark and dragons confess they collect teacups.

Bart had brought up his best bottle from the cellar, a thirty-year-old whiskey he'd been saving for either the end of the war or the end of the world, whichever came first. Now it seemed both might be happening simultaneously, which meant it was definitely time to break out the good stuff. The liquid poured with a sound like velvet sliding over marble.

The customers had drifted closer over time, the artificial boundaries of faction and species giving way to the simple desire for connection in uncertain times. Even the dwarves had joined the loose circle around the bar, though one kept glancing nervously at the remnants of their dissolved blueprint, which was now forming a small puddle of what appeared to be liquid reality on the floor.

"Then we started to throw our cannonballs at them!" Grimshaw concluded with uncharacteristic animation, his naval formality momentarily abandoned in the enthusiasm of the story.

A laugh erupted around the bar, the sound jarring after so much somber conversation.

"Wait," one of the dwarves said as he wiped a tear from his eye, foam glistening in his beard like morning dew on a particularly hairy plant. "Was that at Hollocks Bollocks?"

Grimshaw emptied his beer and nodded, the movement precise despite the amount of alcohol he'd consumed. "You were present at that engagement?"

"Yes!" The dwarf lit up, foam sputtering from his beard like a malfunctioning espresso machine. "My party took out one of those damn airships with an exploding sheep-spell, a balloon and the best damn archery I've ever seen!"

"That was your handiwork?" Grimshaw asked, his mechanical eyebrow raising with a soft whirring sound.

"I engineered the balloon, but it was a joint effort, yes," the dwarf confirmed, chest puffing with pride.

Grimshaw slammed his glass on the bar, making the empty glasses rattle like wind chimes in a hurricane. "My family was on that ship."

Silence fell over the Inn, as silence does when everyone is uncomfortable and waits for someone else to break the silence. The dwarf paled underneath his beard, and Bart was sure he was about to throw up, pass out, or possibly both in an impressive display of multitasking.

Grimshaw started to laugh deep and hard, the sound starting somewhere around his boots and working its way up. "I'm merely jesting. That vessel was likely occupied by useless bureaucrats," he clarified, formal diction returning despite his mirth.

Relief flooded the dwarf's face, visible even through the thicket of facial hair. "Had me going there, Captain! Thought I was about to experience high-velocity dismemberment!"

"Not that it matters who did what to whom," Nova interjected, measuring her words with scientific precision. "We assessed Hollocks Bollocks after the battle. The casualty statistics were significant."

Spark grunted, a small ember escaping his nostril. "Like the battle of Eagle Mountain?"

Nova started to blush, which looked as weird on her as makeup on a rock troll. The constellation scars on her face seemed to glow slightly, as if embarrassment activated their luminescence.

"So what happens now?" Bart interrupted, pouring another round with the practiced ease of a man who could hit a shot glass from across the room. The interruption was tactical. He’d seen enough bar fights start from reminiscing about battles. "The war's over. Do you all just... go home? Open a gift shop? Start a band?"

The three soldiers exchanged glances. Something unspoken passed between them, a language of shared experience that needed no translation.

Nova shrugged, her constellation scars catching the lamplight. "If there is still a home to return to." Her tone remained clinical, but her fingers traced one of her scars in what appeared to be a self-soothing gesture.

"I mean..." Grimshaw said, his mechanical fingers drumming on the counter in what might have been morse code for "damned if I know." The rhythmic tapping created a soft metallic percussion.

"The rifts are kind of working overtime," Spark added, stretching his wings briefly before folding them again. The leathery membranes made a sound like canvas in a light breeze. "Swallowed entire outposts. Like cosmic Pac-Man, but with more screaming."

Bart frowned. "So you might be stuck here?" The thought of permanent interdimensional refugees wasn't appealing from a business perspective. Refugees tended to have limited funds and unlimited problems.

"Maybe," Nova shrugged, her scientific precision returning as she adjusted settings on her wrist device. It beeped softly, displaying readings that meant nothing to anyone except her. "Don't even know if there's a 'here' to be stuck in much longer."

"Does it matter?" Spark asked, surprising them all with the philosophical turn. "Five years of war? We've basically redecorated the entire planet in 'post-apocalyptic chic.'" His flippant tone couldn't quite hide the concern in his eyes, which had darkened to the color of cooling embers.

No one argued with the assessment. They'd all seen enough to know it was true. The silence that followed had the quality of mutual recognition, the shared understanding that sometimes there are no good answers, only less terrible ones.

"What about you?" Nova asked Bart, her analytical gaze taking in the inn around them. "This establishment has somehow maintained structural integrity. Will you remain?"

Bart looked around at his inn, battered, scarred, but still standing. The worn boards, the stained ceiling, the clock that refused to acknowledge the apocalypse. All of it painfully familiar and somehow precious.

"Well, not exactly here in this spot, but tt's all I have," he said simply. "Plus, I've got a mortgage that'll outlive the heat death of the universe."

"Speaking of which," Grimshaw said, checking a pocket watch that seemed to be running both forward and backward simultaneously, its ticking a strange syncopated rhythm, "we should probably return to what remains of our posts." He spoke with the resignation of someone who had followed unwelcome orders countless times before.

Nova nodded reluctantly, draining the last of her drink with scientific efficiency. "They'll be looking for us by now."

