Lunamor

Nope, I do!

Granted, it gets revived as basedae. I wish for a pear.

*wins*

Eating all coffee beans in sight.

Granted, it’s a wish for giant sized feet. I wish for perfect video game skills.

“I love you too.” Ben tried to keep his worry from showing on his face. Rob would likely end up being ok, but his injuries had been even more serious than Shana’s. And with how tired Shana was, he would be incredibly fatigued. “He’s Rob. He’ll be fine.”

Ben was bit unhappy Shana didn’t want any stormlight, but relented. Her logic made sense. He pulled a chair from her desk up next to Shana’s bed and took her hand. ”Of course.”

Granted, everything in France but the Notre Dame catches on fire. I wish for a bunny.

Welcome! Do not accept any cookies, they are all hemalurgically spiked and will steal your soul. Which order of the Knights Radiant would you say you would belong to?

But never, ever try and fuel them with coffee.

Ben turned around, forcing himself to quit staring at his feet. Seeing Shana’s shaking hands, he realized that she wasn’t doing very well, even worse than he had thought. ”Would you like me to go get you some more stormlight?”

As they are very, very loud.

It was a beautiful speech. About the dangers of sneaking up on angry cats.

Ben blushed deeply as well. He walked to the other side of the room and stood facing the wall. He felt incredibly awkward. Should he make conversation?

Granted, but you get crushed under the weight of all of them. I wish for a pug.

Granted. The sky becomes clear, and can no longer be seen. The entire world goes into mass hysteria. I wish for an onion.

When they entered the room, Ben noted its messy state. He would have to ask Shana later if she would be alright with him organizing it. Ben wrapped his arms around her, hoping he was comforting her. He then led her to the bed and sat her down. ”You need to rest.” @Sorana

Granted. The Nightwatcher hands you a dog. Now you have to scoop its poop all the time. I wish for more people to read Sanderson.

Granted, Disney disappears. Say goodbye to Marvel, Star Wars, Pixar, and everything else they have accumulated over the years. I wish for a bottle of syrup that never runs out.

Granted. The Nightwatcher hands you a remote. A particularly annoying person walks up to you, blabbing their head off about how they just bought a new pair of shoes. You smugly lift the remote, point it their direction, and press the mute button. The person continues moving their mouth, but you can’t hear a thing. You smile, happy that their endless chatter has been extinguished. You then glance back downwards at the remote, noticing its other buttons. You become curious, unnaturally curious. Something is pushing you, begging you to press another button. You begin to hear a strange noise, one that slowly starts to surround you, feeling eerily familiar. Static. You glance back upwards from the remote, and find that the sky has begun to darken. You are relieved when a white patch appears in the sky, banishing a small patch of the darkness. But then another appears. And another. Some start to disappear. Soon, the entire sky becomes this alternating, random pattern of white and black. The pattern speeds up, the sound becoming more oppressive. You back away, terrified, knowing that something is very, very wrong. You look down, seeking to avert your eyes from the almost hypnotizing pattern above. But, against all odds, you see something even more sinister. Against your will, your finger is ever so slowly moving towards the power button. You try and stop it, but you seem to be frozen, unable to do anything but stare. It hovers over the button for just a second, then plunges downwards, pressing it. You flinch and cover your head, waiting for the inevitable. After a while with nothing happening, you peer back out. You notice an old television sitting nearby. It has been turned on, static covering its screen. The sky has been turned back to normal. You place the remote on top of the television, then run from the valley as fast as you can, highly disturbed and wishing to never see it again. The person you muted silently watches your retreating shadow, furious that you would steal away their voice. They turn towards the remote, and a slight smile touches their lips. They pick up the remote, and slowly stalk your direction, determined to exact revenge upon you no matter the cost. Good luck with that. I wish that everyone would just admit that waffles are better than pancakes. Edit: Darn, Ninja’d! Granted, but he is a zombie.

Supporting Shana with one hand, Ben opened the door with the other. He saw the blood covering her, watched her stumble over her own feet. He again felt a wave of guilt that threatened to crush him. He should have done something more to protect her, to keep something like this from happening to her. ”Shana.” He looked into her eyes and brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, wishing he could somehow take her exhaustion from her. “You don’t need to apologize for anything.” He paused, words failing him again.

Annoyance to all of the other walls.

Ben nodded and wrapped Shana’s arm around his shoulder, concerned. She was so tired she could barely stand up. He then began slowly walking towards the door.