Goku makes a wish to give Chi-Chi a happy anniversary.Things escalate from there!

Dirt was flying behind Son Goku as his tractor pulled a rusted, worn, but trustworthy till through the farm he worked for. While training and more importantly, fighting, was what he loved, he couldn’t deny that making sure his family had money was just as important. Also, food, he couldn’t get by with his and his son Goten’s appetite on just foraging anymore. So, food was important. But even still, there were some nights where Chi-Chi didn’t come to bed and was instead asleep trying to manage their slowly dwindling savings. So, as Goku uprooted a dead stump, blasted it to ashes and kept moving he had two major thoughts. ‘How can I help?’ and ‘what should I get for her birthday?’ these weren’t things he could just fight, he had to do what he was worst at. Plan. The fact that his wife was doing all the thinking bugged him, like he was dead weight in a tournament. “I don’t want you using the dragon balls to wish us better, Goku” Chi-Chi had said to him, not angry but frustrated with her husband at wanting to take the obvious solution out. “And I don’t want to borrow more money. It adds up after a while.” Thus, he was now working as a farmhand for at least three different farmers. All in secret, since he saw Chi-Chi’s face light up when she checked their bank account and figured he wouldn’t tell her until their anniversary. At least, he would if she hadn’t figured it out a week ago. Promising him the best anniversary night as thanks. But now his gift was ruined, and he was too busy to try and get one of the fancy dresses she showed him. Bulma, at Goku’s request, had given him an out. He didn’t …

Marisa found herself unusually stiff one morning, after a successful 'borrowing' run from the manor's library the previous night. She paid it no mind, though. After all, an ordinary magician like her had aches and pains every now and then. If only she'd noticed the string slowly extending from her wrist before it was too late...Support works like this on: https://www.patreon.com/MagicLottie

The first day of the week was nothing special, humans in the village would stir, youkai would either be waiting to see how their mischief would be reacted too or were hiding. Shrine maidens, in theory, would be up early to welcome the early morning visitors. And of course, A certain trio of magicians would be nursing headaches for various reasons. Patchouli Knowledge, Magician of the Scarlet Devil Manor, would be nursing one due to her asthma keeping her awake. Alice Margatroid would be nursing one from staying up too late to make sure all her dolls were in the best condition. And Marisa Kirisame, would be nursing one from being flung into a wall due to an early morning heist. With a certain maid effortlessly throwing her battered body off the premises in defeat. After all, the guard of the manor still had to deal with unpleasant morning business. So, with knives and magical bullets clashing, the ordinary magician was quickly removed from the premises, stab wounds and all to break the relative silence surrounding the Manor. And that’s how she left, nothing borrowed, stab wounds and a killer headache from hitting her head on at least five trees. But that was something she could fix, once she made it back to her home. Which was a short flight away from the manor, after all, how could she effectively borrow things. But she had things to deal with the injuries at home. Her house was a complete disaster, with how many things she borrowed most of her rooms were stuffed to the brim with random magical items. But there were two things she always kept tabs on where they were. A machine that brewed a live giving elixir, and her witch’s cauldron, where she would prepare something to heal …

In a world where body swapping is commonplace, Aaron and Miranda both find out something was changed when they were born. Now, on nothing more than a hunch, they start to get their own bodies back.

Technology was ever advancing, allowing modifications and things that were once only dreamed of in science fiction. While it wasn’t for the most ethical of reasons, eventually the technology to transfer consciousness between human bodies was created, decommissioned, re-commissioned and tested. Naturally, the science and technology behind the body swapping was used primarily to assist people with mismatched bodies in some way or another. Though that was only recently. For a longer than it should’ve been time, some people used it when their child wasn’t quite as they were expecting. Parents who wanted a son would often swap with parents who wanted a daughter, and vice versa. This naturally was stopped as soon as possible. The ramifications to a child’s mental health were too high risk. Especially if they found out what had happened to them as infants. Now, exceptions were made for the health of the infant, but naturally this allowed things to slip through the cracks. However, by the miracle of humanity pulling its collective head out of its collective ass for once, there were no scars and if a child did go through the process, it was reversable. So, now that the process had become commonplace, everyone was likely to know someone who had at least part of their body swapped. Some used it in place of difficult surgeries, some used it for fun. But that was the reality of today. In year 20XX where humanity had managed to make something cool for once. The concept of the self was more malleable than it had ever been, more flexible and fluid. Humans were their own playthings now, at least to a point. But for some, there was a feeling that something wasn’t right. Not in the traditional sense of dysphoria or dysmorphia, those were now easily solvable, …

Commissioned for Anonymous on Twitter, their OC Freja gaining a magical staff and dealing with the side effects.

The pursuit of magic was an endless one, for various reasons and goals. Some wanted power, to conquer and destroy. Others wanted to mend the world, bringing peace and joy. Some wanted prestige, fame and fortune abound. So naturally there was a cavalcade of motivations for people, some good and some ill.   And more than you’d expect were just plain selfish. Even if it was for a dare or to satisfy one's ego thousands would pursue it. Some ancient magi prepared for this and set up punishments for those who would rob graves or delve into tombs in a quest for power. One such person was a powerful sorceress, Prinzessin Freja Von Rosenburg. A young woman gifted in the magical arts who naturally wanted to have the best of the best in terms of magical equipment and prestige. Naturally, however, this had led to a bit of an ego problem with the woman. Born to a prince elect, having access to anything she could want and being talented in magic. It was a damning combination. Especially when she realized what she could force her way through due to her large personality and similarly large assets. Meaning it was a simple task to get adventurers hired to get what she wanted if it’d turn out to be a challenge. And she did, a group of her servants and adventurers looking to move up socially were easy to buy. Especially for a dangerous place full of dust and dirt. Monsters were no issue, after all she was the most powerful person (in her own mind) in the world. So, the traps had been sprung, the monsters had been blasted and she hadn’t even had to risk chipping a nail. Her entourage was exhausted, but the relic she wanted was right in …

A short romantic story about two witches on a date, with a twist! They play a game, and the loser of their challenge has to drink an obedience potion! 

          “Double, double toil and trouble, fire brew and cauldron bubble!” a woman chanted, the room dark aside from the light coming from her stove top. A ladle in one hand while her other was empty, having just dropped something in the pot she was working with. “Er… what was the rest of this incantation…?”           “If you put an eye of newt into our dinner again, I’m not playing fair!” another woman shouted from another room. Getting the first to wince and look at the ingredients next to her. One group was labelled ‘for dinner’ while the other was ‘for later.’           She was thankfully using the items from the correct group of ingredients. Carrots, diced onion, garlic, cumin, potato, bay leaves and of course. Beef. Braised before hand and left at a perfectly cooked medium rare, juices marinating with the stock and aromatics as the pot bubbled. A spoon was carefully lowered in after the finishing touches of seasoning were added, stirring it gently to make sure every flavor got to dance as it cooked.           “There!” the woman said, putting a lid on the pot and grabbing a timer. “It’ll be ready soon!”           “Are you using the kitty kat timer?” the other woman said, still from another room. “That one makes the cutest noise when it’s done!”           “I am!” the woman said, stepping out of the kitchen with the timer in hand. “You made it after all, Mica.” Now that she was out of the kitchen she kept dark entirely for mood lighting, despite obvious safety issues, in her hand was a modified egg timer, with a calico cat in a …