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This sounds like the beginning of a kid’s cartoon or a sitcom

I'm glad you enjoyed it!

"But enough about the weather, how about those mosquitoes?"

Screaming, fading into the distance "... Was it something I said?"

Plot twist:

"Ha-ha, ha, NARF!"

"Roasting heat, biting cold, constant wind, alternating dry and humid air, oh and don't forget the storms that rain down fist-sized hail and summon whirling winds strong enough to tear a house to splinters or drive straw into a tree!"

"What is this hellscape!? Have any of your people survived it?"

"What, Kansas? I grew up there, actually. Uh, are you ok?"

Guy Fieri just there in the Jury.

It’s true. People who voluntarily live in Michigan are a different species than me. I hate cold with a passion. XD

Jeff is terrifying since he got those nuclear bombs.

Fareeha attacked language learning with fervor. With charts, flash cards, and daily practice, she'd surely be fluent in French in no time. But after three months, she was more confused than ever. Fareeha was supposed to be chatting with ease, but she was just floundering about.

One day, she lost an hour to confusion after misreading "fright" as "freight" and had enough. Fareeha brought her notes to a s'mores night with her friend Fabian. They'd feed the fire now.

Fareeha charred a marshmallow black over the blazing papers, grinning at the flames.

Then Fabian turned to her. "How's French going?"

Man… what a ride that was! I honestly for a minute forgot that I was reading a comment on Reddit.

Love it, reminds me for a tumblr post where humans were being interviewed by aliens about how we explored the Antartic continent, and the humans went "Well, the first explorers we sent died due extreme cold" "so what did you do to change that? Did you created super heaters?" "No, we just sent some more but with fluffier clothing" "What?"

Did someone really just leave that out in the open for anyone to take?

Miya stared down at the absolutely enormous sword gleaming on the dusty wooden countertop in her garage. She wasn't sure how she'd gotten it, exactly, because she didn't exactly set out to get a sword on her way back from dropping her son at his dad's house after another temper tantrum. It was just there when she got out of the car, paper bags full of boxed wine, bread and salty butter tucked under her arms and her hair a frizzy mess from the perpetually open window of her shitty car. Honestly, she was looking forward for solitary quality time with cheap alcohol, white flour, a new Love Island episode and potentially, a sneaky little hangout with her vibrator.

She made sure the bottles weren't going to tip over at her feet before she made her way a bit closer to the metal monstrosity. Was it Ian's? But her son was more into girls, overpriced sneakers and leaving a mess than roleplaying games. He hadn't wanted a sword of any kind since he was five.

She wondered if she should be more worried about the sudden appearance of a giant sword in her little suburban home, but she wasn't. She'd worn out her capacity to capably emote about two fights ago.

"What in the fucking hell are you doing here?" she mumbled, carefully running a suspicious finger over the smooth, cold metal. She had to admit, it was beautiful, as far as uselessly massive weapons went. Perfectly smooth and shiny, with no visible fingerprints or specks of dust, it was nearly as long as her whole body.

"And why the fuck are you touching me without my fucking permission?" a tinny, whiny voice replied, and she practically jumped ten feet in the air, looking around in a panic. Maybe Ian was right and she was, indeed, crazy.

"Over here, grandma," the grating voice almost seemed to roll its eyes, cracking ever so slightly. "The metal thing in your house, yes. Hi."

She blinked. Had she been drinking? Had she hit such rock bottom that she fell asleep, only to imagine the voice of an obnoxious teenager coming out of a piece of metal? "Hi?"

"Well I can't exactly wave at you, can't I? Waving is your job. Last time I heard, people, with arms, carry swords."

She huffed. "I don't know if this is real or not, but if it is, someone has a sick sense of humor to send me Ian's inanimate doppelgänger."

"I don't know any Ians."

She put her hands exasperatedly on her hips. "Well unlike you, talking scrap, he's a real boy. Smells, hormones and all."

"Ouch, really hurt my feelings there with that killer line, lasy. I'm so offended. My non existent heart in my non existent chest is broken."

"You know, when I made that little bastard and shot it out of my body while his dad was stationed in the Middle East, I had a lot of dreams. I thought, maybe he'd be a nice boy, and we'd have nice talks in a nice house-"

"Where is this going?"

"And here I am. Ian hates breathing air in the same room as me, his dad is now openly fucking his colleague who was definitely just his good friend back in the desert, and I'm talking to a sword, potentially hallucinating, about to drink myself asleep."

