So I've been a little stressed about my books lately which has been covered by how stressed I've been about *everything else* but I really do want to do a project or two that's pure fun instead of being relentlessly heavy and stressful. I'm probably not hitting 1.5K any time soon but I want to do one of these anyways soooooo... as an audience, which would you be more interested in seeing?

-Chat-based novel interspersed with longer prose segments detailing the journey of three authors who find out their stories are interlinked. None of them have ever met outside of the Internet before but once they find out that each of them is now part of this greater "story", they must work together to bring their protagonists together and ensure the story has a happy ending. Essentially it's a spoof on Wattpad with some mixed urban fantasy elements because Chrona is writing it. 

EXCERPT

WordThread Conversation Between UrielOfAgnant and Neofictitious on 8/9/16 at 20:05

UrielOfAgnant: I by no means intend to be rude but I must inform you that I recently found your story "Seacaller" and it is very clear that you have stolen my idea.
Neofictitious: who even are you
UrielOfAgnant: I'm a fellow author on this site--may I note, a member of some notability. I'm best known for my work on the "Gemini" duology and following companion novel.
Neofictitious: that's not what I meant it was a rhetorical question
Neofictitious: And I didn't steal your book and have no idea what you're talking about?
Neofictitious: on an unrelated note a duology and a companion novel is just a trilogy which you should have considered before you named your series
UrielOfAgnant: I didn't contact you to insult you.
Neofictitious: It appears to me like that's exactly what you did?
UrielOfAgnant: Stop playing coy with me. There is no way you could have thought of the exact same name for your world as I did and the same general concept of a world separated into castes according to climate.
Neofictitious: oh what it wasn't like a character premise or something it was worldbuilding
Neofictitious: So I guess this is like a Pokémon and Digimon deal where they're obviously not even close but everyone keeps comparing them right? 
UrielOfAgnant: What's Digimon?
Neofictitious: You disgust me.
UrielOfAgnant: I know, given that you've copied *my original works*, that you're probably a troll, but could you at least pretend to be professional about this?
Neofictitious: We are on a website for thirteen year olds.
Neofictitious: Whatever. The book I "borrowed from" was The Storm's Eye, right?
UrielOfAgnant: So it would be.
Neofictitious: funny story! you appear to have put it up a day after mine.
UrielOfAgnant: Are you accusing me of stealing ideas?
Neofictitious: watch out. the tables have turned
Neofictitious: heavy tables
Neofictitious: sharp corners
Neofictitious: and I'm turning them
UrielOfAgnant: What's your angle?
Neofictitious: hey man you contacted me
(UrielOfAgnant has stopped the thread. Have a nice day!)

or

-Choose-your-own adventure urban fantasy... alright, not entirely. Think of this less as choose YOUR own adventure and more of canonical reader intervention by way of Ouija board, that is, both worlds are intertwined to the point where it's assumed the characters are getting your feedback. Anyways, The End Of The World Begins With Us is about three teenagers-- Cain, Toby, and Luka-- during the middle of an apocalypse where reality itself has begun to break down. Technology no longer functions correctly, animal populations and tides seethe and withdraw seemingly at random, temperatures are erratic, and certain individuals are manifesting strange new powers. Whether it is the ability to bend fortune to one's advantage, an affinity for finding paths where there should be none, or a connection to the Internet in an age where it seems more like a cryptic being than a series of numbers, all three of the protagonists find themselves at the center of this world's designs. 

(Admittedly this one skews a little dark and a little more... honest than I usually go, so if you don't like profanity or ambiguous romantic tension between three teenagers, this might not be your thing) 

EXCERPT

In the most general sense of the word, things start ending when they begin. As soon as things are in motion, they are always in the process of finishing, you're just too far off to see it. You're born dying. You plan trips that are already concluding when you step foot on the airplane. You get pulled up the hill of a rollercoaster that is in the process of pulling up to its destination. So, in that vein, the world has been ending for 13.8 billion years, or, if you define the 'world' as our world in particular (a little solipsistic, but I digress), around a tidy 4.543 billion.

