I Hope The Oath Wins Over The Curse. It's Much More Interesting To Be Sworn To Amber And Rot. That Necromancer

These and memes like it make me want to get an easel and pallet and paint wizards in nature and I likely places.

A clown a day keeps the circus away.

If you can't take the clowns, get out of the circus

"There's just one problem."

"Hmm?"

"No pinkies..."

"Your secret is safe with me."

And then, the world went mad...

Before I would've said the world would go out in a nuclear blaze or something otherwise generically apocalyptic like that. Survival scenarios were always fun to think about in those kinds of settings. Then I stepped outside to go to work and the house across the street blew up. The wildest thing? I'm pretty sure I saw Susan flying into the distance wearing a blanket like some kind of sugar glider, but got distracted by her car hood banging to the road like it had been launched from the roof. I called the police to report the explosions and subsequent fire, but the operator just started flirting with me. Creeped out, I hung up and tried again only to get raucous laughter from someone else. I went to get a hose and maybe do something when I heard gunshots. GUNSHOTS! Gunshots in my sleepy little suburb, and I'm convinced they were shooting at me! What did I do?! I ran to my car and took off, console pistol in hand because I had no idea what was going on. I drove to my friend Dave's house, but he seemed bored by the madness I frantically described seeing in my trip over. "Time-loop, bud. You're lucky I stuck around this time to see you. Damnedest thing. I think you're the only one that doesn't know. Made me kind of a celebrity for a few years there, but now you're novelty has worn off. Oh, you'll get some attention still, but the North American Free People's Society has laid down some protection rules around you, but it's not like we can enforce any infrastructure in the beginning. Good luck with Today! I'll see you again Today." He just got up and walked out. He seemed listless about the whole thing. Strange accent as well. I found his corpse a few hours later. I'm still trying to convince myself that some worldwide mass hallucination happened, because I can't otherwise make sense of everything. Dave was right though, which makes it harder to believe. I ran into plenty of would-be-lovers, plenty of whackos trying to kill me, and quickly had a bodyguard contingent from this NAFPS group who shot a lot of people between casually chatting with me and maintaining a perimeter. I guess they have a daily rotation and it's considered some kind of honor.

Then the next day came.

There were all kinds of reactions. Orgies in the street, mass suicides, plenty of weeping in both joy and terror. Before no one wanted to talk to me about it anymore, probably because of all the questions I kept asking in the early days, I learned that everyone was in there for hundreds of years. Certainly explains some of the wild skills I saw from people who otherwise looked like normal service workers or business drones. It seems some considered themselves immortal, and being confronted by Tomorrow shook most up. The NAFPS is still around in some capacity. It seems there were groups that were preparing for Tomorrow all over the place, but never really expected it to come. It was clear who truly believed soon enough, from my perspective. I work with them as thanks for protecting me the day the world went mad, and I'm starting to believe them. This is all too orchestrated to be anything fake or hallucinated. It's just so hard to believe, you know? It seems that my celebrity status in the strange world I missed out on makes me a relatively trustable party for negotiations. I've been shipped to neo nation-states across the globe like the NAFPS as a kind of emissary of the world that was. To me it was just last Thursday, but I guess to them, that's when the world really started. I still miss Dave.

-Reflections from the diary of control entity, Jay, in simulation iteration 166,440. It can be noted that human society is starting to become stable, post-resumption. This researcher believes this to be a solid sign we are past the primal anarchic tendencies of the prolonged mortal persistence in a zero-consequence environment and refutes the claim of inherently chaotic nature in the species. Albeit did take several hundred years. The concerted effort to keep the control entity alive as a living monument to their culture and former society is of particular interest to this researcher.

Apparently, you are living in a time loop. Also apparently, you are the only person on Earth who DOESN'T remember the previous iterations. This is the first time you've experienced today; the rest of humanity has been stuck reliving today for years now.

If you write a story for the backstory of a character in a ttrpg that is set in an existing franchise, is that considered an OC fanfic?

I was simply enjoying a drink on the beach, admiring the sunset and waving my hands back and forth to make the waves dance to the song I had playing everywhere in my dreamscape all at once when a woman with branches growing everywhere on her body and overflowing with lush green leaves stepped in front of me out of thin air. I frowned at her.

"Will you do something? Anything? For the love of Mother Gaia, I'm so booooored!" she said indignantly with that petulant stomp and balled fists you'd only see better performed on a toddler.

