VJUZ

PART 1

Common fantasy elements
Objects becoming animate – personification
A house becoming alive
A city litterrally moving around every day and then the people need to appease the city
Ice powers
Talking animals
Ghosts
Plants that are magical
People working with alive objects after realizing they’re a thing.
Ideas:
- Joe is a 60 year old man who’s parents have just died. He inherits the land his parents gave him. For the purpose of nostalgia, he decides to live there for a month, being an only child.
The house becomes alive and Joe thinks he’s dealing with his parents’ ghost. Then the ghosts lead Joe to a treasure.


Part 2
Language: Joe speaks English. In his youth, he worked a factory job where he had to learn Spanish. The ghosts in his parent’s house also speak English. English is the primary language used. His parents were bilingual.
Beliefs: Joe is an atheist. He doesn’t believe in ghosts. He does believe that there is a God, but doesn’t know what it is. His morals are based upon what his parents taught him; be nice to everybody.
Structure of the society: The setting of this story is that Joe’s parents just died. He’s in mourning. He attends the funeral, and learns in his parent’s will his parents gave him the entire house to himself, because Joe didn’t have any kids and was their only child. He goes home, packs his stuff, and then heads over to his parent’s house. He unpacks, and sits down in the living room of his parents house, which is in a town called Eureka.
In his parents house, statues move, couches talk, and the TV decides what channel to watch. Joe is shocked and surprised at all this, but at the same time it makes him feel less lonely. Ultimately, this house is his parent’s greatest gift, because it pushes him outside of his comfort zone, and then Joe starts talking to people. Joe used to live in his parent’s house when he was 0 to 20 years old before moving out, but now that he returns at 60 now the ghosts are there.
Shops in Eureka:
Icecream shop called “Mary’s Icecream!” run by a 55 year old lady named Mary with 4 kids, with various icecream flavors
Galmart Market:
A store that has all food items someone would possibly need, and some furniture – like Walmart supercenter irl. It is owned by a 65 year old man named Keith. He is a nice gentleman Joe went to highschool with.
Bowling Eureka:
A nice bowling place with a bar that is a good spot for kids to visit and hang out. Joe went here as a kid sometimes.
Education in Eureka:
Eureka College – where everybody in Eureka goes to college after high school on full paid scholarship
Eureka Elementary – for 5 to 10 year olds
Eureka Middle – for 11 to 13 year olds
Eureka High – for 14 to 18 year olds
In the education in Eureka, magic is mentioned, but very few believe it to be real. In Eureka’s past, magic was very common, but that was over 100 years ago, and now many have lost their magical powers.
Joe’s parents were wizards though.
Pretty spots:
There are many trees, flowers, and playgrounds in Eureka.
Population of Eureka: 639

There are no apartments – everybody lives in houses. Tourists do stay at a hotel with a few floors though.
Technology in Joe’s house:
Every piece of furniture talks, so that’s crazy enough.
There is magic, and Joe does have magic DNA inside him that hasn’t been reach it.
Mary, the owner of the icecream shop, is a mage herself, who is very good with magic. Despite having 4 kids, she is divorced, and Joe has a crush on Mary.
There a lot of magical plants in the area. For example, the trees light on fire if you say “Hibicuis Magnificy!”
There is a magic school in the middle of Eureka that is abandoned now. Joe considers going to it. It is maintained by nobody, just a bunch of dusty spells that nobody has tried.

Joe is capable of magic.
People in Eureka who know magic:
Mary, her 4 kids, and Harrison, a 70 year old man who lives on the Southside of Eureka.

Ideas:
Maybe they can all find each other and start a magic school together….
Maybe Joe marries Mary and they are the head of the magic school..
Maybe Mary and Harrison become Joe’s best friends…
Remember Joe’s parents do show up in the form of ghosts

Good luck to whoever I swapped with! Feel free to take a twist on anything here when you add it to your story.

PART 3
Joe and the Ghost Busters -

It was 9 o clock on an evening. Joe was very said. He looked around and realized that everybody including himself was mourning his parents.

Joe crept down, bent both his legs, put his hands and arms over his head, and cried. He cried and prayed to God that God would send him something or someone that would remind him of parents.

His cousin, seeing Joe in his sorrow kneeled down to his level, and tapped his shoulder twice. Making direct eye contact, his cousion Kyle whispered.
“At least you get the house.”

Startled, Joe asked,
“That’s what’s in” he paused, thinking who else could have possibly gotten it “the will?”
Joe’s pitch in tone raised and a small smirk arose on his face.
Kyle nodded, and handed him a key.

Joe gave a great funeral speech, as the only child of his 2 parents, Micheal and Lizzy. He then went home, packed his bags, and made way to his childhood and parent’s home.

It took him a while to unpack his bags but when he did, Joe was so happy he got to see and reminisce his parent’s life by living in their home once again.

He turned on all the lights, opened his old room’s door, and threw all his luggage on the floor.
He proceeded to waltz over slowly but jollily to the living room. He noticed a remote control, and tried turning the TV on. It wouldn’t turn on.

“That’s strange.” He wondered.
He heard a voice.
“H- Hey Joe” a low voice arose.
Joe jumped out of his seat. Then the lights started flickering. He heard a choir sing.
“Joe. Joe. Joe. Joe.”
It came from the radio. Joe wasn’t sure if he was hallucinating due to sadness of his parent’s death. But he was worried for his life. Joe began to pace around the room. He opened the closet. Inside, was a baseball bat. Grabbing it with both his hands, placing it on his left shoulder, he looked around with a scared face, hoping that nobody was there.

He would have rather been crazy than for ghosts to be here.

All around all he heard was noise. A cat meow. A dog bark. A whistle. A song randomly play. Except no cat, no dog, no person, no radio, no TV was turned on.


All of a sudden, a knock at the door. 3 knocks.
“Was it a person?” Joe thought to himself “that knocked the door.”
He scarily trembles to the door, and shakingly opens the lever. The door open half way, he sees a friend of his, Mary.

He slams the door wide open.
“Why hi pretty lady!” he winks. Mary was his old college crush.
Mary slid him a sly smile, and nodded her head up and down before opening her mouth and tilting her head, mentioning “I heard a ruckus may be cause here.” With an eyebrow raise.
Mary was a pretty lady. She may have been 55 years old, but in Joe’s eyes, her green eyes and black dark hair were perfect. Joe was 60 years old.


——

PART 4
508 WORDS
Joe was not feeling happy when his parents died. He was sitting in his mom’s and dad’s old house, his childhood home, with his suitcase half open, potatoing on the couch and trying to soak up all his sadness. He lazily got up, trembled toward his stove, and figured he had to cook something for himself. He put the stove up to max heat. He accidentally touched the stove while it was on max heat. He expected to get burnt. Instead, fire ignited from his fingers.

“My hand is on fire!” he yelled. A voice responded.
“I” Joe shrieked. It was a low voice.
“Know.”
Joe suddenly was now sad and confused. He wasn’t sure what to think about the ghosts in this household. He overheard from a lady named Kiera that there is a chance that there could be ghosts in this home.

A knock on his door. Joe rushes over.
He opens it.
Speak of the devil. It’s Kiera!
She looks at Joe up and down arms crossed and head nodding tapping her toe to the beat of the rhythm of the insides of the world. Kiera was good with elemental powers.

She ignites a flame on her hand on command. She looks at Joe in the eyes.

“My master told me to teach you.” She winked and giggled looking at Joe with an eyebrow raised and a shoulder pushing over her chest.

She grabbed Joe’s shirt and looked over his eyes with the same slight smug smirk.

“Let’s go old man.” She kneeled and grabbed his entire body and threw it outside.

Joe yelled.
“How did you do that?” he exclaimed with a loud dark voice.
“Without breaking.” He sighed and lightened his voice. “a sweat.”

Kiera swished her cool brown hair.
“Magic is in everyone,” she tilted her body to the side and rested her weight on her hips “grandpa.” She said in a sing song tone.

Joe decided that he would take Kiera very seriously.

Daily Joe and Kiera would train.
Lighting candles from across a room. Controlling the fire inside of you to not explode. Carrying bags of coal and making sure they did not ignite.
Kiera was making sure that Joe could not only use his fire powers but also not abuse them by using them accidentally. She could tell Joe had a good heart and as a result let him learn on his own terms.

Joe started looking younger while learning all the elements. He smiled more. He laughed. He wasn’t so lazy. It gave him something to look forward to every day. Kiera brightened Joe’s life. Kiera was like a granddaughter for Joe. Joe didn’t hand family anymore now that his parents were dead so Kiera was close to it.

One day, when Kiera knocked on Joe’s door, Mary was there too.

Joe like usual, said hi and greeted Kiera, but Mary on the other hand was Joe’s crush since college. He kissed Mary’s cheek, held her hand, walked her in, raise his eyebrows and said “Hey pretty lady!”

“hey earth! It’s gravity! I’m taking a break”

Word war 367 words

War with Nivillain

Sometimes this life just gets too hard you know. I don't want to hold the weight of the world on my hands. I want to be like you Earth!
Wild! Carefree! Centered on nothing but another's weight. i like the way you lay on me, you make me feel important, but someitmes you're too heavy Earth. I don't want you no longer. You're too much work.

Look at Nayeli for example. She just basks in your land and doesn't do anything besides just walk around on you Earth. I want to be like that. Wild carefree doing nothing.

Immediately everything on Earth just dropped. Everybody began to float upwards. Astronauts is what everybody became.

The Earth freaked out. It asked gravity to please do it's thing again but it refused. Gravity was the only thing that was keeping it all together so for it to stop working - why - why - that was wild.

Nayeli didn't expect anything like it to ever happen. She immediately ran to her mother's home, except she couldn't
Everybody was flying. It was like driving a car in reverse 24 7. Left became right, backwards became up, nobody knew how to walk.


The sound of shrieks was the only thing that cried across the world when gravity just decided to take a break.
Everybody began to curse gravity. Curse the gods above.

Then, people started suffocating due to the lack of oxygen in space. That was where they were heading. The houses began to start floating, as gravity was supporting them staying down, and many began to start crying. Their tears went upward, and in the air they went with them. The dogs and the ponies and the cows all flew up and up more into space.

Everybody was beginning to die, but they didn't fall to the ground. They only flew upward. Dead bodies, carcasses everywhere. It was a bloody look except no blood was thrown.

A flying graveyard. At least the grave keeper didn't have to worry about his job because of the fact that everybody was just dying upward.