"If they're still there," Spark added, adjusting his makeshift armor with a series of metallic clinks. "If anywhere is still there."

They settled their tabs, though Bart tried to refuse payment for what had essentially become a wake for the world they had known, and gathered their gear. The sounds of preparation, buckles fastening, gear shifting, weapons being checked, created a practical counterpoint to the melancholy mood.

"It was an honor," Grimshaw said formally, extending his flesh-and-blood hand to Bart with a slight bow that spoke of his naval background. His grip was firm, warm, and slightly calloused; the hand of someone who worked despite his officer's rank.

"Best bar on any world I've visited," Nova added with a small smile. "And I've been to the gas giant where drinks serve themselves." The scientific observer in her gave way momentarily to genuine warmth.

"If we somehow stick around," Spark promised, his claws leaving one final scorch mark on the counter, "first round's on me next time. Assuming currency still exists and hasn't been replaced by interpretive dance as a payment method." His tail swished behind him, leaving a faint trail of smoke.

Bart found himself unexpectedly moved. "I'll hold you to that," he managed, surprising himself with the sincerity in his voice. "My interpretive dance is terrible. I look like a wounded flamingo having a seizure."

He followed them to the door, suddenly reluctant to see them leave. After five years of carefully maintained neutrality, of keeping everyone at arm's length, these strange warriors had somehow broken through his defenses in a single night. Which just proved that the universe's most effective solvent was alcohol and shared trauma, possibly in that order.

"Be careful out there," he said as he unbolted the door. The metal latch made a solid, final-sounding clunk as it released.

"Always am," Spark replied with forced bravado, puffing himself up to his full height, which was still barely above Bart's waist. "Hasn't killed me yet. Well, technically it did once, but I got better."

Bart swung the door open, hinges creaking in protest, and they all stepped out into what should have been night.

What greeted them wasn't darkness. Nor was it light. It was devastation.

The sky burned with rifts that tore through the fabric of reality like badly-healed wounds, offering glimpses into other dimensions that should never have touched this one. Familiar landmarks had been twisted and broken, buildings stood as hollow shells where they stood at all, and the very air tasted of metal and magic gone wrong.

Through the rifts, impossible worlds leaked into their own: Strange forests with trees that ran on clockwork, oceans where the water flowed upward, cities built from crystal and thought. The mountains in the distance were crumbling, while rivers had either dried up or now flowed with substances that weren't water at all.

Everything and nothing, was everywhere and nowhere, all at once.

They stood in silence, taking in the apocalyptic landscape. Nova's scientific detachment crumbled as she removed her helmet completely, letting it fall to the ground with a hollow thud. Grimshaw's formal posture sagged, his mechanical arm venting steam in what sounded like a sigh. Spark's wings drooped, and his usual fiery demeanor dimmed to embers.

"So," Bart finally said, his voice small against the backdrop of destruction, "who won?"

Spark looked at the desolate wasteland, then at his unlikely companions, his scales shifting through a spectrum of colors that perfectly matched the emotional journey from disappointment to resignation to gallows humor. "Beats me."

The three soldiers exchanged one last look, then trudged away into the broken landscape, their silhouettes growing smaller against the chaotic backdrop of a world coming apart.

Bart watched them go until they disappeared among the ruins. Then, with a sigh that carried the weight of five years and approximately three extra dimensions and then some, he stepped back inside and flipped the sign from "Open" to "Closed."

Some habits die hard, even at the end of the world. And sometimes, Bart thought as he began wiping down the counter, those habits are the only thing keeping you sane when everything else has gone mad. The familiar motion was comforting. A small island of normalcy in a sea of chaos. If the world was ending, at least his counter would be clean when it went.

The Gospel is a wave. Every soulgot to be saved. The Word lets us know how to defeat the grave. The worldforget the devil wants to delete anybody with faith. Illuminati doesn't grantme my rights. Does anybody want the planet to have light.

We up next cause we love withspiritual reflex. See the test cause they ain't no biblical defects. Beingbless the glow is the T-Rex. But I ain't going extinct. The game stuck cause itstink. The world don't want you to think. The Word said don't shrink.

Faith got to be bullet proof. Thegrave can't hold the truth. We got to be willing to go all the way. Life isfulfilling when God makes a way. The highest attainment is salvation. Thewisest satan is devoured in revelation. The Good News is what I view.

The mind theory. The kind hearme. The blind fear me. Talking about spiritual vision. Walking on that Biblicalmission. Final form. The vinyl under my arm. It's gon get ugly. Don't forgetthe game ain't lovely. Are you walking in Christ. What's the price.

I know a bird that sings to thekings. That's a word cause we all been going through some things. Holy spiritwings. They fear it cause of what it brings. The material got folk actingserial. Know your purpose. The glow got them nervous.

When they pray on your downfallwhere they stand the ground fall. Not wishing harm. Not kissing charm. Ain'tnobody missing the storm. We're the Body of Christ. Illuminati is taking ourrights. The holy spirit is our link. We know how to think.

See it through the forecast. Youcan't be free off poor cash. Meaning you need the Word of God for spiritualwealth. We ain't steaming no bird of heart for biblical health. Lemon and lime.Venom and time. Make your heart 100. Is God your dread.

