The perfect feeling of naked skin sliding across clean sheets washed over my body as I slipped into bed. The sheets were cool, almost cold, but a warmth could be felt coming from the other side of the bed. I began to shuffle closer to the source. I slide my arm under his pillow, I continued to silde closer. I reached my arm around his side and placed my cold hand on his chest. He wrapped his arms around my hand as if it was a teddy bear. I pulled him toward me and we connected like two puzzle pieces.

“Your hands are cold” Kurt said to me.

A shot of confusion ran through my head.

“I hope I don’t have a cold” Kurt said.

My senses snapped back. The crunching sound of gravel under foot mixed with the whine of the cicadas. The road stretched forward, seemingly, forever. A gray gravel road flanked by green trees and shrub against a blue sky. The sides of the road were filled with swaths of orange flowers.

“Where are you Ethan?” Kurt said to me rubbing his nose and letting out another sneeze. He could never sneeze just once.

“I’m here, I just got lost in my thoughts. Also you don’t have a cold, it’s probably allergies. You are probably allergic to these orange flowers.”

“Tiger lilies, it means it’s July”. Kurt reached down to touch one and let out another sneeze

“I can’t keep doing this Kurt. We haven’t seen another person in months. I smell bad. I’m dirty. I’m sore and I’m scared.”

Kurt turned around. He had plucked a tiger Lily.

“You see me every day” he said as he begun to use his fingers to comb my hair.

He leaned in and smelled me "you smell like you, which is not bad to me.

He used his open hand to brush my shirt “you may be a little dirty, but I like a little dirty” he said with a grin

“And” he tucked the flower behind my ear “you are still the most beautiful and fashionable person I know”

I smiled

“I’m also the only person you know” I laughed

“Technically true” Kurt laughed back.

Kurt reached out and grabbed my hand.

“As soon as we get to the next town I’m stealing you a new dress” Kurt said through an enormous grin as he looked into my eyes

I looked back “you would like that wouldn’t you”

He winked.

KENTARO AND MR. STICKS

---

Cicadas buzzed in the trees and tall grass.

“Which way is it again?” Kentaro asked.

“According to my calculations, should be right over this ridge,” said a male voice that sounded like Jason Stathom for some reason.

“Gosh it’s such a beautiful day, Mr Sticks,” Kentaro got to the top of a grassy hill and stretched. It was a beautiful sunny summer day, he looked out over the overgrown valley, an abandoned village ahead. Kentaro was a seven year old boy with a bowl cut and glasses.

The left side of Kentaro’s body was orange and sponge-like, the left side of his head was sprouted with hundreds of filaments, each with a tiny eyestalk that moved independent of Kentaro’s brown eye. The left side if his head still had hair, all the eyestalks sticking out. Mr Sticks had a toothy mouth below Kentato’s ear.

“We don’t have much time,” said Mr. Sticks in his grim voice. “We have to get to the tape while the coast is clear.”

“But if the coast is clear, can’t we take a break? I’m hungry.”

Kentaro walked to a piece of rubble and sat down. He started rooting around in his backpack.

“YOu don’t understand, the fate of the galaxy is at stake here. Kentaro. Kentaro?”

Kentaro hummed and continued pulling things out of his bag, a thermos, extra socks, a half dozen action figures, comic books.

“Didn’t you pack anything for the search?”

“What are you talking about I packed tons of stuff. Cookies!” Kentaro pulled out a cardboard box with bears all over it. “You want one? These are great!”

“Make it snappy,” said Mr. Sticks.

While Kentaro stuffed his face Mr. Stick’s 2000 eyes looked in all directions, wary.

“I think someone’s coming,” said Mr. Sticks. “Stop eating cookies! If we don’t get that tape, the intergalactic army of doom’s gonna destroy your whole planet. Don’t you care?”

“Sure I care, I care a lot,” said Kentaro, still eating cookies.

“THEN COME ON, kid. We don’t have much time.”

Kentaro looked at his Doraemon digital watch.

“It’s only 10:15!”

“That’s not what I mean! Get moving kid,”

“Sheesh, okay. You know if you had a cookie you’d probably feel better,” Kentaro offered the box to Mr. Sticks again.

“Focus, kid. We need to get into that old TV station, and we need to find the room where they store the tapes. It’s an old episode of Brave Star Warriors. Number 621. The tape is down there.”

“Why did they hide the secret code on an old video tape again?”

“Wasn’t my people’s idea. Last time we trust earthlings again.”

“But you trust me, right? Mr Sticks? We’re friends right?”

“Uuuugh. Where’s the entrance?”

“Over there!”