Then it fell upon Nayeli. She asked gravity can you please return? With a please, it worked again. And then, the world

Research:
Fantasy books usually center on something magical. Whether this is a place, person, or a thing, finding or training this magic to achieve a task is a common theme.
Some different types of magical things:

An object:
Similar to Aladdin or the Lord of The Rings, magical objects usually have great power that can change the course of the story. Finding and/or learning to use the object isn't easy, though, and is usually the main conflict of the story.

A place:
Like in Wonderland or the Chronicles of Narnia, fantasy can sometimes center around a magical place, where different things can happen to the characters than would on their own world.

An animal:
In many stories like His Dark Materials or How to Train your Dragon, the story can center around a magical animal that you have to help you with your journey.

A power:
In books like Harry Potter or KOLTC, the story can focus on a power that the main character has to train to achieve their goal.

Worldbuilding:
Everlia is a land that looks like it came straight out of a storybook. With it's pastel colors and beautiful sights, it can be sweet and pretty, but also dark and dangerous. Everlia is split into three realms.

The first is Wintergreen, a dark forest full of odd animals and plants. Many a plant can be found here yhat does impossible things, healing and growing and helping. But these plants aren't picked without a cost. And there are bad plants in the forest too, ones that have the power to hurt and destroy. Wintergreen is home to witches too, some of the friendly kind that'll brong you inside and gove ypu some porridge snd maybe a little bit of magic to help you on your way. But there are bad witches, too that'll make you their dinner if you aren't careful.

The second realm is Skyreach, with it's towers looming over the rest of the land. In the middle of the city is a giant castle, called Celestia. Blue and indigo glass swirls around the white towers, creating a beutiful ripple effect. Around the castle, the town of Skyreach is built in pastel colors, with buildings smashed up against one another. The city is always busy, with people everywhere.

The last realm is Hydra, a roaring ocean speckled with small islands. Tribes do live on these islands, but they are all individual, and don't like strangers. The islands themselves are wonderful, though, with palm trees and fruit you can pick right off the trees. And down in the ocean, you'll find creatures waiting to try and eat any ships that pass by. Great battles have happened there, and many of them have been killed, but the creatures never go away.

If you ever visit the land of Everlia, you'll fond many pleasant adventures, but also many treacherous ones.

Story
Savanna was curious. She had always been curious. She was the baby who put everything in her mouth, trying to fugure out what it was. This time, though, the things she was curious about wouldn't fit in her mouth.

Savanna had seen maps of Skyreach, beautiful maps that were practical as well as pretty. But she'd never seen a map of the other three realms. So she went to Queen Lunar and asked for permission to map them.

“It will be dangerous.” The Queen warned, “And you will need the heart of an adventurer. But I'll let you go.” Savanna was very excited, but wondered if she really had what it took.

So she set off. With maps in one had and a compass in the other, Nova felt very confident. Then she came to Wintergreen.

As she saw the entrance to the forest, Nova started to shiver. It was a rickety little sign, standing beside what can only be described as a hole in the trees. The trees leaned over the path, blocking every bit of daylight. The only light there came from the mushrooms that gave off a faint glow.

Nova went in anyway, feeling it was her duty. She began to feel a bit better when nothing happened for awhile, and felt even better when she saw warm, homey lights coming from a little cottage. She was tired and needed to sleep somewhere that night, so she knocked on the door.

A sweet little lady opened it, and invited her inside. She fed Savanna a feast of a meal, and sent her to bed, cozy and content.

When Savanna woke up the next morning, she couldn't move! She tried to wiggle this way and that, but had to cry out for help. The lady walked in, and Savanna expected her to save her, but she nodded instead. “Paralyzing spell.” she said. “To keep you still until dinnertime.” She was in the house of a witch!

She tried to struggle, but all she could do was watch as the witch cooked a stew to cook her in. But then she heard a knock at the door!

The witch seemed surprised, but opened the door anyway. Something flew at her. She staggered back, clutching her eyes, where ther was some kind of bat was clinging to her face. Another witch stepped into the room, blew on her, abd she collapsed.

Then the new witch turned to Savanna and smiled. “Sleep, and may your dreams come true.” she said, and Savanna frlt her vision go blurry. She felt the witch carry her to the bed in the cottage, and then fell asleep.

Savanna dreamed of a map of Wintergreen, stunning and accurate. And when she woke, she saw it sitting on the table beside her.

Since her task was fulfilled, she set her sights on Hydra. To travel the islands, she would need a boat. Setting along the shore, she saw one, and figured she could hitch a ride. She didn't see the Jolly Rodger until it was too late.

Pirates grabbed hold of her, and argued about what to do before the captain came out to see her. He was a big man, with a big beard. He pointed a sword at her, and asked, “Who are ye, and why be ye here?”

Savanna tried to explain that all she wanted was a map, but he decided that she would walk the plank as soon as they got far enough out to sea. In the meantime, she was tied to the mast.

Late that night, she felt her ropes fall to the ground, and a voice whispered in her ear, “Take this.” Something was pressed onto her hand, and then she was thrown overboard.

The sea was cold, but Savanna was a good swimmer. She got to shore, and realized the object in her hand was a map!

She went back to Skyreach, and was recieved with a great celebration. Adventurers for years to come would use her maps for their journeys.

Swap:
Savanna was bored. She had got back from her great adventure about a month ago, feeling on top of the world. But going back to regular life was hard. She felt like she needed something more.

The other day, a citizen had come on, talking to the Queen of odd things that were happening in tunnels under the earth. A plan started to form in her mind, and today she would ask permission from the Queen.

<{~~~~~~~~~~}>

A day later, Savanna stood on the edge of the city and waved goodbye. She would set out into the caves, to see what she could find. She wasn't sure what that would be, but it'd be more interesting than the city.

Stepping into the caves, Savanna thought everything was normal at first, before she realized that she could see! There was some kind of light up ahead…

She couldn't fonish her though, because her next step seemed to maje the floor fall under her. She fell roght into… a meeting?

The people were staring at her, so she waved, only to find a woman with a knife at her throat.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded. Savanna tried to explain, but they refused to believe anything she said. They kept telling her she must be a spy. She didn't know for who, but they must be powerful if these people were terrified of them.

Eventually, they decided that someone naned Finch would take her for the night, until they could figure something out. He motioned for her to come with him, and the woman, whose name Savanna learned was Zoe, was horrified.

“You're not even going to tie her up?” she asked him, seeming to think he was an idiot.

“She's just a kid.” he responded. “How much harm could she do?” She fumed, but the one who seemed to be in charge gave her a look that made her back off. Savanna and Finch left, with her still glaring at them.

Back at Finch's house, he told her about their world over a cup of tea. He explained how they have powers, but their powers have been corrupted by the Queen, who uses dark magic to make her more powerful. This magic comes from the Earth being slowly destroyed.

She explained her world to him, and her reason for coming, but went silent when he asked how she was going to get back. There was no hole in the cave where she fell through, so she might have fallen right out of her world, with no way home. But did she want to go home?

She explained this to the resistance at their next meeting, and after a long and awkward silence, the leader, Harold, asked her, “Do you want to join us?”

Zoe glared at him and started to object, but Harold silenced her. Looking at Finch's encouraging smile, she answered “Of course.”

Finch embraced her, and Harold smiled approvingly. Even Zoe had to admit it might be useful to have a new member. Savanna just beamed, because she knew this would be her greatest adventure yet.

Date Completed: 7/9/26
Time Completed UTC: 10:25pm
Link to Weekly Post: Here!
Part 1 Word Count: 239/100
Part 2 Word Count: 548/300
Part 3 Word Count: 652/500
Part 4 Word Count: 907/500
Total Word Count: 2346/1400
Points: 2500
Cabin: Mystery
Notes: Here's the link to the thread in SWapC for part 4! https://scratch.mit.edu/studios/51732839/comments/#comments-327648787

- Part 1

Here are a few things that I’m researching!

- Fantasy body modification
- The way my brain is currently working around this concept seems to be leaning toward a body horror/body modification route, as well as luck and general powers that I’ll iron out later. I think that I’m very fond of the idea that tattoos, when given properly and when the right conditions are met, can bring great fortune and power. However, when one recieves a wrongly given tattoo or breaks the conditions surrounding their tattoo, they are warped and cursed.
- Magic tattoos? How would I make a magic system like that work?
- I looked into how tattoos are regarded in various cultures, and I ended up settling on Sak Yant, which is a southeast asian style of tattoo with huge spiritual implications. I think I’m going to base my magic system off of this! One important thing to note about Sak Yant is the fact that it must be done by the right person and with the right tools. If these criteria aren’t fulfilled, then bad luck may come to those who have these tattoos. Similarly, there are specific and personalized things that people must avoid in order to retain the luck and good fortune given by the tattoos. I’ll have to do more research, but this is how things have been going, and I think that I’ve found a lot of really good inspirations!
- Part 2

Okay, so here are a few things that need to be established for the worldbuilding! I need to establish my inspirations, the magic system, the culture, geography/setting, and tech! So, here are some blurbs for each of the categories I made for myself.

- Inspirations
- My inspirations are going to be surrounding southeast asian culture, specifically Cambodia! Sak Yant is a sacred method of tattooing that originated in Cambodia! It is a free hand style that involves many details and significant images. These tattoos serve as a means of protection in real life, as well as in this fantasy world! In the world of Khluona, the tattoos are also sources of power, status symbols, and imbedded into the soul. The story is inspired by the time of the Khmer Empire!
- The Magic System
- To build on what was said previously, the magic system focuses solely on tattoos! Tattoos must be given by spiritual leaders, and must be given using the appropriate traditional tools. Typically, these tattoos are given to the upper class, or those who show promise as high-ranking military officials. These tattoos are given in a ceremony, which is a public event! The process takes a long time, but it’s worth it! The process etches the power and the conditions that come with it into both the body and soul. Each tattoo has a unique power that it gives to its wearer, as well as unique stipulations. If one adheres to these stipulations, such as to never eat a certain food, or to never travel to a certain place, then they are able to use their power as they please. However, if one violates these stipulations, then their power is corrupted, and so becomes their body and soul. They can still use their power, but it comes at a cost. Another way for a tattoo to be corrupted is for it to be done illegally. Many people seek these out, either because they are ignorant to the risks or think that they are worth it. If they are not done with the traditional tools or by the right person, the power itself is corrupted.
- The Culture
- The culture of this story, as said previously, is seriously inspired by the age of the Khmer Empire, so it will have a lot of southeast asian inspirations in general. The fashion is flowy and ornamental, and the fabrics are soft yet structured. The food is spicy, and mostly seafood is used as meat, with beef and chicken being second options. The dominant religion is currently unnamed, but that’s really the only religious practice, aside from a variant of theism.
- Geography/Setting
- The geography of this story is full of jungles and wildife. There are flat plains that are suitable for growing produce, and harsh, rolling mountains that ring the plains. There is a monsoon season, which largely dictates how farming is conducted.
- Tech
- Tech would be rudimentary, suitable for the daily tasks of everyday people. Transportation would be enough to get place to place. Tools, specifically for farming, would be efficient and easy to make and produce. The tools surrounding the tattooing process, however, are imbued with magic, so they use that to aid the process of the otherwise stick-and-poke process.
- Part 3