Endure until the end to be saved.Rich or poor I'm gon still repent with faith. All eyes welcome to the assembly.Alumni where I'm from they gon remember me. False doctrine. The cross ain't aoption. Jesus is the only name. Can't deceive us we all the same.

Everything happens for a reason.The birds sing no capping in any season. Let your sin go. Don't forget the windblow. Why do folk want to play with their soul. They want me to die in the yokeof clay and gold. By grace we're saved. Where's your faith.

Hear the alarm. Don't fear thecharm. She got to be exact. The free heart is the next track. Her beauty isnature's duty. Heaven and hell is not a game. They got a leaven spell on yourname. The spiritual is true indeed cause the biblical is all you need.

You reap what you sow is fact.You keep what you owe is cap. All will be taken. Be real stop faking. Get yourown. Let it be known. This ain't fiction. We ain't wishing. The perfection isin resurrection. The wait is over. My fate is sober.

I done came from the start. Godsaid we won cause the name in our heart. My worth is different. The earth isshifting. The water is sweet. Don't be a starter in the street. It's not agame. I can't be tamed. Heart on cruise control and I won't lose my soul.

God will give you your heart'sdesires. Just got to go thru the start of the fire. I know it's dark don't losehope in the choir. Earthquakes and blood moons. Worth the wait for the love tobloom. They serve hate to the dove at noon. The game like cartoon.

There's only one comeback and Iain't talking fourth quarter. The world gon be stunned when the sun crack, I'mwalking with the holy water. Ain't no bargain chips. The glow is chargingclips. Loaded verses. Molded curses. On business. Love is my witness.

Stay sober. Can't play cause it'sover. Game shocka. That flame vodka. I ain't participating. I don't listen tothe hating. The wind ain't kissing satan. The enemy is off. The enemy can'tscoff. You must know love is all you owe.

What I came across. Only one diedfor the world on the cross. Jesus Christ to be correct. They tryna seize ourrights but God is our protect. This for all people. Why wish I don't have noego. New World Order is illegal. The Lamb’s Book like a free throw.

Give thanks and praise as we walkin these last days. We must change our past ways. Listen to all that God says.My energy is real. The enemy want me peeled. Your light is known. The night isgrown. Deep training cause they keep draining.

I been reborn. The world beenwarned. At the end of the day will you repent and pray. The enemy won't relentbut will slay. Don't take no Mark. Don't fake like you got heart. This is thewrong time to play. They blitz the strong with clay. Heard what I say.

Ain't nothing impossible we ain'tlosing. I ain't fronting that optical be the illusion. We got to stop thinkingwith the flesh. The free heart start thinking cause the gift is a test. The holy spirit is always updated. They onlyfear it Jesus paid it.

How you know God is dealing withyour heart. Now you know by the way you're dealing with God. Are you inreverence or looking for a reference. Is you walking in the holy spirit. Whenyour heart is talking they fear it. I care cause life is what we share.

There's a price to pray. Christis alive today. For our rights the devil slay. I keep the game at a caution.It's deep I know they watching. My heart has indignation cause they asked mefor invitation. The Gospel inspiration. All souls need a visitation.

I'mma activist like a pacifist.Rose from the dead like Lazarus. This simulation you got to master this. Goddoesn't approve this world. The heart is the truth of the Word. What happenedto all that capping. Stop yapping. The game is trapping.

God chose me out the world to bethe light. That's why I pray in the Word my heart is right. Well done my goodand faithful servant. Heaven is in the Begotten Son who can save you from theserpent. Jesus is The Christ. Salvation gives you biblical rights.

All faces and races got to be alight to the nations. They laugh at us cause being lukewarm is hazardous. Wemust be on fire like the first time we came in the choir. The they isIlluminati. I pray for everybody. Ain't no comeback. Don't faint or run back.

We know who put us on. Free glowin truth is root of love's song. Hosanna. I know her by Rosanna. They askingfor a handout. They taxing cause I stand out. Jesus is the Son of God. The gameneed to be thawed. Can't tame a lion's heart.

Only God got the intel on whogoing to heaven or hell. Don't pronounce the judgement cause you can't tell. Myfaith and soul I won't sell. The world in competition. The Word states ourcondition. Look past the skin. The Book say we in the last please think.

Christ died on the cross for oursins so we wouldn't take any loss but wins. They ain't impressed. In the Word Iinvest. Salvation is available now. Every nation is signed to a cable vow.Everybody is equally different. Illuminati is illegally gifted.

My soul not exhausted. The glowkeep them frosted. Love God not money. I know it's hard when it ain't sunny.Folk is serious cause life ain't funny. Truth mixed with lies. My heart fixed,God heard my cries. She has angel eyes. We all gon see the game die.

My gifts is for God. I cried whenI seen the shift in no hearts. With the game I want no parts. Gatekeepers haveno real power. The fate of the reaper is to get souls to sign a deal everyhour. I feel the hate cause the Lamb’s Book is my fate.

I feel the love deeply. I heallike a dove freely. The truth I hear cause God I fear. You better shift gears.We don't know how many years. The world been having tears. Walking in the holyspirit is an island. Talking in the holy spirit is silence.

I'min my heart where love is always present. It's in the start where the dove isalways a blessing. God has had enough of the stuff. The world operating on theego. The Word is combinated with the free throw. One shot. The sun can't rot. Xmarks the spot.