Kentaro smiled brightly, pointing to the front door of the old TV station. It was brown bricks, crumbling and overgrown with vines. They passed an “OSAKA TV” sign, rusting at the corners.

Meanwhile, Mr. Sticks’ many eyes started to look around with increasing worry.

“I sense someone’s approaching. We have to hurry, kid. Shouldn’t have stopped to eat cookies.”

Kentaro stopped again.

“What?!”

“The sign!”

Kentaro stood before a more recently installed sign, a laminated board on a pole. It read “AREA IS UNSAFE, DO NOT ENTER - 500,000 YEN FINE!”

“We can’t go in there!”

“UUUUUGH,” said Mr. Sticks. “Just go.”

“I don’t have that kind of money.”

“Kid, the universe it at stake here.”

“But what if we get in trouble?!”

Mr. Sticks starts to cuss under his breath,

Just then they hear rustling in the tall grass and vines growing in the old parking lot beside the building…

Elves… As wise as they are old. And of course they all old, right? I mean, it’d be unthinkable for the wandering Elf spouting wisdom of the ancients for the low low price of $699.99 (plus gratuity) to not be old. R-Right?

points at my wife’s Pathfinder character, a 16-year-old kitsune pretending to be a 116-year-old elf girl

Check it out! Fashion revolution, new styles and the hottest new designs to wear in the post-apocalypse world!

So, Post-apocalypse JoJo’s Bizarre Adventures?

A deep intrigue story filled with deep plots where everyone has their own interests. It’s for a baking competition.

But we already have The Great British Bake Off. ;P

I always enjoyed crater hopping. The trips between the craters are always a bummer, but once you get down there it can be really interesting. There aren’t a whole lot of idiots like me who would risk it just for personal interest, but what can I say? I’m an explorer at heart. If I die it will be doing what I love, and I almost suffered a few lovely deaths over the years. This looked to be one of those times.

I’d seen some weird stuff but not quite like this. I was standing in one of the old buildings, but it was pretty unique to the other ones I’d seen. For one thing I was up to my waist in the floor. If that’s confusing to you, please believe that it was more confusing to me. I could look down and bend over as much as I could but all I could see was an oddly preserved tiled floor and the top half of myself. My legs were in the floor. I didn’t get it but I could move around well enough so it didn’t seem like a problem yet.

I’d never seen glass windows other than in drawings. I never knew that in real life they floated in the air a few meters away from the wall but still somehow showed whatever is on the other side of the wall. Curious about how it worked I looked between the wall and the window but when I did that I couldn’t see the window anymore. I knew the old-worlders were nuts but honestly I couldn’t begin to guess why a building would be designed like this. Maybe some kind of decadent design aesthetic way over the head of a crater kid like me?

“Welcome!”

I turned from my window study to see a woman standing on the floor somehow. Probably a local. Looked like the local mutations were pointy ears and skin as white as a whirling ash storm. She was tall and oddly thin which didn’t give me confidence about the local food resources. She looked like she was in a very good mood, so I figured maybe the drugs down here could balance that out. I put my hands in the air to surrender and responded, “Hey there, I just made it down here from the surface. I don’t mean any harm and I’m willing to work for whatever you can spare. I may have some things in my bag which can make life down here easier on you too.”

She beamed and responded, “We are a local community of organic nutrition developers. Using our proprietary system of biological engineering, our goal is to reintroduce a natural way of living. Please observe the rustic practices of our developers, who we call ‘farmers’.” She made a sweeping gesture toward the floating window.

I looked, and it was definitely still crater on the other side of the window. Maybe the drugs could also be a problem… “That is so interesting! Is there a—”

“I am D’elsa’kilyn’irmoira P’e’r’c’e’r’a’n’’’’’’ . For four hundred years my purpose has been to replicate the ancient practices of cultivation as faithfully as possible. For $699.99 (plus gratuity) you will receive a starting kit guaranteed to provide the materials and training to use biochemical processes to convert inert organic matter into nutritional substance through the exploitation of organisms we call ‘plants.’”

That name had a dialect trill I hadn’t heard before. Sounded like some kind of motor. There was no way I could pronounce it. I knew I would have to be careful in case they had thin skin about names, but she was clearly so high it probably wouldn’t matter if I said it in my accent anyway. I took the risk, “It’s great to meet you Delsakilynirmoira Perceran. That sounds like a great deal. The numbers on the dollars in my bag add up to a few million. You can take all of them.”

She pleasantly responded, “Error.”

I didn’t like the sound of that, “I don’t mean to offend you in any way. Breathing the surface air has damaged my vocal cords severely. I mean no disrespect. I hope I haven’t done anything to damage our new relationship in any way, but if I have I can leave immediately. I promise I won’t be a problem.”