Voices called out to each other in a chorus that made my heart sing. The market, full of vibrance and life stretched out for what felt like miles in the big city. I knew it all by heart though. Like the tattoo that spiraled around my neck and decorated my back with images of tigers and good men, so too did my home breach the barrier between the body and soul. I grew up here. I lived here. I loved here. The smell of fish and the warm vapor that rose from freshly cooked rice were the smells of home. Energy flowed through my veins as I carved a path though the market and to my post. The temple, sitting in the midst of the city, loomed over my head as I got closer and closer to where I would spend several hours protecting the construction workers. They were operating on an extension to the temple, building out another wing that would house the new influx of spiritual leaders who would spend the rest of their lives within the walls of the temple. As I got closer, I noticed a crowd piling around the outdoor pavilion. Ah! Someone was likely being marked. I inched closer to the crowd and found a good vantage point, although I’m certain my height helped tremendously. The crowd was quiet, reverent. I smiled, knowing the pain that the woman must be feeling as I saw her twitch with each poke of the needle. However, she kept silent as our spiritual leader, Phirun, prayed over her. His words leapt around her, dancing blessings and power into her very being. Light seemed to emanate from that sacred place, bursting whenever the ink seeped into both flesh and spirit alike. Phirun’s volume rose as he continued his prayer, and joy launched into my heart as I realized that I had walked over at the perfect moment to witness the end of the ceremony. Phirun’s words rang out clearly now, “Sabai stands before the divine, making a binding promise that will indebt her to the heavens for now and always. Her body makes its pledge by recieving the marks chosen by the almighty. Her soul sits in reverence, awaiting its binding with fervor. Sabai is aware that she is at the mercy of whatever conditions that are to be placed upon her. They are blessings, no matter how restrictive. It is always a small price to pay for the power of foresight and prophecy that she will receive.” Phirun finished the tattoo with one final click, and I took it in, noticing the intricate lines that snaked up her neck and ended around her face. They pulsed as I stared. They were beautiful and holy. Phirun continued his prayers as the crowd listened with rapt attention. He set his tools into a bath of water. “Sabai, the divine smiles upon you today, for you will only be required to never speak again. Speak with your mouth, and your vow will be broken, and your foresight will warp into a torture of your own making. Do you understand?” The woman nodded, her hands coming toward her mouth instinctively. Phirun gently removed her hands, grabbing for an ointment which he then proceeded to slather all over her face. As he did so, the crowd watched the ointment shimmer and settle into the inked lines across her face. Phirun smiled warmly, his sun-kissed skin glowing even more as the ritual completed. “Welcome into our order, sister. May your gift be ever useful.” Sabai sat up, face turning up into a smile that was similarly worn by the spectators. Phirun helped her stand, giving her a warm handshake then sending her on her way into the temple. I watched her go, deciding it would be a good idea to finally attend to my station. This proved right as I began to hear shouts and screams.

- Part 4 - Swap with @luca–salmontree

Notes for this: Void energy seems to be what I can apply to this story! I want Vannak to come out at the beginning of his corruption, and perhaps Mouse mistakes something about him. At this point, Vannak would be vulnerable, and looking for comfort and peace.

One step. Two steps. Three steps. Four steps. Just keep moving, Vannak. Just keep moving. Do not stop. The jungles that enclosed Khluona swallowed Vannak whole. Ink trailed down his torso, and he clutched his side in a frail attempt to stop the steady flow. Never kill the innocent, he was told. Do this, and the murder will become a torture of his own making. Yet here he was…

Where was he? Oh. He should start over.

One step. Two steps. Three steps. Vannak nearly tripped over an exposed root that was imbedded in the ground. He steadied himself on the trunk it was connected to, gasping and heaving as his tattoo that bound his neck squeezed tighter and tighter. He knew it wouldn’t kill him. The torture would end. And where was the justice in that? Vannak could feel his very soul pulsing, shrieking, dying.

He should keep moving.

One step. Two steps. No more. Vannak collapsed on the ground, his vision blurring to the point where everything just looked like dark figures and shapes. They encircled him, almost as if they were welcoming him into their thrall. The world swirled, welcoming him into a void. It added more torment onto him, but it was new, and sharp. It didn’t laugh, but the noise that encircled Vannak felt like a laugh. The figures laughed their un-laugh. They laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed. Until they didn’t. The jungle around him no longer appeared to be a jungle. Rather, the trees seemed straighter now. More uniform. Vannak stopped his observations and leaned against one of these new trees. His head bowed in defeat as he retched into the grass below him. Black, viscous ink pooled beneath him. He felt no lighter. He felt no better.

It was not good to stay in one place.

One step. Then, someone. Vannak had not seen a real someone in what felt like eternity. He knew it was not, but his heart, or what was left of it, insisted upon that interpretation. Their mousey brown hair was messy and tangled. They wore attire that was foreign to Vannak. It looked much too hot to wear. They looked frightened. Scared. And Vannak wasn’t surprised. He stumbled toward them. There were tears in their eyes, and it looked like they had been there for a long time. They carried a sword made of light. Hm, how similar it was to the phkaks his comrades would use, yet so different. Its composition, bright light, was the same, but its shape was completely different. Vannak felt himself recoil as the sword emanated its light. It repelled him, but only slightly. A voice, which appeared hazy in his mind, rang out from the person in front of him. “Get away from me!” Vannak did not heed this command. He was more just relieved to have found someone. He mumbled, trying to get his drooping mouth to speak. “I need your help. Please take me back home.” His voice trailed off, and he knew that if he took another step, he would collapse. The person, who trembled like a mouse, paused. They still held up their sword, but their stance wavered. They spoke tentatively, “Where is home for you?” Vannak immediately answered, “Khluona. Please. Take me back. I need to clear my name. I did NOT violate my oath!” Each word came out slurred, but that was not the reason for the confusion that spread over the person’s face. They fiddled with the scarf around their neck as they contemplated what to do next. “I have… no idea what you’re talking about.” Vannak huffed. Getting this person to understand may be challenging. They looked so out of place, as if their were a sojourner in the land. Hm. Maybe that was the case. That would explain why they did not understand his condition. “Take me to the city. That is my home.” He spoke more slowly, in an attempt to get them to understand. The stranger snipped, “Well I’m kind of grieving right now. Mind waiting?” Vannak roared, “I cannot wait! I need to be cleansed of wrongdoing!” The person shrank back, brandishing the sword with more resolution now than before. Vannak let out a sigh. He felt the bile come back, inching its way up his throat. He swallowed it back down, attempting to make peace, “I am sorry. I just need help. Now.” They looked him over once more, suspicious. “Did you get… like this because of Void Energy?” Vannak tilted his head, “No. The gods do not look on me favorably because I supposedly broke my oath.” “Which of the three? Or…” They trailed off, speculations clearly overturning any continuing speech. He huffed, splatters of ink staining the corners of his mouth. “Just help me. Please.”

Notes for Charlie: Hope you enjoyed! I know it was mainly focused on Vannak, but I hope you liked Marion’s/Mouse’s involvement! They were fun to write, although I had limited knowledge as what their personality was like. Thanks for providing me with your world! I loved it so much! The void energy was especially a cool concept!

Open your mailbox and grab a stamp—it's time for this session's PenpalSWC! Head over to this project https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1350868974/ , fill out the sign-up form, and find yourself a pen pal. Throughout the session, you'll be able to exchange letters about anything you'd like, from writing projects and book recommendations to funny stories and everyday adventures. Happy letter-writing!

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‧₊˚ ཐི Word War 2 ⋆₊⁺⋆‧₊˚

User: @babyoda1546
Nickname: Sage
Cabin: Gothic (ftw)
WPM: 40-45

VS

User: @spr1ngt1m3summ3rrr
Nickname: Summer
Cabin: bye-bye
WPM: 38-44

Info:
Prompt: @Milkysplash - “… I owe you an explanation, don't I?”
Time Limit: Five Minutes

FIGHT!

Quinn slaps a letter on the crate between her and Ace.
“I owe you an explanation, don’t I, kiddo?” he chuckles and continues shuffling the deck.
“Yes. You do and make it a good one because this is ridiculous.” she scoffs
“Well, you did a great job bypassing the security and getting the money… however..” he pauses and starts dealing the cards
“‘However’, what, Ace?” Quinn watches him deal with annoyance.
“Someone saw you.”
“How? You said everyone would be gone.”
“I said that everyone was supposed to be gone by 10. Not that they would.” Ace finishes dealing cards.
“No you didn’t!-”
Ace interrupts her, “Hit or stand”
Quinn looks at his cards then her own. She has an eight and a four. He has a seven.
“Hit,” she mutters reluctantly and gets another eight, putting her at twenty. Ace also chooses Hit twice and gets to nineteen.
“You’ve improved” he whistles in appreciation and deals the next few cards.
“So. Someone saw me because you couldn’t check the perimeter first?”
“No, someone saw you because you weren’t doing your job” he gives her a mocking pitiful look, “Hit or stand?”

❦ 192 words

Weekly #1 - 1,600 words

Part one (122 words):

Good vs. Evil
- Protagonists typically good, antagonists typically evil
- Provides an easy-to-understand plot
- Makes it easy for readers to sympathize with the protagonist and their goals
- Can sometimes lead to a narrative that lacks nuance
- Can also sometimes lead to one-note characters
- The good versus evil trope is reliable and is common for a reason but, like all other things, needs to be executed effectively for it to work.

Ideas:
- Heroes rebelling against existing power structures (pertinent + adds nuance in the fact that it’s criticizing something read as opposed to some sort of monster or “big bad”
- Heroes rebelling against gods? Heroes rebelling against people using the names of gods to gain power?