Iknow the history. I glow like a mystery. I ain't faking. The world is pagan.The Word isn't aging. I'm like a dove no raging. My love heaven is paging. Godon speed dial. Our heart need to smile. The devil ain't playing. Every levelI'm praying.

Beanxious for nothing. See the matrix and stop fronting. They want you to snoozebiblically so you can lose spiritually. People want the last say. Evil gon behere til the last day. Stay sober in the Word cause it's over the World.

Thatlukewarm love and the hatred is the worst. You been warned that when you'renatured there's no curse. Bible starter working out with that holy water.America is ruled by the Magna Carta. The Gospel is the Good News for that I'mmamartyr.

Let'sstop with the nonsense. All you need is a drop of that conscience. The biblicalpeople was enlightened. The spiritual evil I ain't invited. Cause they heardfrom the grapevine. Love's The Word to escape the mind. Return to the heart.Discern the dark.

TheBible on tell me the world is Babylon. Why can't we all get along. Disciplineis needed. Medicine is seeded. Grains of barley. The pain of love said I'msorry. The world hate the holy spirit. The Word said they only fear it.

IfGod didn't step in, the world I'd be repping. When you naive they even trackyour walk on the leaves. I had the light but I surrounded myself with thenight. Now I'm shining cause ain't no deal I'm signing. What I'm finding istiming.

Thelight is shining already. The night is blinding and deadly. We're in darktimes. Folk swear by heart crimes. I see why the world is alluring. I see whythe Word washes you of the chlorine. I rather stay lowkey with my soul free.

Besincere with no fear. Life is crystal clear. When I awakened in the Word that'swhen I was forsakened by the world. They don't feel me cause I'm the real me.They can't deal with me cause I heal the gift in me. Fake ideology. You can'ttake this reality.

Staysober. Game over. The plot on everyone is to take you in the sound of everygram. Not everyone is down with the program. The spirit of Christ lets it beknown. They fear it cause the price is in front of the throne. We must love. Nolust of the dove.

Onmy travels I see the world unravel. Folk act like they don't hear you but justknow they fear you. The way you acting I know the devil is attacking. If youdon't have the venom that mean the wolves they gon send them. On my journeythey can't burn me.

Theheart is where it start. Keep the Sabbath and stop celebrating all the paganholidays. Folk reap havoc so stop hesitating to destroy the folly ways. 20/25will be the year of you reap what you sow. Plenty of vibe will bring in fear topeep how you know.

Thelook ain't important. The Book is according. What you really recording. Who youreally reporting. See how folk distorting. They still extorting. I do theLord's will. That's why they want my blood spill. Know it's hard to deal. Godsaid your love real.

Remainpresent in your heart. Abstain from the session in the dark. Been there donethat. Seen where it gon flat. If that's the case then why don't you have grace.You better stop judging off the face. I don't care about your race. Check yoursoul space.

Ifeel good in the Lord, O'God. Got to be real cause life is hard. I don't wantto be rude I ain't scared of the dark. They want to cause you harm. On thecross Jesus opened up his arms. Currently in psalms. We all got to give ouralms. My love is calm.

Powerforward. The hour is getting poorer. That flower make you a sower. We're in thelast days like Noah. We don't ask for their ways we just see the aura. You haveto play on their team when you're in their dream. Stop signing oaths. I'mminding my notes.

Beobedient in the holy spirit. Free the ingredient cause they only fear it. I'mtalking in love. I'm walking in the dove. The game need to repent cause theydoing evil with ill intent. They try to downplay cause folk know on the groundyou pray.

Thisis off the spiritual muscle. Can't scoff the miracle hustle. With the devilsit's a biblical tussle. So much wickedness is invested in the world. Folk outof touch with the vividness ingested in the Word. God told me keep the love.Deep in the dove.

Everylevel don't you dare give your heart to Illuminati. The devil don't care aboutanybody. I ain't scared of you I got that karate. I don't stare when I see aCybertruck or Bugatti. The wealth I share cause I know life ain't a party.

Feellike a quarterback. I healed when I could've got that heart attack. Like adefensive back the events are back. I'm like a wide receiver. I almost diedcause of the deceiver. Industry play dirty. The illest street ain't flirty. Theministry of a birdie.

Likea thief in the night. On a bike with the leaf of light. Everywhere you go isgrief in sight. My heart verified got them terrified. They hating cause God'sway is not fading. I live in the now Lord's salvation I'm waiting. No vacationmy soul ancient.

Theway to prosper is to make sure you playing for heaven's roster. Don't come upby evil. Where I'm from we all equal. If you ain't feeling the light then thatmean you ain't healing right. Cosmic forces of darkness. Atomic sources of theheartless.

Mydreams coming true even when the schemes running through. See them peering thruthe window. They be fearing the way the wind blow. God hearing when you pray ifyou in that flow. You can't be a top dog and you tryna cop a hog. The game isin the fog.

Masteryour silence and you will be a pastor of science. Energy is already free so youcan't create that. The enemy already got the key to try to deflate your stat.My soul got them scattered. The cold I won't flatter. Only salvation matters.

Alot of peace talks. In the parking lot the beast walks. Hope you praying inthis war. Don't be playing with the Lord. Everything in this world is turned toa score. Everything in the Word discerned the core. Stay in love. Pray for thedove.