There was a long silence. She rubbed her face, feeling her shoulders sink. This sword could protect someone out there. Maybe it could be featured in a cool movie with shirtless men who grunt and touch each other homoerotically. Instead, there it was ready to be wielded by her, who hadn't lifted anything heavier than these grocery bags in years.

"Look, buddy, I don't know how you got here. I'm sure you're a nice young- sword... but I am tired, and my arms are noodles, so I couldn't wield you much further than the curb. I think you should leave the way you came, which is an insane thing to tell an object."

"If I knew how I got here, I sure as fuck would be using that information to get the hell back to where I came from, but I'm apparently stuck with you, so deal with it."

"Wait..." her brows furrowed. "You mean you don't know how you got here? Do you even know where you're from?"

She heard a squeaky huff. "Of course I-" the voice cut off. It was quiet again. "Actually, I don't... I don't know."

Something maternal in her heart cramped at that lost, tinny voice. She couldn't imagine appearing suddenly, completely immobile, in a foreign place with a foreign person, completely unable to do anything without their help.

"I'm sorry."

The sword took another minute to reply. "Maybe your sorry ass can figure out a way to get me the fuck out of this hellhole."

And there went that maternal ache straight out the proverbial window. "You're a mouthy little shit, you know that?"

The chuckle it gave made the metal blade vibrate ominously, like a giant guitar string. "Apparently. But you'd be mad too if you got stuck with an incompetent old woman as your wielder."

"I am not old."

"That's what offended you? Really?"

"Shut up." She slid down on the stool near the counter.

They sat there in relatively companionable silence, or at least she thought so - after all, this thing didn't exactly have expressions.

"Have you ever even been in a fight?"

"Of course I've-"

"I see that's a big fat no."

The sword vibrated again. It didn't add anything.

She looked down at the thing. She carefully slid her fingers around the hilt, feeling its impressive weight. She assumed that with some effort and two free hands, she could probably move it inside, at least. Maybe Ian would think it's cool. Maybe he'd take one look at her sitting around talking to a sword and never come back home again.

"You gonna fondle me forever, woman?"

She sighed and gave him a few seconds of silent, disappointed staring. Apparently, it worked on swords just as well as pimply boys, because before long, an unsure, defiant "what" made the sword vibrate in her hand.

"Want to go watch some TV?" she asked.

"I don't know what that is."

"It has moving pictures with sounds. They tell stories. It's in a little square."

"Hmm."

She took the time to make sure her car and garage doors were both locked. She was about to pick up the groceries when that tinny voice piped up.

"TV sounds nice, actually."

Ciaphas Cain, hero of the imperium.

“I get you used to be vegan but beet juice is not a substitute for blood”

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Bureaucracy is normally quite the drag, especially when it comes to just trying to keep things together. This especially turns out to be the case when someone new decides to join our ranks. Recently, the Universal Titans got word that humans were looking to join in on the Titanic Compact. I never thought I'd see the day where they'd finally reach any of us, and apparently, neither did any of the other Titans. It was a shock to our usual system, but how we were going to induct them shocked many more.

I was simply taking care of business in my office like usual when Gerrok, the head of the Eldian delegation, stormed into the room, practically blasting the door off its hinges. "What in all creation's name is this?!?" He held up the copy of the drafted proposal about the Terrans being inducted in, pointing at one line in particular with his veined, trembling hand.

Under normal circumstances, all delegations who come to serve in the Titans' Consortium are allowed a single representative. The resolution, however, specified that Terrans will be getting four. For rather understandable reasons, it caused an uproar among the delegates, but for the sake of decorum, the motion was brought forth for consideration anyway. It appears, however, that there are some much more willing to confront me on this matter privately.

I turn to my intruder with a face dripping with exasperation. "That's the draft of the induction of the Terrans. And yes, I know what part you're pointing out. It made it through the initial legislation phase and is now up for a vote, so there's nothing you can do to change that." I was used to getting complaints from many of the over 300 delegates, but Gerrok was perhaps the most belligerent of any of them. I hear from his homeworld no less than once every two weeks with some new tedium to have to address, and now he decides to waste my time with this...

No sooner do I get the word out of my mouth does he slam his hand into my desk. "I know that! Why are they getting four seats?!? No one else gets that many!" His voice was dripping with venom; of all the delegates, he's probably the most hostile to any government other than his own.