Part two (304 words):

Tyr’nomi started with a cataclysm. On the eve of the year 0 the Goddesses’s children overthrew their mother, each taking control of different islands on the archipelago Tyr’nomi while agreeing to dedicate the central island to their mother, ruling it in concert with each other. Tyr’nomi, as previously stated, is an archipelago consisting of one central island and four smaller surrounding ones. The smaller islands are all dedicated to the Names, who are the Goddess’s children. The names are as follows: Elsar (Name of The Seas), Alwyn (Name of Humankind), Effysi (Name of The Wild), and Amio (Name of Passion). They are listed in birth order. The Names are regarded as the highest power in Tyr’nomi and are expected to be worshipped. Those who do not respect the Names are punished. Worshipping the Goddess is considered profane, as to worship the Goddess would be to ignore the sacrifice the Names made (the sacrifice being the life of their mother) to give the mortals of Tyr’nomi a better life. Given that Tyr’nomi is a series of islands their economy is primarily based on fishing. They are also very isolated due to the fact that they’re in the middle of an ocean. There is a mainland but it’s not visible from the islands and is widely feared, as it is not protected by the Names. The technology on the island is not modern but it’s not exactly medieval either. Picture an up-scale ancient Rome. Worship and reverence for the Names is thoroughly integrated into Tyr’nomi life and schooling. Altars to the Names are found frequently and the “history” of the Names and their sacrifices is taught in school. The day the Goddess fell and the world began is considered a holiday and is met with much worship and much reveling. Tyr’nomi itself is very Mediterranean inspired.


Part three (622 words):

On the eve of the Reclamation it was typical of families to make a sacrifice for the Names, something to keep them sated and healthy so the miracle would remain. Treasured items, food, symbols of siblinghood, and offers pertaining to the specific domains of the Names were not uncommon. A fruit for Effysi, sea salt for Elsar, a coin of gold for Alwyn, the lock of a loved one for Amio. Maia had yet to think of a sacrifice She knew it had to be something significant, something that would please all the Names. After all, the mainland was their collective domain. That was the reason why she was wandering through the scraps of forest by the shore, looking for something that would be wholly suitable. She pushed her way through the sandy underbrush, hopping over tangles of seaweed and sticks. Her parents had already accumulated bits of gold and precious foods they’d been saving all year but Maia, age 10, had yet to posses that kind of foresight. Her eyes scanned the forest floor looking for a gift. She came upon the feather of a coastal bird, suitable for Elsar and Effysi, but not for the rest of the Names, and a sea-smoothed stone, again suitable for Alwyn and Elsar, but it had nothing to do with passion or the wild. She needed something perfect, something that would not only sate the Names but make them want to continue with the miracle of the Reclamation.
Eventually Maia emerged from the other side of the forest onto a craggy, sandy cliff overlooking the ocean. It beat against the rocks, waves foaming at their edges as they crashed into the shore. She got down onto her hands and knees and peeked over the edge. Her eager gaze was met with the cracked eggshell of some bird that had been here long ago, smoothed by the ocean and encrusted with shiny minerals on its edges. She grinned, it would be the perfect gift for the Names. An egg for Effysi, ocean-smoothed surfaces for Elsar, wealth for Alwyn, and the symbol of a mother’s love for Amio. The only problem now was figuring out how to grab it. Maia stood, looking as far as she could see to see if there were any slopes that led down to the small shoreline. No. She looked behind her to see if there were winding, human-made paths down to the ocean. No. She looked down over the cliff to see if there were any conveniently step-shaped rocks. No. This was going to be difficult, but she had made up her mind. She was going to get that egg. Carefully she turned herself around and backed to the edge of the cliff, lowering her foot until it found purchase. She repeated the process with her other foot and, slowly, picked her way down the face of the outcropping. But nothing would be a worthy sacrifice for the Names without a little struggle. Just as her left foot reached the last purchase her hand slipped and she found herself suddenly tumbling backwards, splashing into the water below. Panic welled up in her as she thrashed her limbs, trying to get to the shore. A wave came swooping in over her, pulling her under the water and in a direction she couldn’t see. She screwed her eyes shut, silently pleading that someone would come help her. Then she felt something sharp, a breeze on her face. She peeked an eye open, then another. The wave had brought her to shore. Giddy, she picked up the egg and a shell, an extra gift for the Name that had decided not to claim her. Now all she had to do was get back.


Part four (552 words):
swapped with @Ablackcat_

Gideon had never wanted to be Effysi’s champion. He was a boy of feather necklaces, giggles, and golden hair. Effysi was the Name of rot, death, and decay. His parents had considered it a blessing, the chronically ill boy chosen by a deity of life and nature. He had thought it to be a curse. Unfortunately, Gideon had possessed no choice in the matter.
“Mr. Everett?” A knock came from the door, Gideon and his father, who had been pouring over a puzzle, both turned to look at it. As always, his father stood and went to open it.
“Hello, I’d like to speak with the younger Mr. Everett.” The voice said.
His father looked back at him, his face of surprise mimicking the expression on Gideon’s own. Gideon pushed himself up from the floor and grabbed his cane, slowly making his way over towards the door. He looked through the opening as his father stepped aside. Gideon had never had a visitor.
“Uh– hi. How can I help you?”
“I am a priestess from the Temple of Effysi, are you aware of the Trials?” The woman asked.
Gideon nodded.
“Good,” she continued, “the Name Effysi, bless her domain, has chosen you as her champion.”
Gideon blinked. “I’m sorry Ma’am, you must have gotten the wrong person. You were probably looking for the Everly house.”
She looked at her paper. “Are you Gideon Everett?”
He nodded once more.
She folded the paper and tucked it into her robes. “Then you are the person I am looking for. The Name of the Wild has picked you as her champion. You will be expected to arrive at the Temple at dawn tomorrow to begin your training.
“Ma’am I–” He was cut off with the closing of the door as the priestess walked away.
He turned to his father in disbelief and, though his father had the biggest smile on his face Gideon had ever seen, he couldn’t ignore the unease roliling his gut.
Now, looking back, Gideon realizes he had been right to be uneasy. How does he know this? It’s simple, he’s covered in blood. He’s not sure how much of it is his and how much of it is the blood of the girl lying in the dirt before him, his cane through her torso. He won’t lie, the first feeling he’d had after the relief of seeing the light go out of her eyes was frustration. His cane was a mobility aid, not a weapon, and he rather needed it to walk. He wants to pull it out of her but he’s not sure he can stand the thought of it and the inevitable gore that will follow. He’s a killer now, but he’s never been too predisposed to the occupation. Even so, the boy of feathers and gold is long gone. He’s got dirt in his hair, red on his face, and swathes of green cloth marking him as the child of the Name of The Wild. Effysi will take this girl’s body and pull it down into the dirt; if he’s lucky she will spit his cane back up so he can win the Trials for her.
It’s taken him a while but he finally realizes why Effysi chose him as her champion. He will do anything to survive.

Weekly 1 || Fantasy || 2244 words

Part 1
Common elements of fantasy include nonhuman races (elves, dwarves, trolls, goblins, and fairies are examples of this), as well as mythical creatures (dragons, mermaids, griffins, and unicorns are some that are used regularly). These can vary widely as to how they’re presented, but they usually follow a predictable template, although there may be some variation.
Another component, often considered to be essential, is magic. Magic systems vary widely, from “soft,” largely unrestricted magic to “hard,” clearly defined magic systems. One extremely prevalent form of magic in fantasy is the idea of an ancient language — the “language of magic.” Speaking words in this language invokes power, although it is often presented as physically or mentally draining. Other common systems are based on elemental power and bonds with magical creatures or items. Telepathy-based communication is the standard for connecting to magical creatures like dragons.
Fantasy is commonly set in medieval-inspired worlds, featuring low or magic-fueled technology, and royalty and “chosen ones” are widespread protagonists.
Something I’ve noticed about fantasy races, especially nonhuman ones, is that they are often given very similar personalities and stereotypes. Rather than the diversity seen in humans, nonhuman races like dwarves and elves are hardly ever given dimension beyond the basic outline, and they also often answer to a single ruling force, whereas humans are depicted as having several. While this can be used brilliantly for satire (Terry Pratchett’s Discworld leans heavily and humorously on this tradition), in serious storytelling it can feel bland, dull, and predictable. Humans aren’t the only ones who can be diverse!

Part 2
I like to flip expectations, so I’m leaning towards a goblin protagonist. As for the magic system, it relies on music to work. Specific notes and chords evoke different kinds of magic, and instruments (including the human voice), pitch, tone, and genre of music are all essential considerations and can drastically change the effects. So are the lyrics, if there are any, but generally wordless music tends to be the most powerful. With the rise of technology, magic has become easier than ever: mechanical music devices can effortlessly produce just the right note at just the right pitch, potentially rendering musical instruments (and those who play them) obsolete. Finding new spells used to be a painstaking process that required meticulous precision — but now you can find dozens in just minutes with a computer algorithm. This has sparked several debates over the validity of using machines versus human effort to create magic, and whether this will have repercussions in the long run.
As for the setting, I love the idea of a vertical world rather than a horizontal one. There are nine different layers — three in the Underworld, three in the Midworld, and three in the Overworld. These circles (like big discs, each with its own unique features) are arranged in an enormous spiral, stretching from enormous underground tunnels to bustling cities to misty forests surrounded by clouds. They’re connected, but the discs are constantly turning, meaning that traveling from layer to layer can be time-sensitive as paths appear and disappear.
There are five races I’ll be using for this world: trolls, goblins, dwarves, humans, and elves. (Lovely and stereotypical of me, I know). Trolls get along with dwarves, and dwarves have little animosity for anyone. Humans will also coexist with about any species, although they have a tendency of causing friction on occasion. Elves tolerate humans and dwarves but look down on goblins and trolls (especially goblins), and goblins have a beef with just about anyone (especially and always elves), although they get along best with dwarves and humans. However, these relationships are generalizations and do not strictly apply to individuals (again, I like diversity).
Each species has its own quirks. Elves have the ability to sense emotions — each emotion emits a distinct “signature” they can pick up on, usually perceived to be like a certain scent. Trolls have exceptional memories, and can actually store excess memories in a special kind of quartz, something no other race can do (spells for memory manipulation, transfer, and storage are universally considered extremely unsafe and unpredictable). Humans are generally the best at casting spells, and are the only race that sometimes produces pitch-perfect individuals, which is a huge advantage when using magic. Dwarves are largely considered to be virtually indestructible, as they can dramatically slow down vital processes at will and go into a kind of hibernation (much like tardigrades). And goblins are often said to be able to see in the dark, although this isn’t actually true — they are, however, quite effective at using echolocation, much like a bat would. (While human echolocation relies on audible sounds like tongue clicks, goblins can emit ultrasonic sounds.)
As a final note, I’ve played with the idea of wearable currency for a long time, and as such, the currency I’ve developed for this world takes the form of precious metals and gems shaped like bicone beads. They can be worn as jewelry, strung, or simply carried loose, and their faceted surface means they don’t roll as easily as a spherical bead would. Size and composition determine the value of a bicone, and they’re often abbreviated as “bics” in street slang.