Biblicalverses break the spiritual curses. I ain't blind to no note. I won't sign to nogoat. They say money talks. I say that honey sparks. There's always a secretagenda. Where's the hallways of the regrets of the vendor. Don't do return tosender.

Theworld united cause all religions are invited. Cut the titles out. But the idolsare clout. Focus on the Lord. The lotus is in the war. Don't resonate with thewicked. Folk can't designate cause they don't have the ticket. A penny formany.

I'mmamighty champion. They nightly scamming. I'm from the city of the industry. Shebeautiful and pretty got her own ministry. Set the example of love. Don't getthe sample of puff. Stay sober spiritually. Pray the game is over biblically.

I'mblessed and I'm saved. God testing my faith. What's the point of you hexing thegrave. She texting scriptures her love is what I crave. In a healthy way. To makeher wealthy I pray. I love you is what God say. The devil out to slay. Pleasedon't play.

I'mlocked in on that version. I'm detoxing and purging. I'm boxing the devils Iain't merging. The Word of God is not an invent. The devil won't relent untilyou repent. I'm talking biblically. I'm walking spiritually. From dreamers towaking up in Jesus.

Where'sthe evidence that you heaven sent. Abstain from the corrupt manner. You can'tact the same when God disrupts the banner. Folk trying to verify the holyspirit thru the scanner. What's the production. That's the obstruction . Weunder construction.

Raceand gender wars. Grace is the vendor of scores. They look at you weird causeyou're name is written in the book of fear. If they ain't talking in the holyspirit what they talking. If they ain't walking in the holy spirit where theywalking.

Myheart belong to God. I almost died in the dark but I was strong against theodds. Life like poker you better play your cards. Chosen ones are the stars.Folks working on closing the sun to press pause. The moment is always now. Theopponent is like how.

Ipray for all cause I don't play ball. Holy spirit filled believer of JesusChrist. Folk only fear it cause they walk with the deceiver of in the dreamer'snights. God let your will be done. The heart gets the real one. They try stealthe sun. Don't run.

There'ssigns all over. Where's the blind cabal cobra. Hollywood your days arenumbered. If they could folk would slay my jumper. Jordan River. They recordingThe Giver. All you gon hear is atomic silence. I don't fear no demonicviolence.

Howcan say you love God but you out of pocket. They made a vow to slay the dovebut ain't no power in the socket. The fruit of her lips. The roots of the tips.Work hard to be God's star. The war is ending with a bang. I'm repenting fromthe gang.

Biblicallytryna be perfect. Spiritually what's the verdict. More crashouts. More flashouts. More clash outs. Radical I ain't with the norm. This ain't magical and Istill transform. No pot of gold for the storm. Are you hot or cold no lukewarm.

Livegodly cause the world live oddly. You not above or under no one. Do you havelove even in front of thunder or the sun. Take them shades off. Lot of folk gotpaid off. Mario and Luigi. Cardio and the Fugees. Guard your heart cause theworld is dark.

Theworld is secrecy of the forbidden. The Word is frequency of the forgiven. Thetensions are boiling. The pensions are coiling. Once somebody does somethingit's available in the conscience sphere. They fronting and capping cause theythe Pontius of fear.

Igot a spiritual mind with a biblical grind. God knows if you truly real. Theheart shows if you truly sealed. The dark is unruly when you're healed. We'respiritual souls. Do you care what you're biblically told. Be prepared for themiracle gold.

Cryptocurrency.They try to rip thru the emergency. That tea I sip slow cause I'm purging outthe sea. We're in the last days so much we gon see. Better get in the Word.Weather is set in the world. Keep your soul pure. It's deep that gold cure.

Makeit out cause you can't fake it out. The world is everywhere on the planet. TheWord will be everywhere as a standard. I'm biblically correct not politicallycorrect. Get your heart right cause you can't let the dark trap you in thenight

Jack moved through the bustling streets of Tokyo. It was all a maze to him. Being new to this country he still had difficulties with the language. He had spent most of his youth in New York, so he wasn’t completely ignorant of life in a metropolitan. He could navigate multiple blocks with ease, and remember street names, and important landmarks. The only major issue was language. Still, he found it easier than other countries he had visited since Tokyo had quite a few signs in English. He was used to living a fast-paced life and easily glided along with the throb of crowds.

His aim now was to get to the Tokyo Station. From there he could finally board a subway line to his suburban apartment.

He reached just in time to catch the last departing train to Sanya. Finding a seat at this time of the night was easy. He slouched down and put on his earphones.

The train bustled through the major regions of the city, stopping often. There were regular passengers like salarymen, drunkards, nightlife enjoyers etc. Jack ignored everyone and continued listening to his podcast letting his head bobble up and down with the rhythm of tracks.

Sat opposite to him was a woman. She would have passed for any other passenger, but in her case, she was dressed in bright red trousers and a red jacket. Jack did not notice the way she was staring at him. Not once did she blink. She kept her hands in the pockets of her jacket at all times. She reached out for her bag and took out a lipstick and a small pocket mirror. Oddly she did not use any of these items. Simply holding out to them she continued staring at other men as if expecting someone to talk to her. Most of them ignored her as if she was a shadow cast by the night.

