“Wouldn’t that defeat the point of the timer?”

I shook my head, clasping my hands together. “Quite the opposite, actually. The timer plants the idea of a certain amount of time, a window to defuse the bomb. The timer never has to be timed to the bomb itself, merely displaying a number, and then when a certain number is displayed, that’s when the bomb triggers, but that mechanism is seperate and not linked to the timer’s visual display, and is instead linked to a remote. As such, the supposed heroes are caught off guard.” I tossed the remote around in my hand, grinning with excitement. Not because people were going to die, no, more because I was proud of myself

I got some stares from around the room. Whatever. This was my lab, and if these losers didn’t approve of my science, they could screw off. I turned back around to tend to my stereotypical wall of electronics and screens that the technology efficient villain has, but mine was mostly used for monitoring people. Monitor the base, monitor the locations we would bomb, et cetera. When nobody made a sound, not even a motion to leave the room and get planting the bomb, I turned back to glare at them.

It was just a little bit funny seeing them all shuffle out awkwardly, and even the big boss was a bit stunned looking. Huzzah. Having proven my genius once again, I swung back around to my monitors, typing in the coordinates of where the bomb was about to be placed. It took a little while to get set into motion, but as I was remotely controlling the bomb, I didn’t care. The gaggle of uber losers(‘heroes’) shuffled onto the scene. The leader, with his ugly spandex suit and his even uglier face, declared that he would be the one to bravely defuse this bomb, while the rest of them should look out for ‘innocents’. Stupid. There were no innocents here! Corrupt CEOs and politicians was more like it. But of course, heroes live to serve those that pay.

He fumbled around with the wires. He was so bad at it that I figured I might not even need the remote- he’d explode himself before I would. I zoomed in, watching as the timer ticked down. This was fun. I wish I had brought popcorn, but I had forgotten. Shame. As he failed miserably at dismantling the bomb, I checked my other screens to make sure those other heroes were being held up, that nobody could get out of the building. A few of our goons were fighting valiantly, keeping them at bay and even taking hostages. I would recommend the ones that survived the ordeal to the big boss, they needed promotions.

One hero, the token girl in terrible spandex, was trying to rescue some stupid billionaire. I didn’t care much for this, and it annoyed me to see her succeed. A bit of me felt pity- she probably didn’t know the extent of the evil this man had committed, the people he had harmed, but the rational part of my brain stomped that notion out. Those who have more money than they could spend in a lifetime get there by exploiting people, and those trying to protect them just want in on the exploitation. I pressed a couple buttons, and some goons came to stop her seconds later. I was used to this song and dance. They had been stationed everywhere around the building, and there was more than usual this time, so they were easy to alert, and would swarm those maggots that call themselves heroes.

Looking back to the main spectacle, the spandex clad loser with too much gel in his greasy brown hair only had a minute left. By now, I thought he would’ve cut a few decoy wires, at least, but none. The explosion would probably cause some significant damage to the building, and to him, but since he had some stupid superpowers or something, he’d probably recover. My goal wasn’t to harm the heroes, though. It was to make a statement, to reveal what went on within that specific building, and to knock off a few jackasses in the process. As the clock ticked down, I noticed that, on one of my screens, a hero was headed for the location of the bomb. I didn’t bother to stop him. I could trigger the bomb early if anything went wrong, so I just watched and waited.

He sprinted up to the main loser, tackling him with a muffled ‘get down!’, which I doubted the usefulness of, as he was already making the other man get down, as it were. For dramatic effect, and maybe to cause less damage to the heroes themselves, I triggered the bomb. Narrowly out of the fray, they moved to investigate the damage. And, more importantly, the human trafficking operation hidden right underneath their noses, and exposed by the explosion.

(not my best. not my worst. I’m tired. hate capitalism.)

“A dragon.”

The Genie looked puzzled. He had never heard that before. Most people throughout history wished for the grandiose or for personal gain. There were a few wishes that seemed like they’d probably been wished before, but hadn’t. The wisher continued.

“Actually, no, wait a second before you do your magic thing. Dragons. Many. Specifically, taxonomically, they’re a subset of reptiles related closely to birds but not birds. Important distinction. I have a dossier of some possible appearance stuff, if you need specifics. And they’re super cool, and stuff.”