Part 3
Dawn, in the Underworld, was more of a smudgy transition from total dark to slightly less dark. Some light did filter through, at least to the top layer of the Underworld, but it was largely blocked by the other discs overhead. Kit didn’t mind. It made her work easier; it was easy to miss a small shadow flitting past in a shifting mass of other shadows.
She nibbled on a stale bun as she watched people start to trickle onto the streets. Maa was already out pushing her swe’ist cart, the scent making the crumbly bun in Kit’s fingers seem even more unappealing. The sticky, soft twists of pastry concealed a generous dollop of vineberry jam, although Kit had never been able to swipe more than a few in her years on the streets. She was positive that there was no better baker in all nine levels than the old troll — but Maa had a swift eye and delivered even swifter retribution to thieves, despite her frail and wrinkled appearance. Still, she briefly thought about making the attempt, before forcing the last bite of bun down instead and walking the other way. Maa’s cracked voice continued to ring through the early morning air as she turned a corner and vanished from sight.
Banishing the last fantasies of the hot, sweet bread, Kit scanned for any likely targets. There weren’t usually too many good pickings this early in the morning, but she knew to keep alert no matter the time of day.
As though Fate had decided to bless her vigilance, a victim appeared, striding down the street as though they owned the place. They wore a hooded half-cloak, the cowl obscuring their features — judging by the height and build, she guessed a human — but she could see the fat pouch dangling from their belt, and upon spotting the telltale bulges, she would bet one of Maa’s swe’ist’s it was stuffed full of bicones.
Kit slipped a little closer to her mark, clicking softly. A rare smile twitched at her lips when the sound bounced back to her. It was definitely a money pouch, and a full one. She sped up a little, casually brushing against her target as she nicked the pouch from their belt.
Or tried, anyway.
A hand shot out and grabbed the back of her neck, and she yelped as her would-be victim dragged her back. She kicked and twisted, but it didn’t do her much good.
“Mm. Not even a quarter turn into the slums, and someone’s already tried to lighten my pouch.”
The voice was male, and infuriatingly amused, as though someone trying to rob him was nothing more than a good joke. Kit scowled and redoubled her attempts to escape. “Lemme go! I don’t want your filthy bics,” she snarled, even though that was untrue. She would happily have taken his pouch and bolted if she got the chance. It wasn’t worth being turned in, though.
Instead, he lifted her into the air, and there was a definite note of disdain in his voice as he inspected her. “Ah, a goblin. I should have known.”
“Lemme go!” she repeated, lashing out with a foot. He ignored her, pulling back his cowl enough for her to get a clear look at his face.
Her disgust deepened. He could almost have passed for human, if not for those ridiculous pointed ears. An elf. Just her luck.
“Next time maybe try to think, if you’re capable of it, before trying to steal from an elf,” he said, putting her down — although he didn’t relax his grip. “I could smell your emotions from a street away. You stink of greed and want, goblin.”
She snapped her teeth at him. It didn’t do anything, but it made her feel better. “If you don’t want to be robbed, don’t come prancing in here with your bics on full display and your fancy clean clothes. Would you let go already?”
The elf flicked a cold stare up and down her body, as though suspecting that she’d try to nab his bics again the second he let her loose, but he finally stepped back and released her. Kit growled at him before darting away. When she cast a glance over her shoulder to make sure she wasn’t being followed, she saw the elf settle his cowl back over his head. Then he turned into a side street.
Kit hesitated, curiosity sparking. Did he know where he was headed? No one who valued their life went down that street.
She grappled with her thoughts for a moment — and then, cursing herself for her own foolishness, she followed him.

Part 4
Mink tapped his necklace absentmindedly as he stared at the horizon. The spindly human has just entered his Bloom year — he was almost at Mage status, and as such was expected to be able to handle more dangerous settings. Like this one.
The disc stretched before him, the ground dull and faded, and covered in a snarl of weeds. Just a few weeks ago, this had been a thriving town, but the Rot had reached it eighteen revolutions ago. Now it was a crumbling wasteland.
His Pollinator sighed, guiding her dragon to turn the other way. “It looks like the reports we received were correct. We’ll have to send a team of Mages in to clean this mess up.” As always, her face was calm and smooth, and not for the first time Mink wished he had the elven ability to smell emotion. It would have been nice to know what she was thinking for once.
She sang a quick warding spell to protect them from any airborne Rot, and then they left the infected area. The Mid- and Upperworlds were most susceptible, as there were more things growing on those levels. There was little green in the Underworld to become infected, although, of course, they had their own problems down there.
Quince was silent as the dragon ascended. Those without the ability to fly had to rely on the constantly shifting paths between layers, but with a dragon, one could simply fly to whatever disc you wanted to access. That was one of the perks of being a Mage.
As an elf, his Pollinator lived in the Overworld, on the middle layer. When he asked why not the very top layer, she didn’t answer. But then, Quince was never very forthcoming with information. Her teaching style had more to do with showing him things and expecting him to figure it out than actually instructing him. It was annoying, sometimes, but he supposed it was good for building problem-solving skills.
Before becoming a Seed, Mink had lived in the Midworld, on the bottom layer. The plants down there tended to be smaller and sadder, having had to adapt to life with less sun. His family had used Redwood lanterns in their home to keep their personal plants green and thriving, the magic fire giving a cheery glow to the house.
One thing to be said for the Midworld, though — it was definitely warmer than the Upperworld. Cold air stung his cheeks as they ascended, and he wondered if he would ever get used to the chill. It didn’t seem to bother Quince, but nothing ever did, at least not that he could decipher.
When they reached the middle layer she guided the dragon to land on the edge of the disc, dismounting. He followed suit, trying to rub some feeling back into his fingers. It always took him a while to acclimate after being on a lower disc for long enough to remember what it was actually like to be warm.
“What are we going to do about the patch of Rot?” he asked Quince as she wrestled the saddle off her dragon.
“Contact the other Mages,” she said, matter-of-factly.
Mink felt a twinge of disappointment. “You mean, we’re not going to help at all?”
“No,” his Pollinator responded.
He waited for her to continue, but she didn’t.
“Why not?” he prompted.
She turned to face him, saddle dragging from one hand. Quince looked him up and down for a long moment before replying.
“You’re not ready,” she said simply. Then she started walking.
Huffing a sigh, Mink patted the dragon and then scurried after her.

Sending here for now because thread got slimed out

To Pywife,

Hello! It feels a bit weird to be writing a proper letter to you, seeing as we usually communicate through Denial ragebait and other stuff I probably shouldn't say on here. I guess this isn’t too different from the interview, though. Just a bit longer and more informal, I guess.

Anyway, I’m not really sure where to start. How goes university ? Slash college slash whatever Americans call it again. How is the reading for Indigenous studies going and how are you finding your favourite class, st*ts? I think the censor was really necessary there — the full name of that class is just too evil to be spoken. Please yap about what you’re currently doing because it’s probably really interesting :0

Erm also music! Did you enjoy the vocal synth playlist I sent you? If you want any more recommendations I’ve always got you. And what music do you usually listen to? Do you have any recommendations for me? I’m currently halfway through the Vylet Pony playlist and I will definitely finish it once I finish Denial’s EDM playlist. Feel free to send me any more playlists!

Where are you up to in LOTM? You’re on Volume 5, right? To be honest I don’t remember exactly what happens in the volume, because it’s right between two of the best volumes (in my opinion), Volume 4 and 6. They’re probably tied for first place in my ranking. I do remember that there’s one of the best scenes in the entire series in around Chapter 1070 though (I’m pretty sure that’s Volume 5) so let me know if you’ve got that far yet! I also kind of need to lock in for LOTM because I still haven’t started CoI yet. Oops.

It feels a bit weird talking like this, without slipping in a mention of us being married or enjoying each other’s company in our married lives, to say the least. Denial wishes we talked like this normally, but we can’t let the Primordial Demoness Ed Sheeran win. Stay strong, Pywife.

I really love your builds on the Minecraft server, you somehow make acacia wood look so good, which I thought was literally impossible. The autosmelter looks like it’s been lifted straight from Backlund too. I can’t wait to see the stables completed. I was going to work on breeding fast horses for everyone, but then I found out the trick of splashing horses with Swiftness 2 then breeding them doesn’t actually increase the foal’s speed on Java. Which was to be expected, because of course Bugrock has this exploit-esque problem. It does make getting decent horses a lot harder though.

Okay I think I will end this letter off here for now. I’ll probably write more in later letters but I have two other letters to write. As well as sleep to do, I guess.

Love you my wifey,

Hope

(481 words)

