She apologized to the Chrononauts. Though they weren’t the type to let bygones be bygones, they accepted, just this once.
She traveled a date which lived in infamy. She knew better than to try to prevent the bombing of Pearl Harbor, but did everything she could to help those injured.
Using a bit of trickery, she managed to get a certain British show about time travel to air an episode based on one of her real life exploits. She wasn’t too thrilled with the way they portrayed her.
She snuck a massively dirty word into the vocabulary of the first robot butler, only to be uttered when users treated their Butler with extreme disrespect. Nearly 80% of users wealthy enough to afford the first model reported hearing it.
She designed her own Chrononaut Regalia, specifically tailored to look out of place in any era (other than the 80’s, when it inspired one of the most embarrassing fads of the decade).
She started having recurring dreams in which she lived her mundane, day-to-day life. These dreams became nightmares, when they suddenly ended with a plasma blast from a cannon held by someone looking exactly like her.
She showed great restraint by not going to Salem and showing them what REAL witchcraft works like.
One year she played Santa Claus, and set out to deliver gifts to the whole world. She barely got through her own hometown before realizing how implausible the whole thing was.
She had a laser beam trapped in a tiny box of perfect mirrors, worn on a pendant at all times. She never knew what would happen if she were to open it.
She delivered letters between two pen pals, later lovers, who unknowingly lived a hundred years apart. Allowing them to fall in love was her biggest mistake that she refused to regret.
She gave Jean d’Arc a merciful death and a proper burial. It wasn’t easy to hide her grief from her friends and family, but she remained strong.
While she was never romantically involved with Shakespeare, the two came to be pretty good bros. They were an unstoppable tag team of dick jokes.
She threw a bunch of matter into the early universe. This may or may not have contributed to the broken symmetry between matter and anti-matter. She never was too keen on that kind of stuff.
She suggested to the first Pope the idea of being crucified on an upside down cross just to stick it to poser Satanists for generations to come.
She convinced some druids that it’d be cool if they stacked a bunch of rocks into a circle. She admits she was wrong about that one.
She mistook her errant clone for an Anomaly, and very nearly murdered her in cold blood. When she realized her mistake, she apologized for being a terrible mother.
She convinced Hitler’s barber to give him an ugly mustache. That way, the world of facial hair didn’t lose much when it fell out of fashion.
She dropped the most fire mixtape of 420 AD. But she couldn’t take all of the credit; gravity did most of the work.
She provided her favorite Renfaire-punk band (a popular genre in the future), Veni Vidi Vinci, with historically accurate outfits from the Renaissance. Ironically, since they looked so different from what is found at Renaissance fairs, they were criticized as “unrealistic”.
She tried to put an end to Nixon’s corruption. She didn’t really succeed, but at least she prevented the “-gate” suffix for any controversy from catching on.
She followed The River Styx to its source in Ancient Greece. Whatever she found there, she spoke of only in incoherent whispers as she lay asleep.
If it didn’t compromise her time traveling secrets, she could easily win the record for worst sleep schedule in history.
She witnessed the crucifixion of Jesus of Nazareth. Unfortunately, her universal translator glitched, so she couldn’t hear what He said. At least, she thought it was Jesus; it could have just been some dude on a cross.
She met Sacagawea, but said nothing to her, save a congratulatory “You go, girl”.
She convinced all airplane captains to talk like Chuck Yeager, and all spaceship pilots to talk like Samson Harding.
She never failed to impress party guests with her selection of aged wines and cheeses.
She arranged caveman remains in ridiculous poses, hoping that they’d fossilize that way and brighten the day of an anthropologist.
She secretly signed her name on The Declaration of Independence in a highly advanced invisible ink that won’t be discovered until years after The Declaration’s destruction.
She saw The Sun as a red giant, on the brink of swallowing Earth. It wasn’t easy to travel to a place where she’d be able to safely observe it, but it was well worth the effort.
For laughs, she opened a fortune telling shop, used her ability to perfectly tell the fortune of exactly one person, and disappeared. This may or may not have inspired one of the most prolific creepypastas on the Internet.
She gave a hug to the first robot capable of hate.
She started blowing kisses, ironically at first, but it wasn’t long before she started doing it sincerely.
She wrote young adult dystopian fiction in the future, based on the even further future, under the penname “Nick Ignition”. Praised for its prediction of the future, but panned for everything else, the only part of it that she was really proud of was the penname.
She pitched the idea of a system of naming batteries wherein battery size increases in proportion to the number of A’s. It never caught on.
She found the point in history when people were wonderful to each other. She didn’t use time travel; she just realized she’d been living in it all along.
For the next chapter in the recommended order, click here
For the next chapter in “chronological” order, click here