I waved my hand in a dismissive gesture and her leaves quickly faded through the shades of Autumn before they shriveled up and fell in a ring around her feet. She huffed and crossed her arms, her face giving them a run for their money as she glared at me.

I took a sip of my drink and stared back impassively.

Finally relenting, I raised my eyebrow and said, "You're the one that put me here. I'm perfectly content. Bargain well struck in my book."

I materialized a book in my hand which flipped itself open to a page with the words "Bargain with the Fae: Well Struck." I grinned at her indignant "Urrrrgh..." and gnashing teeth. They made a sweetly satisfying sound of wood grinding and creaking like I was back in the forest where this all started.

"You know how to end this, love. Now if you'll excuse me, I was playing with the ocean." I said as I waved my hand and she disappeared in a flurry of dead leaves.

I awoke with a start. Killed in my sleep again, I assumed. Sure enough, there was the wood fae at the foot of my bed. Her back was to me, which wasn't unusual but she was slumped forward instead of leaning back on her hands, which was very unusual. I yawned, preparing to go back to sleep, figuring it was another game that I didn't care to play.

"Cassia." she said, sullenly. I paused.

"Excuse me?" I asked in a deadpan. My expression went flat, not that she could see. That was until she spun around angrily, her hands propping her up as she was nearly sideways on the end of the bed.

"Cassia! That's my name! You're so infuriating!" she said, spinning back around with that last statement and throwing her hands in the air.

"Cassia..." I said, rolling the name over in my mouth. There was a faint shudder to the space around me as I felt something form between us. I smiled gently as she stiffened then looked over her shoulder at me hesitantly.

"It's a lovely name." I said to her before I began rummaging in my bag by the side of the bed. I pulled out a book and flipped to the newest unused page, finally able to write something in it again knowing it would stick.

Bargain with Cassia: Well Struck.

"I'm glad to have met you, Cassia. I always wondered why this inn smelled of cinnamon every morning. You have a mighty gift with time magic. We are going to do great things together!" I said, the excitement growing in my voice.

Cassia looked relieved and even had a shy smile on her face. She quickly tried to school it, however, before saying, "Maybe now you won't be so boring, I hope!" and crossing her arms, her face anything but cross in accompaniment for once.

The Fae that trapped you in a Groundhog Day-style time loop is extremely frustrated that you’re taking advantage of the situation to just sleep all day, every day.

"That simple?"

"That simple." I said, handing the paper over.

"What's it do?"

"Kid, that's a ward against scrying and blood magic. Don't ever accept a deal like this again. You failed."

Wait, are you saying that magic is real?" "Yes." "And you can test if I have magical potential?" "Yes. It's simple: a piece of paper, a drop of your blood, and a simple spell."

Curse thee, foul lizard! Be warned, brethren! The dragons have turned against our circle and joined the enemy and exposed our plot to thin their ranks!

The man at ten in the morning gave me a wary look as he accepted the package of sandwich bread, his payment left at the edge of the counter in exact change.

My favorite regular came in a quarter to eleven. She doesn't speak a lick of English but always bows to me at the door before letting it swing closed again.

Sometimes I can tell a spirit has taken a swipe at someone or said something inappropriate by their flinch or a flush to the face.

On rare occasion, those comments spark a full on fight like I was the one who gave them a lewd comment or an insult to their honor.

Everyone reacts differently to my collection. While it can be an inconvenience at times, I bake the best bread in the city so they have to come to me for something or another.

It doesn't get to me much though. My regulars know what's up, and those here for a sample either become regulars or are never seen here again.

Sometimes I think about hitting up the local priest to really give the spirits in my wake a piece of my mind. Ultimately it wouldn't change anything, though, and I've gotten used to the scared and disdainful reactions by now anyway.

The real treat comes when a "hero" comes by for a baguette or some brioche. The good ones give me a knowing smile and often tip well. The "targets" often buy what they came for civilly, but I've gotten good at reading the telltale signs of their nervousness.

The good ones are rare. The good ones are often labeled at vigilantes.

Right before close, Earth Man came in. I thanked him for his wonderful work saving the forest west of the city from those "foul" Kiowa Krusaders. He left sweating bullets.

I expect to serve a lot of humble pie tonight and have a new greeter in my entourage by morning.

For some context, the thought that came to me from this prompt that inspired this story was: Something about "hero" being a status generated by public perception but they were actually all evil

It is known that the ghosts of fallen heroes haunt their killers and cannot move on until the killer is brought to justice. But nobody is willing to ask the baker why so many ghosts are following them around.