Six-year-old Kiera Sparks tossed a fireball between her hands. She made sure to keep it small, so that she couldn’t be seen from afar. She was crouching behind her cousin’s house, getting dangerously close to the border between the firelands and the waterlands. Not that Kiera really cared. Unlike the majority of her small simple-minded neighbors, she was fascinated by the towns beyond the border. Sometimes, if she looked hard enough, she could see the faintest silhouette of a water-bender walking about, or even making things with the water. Of course, she would never tell anyone that she had looked for them. If she had, her mother would have kept her locked up forever.
“Kiki!” she heard her cousin call out, “Kiki, where are you?”
Kiera stole one last glance at the world vetoing before hurrying out from behind the house. “I’m here, Amby. Don’t worry.”
“What were you doing so close to the border?” Amber, nicknamed Amby, hissed. “Ama would have a fit if she saw you over here! Let’s go inside before she catches us!”
Kiera nodded timidly and trailed Amby into the house. She knew better than to tell even Amby, her best friend, about her secret longings to learn about the water-benders. After all, the two were opposites. They weren’t meant to dwell together.
10 years later…
Kiera’s heart thumped faster and faster and faster.
‘No way’, her brain was thinking, ‘no freaking way!’ Because there, just feet away from the border was a water-bending boy. Or… ice-bending to be more specific. He was juggling ice spheres. Kiera has changed a lot in ten years, but the sixteen-year old firebender was still as enthusiastic about the life beyond the border. However, she had learned to be more subtle about it. She no longer camped out behind her cousins house, spying on the waterbenders. By now, she had mastered the navigation of the forest. So, whenever her mother or aunt sent her out to get firewood (always with the warning to ‘not go anywhere near the border), Kiera would bend the rules a little. She would cross the border and spy on the town. She learned a lot about waterbender life. But all of the waterbenders she had seen were from afar. This boy, this ice-juggling boy, was right up close. Kiera didn’t dare be caught looking, so she made sure she was camouflaged by some shrubbery. Still, he was there. She could spot little kids staring. This was probably the first time they ever saw a waterbender of any kind. There were some adults trying to steer the kids away, but they too were mesmerized. Also, no one really wanted to break the rules and approach the waterbender. That had long been the sole instruction from High King Andorr. The water and fire must not interact, for they will only destroy each other.
Eventually, the chief stepped out. Chief Errol was a big man, woth flame tattoos up and down his arms. He had rough hands and a long red beard. In truth, he resembled most of the men in the village, just more intense. Way more intense. He was also Kiera’s father.
“Who do we have here?” He grumbled in Anique, the waterbender’s dialect. Technically, the main language of Equmdro was Naikun, and everyone was schooled in it. However, the water and fire had their own dialects: Anique and Ondro. They were both based on Naikun, just slightly altered throughout time.
The boy winced. He had good reason to. Although my father was fluent in Anique, Ondro, and Naikun, he had a thick Ondronian accent that waterbenders openly insulted, due to how it butchered their language.
“Not trying to catch trouble sir,” the boy muttered, “just having fun. A dare.”
“A dare, huh?” Errol growled. “Thats definitely what’s going on, Jean.”
The boy’s eyes widened in surprised.
‘Jean?’ Kiera thought, ‘Is that his name?’
“S-sir,” Jean mumbled, “I’m only juggling.”
Errol rolled his eyes. “Hmm, okay. Well, then tell your father, or whoever ‘dared’ you, to stop spying on my town!” By now, he was shouting.
Jean, face pale, nodded and rushed off. Only… just before he ran away, he caught Kiera’s eyes between the bush and winked.
Errol murmured something underneath his breath that sounded a lot like a certain word that he had grounded her for using just weeks before. Then, he looked into the crowd and said, “Nothing to see here! Just some pesky waterbenders. Go back everyone!”
When the crowd has dispersed, Kiera creeped out of the bush and raced home.
—
“I’m home!” Kiera yelled, opening the door to the cabin. Her mother, Eliana, and her little sister were in the living room, knitting.
“Kiki!” Her sister exclaimed, and ran towards her for a hug. Technically, Mia wasn’t her biological sister but Kiera loved the seven year old all the same. Mia was the result of one of the greatest scandals. Her mother, a firebender (also, Eliana’s best friend) had an affair with a waterbender. They had eventually caught and punished, but their newborn daughter was adopted by Errol and Eliana. Mia had the extremely rare ability to control steam. It wasn’t the most powerful ability, but it made her amazing with engineering.
“Kiki, did you see the waterbender?” Mia asked.
Kiera nodded. “I did,” she admitted, “it was… interesting.”
Insanely interesting. In fact, she wanted to learn more about this boy…

Dear Hopesband,
It does feel a bit surreal! So… formal. It’s kind of nice, though! Very different from the usual text messages.
University’s going well! I’m a rising senior, so graduation’s on the brain. No lab job as of yet, though, which is rather unfortunate. Somehow, I got through both the Indigenous studies and English readings! Stats is honestly pretty fun except for the part where I sit for hours watching video lectures. Which is basically the entire class. In ochem lab we just did distillation & NMR, so it was a very laid-back session today. I think I’m doing alright on the academics. OH MY GOODNESS YES MY ENGLISH PAPER GOT FULL MARKS. RAHHH. I just got that email as I was writing this letter. Sorry about that.
How about you? You’re about to be a year 12, right? The British education system is… weird. Are you excited, though? University’s just around the corner for you! I think. I was meaning to ask—is Chinese a subject you’re taking in school or is it more of a voluntary thing? Either way, it’s really cool & I’d love to hear about the grammar structure & verb tenses and stuff. How do you conjugate verbs in Chinese?
Music! Music’s great. I absolutely adored the vocal synth playlist! I think I liked ~12 of the songs on Spotify? They’re definitely going into my song rotation. The playlist was full of amazing songs and yes I would love more recommendations! Always!
I typically listen to a mix of hyperpop, EDM, rock, punk, & sapphic pop! If you’re up for a bit of a longer listen, I’d recommend listening to Monarch of Monsters (just… ignore the album cover…) it’s an hour & a half. Its content is pretty dark, though, so definitely take breaks if you need to. I’m honestly not sure I have enough songs to make a playlist but I’ll do my best!
How about you? What kind of music do you listen to, besides Vocaloid and MCR?
I’m in late Volume 4! 900s. Klein’s just gotten himself a Monster pathway marionette and also that evil but non-magical guy. I’ve kind of been slacking on LOTM if I’m being entirely honest. Just been pretty busy as of late.
It does feel a little odd! I’m excited to get to know my husband better, though. Such a mysterious and charming man they are.
Awww, thank you! I’m glad to hear that you like the builds! A lot of it is inspiration from a certain red art website, I won’t lie… The stables should be completed soon-ish! Probably within a week at the latest Yeah, it’s pretty unfortunate that the Bedrock method doesn’t work… it’s okay though! I (or maybe Primordial Ed) can definitely work on that after we get villagers! Speaking of villagers, would you want to work with me on making the City of Silver in the Ancient City? It’s a rather ambitious project, so it’d definitely help having more hands on deck.
Hmm… I should think of some more questions to ask you. So that’s what I’ll do.
What sort of books do you like to read? Are you a big fantasy person? Feel free to give me some book recs, or if you want, I could give you some! Though I’ve been looking to expand my list of titles read. It’s a bit short at the moment. Also very GL if you’re okay with that.
Good night, Hope! Sleep well.
Much love,
Pyrite
(576 words)

Oh come on, I just wanted to hang out with the octopus

She said in a loud screamish childish manner, because she didn't know what the octopus meant. She wasn't aware that the octopus had viscous claws hanging across it's mouth that was wide open all times. She was not knowing that the octopus was a scary gentleman, a viscous one, with purple all around it's sharp teeeth. The octopus had a anem which was Wally. Wally was frightening everybody he made people feel uncomfortable just by the sight of him. Waly was no friend. Waly was evil. Wally made people mad.

There was a girl named Yarel who liked Wally a bit too much. She was the one who said the quote at the beginning and she wanted to touch him. Rub his tail, make him her dog. But then Wally had other plans. Wally tried to bite Yarel and Yarel gave in.

Yarel started yelling and screaming and crying out for help. Nobody came. Except Wally who was on her side. Wally tried to kiss Yarel on the mouth but she screamed. She made her feel uncomfortable every time. And so then Wally died. Wally died.

Her friends around her were shocked. She cried out to the world

“Why is it so cruel. I just wanted to hang with an octopus.”

She didn't understand that that was not supposed to happen. The octopuas died because it was out of water. Yarel didn't know to breathe under water which is perfectly normal for a human. Except! Maybe she was a mermaid. maybe yarel was a mermaid.

So then that was normal for Yarel. She actually went under water. And met and brefriended anohter octopus. And that octopus made an effort to be her friend. Showed her the mythical castles under the sea. And then Yarel had a good ocotpus friend. Yarel was very happy. She screamed with glee. She wanted to say something like YAY. But that would've been impossible under the sea. She had to keep her mouth shut or else she would suffocate. She did


336 words - word war

part four of the weekly : 582 words : in collaboration with @TokoWrites ‘s world!
Sadie stumbles out onto the street, still clutching the strange spell book she had found. After the airships started appearing in the sky that no one else saw and she almost dashed out of a bakery operated by a fire-breathing dragon, she had enough. She needs to figure out what’s happening, and reverse whatever curse the book had put on her before something goes really wrong. There’s no way she can go about her everyday life with creatures at every corner that no one else can see.
According to her GPS, there’s a rare book store on the corner of the street, so Sadie hopes the owner can tell her something—anything—about whatever enchanted book she found. She can’t decipher the words, and it doesn’t match any known language. The diagrams and drawings make more sense. That is, of course, if you ignore the incongruous piece in each one that crosses from reality to the bizarre. Sadie had skimmed most of the pages, and tried to jot down notes about what she’d seen. That was before she started seeing what was on the pages–those twisted, strange plants–appear before her eyes.
She almost misses the building, about to walk by when the letters etched into the bronze plaque glint in the light of the setting sun. The store is small and unobtrusive, nestled between an apartment building and a newly opened Thai restaurant. Sadie sees a couple eating at one of the tables outside, and their food looks delicious. Maybe she’ll get dinner there once she sorts out this literary mishap.
There is a sign in the front that says the store is closed. Still, contrary to that, there’s a faint light emanating from inside and lighting up the foggy window pane. Sadie really doesn’t want to lug the book around the city for longer. Even if the shopkeeper might not have answers, at least they’ll take the book off her hands. She’s sure they’ll be interested in it, given the ancient pages and the strange script everything is written in. Hesitantly, she puts her hand up to the doorknob. It’s golden, in the shape of the head of a dragon. To her relief, it doesn’t breathe fire or turn alive and instead it swings open before she can apply any force. There are quiet voices coming from further inside, so she steps over the threshold.
She walks in towards the first row of shelves, to see if the owner is inside, and follows the low murmuring. Except when Sadie turns around, she isn’t in the cramped store anymore. The ceiling trails up into the darkness, lined with more shelves than she could ever count. They’re filled with tomes, some flying in the air to another floating shelf. One candlelit shelf is to her left, and Sadie steps closer to trace the gilded spines. They don’t look like regular books. Instead, they almost hum with power, lost knowledge and mysteries traced into their pages.
As soon as she puts her fingers to the ancient binding, the book hoisted under her arm springs free. Sadie scrambles to grab it, but it’s already soaring up through the stacks of books into the darkness above.
“Wait!” Sadie shouts, her voice echoing. She doesn’t know why it feels so wrong to have let the book escape her grip. It’s gone, no longer her responsibility, returned to the endless shelves. It’s no longer her responsibility. Isn’t that what she wanted?
A voice echoes from behind her. “Wait for what?”

355 WORDS

Oh come on, I just wanted to hang out with the octopus!

Serena shurgged to her friend, whipping her cold brown hair to the audience. The water flew to the stage, and everybody chuckled. Serena lived her entire life on the set after all. She was a stage star. She knew exactly how to behave, when to say things, when to talk, when to raise her voice, when to calm down. Serena was a class act. She was very kind, very gentle, very sweet, very calm, very energetic, very so much so.

So when it came to the octopus, she dipped her entire body into the water, and tried to say hello. Quickly, despite the scuba gear, she had trouble breathing. It was unfortunate because her saner friend named Gary warned her. But Gary did not warn the carzy Serena enough it seems. Because Serna was there under the sea talking to the Octopus. She even gave a name for the octopus. She named him Yar. Yar was a tall 6 foot tall octopus that had a nice green smile to him. The green was from the algae he had eaten and all the fish bacteria that he had ingested. Yar was one of Serenas's now closest friends.