"They get those seats because that's what the drafters thought would be best for the Compact. Now either give me a complaint I can actually act on, or-"

He smashes his other hand into my desk, cutting me off. "Don't give me that! Sonaron is one of the founding members of the Titanic Compact, and you are its leader! You were one of the people who wrote that bloody compact, so I want to know why the hell you let those unpredictable lunatics into-"

This time I'm the one to cut him off. "Because we need them, you imbecile." I wasn't one to insult, but it usually got me a word in edgewise when I needed to do it. "The Titans' Consortium has grown stale and complacent with its place in the cosmos. We're all used to being the strongest powers we know. You ask why I would let someone so unpredictable into the Consortium? It's because they're unpredictable. We need someone like them to keep us on our toes, and the more of them there are, the more we'll need to account for. Their much shorter lifespans give them a perspective we will never have. After all, how much would you try to do if you knew you only had 80 years to live instead of 80 thousand? Besides... you would do well to remember exactly what my heritage is."

He was stunned into silence. It's an oft forgotten fact, but I myself am human, or at least I used to be. I couldn't help but rub it in just a bit. "That's what I thought. Now as I said before: give me a complaint I can act on, or get out."

The only thing I could hear from him was a string of Eldian curses as he tromped out of my office. He may not have wanted to admit it, but I could tell he knew I was right.

And with him dealt with, all I need to do is figure out the Terran delegates to appoint...

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John had always been fascinated by the idea of saving the world. He had grown up watching movies about superheroes and had always dreamed of being the one to save humanity from disaster. So when a massive asteroid was discovered hurtling towards Earth, John saw it as his chance to finally make a difference.

John worked tirelessly to come up with a solution. He consulted with other scientists on Discord and spent countless hours studying the asteroid's trajectory. And finally, he came up with a plan. He would build a giant laser that would destroy the asteroid before it could hit Earth.

John threw himself into the project, working day and night to build the laser. And when it was finally complete, he couldn't wait to put it to the test. He gathered a team of experts and they set up the laser on a platform in the desert.

The laser worked perfectly, blasting a beam of energy at the asteroid and shattering it into a million pieces. John watched with pride as the debris burned up in the atmosphere, knowing that he had saved the world.

But as time passed, something strange began to happen. The debris from the asteroid began to rain down on Earth, causing massive destruction and loss of life. John had not considered the consequences of destroying the asteroid, and now the world was paying the price.

Desperate to fix his mistake, John tried everything he could think of. But it was too late. The damage had been done, and there was no going back.

In the end, John was left alone in his lab, staring at the ruins of his creation. He had set out to save the world, but his actions had only led to its destruction. And as he gazed at the devastation around him, he couldn't help but think back to that day in the desert when he had first tested the laser.

"If I can't have the glory of saving the world," he muttered to himself, "then I'll have the glory of ending it!"

And with that, John took out his phone and opened the YouTube app to play what would be his final, cold, and beautiful vibe.

Sub-Zero Meditation: A Dark Atmospheric Ambient Journey

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Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there lived a group of five friends. They were inseparable, and their bond was unbreakable. One day, they were summoned by a god who needed their help to save his magical realm. The god promised to grant them the power to choose their appearance in his world.
The first two friends, a boy and a girl, chose to become idealized adult versions of themselves. They wanted to be the strongest and most capable versions of themselves so they could protect their friends.
The next two friends, a dwarf and an elf, chose to become members of their respective fantasy races. The dwarf became a master blacksmith and the elf became an expert archer, ready to defend their friends with their unique skills.
But the fifth friend surprised everyone with her choice. She chose to become a tree.
Her friends were shocked and confused. They asked her why she would choose to be a tree when she could have any form she desired. She simply smiled and told them that trees are the guardians of the forest, the protectors of nature. She wanted to stand tall and strong, to offer shade and shelter to all the creatures of the forest. She wanted to be a part of something bigger than herself, to give back to the world that had given her so much.
And so, the friends set out on their adventure, with their unique appearances and skills. Together, they fought the evil forces that threatened the god's magical realm. The boy and girl fought with their strength and courage, the dwarf and elf with their skills and cunning, and the tree with her unwavering presence and support.
In the end, they saved the god's magical realm and returned to their own world. But they never forgot the lessons they had learned, especially the lesson that it's not about what you look like or what you can do, but about the impact you make on the world around you. And the tree, though she may have been an unconventional hero, will always be remembered as one of the bravest and most selfless of them all.

So... The Brain is trying to pull a Palpatine or something?, at least the contact makes sense for them.