She responded again in the same tone, “Error.” Suddenly her entire left half separated itself from her body and came at me so quickly I couldn’t see it move. I jumped back. Maybe I’d been drugged? The air down here full of hallucinogens? Just as quickly the roof and one of the walls turned into a smooth tapestry of multicolored squares. Before I could even think, everything went black.

I blinked through a blinding light and everything started to come into focus. There was a crowd people around me studying me intensely. The one in front was dressed in some kind of long white robe adorned with a patch of cloth full of little black tubes on his chest, and he was right in my face. I tried to stand up to greet him but noticed that my arms and legs were tied down. Great. He took notice of my discomfort and said, “Only a precaution, you see. You never know who will come down from the surface. We’ve been through your bag and watched how you behaved in the simulation. You do not appear to be a threat to our community and I do think we can help each other.”

He went to untie my left hand and said quietly into my ear “prove us wrong about this at your peril.”

As he untied me, I asked “So that was some kind of vetting program?”

He chuckled and a wave of giddiness washed over the until that point very serious crowd. He told me, “Oh no. It served that function this time, but our purposes were greater than that. You see we are in a bit of a friendly competition with our neighbors. On a recent excavation we discovered documentation of something called a ‘cake’. It was described as the most delicious food ever invented. We are quite privileged down here and have more than enough-- you are welcome to sustenance as well – it’s the least we can do for your assistance-- I mean our communities are in a race to recreate a ‘cake’ as described by the document. One of the primary components of a ‘cake’ is a substance called ‘flour’ which is derived from ancient organic plant life. This program is our secret weapon. Our neighbors would probably attempt to synthesize it, but if we could make it naturally through plant exploitation our product would be obviously superior. As you found, the program is very damaged but we believe it contains all the information necessary to re-create plant life. Each of us has attempted to access the information to little success, but of course since we share many of the same biases we hypothesized that an outside perspective may be helpful. You fell into one of our stasis traps on your way down here, so it seemed quite serendipitous. I apologize if your experience was jarring, but to control the variables as closely as possible we needed to ensure your experience with the interface was as genuinely yourself as possible.”

I put my hands out wide where everyone could clearly see them and stood up, “Don’t worry, all things considered this is probably the easiest time I’ve ever had crater diving. If you heard what I said… uh… in the other place, I meant everything. If you need more help with this whole ‘cake’ thing I would be more than happy to oblige.”

If I knew then how serious these freaks were about cake, I would have bolted then and there.

Maybe im a dolt here but … so we just use theme prompts to come up with whatever, so long as it is bad? Haha

I tried doing one last time but chickened out due to my shitty writing and thinking i misunderstood the assignment

Elize Caram was humming softly as she was putting the finishing touches on her latest creation. Marie O’Bain observed her target carefully through her scope, hoping to catch her in the act of cheating, with regards to the rules and regulations governing this particular endeavor. Not as in the act of cheating between lovers or companions in an exclusive relationship, but the far more serious kind of cheating that goes on in televised baking competitions.

Marie trained her rifle on Elize, as she moved from counter to oven. Elize being the person moving that is, not Marie. It would be really weird if Marie would try to shoot Elize from a considerable distance while simultaneously decorating a cake. No Marie had been clever and had already baked her cake this afternoon. She was sure it was going to be a winner. She’d bribed one judge already, blackmailed another, and arranged for the sudden removal of another judge’s lower intestines.

Nothing nor nobody was going to stand between her and the ultimate prize. The only threat left was Elize, with her dimply freckled charm up the wazoo. Oh gosh I can’t believe you guys picked me, I’m positively gushing with undeserved glee, “blegh” Marie thought. Baking is no place for twee feelings, not an environment for the giddy or the soft-hearted. “Baking is hell,” Marie thought, pulled the trigger.

A shot rang out in the amphitheatre, destroying a beautiful Schwarzwalder kirsch torte and killing a surprised woman in the same moment. The stage was strewn with blood and brown cake. As Marie moved from her position in the skybox down to the floor, she smiled to herself. When she reached the corpse of her rival, she bent down and rifled through her pockets. Elize’s pockets, not her own, of course, she could be looking for something at that moment in her own pockets, but in this case, they were the pockets of the corpse below her. Also, she was not using her rifle to rifle through the pockets, which would be weird. She did have a second pocket rifle with her at the time, though mentioning this would be superfluous.

Due to not appearing the next day, Elize was disqualified, and Marie won the competition. The remaining judges praised her for her innovative use of meat in desserts, and her bold choice of flavor in the pink icing.