Serena didn't have to many friends so when Yar came around and she saw the octopus's nice greens mile she figured that that could be her friend. Serena was lonely because she was a little bit hsy and as a result she had very little friends. Quite literraly little. She saw them grow up because they were all younger than her. She had to live off of her little siblings friends often. Gary however was a true friend of hers.

Ultimately, Serena lived her life on set. She was always acting and always trying to make a fool of herself for television because that is what the people pay to watch. Serena today however failed because she was not able ot make people laugh and instead only owrried and that made Serena very sad. Unfrotunately for Serena she was very pretty so she still made many hpapy but she wished she made mroe people happy beause of her smarts

Weekly 1 || Fantasy || words

Part 1 || 275 words
-Magic and the overall suspension of disbelief are massive parts of just about any fantasy story; it could simply be an intrinsic part of nature (enchanted forests, an afterlife, shifting landscapes, etc), it could be a tool society can use without having much control of the results (magical plants, crystals, special artifacts), or it can be manipulated and controlled with ease (spells, runes, wands). Magic tends to be on a spectrum from hard to soft; hard magic is similar to alchemy or the specific spells in D&D, where there are specific rules on how magic operates and the audience knows the limits, while soft magic is more like animus powers in WoF or Gandalf's magic in LotR, where the audience is unsure of the origin of the magic or its capabilities. While elemental magic is common, it's not a requirement, and it's even possible for the two types to mix.
-Unique creatures are also a very common part of fantasy. This can be anywhere from a few talking animals to incomprehensible space monsters, and it often helps to create curiosity about a fantasy world. Sometimes these creatures are sentient and coexist in their society with or without humans, such as elves, dwarves, and mermaids, while others are more like wildlife, like dragons, unicorns, and griffins. These creatures can be commonplace in the world and normal for the protagonists, rare and elusive yet still known to exist, or they may only be known in legends; having gone extinct a long time ago or only have been seen by a select few. Sometimes a fantasy protagonist may find a creature that's the last of it's kind!

Part 2 || 417 words
This fantastical world is filled with all sorts of alien creatures the likes of which have never been seen. There are quite a few that are sentient, and they live in a complex world built from the ground up by a mysterious magical force. While the sentient species coexist peacefully and have a universal language, they tend to only live with others of their kind, living in small civilizations that each have their own unique culture. While some species have created technology that allows them to have well-fortified buildings, others prefer exposure to the elements, having den systems that protect them from the wild beings that roam the land while still allowing them to have easy access to food.
Each living species on the planet has its own biological connection to the magic running through the ground. While some have no visible connection, behaving like normal plants and animals, those who do have a strong connection can attune themselves to the world and manipulate it. For some species this is something as simple as animals being able to breathe fire and plants giving minor effects when consumed, while for others they can levitate boulders with ease and create distorting ripples in reality. While sentient species can improve this connection through rigorous training, the only way for one to have complete control over the magic is to interact with a type of legendary crystal made of raw magic. However, the amount of these crystals on the planet can be counted on one hand, and are in the centers of biomes made dangerous by the energy coursing through them. Even if someone could reach one of them, the results of touching the crystal are not always positive.
The amount of magic a sentient species holds has a major impact on their culture. Those who don't have it at all lean towards technology and physical weapons to get by, while those with high amounts of magic rely on it for nearly everything from building their towns to how they treat diseases and injuries. This reliance tends to distance each species from one another, as it's difficult for a powerless creature to join a society where having at least a few basic abilities is commonplace. It also makes certain things like trade harder, when certain objects are only useful to those with or without magic. Despite this, the world tends to be peaceful, there being a natural balance between the small, sparse civilizations that has always made things like war inefficient.

Part 3 || 571 words
Pherrul tapped his foot impatiently as he scanned the large cave. Why was he called to meet here of all places? He did not want to single-handedly face a rockbeast if one were to stumble upon him. He tilted his head slightly to scan his surroundings, the ‘third eye’ on the back of his head keeping an eye out for any sign of movement. Pherrul growled impatiently. The fool has never had any idea what it's like to be one of us, he thought to himself. Never had to be chased through the forest by huge carnivorus beasts. His ears flicked and swiveled towards the entrance of the cave as he heard distant movement. And they're so loud, he huffed, secretly glad that his companion was incapable of sneaking up on him.
Vara stumbled into the cavern, their arms filled with all sorts of papers as they rushed over to Pherrul. “Sorry, sorry!” they said as they dropped all of them on the ground. “I told you it's so hard to get out of town these days-”
“I wonder why,” Pherrul muttered. “What nonsense are you up to this time?”
“It's not nonsense! It's archeology!” Vara grinned as they sat down, holding a paw out in front of them. Pherrul could feel the subtle shift in the air as a glowing orb of white light appeared in Vara's paw, which hovered in the air as they began to sort their papers. “I think I've found something big this time, Pherrul- You know I wouldn't call you down into such a private place otherwise.”
“Sure,” Pherrul said. He doubted Vara, but this was the first time they had made him go into a cave potentially filled with rockbeasts. The grip on his spear tightened as he leaned over to look at what Vara had found. It appeared to be a set of maps, some clearly made with magical influence while others had been written with a reliable pen and quill. Their ages varied; some of the more faded ones had been redrawn partially. “I think I found the location of one of the ancient civilizations,” Vara whispered, pointing to a location on the map. Pherrul noted it appeared to be uncomfortably far away from their towns. “What makes you so sure,” he sighed, squinting at it.
“These old maps I found on my last trip have this place marked off! It must be something important!”
“And not just some random guy's buried stack of spears?”
“Come on, Pherrul- this is the biggest lead I've had in years! We've got to at least try!”
Before Pherrul could respond he saw a glimpse of movement in his back eye, whipping around and slashing his spear against a rockbeast trying to pounce at him. Vara shrieked and jumped back, quickly grabbing up their papers before rearing up on their hind legs, gaining a height only their species could reach. The rockbeast hesitated, Pherrul dropping to all fours and rushing out of the cave with Vara not far behind him.
They panted as they came out into daylight, checking behind them to make sure the rockbeast wasn't following them. “…Thanks,” Pherrul said to Vara, who nodded softly. “S-sorry,” they whispered, reaching down to pat Pherrul's shoulder. “Uhm… consider going with me please? I could really use your help.” They turned to go, Pherrul watching them. He thought to himself for a moment, before sighing, following them.

PART 1: Wings of Knowledge

Worldbuilding
Magical powers, often linked to elements, locations, objects, and/or deities
Societies dedicated to one specific type of magic
Organisms with supernatural abilities
Curses that spread or become worse over time
Social hierarchy based on proficiency in magic
Different races of sentient beings
“Dark” magic, typically involving the dead/afterlife
Beautiful, dramatic landscapes
Prophecies, fate, and fortune-telling

Plotlines
Epic quests, often with a hero’s journey setup
Good vs. evil
Trying to undo a curse
Battles for power
Romantic subplots
Betrayals, secrets, and inter-character conflict in general
Exploring mysterious and dangerous lands
Plot twists for extra excitement

Characters
“Chosen one” trope, sometimes also a reluctant hero
Prophets and oracles
Authority figures who are well-versed in magic
Power-hungry, straightforwardly evil villains, often with subhuman minions
Temporary, possibly untrustworthy, allies
Thieves, rogues, etc.
Sentient animal familiars

Ideas
There are multiple immortal deities who are made of magic, and they used their magic to design the world
The deities no longer directly interact with the world, but they may let mortals utilize their magic in exchange for being worshipped and followed the deities’ orders; the deities essentially use mortals as their vessels in this way
Magic follows the rules of conservation of energy, so it gets converted into different forms but can’t be created or destroyed
Magic can be contained in objects that can function like batteries, thus allowing characters to utilize magic even without a connection to a deity
The deities sometimes fight with each other, and their squabbles are mirrored in the mortal world, giving rise to conflicts that span generations, far beyond the scope of most mortals’ knowledge
Societies generally dedicate themselves to one deity and thus specialize in that deity’s specific type of magic

PART 2: Story and Stone

The deity of Knowledge once acted as a mediator, both between mortals and between the other deities. However, the deity of War didn’t like that battles were being prevented, so it instructed its followers to capture Knowledge’s essence within enchanted objects. Those objects were then distributed across the continent, spreading Knowledge’s consciousness too thin for it to have any agency.
This backfired on War, though, since the mortals soon realized that the objects themselves could channel Knowledge’s magic, thus granting powers of prophecy, mind-reading, and divine inspiration. The more that they were used, the more magic was released, and therefore the closer Knowledge came to waking up again. Several of War’s followers betrayed their deity, deciding to keep the objects for themselves instead of hiding them as instructed.
Many conflicts were fought over these objects, until the original cause of the fighting was forgotten by most of the mortals. Some objects were lost in the turmoil, while others ended up in the possession of people who rarely used them. They became the topic of myths, with most mortals not believing that a deity of Knowledge even existed in the first place.
Meanwhile, without their mediator, the other deities clashed with one another. They had once created this world together, but now they disagreed over what to do with it. Each had its own ideas, and commanded its followers to bring these ideas to fruition, often leading to conflict with others who were trying to do the exact opposite. Some deities responded by granting the mortals even greater usage of their magic, while others withdrew from the physical world almost entirely.
As for the mortals themselves, some grew to resent the deities for causing all the turmoil. Under normal circumstances, these heretics would stand no chance against the magic-users, but with the deities so distracted by fighting each other, the first fully magicless society was able to form. Creating tentative alliances with the followers who had been abandoned by their deities, this community defended its territory, but tried to remain otherwise peaceful—a small refuge of calm in a world that was rapidly tearing itself apart.

