A delegation from an alternate timeline is asking you to weigh in on the selection process for the next emperor deity of humanity. Asking about it you receive a wildly complicated explanation that boils down to people having gotten sick of leaders they can't depose by ritualised sword duel whenever desired, and there not being all too many takers. The rest of it makes little sense.
In any case, they're surveying neighbouring realities for preferred candidates, to pad out the news cycle. Apparently there's not too much going on, otherwise.

Who do you pick?

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"Back into the sea, yes." The Magical and Extraterrestrial Happenstances local office (MEH) is a pretty nice place to work, as long as you're comfortable with a certain amount of weird. And the budget is frankly amazing!
The soft man in front of you is wearing a big jumper with a delicate and complicated but recognisable octopus motif and has a little seashell pendant that he's rubbing to self soothe. "You see. The transmutation wizard turned me back into a human after a year, but didn't actually ask me if that was what I wanted. And I'd really like to return to the sea... I made some friends there. I don't often make friends! And I'd built such a nice nest in some coral, too!"

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First you got shipwrecked on a small island somewhere in the rather large Pacific Ocean, on a cruise you didn't even want to go to. The strange and sudden, not forecasted storm miraculously tossed not only you but a lot of random luggage onto its shores, and you've been foraging what you can. It's only been a day so the despair hasn't yet set in, it's pretty peaceful... You're exploring the beach when from the waves emerges an extremely tall and very muscular woman wearing nothing but kelp, a skull, and a necklace of shells. She also has what you can only describe as Ariel red hair.

She tosses a very large knife at your feet. "Well. Are you ready to hunt? They'll be here soon." Who, you ask out of sheer surprise. "The millionaires who think they own this island, of course. The savages."

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"A dangerous alien lifeform that makes people very good at maths has escaped containment and we're going door to door to make sure it's not been through here." The dour gentleman is armed with a clipboard, Open Street Map on his phone, and a nice fountain pen. His companion looks to be a recent werewolf and mostly armed with nervousness. Noises you can't hear keep startling him into a state of furriness. Perhaps there's a touch of dog in his transformation? Pyrenees mastiff, maybe? "Anyway, all we need from you is to try to solve these equations."

#SpeculativeRealityPolls

As a clockwork automaton from an alternate timeline people keep referencing Terminator to you. It took some time for you to find out what they meant and that only some say it unkindly. In your original timeline there were literal laws declaring you not alive... No such laws here, people treat you as people, and the only reason you're bothered in a library is when your ticking kicks up and it disturbs someone with acute hearing. So it's not the worst. As a seasoned veteran of both hand to hand combat and in putting yourself back together from your constituent parts you're never exactly afraid... But maybe you feel conflicted about it.

Stefan the excitable young human that works in the university cafeteria waves to you and yells "Yo, Terminator!" before returning to his business, delightedly grinning, like you've made his day.

#SpeculativeRealityPolls #MicroFiction

For you, the minor devil, this is the sixth summoning of the day. It's been rote stuff. Longevity, charisma, oodles of money, people flirting with you just because. This one has a thoroughly thought out and pretty well formatted pages long contract for you that mostly boils down to her never wanting to need to or feel the need to pee again, to no deleterious effects otherwise. You gaze upon her put together and neat form with your other sight, and on the shifting rivers of ADHD you read the ripples of deep and enduring frustration and the spiritual pockmarks of constant interruptions.

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"The ritual was slapdash but the invocation true. I drew the great shadow and its unlucky summoner within me like so much smoke, tucked them into the darkness of my heart. Safe within my very flesh and bone." She has a sort of hypnotic cadence, almost enough to distract from how her skin is an unnatural black - it's like the hungry tar of a black hole, dimming the light in the room. Your coworker Dave of the Storms gives you a supportive little wince. "Wracked with the rage and sorrow of being bound for millennia by callous human mages, it was about to kill us all. Mrs. Hansen. The afternoon knitting group. Mimia Glitter, reading to the kids. Marta's emotional support hound. Everyone present was very appreciative." She frowns a bit, appears a bit sheepish. "But now I'm told I'm making visitors uncomfortable. But I really like being a small town librarian. Can you help?"

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"Via arcane rituals and scrying, I have looked at your birth stars and based on this and numerous bits of data my minions have gathered on you and everything you've done the past decade, I have determined that indeed... You're actually pretty alright? I'm an absolute bastard of course, you don't want to associate with me in any way--" That's putting the gentle but abrupt magical kidnapping for this little chat in context. "--But my little sister is kind of a hermit and really needs friends but doesn't know how to find any, would you be up to calling her up, emailing or sending a postcard sometime? We don't actually talk, but I want to do her a solid anyway. I love her, you know? And I worry? I promise she's nothing like me!"

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An anarchist collective of catfolk hedge witches is donating workings for people. Just little workings, mind you, the sort of thing they can do a bunch of in an afternoon or evening, but that will tangibly help out for a little while.
They've got a little menu of workings they've prepared for in advance, what will it be, for you or a loved one?

#SpeculativeRealityPolls

Your cousin has had kittens. Literally. It was rather unexpected, as she's not really a cat person nor a person of feline lineage, and hasn't even been around any cats, much less cats of the humanoid type... Apparently she's in good health and bemused but good spirits. You're visiting the hospital for emotional support and take note of the nonchalant lingering of cats of all shapes, sizes and sentience levels about the building. A radiant woman with the grace and build of a cheetah and a cat's head sits down next to you in the waiting area, the bells and shells on her raiments tinkling.
"Do you think we'll be able to go in, soon?" she asks in a velvety purr.

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