At that moment, Jack looked up and caught her sight. He froze, there was something wrong about it. He could not pinpoint it but felt the hairs on his neck extend. He did not notice any other details. He looked away.

Finally, the PSA announced the arrival at Sanya station. Jack got up, gathered his bag, and stood by the doors. Soon upon arrival, he stuffed all his expensive belongings into a secret pouch sewn in his jacket. Japan was a very safe country. But still, the Sanya neighbourhood had a bad reputation. Although violent crimes were unheard of, you could still be targeted by a pickpocket or worse a mugger. He had to be careful at all times, more so at this hour of the night. It was raining heavily here. He pulled out his umbrella and started walking cautiously, focusing his senses on his surroundings. Nothing seemed amiss.

The woman clad in red walked behind him at some distance. Some men catcalled her. She ignored them. She had been a night worker in her youth. This had taught her a lot of things about society and how they treated her kind. She followed Jack quietly.

As she stepped into a puddle, there were no ripples; the reflection was empty.  She quickened her pace. A cat jumped in front of her, but she barely took any notice.

The cat looked up and hissed its back arching. There was something inhumane about the woman.

The woman paused and looked down an alleyway where a man stood smoking.

She bent her neck sideways, and a sickening sound of cracking bones reverberated through the street. The man looked up. There was no one around. Then he noticed a silhouette of the girl staring at him.

He called out “Hey, who’s there? Go back home, it’s too late for a girl to stay out”.

The woman started walking quickly towards the man. Blood pumping, the man straightened himself, ready to fight or run. Finally, the woman slowed down and reached him. She asked in a polite voice, “Which way is apartment complex 51?”. The man looked nervous, but he turned his gaze southwards, pointing left, “If you take a right from- the woman was standing an inch away from him. But the woman’s face was empty, with no eyes, no nose, just a mouth, round with circular teeth. Suddenly, the teeth dug into the man’s neck, and he couldn’t scream. The woman’s hands came up and held his head, with a snap turning it hundred and eighty degrees. Bones cracked. The man felt sudden warmth spreading through his limbs. The woman unclenched her jaw and said soothingly, “You will do for tonight”.

Walking in the falling rain, she slowly reached an underpass. She crossed it and turned left at a corner. The streetlight above her flickered, but she cast no shadow. She again turned left into a path leading to the gardens. There, she sat down on one of the benches. She pulled out a toothpick, which looked to be made out of steel. One by one, she cleaned out the crevices between her circular jaw and sat waiting patiently. After an hour or so she got up, put her bag around her shoulder and started walking toward complex 51.

Jack reached his apartment without any incidents. Searching his pouch, he produced a rusted key and placed it into the lock. Click. He yawned as he entered the apartment. Putting his bag aside, he slid onto his bed and fell asleep quickly.

The woman climbed the staircase, her boots hitting the ground softly. She turned left on the fifth landing and strode down the narrow corridor. While quietly walking she placed her left hand on the corridor wall, scraping the plaster. Cement piled into her nails. She halted in front of room 24. She stood there facing the door smiling.

Jack woke up the next morning all groggy and felt like he had a hangover. He walked into the toilet, brushed his teeth, and gargled. Once finished, he moved into the kitchen and made some coffee. While sipping the hot beverage he suddenly realized that it was the garbage collection day.

He quickly gathered the rubbish from his apartment and divided them into recyclable and non-recyclable bags. Opening the front door, he walked down the stairs carrying the bags over his shoulder and dumped them outside near the bins.

The woman stood there, her back facing his apartment looking down at him.

Jack climbed the stairs two at a time and reached his apartment all huffing and puffing. He had not noticed the woman. On reaching his apartment, he realized that the door was closed. “That’s odd,” he thought. He did not remember closing it.

On his doorknob were red scratches crisscrossing. Probably from the fact that he arrived late most nights, he must have struggled to put the key in correctly due to the darkness.

Ignoring this he stepped into his apartment. Plopped down the sofa and pulled out his phone. He had a habit of keeping up to date with local news. He scrolled mindlessly, occasionally reading the cover of an article.

He paused,

“LOCAL MAN FOUND DEAD”

“NHK news reporting live from the scene at the front of Kempa common store”

“A regular customer was found dead this morning in front of a local convenience store. Police believe that the man was drunk and had fallen down the steps which resulted in the unfortunate event. There are speculations as to what injuries he had sustained but the officials refused to discuss the matter further. This is a third death recorded within this month in this locality”

Strange, Jack thought. He had not heard about the other two deaths. However, the area where he resided was prone to illegal activities. Still, it was worrisome. Even though being unsafe, suspicious deaths were almost unheard of.

He spent most of his day catching up to his office work. “Working on a holiday sucks,” he said to himself. But he was new in the firm and had expected that they would place a major workload on him. Typing away well into the evening he realized that he had skipped lunch. His stomach was growling with hunger.

After much thinking “I’ll get some ramen,” he said aloud. He looked at his watch. 7: 30 PM.

It was not that late; the sun had set but quite a few people would be walking around.

He got up and stretched. Putting on his leisure clothes, he searched for his wallet.

Exiting the apartment, he locked his door firmly. From his jacket, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Clicking it on he lit the cigarette and exhaled, all while aimlessly looking around the complex grounds.