If you want to be a little more specific, narrow it down to that last blissful drop of the rollercoaster, our world started ending twenty years ago. Of course, this conveniently cuts us out of the picture, and as a teenager and a certified narcissist, I'd prefer to be part of my own story. For everyone's convenience, the end of the world starts today, with things in the process of ending, with Toby on my left and Luka on my right, the three of us slumped across the couch in the least platonic way three people could possibly watch television with their clothes on.

"Next."

Toby's undercut bristles against the side of my face. It's like being nuzzled by a hedgehog. I press the button, already expecting her ire.

"Fearmongering. Next."

My thumb glances off the button.

"None of these statistics are backed up to anything refutable. This is worse than the 'nine out of ten of our paid-off doctors recommend' ads for vitamins. Fucking next."

Another wave of blues and reds overwhelms us, complete with the numb chanting of middle-aged men on screen spelling out the reality of our young, clueless lives. The media is still kind of losing it's shit, if only because there's not much else to do, and occasionally some of their equipment will stop functioning and everyone will be flustered as they realize that the universe will never stop asserting its dominance over us all every few days. They've already switched to using items with less mechanical parts, but somehow, it's always the news stations that have to deal with the most anomalies.

"Next."

Luka finally jerks up, his blonde hair swinging up from around his cheeks. "Do we have to check all of them? This is Cain's house. There are a thousand channels. We could be here all night."

"I don't mind being here all night," I say. "My dads are cool with it." Okay, so maybe I do mind being here all night with my clothes on, but I can see Luka's camisole peeking out already. That shit will be off before midnight. Trust me.

"Your dads would be cool if we burned the house down." Luka argues, his shoulders tensed. The side of his body nearest the television is covered into something that vaguely registers in my mind as peach fuzz, held aloft by some latent static energy.

I shrug nonchalantly. "Yeah, but then I'd be upset. I happen to have some very valuable signed instruments and posters in this house from people who are no longer available for autographs, unless the dead start coming back too. Man. That would really fuck collectors over, wouldn't it?"

Toby sneaks the remote out of my hands to click the accursed button, and Luka pouts. "Come on, Toby. We could be playing Xbox right now."

"That Xbox is statistically due to break. We'd be playing it at night, in a time of dire need... Cosmic Irony'd be on us faster than you can say game over." Toby rolls her eyes. I get another faceful of undercut.

"No one has said 'game over' since the nineties." I argue.

"Coin flip for it?" offers Luka.

Thanks, Luka. That's a terrible idea.

"That's like asking the universe to pick. Cosmic Irony dictates the coin flip's already predetermined." I argue.

"I don't think the universe gives a shit." Toby sighs.

"No coin flips in my house." I insist.

Toby sighs. "Whatever's done's done, whatever's happening is happening, and whatever's coming up is coming up." She draws a quarter from between couch cushions, where it's sat for a good four weeks, and she flips it in a perfect arc, all silvers and blues, and it lands on edge on the end table between us and the TV. "Shit." Toby says. "Shit."

I attempt to cut off the television, but the remote has stopped functioning. Look. The universe says. Look what you did.

"Try again." I argue.

"Then we'll know for sure," Luka responds, his voice little more than a whisper. "Toby, are you..."

Toby gathers it, flips it again, and runs a hand through her hair. The coin stands on its side on the table, like a great middle finger from the universe. "I'm fine." she says, before either of us are able to start with her.

"So you're..."

Toby sinks back into the seat. "I said I'm fine."

"I mean, we knew." Luka says. "If you think about it?"

"I'm one of the cool kids now," Toby says, biting her hair. "Fucking radical."

"Worse powers to have." I say. This is not helping.

"Luck doesn't mean good luck. It just means luck." Toby falls across our laps. "You two've been dealing with your own anomalies for years. I'll be totally fine."

The remote somehow finds it within itself to come back to life, perhaps to spite me, and leaves us in darkness. Without crusty old men to discuss the impending fate of the world, all that fills my basement is our breath, and even though they're right on me, we're all far enough out of our bodies from the fear that the touch barely registers. 

"Okay." Toby whispers to the empty television screen. "Alright. What do we do now?"