Nobody had wished for dragons before, but even weirder, the Genie never expected a wish in this vein, considering all who wished were adults, often with mundane lives and mundane minds, not filled with the joy or excitement that this wisher clearly possessed. They were very excited about dragons, evidently.

“It was a really hard choice, honestly. I was going to wish that animals were immortal or lived as long as their owners did, but that had too many complications when I wrote it all out. Then I was gonna wish for cross species communication, but the human race is already terrible enough to eachother, as much as I really want to communicate with my cat to ask what she wants from me all the time. But Dragons are something I’ve loved ever since I was a kid, and, y’know, I can always come back next year with another wish. If I have all the power in the world with the caveat that I can’t use it on something someone else has used before, why not make dragons real?”

The Genie flipped through the dossier, making noises of approval and mild shock at how detailed it was. Closing it, he prepared to make the wish come true, but before he could snap his fingers, the wisher intervened.

“Wait, wait wait! I’ve got an even better idea than dragons! Mythical creatures in general! Isn’t that so cool? I’m so smart for stopping you at the last second. Most mythical creatures are pretty taxonomically easy, too, so it’s less work. Unicorns are obvious. If you can’t make them magical, that’s fine, but I would prefer magic. Oh, oh, and-“ The babbling went on. The genie felt like this would last forever, but at least it was better than people trying to wish for wealth over and over.

True, but it’s not like being a vampire is really harmful or anything. It has its own inconveniences, but equally has many good things, too.

I somewhat agree. I do believe some more communication should be in order for this relationship to proceed in any healthy manner. But OP is NTA for simply wanting his tradition to be respected, and his fiancé being closed minded about it. People wouldn’t be so divided if it was religion, let me tell you that.

NTA, but I get her perspective. Some people just want to stay mortal. Personally, I don’t understand it, having been born a vampire, and being married to one whom was already a vampire when I met him, but perhaps mortals simply feel like they are inadequate if they do not age normally?

I am unsure. Perhaps talk it over with her and explain the tradition. Even if she does not want to become a vampire, she shouldn’t call off the wedding. Then again, maybe it’s a good thing she rejected you in this way, because it’s a sign she may end up breaking your heart in other ways later on. Like death from short life span. Or all manner of human diseases that she is too selfish to ignore with vampirism.

You should have a serious discussion with her about it, and try to understand what she’s thinking for more context into how she feels. Don’t try to convince her, let her come to her own decision once you two talk it out. If she’s too stubborn for this, I suggest it best to reconsider your choices in spouse.

Dearest regards and well wishes.

-Szymon ‘Sebastian’ Kusicielka

Woken up by a horrific noise, Yvonne narrowed her eyes and charged downstairs, grabbing her bedside stake, just in case. Grumbling when she realised the commotion, she charged into the living room.

“I told you not to feed in here! It’s really annoying to get woken up by the sound of screams at.. at 4:23 AM!” Yvonne did a little glance at the grandfather clock, which ticked ominously. Faustus grumbled, dropping his prey on the floor like a scolded dog.

“I couldn’t get anyone when I was out hunting. Had to drag a morning passerby into the house before dawn. Thanks oh so much for the pithy little welcome mat, too. It barely counts as letting me in.”

Faustus resumed his barbaric feast on this poor pedestrian, who looked absolutely dazed. Yvonne wasn’t a vampire hunter because of any sort of justice reasons. She was apathetic to murder and death, considering it would make her a hypocrite to criticise it. Rather, she just didn’t like the pesky things, and the job paid enough for… joint rent. Hands on her hips, Yvonne sighed.

“You know, if you didn’t pay rent, I’d kill you.”

Faustus finished his meal, swallowing down the last of the (now absolutely dead) pedestrian’s blood. He pointed lazily at his fangs, then made a chomping motion. “You’re lucky I don’t just decide to mooch off of my friends. Amelia would be happy to take me in, and then I could dispose of you!”

“Oh yeah? Bring it on!”

Yvonne readied her stake, and Faustus bore his teeth and claw like nails, when a yell came from the flat above theirs.

“KEEP IT DOWN!”