The smoke rose slowly. It drifted up onto the corridor ceiling where the woman was hanging onto the wall, suspended by her limbs. Her eyes were fixed intently on the man below. She splashed her tongue through the air tasting the smoke.

Jack, taking a long drag finished his cigarette and crushed it under his foot. He started walking down the corridor towards the staircase. The woman hanging above, without any effort, crawled like a spider, placing one limb after another.

As he walked, some flakes of plaster fell on his shirt. He paused and looked above. Nothing, just the same old dilapidated building walls. He brushed off the powder and turned onto the staircase walking down at a brisk pace. Once outside he strode cautiously. People were still about. Crowds of men and women chatting and drinking. Jack walked through the pack and entered a small alleyway. On the left, close to the entrance stood a small local noodle shop.

He slid open the door and walked in. “Good evening!” shouted the host over the noise. Jack smiled at him and settled down in his usual seat. A waitress came over and took his order.

While waiting, he looked around the room. Some excited group of girls were laughing about something, a young couple were holding hands, and some drunk salarymen were shouting loudly.

A woman approached him. He looked up. She was dressed in all red and carried a purse over her arms. She looked down at him hopefully and asked in a soft voice “Is it ok if I sit here? All the other seats are taken”, “Only if you don’t mind!” she blurted looking a bit embarrassed. Jack was transfixed by her beauty. She wasn’t that young, must be in her mid-thirties. He said, “Of course! Always happy for good company”. She smiled at him, a sweet mellow smile. “Thank you,” she said politely.

She moved gracefully and slipped into the seat opposite him. The waitress came over once again and took the woman’s order. “Just a beer please” said the woman softly.

She looked up at Jack and started making small talk. They both enjoyed each other’s company. Jack noticed that the woman, even though smiling often, never completely opened her mouth. He put it down to polite etiquette. Once they had finished Jack told her that he’ll pay for them both. The woman seemed hesitant at first but after a while, she politely agreed.

Both walked out into the icy night air. The woman looked up at him and said in a hopeful voice “I just live a block away; do you want to drop in for a cup of tea or coffee?. Jack, even though feeling pleased, refused kindly. “Sorry, I have work to finish and an early meeting tomorrow morning” he added. As much as he wanted to go along with this beautiful woman, he couldn’t afford to skip work. The woman looked a bit sad. “But we can meet later on in the week” he blurted out quickly. The woman smiled, again with no teeth. She seemed pleased.

They exchanged contact info and departed in opposite directions. Jack walked back to his apartment as quickly as he could. He shut the door behind him. He sat down in his chair and started typing. Working late into the night, he stretched. He got up, legs feeling numb, he walked out of his apartment and looked down at the complex grounds.

Even though the neighbourhood was unsafe the garden inside the complex was well guarded. He climbed down the stairs gently and walked over to a bench. Once sitting, he pulled out a cigarette and took a puff.

Behind his back, the woman stood a few meters away. She watched him closely, playing with an unopened lipstick in one hand.

A man, probably from one of the other complex apartments, walked over to Jack and asked if he could borrow a cigarette. Jacked reached into his pockets, pulled out one and handed it over to the man. Leaning sideways, the man attempted to light the cigarette but it wouldn’t work. He turned to face Jack to ask if he had a matchbox, and he froze. Instead of Jack, there stood an eight-foot-tall man. Rows of sharp vertebrae jutted out of his back. His hands reached till the ends of his shin bones and the neck was bent downwards.

The man with the cigarette had just opened his mouth to scream when suddenly a clawed hand reached up and caught his neck, crushing his windpipe like a plastic cup. The tall looming figure placed his jaws on the man’s face and ripped out a big chunk of flesh.

The woman walked out into the light over towards the tall creature and said in a soft smiling voice

“You are a messy eater, Jack, also, these are my hunting grounds”

Author of Salvation

He came not with a sword, but with scars.

Wounded for our healing, bruised for our peace.

In the silence of the morning, the stone was rolled away.

Death defeated, not by force, but by love.

He stood there—radiant, risen, reaching for the ones who denied Him.

His hands still bore the marks of sacrifice.

Yet, they were open in invitation.

Not to condemn, but to restore.

Not to shame, but to save.

He came for the captive, the broken, the forgotten.

And He still comes.

The Author of salvation,

Writing hope into every soul willing to believe.

is anyone still on this website/app? like....active? (ages 14-18)

Your story here...

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We'reat the genesis of revelation. The world is the nemesis of every nation. I meanBabylon. Behind the scene the Bible on. Endure until the end to be saved. OnlyGod can ensure you will repent to defeat the grave. Jesus Christ is my onlyfaith.

Youhave to really stay present in your heart so from the evil you can depart. Youmust live for The Gospel. You can't trust any soul. You're not the only onefeeling like life is unreal. Check the score cause we ain't done until thelight of the sun heal.

Yourstatus or title won't save you. The atlas of idols can't save you. We need themedicine of love. We need the discipline of a dove. They want to tame me causethey can't game me. These are not distractions. The beast start withinfractions.

Waiton God's lovingkindness. My fate in the heart is suffering in silence. Only theLord understands. They pull the cord to gain an upperhand. I want the finishedwork of the cross. I don't want the money, clothes and cars.

Arapper gon say the R.F.I.D. chip give them that Illuminati drip. I just saythat but I don't pray that. At all costs don't get the Mark. What Jesus did onthe cross you can close me in the dark. You can throw me to the shark. Theworld know when it spark.