Brought infront of various alien species, of shapes and sizes I would’ve thought impossible, the one who brought me there- green in colour, and almost resembling of old paleo art, nudged me with it’s nose, toward beings that towered over me.

“An average specimen for your viewing. Juvenile, and with a few mental defects. Watch what it can do!”

Okay, that was offensive, and I would’ve much preferred not to have been given a translator, because that just felt mean. I was handed a pen and paper, with foreign eyes looking at me intently. It was a few high-school level equations. Algebra, too, which was my favourite kind of math, since it made sense to my visual learning kind of brain.

Thinking hard for a moment, and then repeating the processes I had been taught, I wrote down the answers to the questions, in very scratchy handwriting. Finishing relatively quickly once I got into a rhythm, I presented my basic algebra to these creatures that were advanced beyond my comprehension. I must’ve looked a bit nervous, because that green, dinosaur-like alien, gently nudged me with its nose again, as if to try to give me some support.

The galactic community infront of me looked positively stunned. And sure, I wasn’t the brightest at maths, but this was just basic algebra that would be taught to 15 year olds. Was it really so complex for them? Or perhaps it was because the average human intelligence wouldn’t compensate for such knowledge? Whatever it was, they seemed impressed.

“What a marvellous creature. And they’re all like this?” An amorphous blob questioned, hollow voice echoing through the spaceship halls. I was lifted up by a few littler blobs, who I assumed were helpers of the big one, but I wasn’t really sure. Well, it wasn’t relevant. I was pretty pleased, because I was getting attention I never would’ve gotten back on Earth.

Cooing and touching my hair, I felt wanted, whereas back home, I was merely berated for my poor test scores and my odd way of thinking.

“The rest of them are kind of mean.” I commented, and they all stared at me adoringly, not stunned by my use of language, aided by the translator, but seemingly by my voice. They spoke to me like normal humans, as if in normal conversation, but I could tell this, to them, was baby-speak, because they talked amongst themselves as if I wasn’t there, too, and their languages were too complex for the measly translator I had been loaned. Well, that was okay. This was nice, and I could get used to this kind of treatment.

(It’s not very good. Sorry about that. I just think that advanced aliens being so enamoured by humanity would be funny.)

“I’ve prayed to every deity of every religion, of all books new and old, multiple times over for each, and received no answer. This will be futile, and that I am aware of, but this is a last ditch effort. I dug up a ritual so ancient I am unaware of what it will entail, what has been lost to time, or even your name. But I beg of you, if you are out there, come to me, answer my pleas.”

It was odd, hearing a call so desperate. For what would be mortal eons, Millenia of being forgotten, felt to me quite short. I figured, perhaps, my tyranny of the days I assumed had been lost, was finally being acknowledged, and that maybe I should indulge this, not out of mercy or empathy, but curiosity. Surely, if someone so distant and destructive had caught this individual’s eye, they needed the help.

So abiding the ritual, I found myself in a very dark room. I wondered how far humanity had progressed in my absence. The one in front of me was small, a young adult. They wore spikes and dark colours. A warrior? No, too flimsy and weak to be viable in vicious combat. Perhaps this was some sort of intimidation tactic? Or maybe a new fad? Mortals had those, I had heard. In any case, this little being looked up at me with awe, scurrying away from the circle they had summoned me from.

“Tell me. How are you so desperate to seek an entity of which you do not know even the slightest detail?”

They were agape, lost for words. They reached a hand out, curiously, as if to attempt to touch me. I didn’t really mind that much. Of course they’d be surprised. From a mortal’s perspective, this would be absolutely ludicrous. I sat on the floor. It was soft and plush, like the hide of a dead animal. Perhaps this nimble creature was capable of more than I had assumed. Finally, their hand connected with my body, feeling me over to make sure that I was not a figment of their imagination. Back in the days of old, I would not have allowed such dawdling, but I suppose my heart had softened with time.

“You’re real… oh my god. Okay. No, wait, that’s probably rude. Oh my you.”

I let out a snort of amusement. That was funny. Maybe they served no purpose in combat, but were gifted lavish hides and armour for their job as an entertainer? “Tell me what it is you wish.” (I couldn’t come up with anything good beyond this point.)