Iget frustrated at times with the evil. Don't let the trust get faded in theslime of ego. Destroy the illusion in your mind. The Lord is my joy noconfusion when you're kind. They want the world unaware but do we care. I toldthem don't even dare.

TheBody of Christ is divided first with the name. Only Jesus has power over thecurse to free the tamed. We must agree on what to call our Savior. Don't trusta decree that cause you to waiver. I'm not tryna make a division. Are we all onthe same mission.

Howcan the energy of love be strange. Don't bow to the enemy I won't change. Theworld is backwards. The Word is not for actors. You can't be in secret aboutJesus cause nobody else will quiet their faith. No regrets by grace I've beensaved.

Theindustry is all kinds of individuals. Jesus ministry is to unbind the doveresiduals. Expose the unfruitful deeds. They chose to loophole the seeds. Weneed love not anything made up. Only the biblical can tell. The spiritual isheaven or hell.

Seethe spirit first. Folk don't hear it and now it's worse. They took a vow tokeep the curse. If you after me I have the power of the universe. God know ourframe is like dust. The heart glow even more when the name we trust. Last daysdestroy all lust.

Wedon't live in fantasy. A lot of folk can't see. You might be enlightened butthe night got you tightened. I don't care who you are I'm not frightened. Stayaway from entertainment. Pray away the registration. Don't miss the ride toheaven's station.

Theworld been sold out now they tryna hold out. Life ain't a full ride to theKingdom. We must survive not hide when they bring them. The spirits of thedevil is being unleashed everywhere. Don't fear it cause our faith is being increased whoever dare.

Theworld needs a cleanse. The Word is your needs of a lens. Do we really know howthe deep the spiritual war is. If you feel me you would know how to keep thebiblical score. Corinthians doesn't care about more minions. When you savedfolk got opinions.

Begentle as a dove and bold as a lion. Ain't no rental in love cause the gold isthe iron. The world is not our home. The Word is the heavenly poem. God madeour wins. Jesus paid for our sins. We all messed up. Free all I confess love.

Purifyyour heartspace. You and I need to start from grace. The world is demonic. TheWord is atomic. If you weren't in competition it wouldn't feel that way. If yousaw the earth's condition you would be real and not play. The rebirth visionnone can slay.

Loveis stronger than peace. The dove hunger cause they on a leash. Ain't no bluffwhen you in the streets. I had enough of the antics of the beast. Devils seethe world as a feast. Every level the Word won't cease. The conclusion of thisillusion.

Yougot folk acting tough when I'm showing love. That's why the yoke won't let themfeel the dove. We gon see more tragic events. Before you see the war pleaserepent. The buck stops here. If you have the holy spirit only God you fear.

I'mnot here to coexist. Point guard mode more assists. Kent clark. Better repentso you don't get the Mark. Don't take no foreign thing into or on your body.The lake is what evil bring if you accept Illuminati. The world under a spell.Heaven or hell.

Iseen the dreams disappear. Behind the scenes it's all fear. Major shake up.They wager I'm gon fake up. My soul I won't lake up. She natural no makeup.This ain't magical better wake up. The world is in for the shake up. The earthis snaked up.

Don'tforget God is in charge. I won't let my heart enter no lodge. The game is amirage. Ain't nobody I dodge. Illuminati tryna starch. No time to party theland is parched. When you truly woke your heart is soaked. Biblically notpolitically.

Youcan scoff all you want but my love is heaven's font. When they brought thecough folk thought the world would starve. The game is pumpkin time to carve.Them demons irritated. The system dreaming, I still made it. Biblical wisdom isclearly stated.

Eitheryou righteous or you're wicked. Either it's the cypress or the cricket. Thereaper got the sinus with a ticket. Gatekeepers tryna find us with so we cankick it. I'm on that Kung Fu. Won't be with the wrong crew. Stand alone. Ican't be cloned. You can't save earth. My faith is what I'm worth. No deal canget me. I've been real now they forget me. To heal you got to speak to yourheart more gently. My soul is free you can't rent me. They want to destroycause Jesus is my joy.

Thedevil had me lost. At the level I know the cost. I don't care about the drip orthe sauce. The game is like frost. Jesus said it is finished on the cross. Thedead is diminished in stars. The world is having disputes. The Word says theywon't miss you.

Godknow my intent. I glow cause I repent. Jesus really been sent. The wolves cansmell the scent. Heaven or hell no time to vent. The secrets I will tell causethe game is bent. All praises to the Holy One. Don't fall on the laces folkknow we won.

Changeyour outlook. It's strange how they doubt the Book. What's with the attitude.That's the reason I get mad at you. Cause you know. The cross is your soul. Youmay be enlightened but the devil got you frightened. Every level you gettingtightened.

I'mwired up that's why I'm always fired up. I ain't talking informant. I just knowthere's still some power that's dormant. Don't take no doses of hypnosis. Onceyou do everybody knows this. Keep your spirit pure. They fear it cause love isyour cure.

Ifyou have the holy spirit in Jesus you're chosen. The truth folk fear it causethe thesis say you're posing. If you don't have love for your neighbor youdon't know God. If you won't love your neighbor you won't know God. Accept TheGospel. To every soul.