PART 3: The Land of Stories

The rule in Kalshold was simple: if it glowed, whispered, sang, bled light, bent shadows, or otherwise behaved in a way that any sensible inanimate object shouldn’t, you left it alone. After all, magic was trouble—that was one of the first lessons every child learned. The second was that trouble always arrived claiming to be a miracle.
Aster had believed both lessons for most of their life.
They paused atop the ridge overlooking the valley, balancing a bundle of salvaged iron across one shoulder. Beyond the fields, Kalshold was waking. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys. Mill wheels turned beneath the river's current. Children chased one another between rows of wheat while the watchtower bell marked the beginning of another ordinary morning.
Ordinary was precious here.
No banners bearing divine emblems flew above the rooftops. No priests called down miracles. No armies marched beneath the blessing of distant deities. Every wall had been raised by human hands, every harvest gathered by aching backs. It was difficult, sometimes painfully so, but it was theirs. The deities could keep their gifts. Or at least, that was what everyone said.
Aster wasn't so sure.
Not because they wanted magic—quite the opposite—but because the world beyond Kalshold was impossible to ignore. Refugees still arrived every few weeks with stories that sounded more like nightmares than history. Rivers that flowed uphill because two deities couldn't agree where they belonged. Cities abandoned after every citizen dreamed the same divine command and interpreted it differently. Forests that would swallow an entire neighborhood overnight.
The elders always sighed when the stories were told. “The deities are arguing again, just like they always have,” they'd say, as though that explained everything.
Perhaps it did.
Aster descended the ridge toward the old quarry, where the settlement gathered stone and scavenged metal from the ruins buried beneath it. Nobody knew who had built the ancient structure first. The walls were older than any kingdom still standing, and no one much bothered to keep records of bygone history. Whatever civilization had lived here had vanished so completely that even its name had become dust.
Which made it the perfect place to find nails.
The morning passed in comfortable silence. Aster pried rusted hinges from collapsed beams, stacked usable stone into neat piles, and tried not to think about how much work still remained before winter. It was only when their pry bar struck something smooth that they frowned.
Stone usually sounded dull. Metal rang. This made neither sound.
Kneeling, Aster brushed away centuries of packed earth.
An egg-shaped object emerged, no larger than an apple, carved from black stone polished so perfectly that it reflected the sky despite being caked in dirt. Fine silver lines wrapped around its surface in patterns that shifted when they weren't looking directly at them.
Aster’s stomach tightened.
Not because the object glowed. It didn't.
Not because it hummed. It was perfectly silent.
It simply felt… aware.
Aster snatched their hand back. “Don't be ridiculous,” they muttered to themselves.
Although they had never seen an enchanted object before, they were certain that this… thing was magic. And magic was trouble.
But then again, it had clearly been buried for hundreds of years, doing absolutely nothing.
Aster reached out once more, their hand shaking ever so slightly.
The instant their fingertips touched the sphere, the world disappeared. Not faded. Not darkened. Simply… ceased to exist.
There was no quarry, no wind, no weight of their own body. Only an endless expanse of white, stretching farther than sight, where a single voice spoke with the exhaustion of someone who had been trying to remember their own name for a thousand years.
<<…Is someone there?>>
The words were not spoken aloud. They arrived as fully formed thoughts in Aster’s mind, carrying with them impossible emotions: relief so profound it bordered on grief, curiosity older than civilizations, and the faint, persistent ache of a mind that had been broken into countless scattered pieces.
<<…After all this time?>>
Then, before Aster could answer, before they could even decide whether they wanted to—the quarry rushed back.
The object slipped from their hands and landed softly in the dust.
It was still. Cold. Lifeless.
Except that, somewhere deep inside their own thoughts, they could no longer tell where their mind’s silence ended and someone else's began.

PART 4: Once Upon a SWapC

PART 1: Wings of Knowledge

Worldbuilding
Magical powers, often linked to elements, locations, objects, and/or deities
Societies dedicated to one specific type of magic
Organisms with supernatural abilities
Curses that spread or become worse over time
Social hierarchy based on proficiency in magic
Different races of sentient beings
“Dark” magic, typically involving the dead/afterlife
Beautiful, dramatic landscapes
Prophecies, fate, and fortune-telling

Plotlines
Epic quests, often with a hero’s journey setup
Good vs. evil
Trying to undo a curse
Battles for power
Romantic subplots
Betrayals, secrets, and inter-character conflict in general
Exploring mysterious and dangerous lands
Plot twists for extra excitement

Characters
“Chosen one” trope, sometimes also a reluctant hero
Prophets and oracles
Authority figures who are well-versed in magic
Power-hungry, straightforwardly evil villains, often with subhuman minions
Temporary, possibly untrustworthy, allies
Thieves, rogues, etc.
Sentient animal familiars

Ideas
There are multiple immortal deities who are made of magic, and they used their magic to design the world
The deities no longer directly interact with the world, but they may let mortals utilize their magic in exchange for being worshipped and followed the deities’ orders; the deities essentially use mortals as their vessels in this way
Magic follows the rules of conservation of energy, so it gets converted into different forms but can’t be created or destroyed
Magic can be contained in objects that can function like batteries, thus allowing characters to utilize magic even without a connection to a deity
The deities sometimes fight with each other, and their squabbles are mirrored in the mortal world, giving rise to conflicts that span generations, far beyond the scope of most mortals’ knowledge
Societies generally dedicate themselves to one deity and thus specialize in that deity’s specific type of magic

PART 2: Story and Stone

The deity of Knowledge once acted as a mediator, both between mortals and between the other deities. However, the deity of War didn’t like that battles were being prevented, so it instructed its followers to capture Knowledge’s essence within enchanted objects. Those objects were then distributed across the continent, spreading Knowledge’s consciousness too thin for it to have any agency.
This backfired on War, though, since the mortals soon realized that the objects themselves could channel Knowledge’s magic, thus granting powers of prophecy, mind-reading, and divine inspiration. The more that they were used, the more magic was released, and therefore the closer Knowledge came to waking up again. Several of War’s followers betrayed their deity, deciding to keep the objects for themselves instead of hiding them as instructed.
Many conflicts were fought over these objects, until the original cause of the fighting was forgotten by most of the mortals. Some objects were lost in the turmoil, while others ended up in the possession of people who rarely used them. They became the topic of myths, with most mortals not believing that a deity of Knowledge even existed in the first place.
Meanwhile, without their mediator, the other deities clashed with one another. They had once created this world together, but now they disagreed over what to do with it. Each had its own ideas, and commanded its followers to bring these ideas to fruition, often leading to conflict with others who were trying to do the exact opposite. Some deities responded by granting the mortals even greater usage of their magic, while others withdrew from the physical world almost entirely.
As for the mortals themselves, some grew to resent the deities for causing all the turmoil. Under normal circumstances, these heretics would stand no chance against the magic-users, but with the deities so distracted by fighting each other, the first fully magicless society was able to form. Creating tentative alliances with the followers who had been abandoned by their deities, this community defended its territory, but tried to remain otherwise peaceful—a small refuge of calm in a world that was rapidly tearing itself apart.

PART 3: The Land of Stories

The rule in Kalshold was simple: if it glowed, whispered, sang, bled light, bent shadows, or otherwise behaved in a way that any sensible inanimate object shouldn’t, you left it alone. After all, magic was trouble—that was one of the first lessons every child learned. The second was that trouble always arrived claiming to be a miracle.
Aster had believed both lessons for most of their life.
They paused atop the ridge overlooking the valley, balancing a bundle of salvaged iron across one shoulder. Beyond the fields, Kalshold was waking. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys. Mill wheels turned beneath the river's current. Children chased one another between rows of wheat while the watchtower bell marked the beginning of another ordinary morning.
Ordinary was precious here.
No banners bearing divine emblems flew above the rooftops. No priests called down miracles. No armies marched beneath the blessing of distant deities. Every wall had been raised by human hands, every harvest gathered by aching backs. It was difficult, sometimes painfully so, but it was theirs. The deities could keep their gifts. Or at least, that was what everyone said.
Aster wasn't so sure.
Not because they wanted magic—quite the opposite—but because the world beyond Kalshold was impossible to ignore. Refugees still arrived every few weeks with stories that sounded more like nightmares than history. Rivers that flowed uphill because two deities couldn't agree where they belonged. Cities abandoned after every citizen dreamed the same divine command and interpreted it differently. Forests that would swallow an entire neighborhood overnight.
The elders always sighed when the stories were told. “The deities are arguing again, just like they always have,” they'd say, as though that explained everything.
Perhaps it did.
Aster descended the ridge toward the old quarry, where the settlement gathered stone and scavenged metal from the ruins buried beneath it. Nobody knew who had built the ancient structure first. The walls were older than any kingdom still standing, and no one much bothered to keep records of bygone history. Whatever civilization had lived here had vanished so completely that even its name had become dust.
Which made it the perfect place to scavenge materials.
The morning passed in comfortable silence. Aster pried rusted hinges from collapsed beams, stacked usable stone into neat piles, and tried not to think about how much work still remained before winter. It was only when their pry bar struck something smooth that they frowned.
Stone usually sounded dull. Metal rang. This made neither sound.
Kneeling, Aster brushed away centuries of packed earth.
An egg-shaped object emerged, no larger than an apple, carved from black stone polished so perfectly that it reflected the sky despite being caked in dirt. Fine silver lines wrapped around its surface in patterns that shifted when they weren't looking directly at them.
Aster’s stomach tightened.
Not because the object glowed. It didn't.
Not because it hummed. It was perfectly silent.
It simply felt… aware.
Aster snatched their hand back. “Don't be ridiculous,” they muttered to themselves. Although they had never seen an enchanted object before, they were certain that this… thing was magic. And magic was trouble.
But then again, it had clearly been buried for hundreds of years, doing absolutely nothing.
Aster reached out once more, their hand shaking ever so slightly.
The instant their fingertips touched the object, the world disappeared. Not faded. Not darkened. Simply… ceased to exist.
There was no quarry, no wind, no weight of their own body. Only an endless expanse of white, stretching farther than sight, where a single voice spoke with the exhaustion of someone who had been trying to remember their own name for a thousand years.
<<…Is someone there?>>
The words were not spoken aloud. They arrived as fully formed thoughts in Aster’s brain, carrying with them impossible emotions: relief so profound it bordered on grief, curiosity older than civilizations, and the faint, persistent ache of a mind that had been broken into countless scattered pieces.
<<…After all this time?>>
Then, before Aster could answer, before they could even decide whether they wanted to—the quarry rushed back.
The object slipped from their hands and landed softly in the dust.
It was still. Cold. Lifeless.
Except that, somewhere deep inside their own thoughts, they could no longer tell where their mind’s silence ended and someone else's began.

PART 4: Once Upon a SWapC

(I’m swapping with @minergold48 and their part is here: )

“I didn’t realize there WAS a deity of Knowledge…” Aster desperately flips through their memories, trying to remember all the deities that the elders had taught them about. There were so many of them. And anyway, Aster had never paid much attention—they were really starting to regret that right about now.
<<Don’t stress about it. I’ve been… asleep, you could call it. For a very long time… I doubt anyone much remembers me anymore…>>
The voice of Knowledge hesitates a moment.
<<You should still pay attention to your lessons, though.>>
“Ugh, stop reading my thoughts,” Aster complains, a rush of embarrassment spreading across their face. “I keep forgetting you’re in my head now.”
Knowledge laughs, but not unkindly.
<<I can’t help it, I’m afraid.>>
Aster wonders what it’d be like to hear everyone’s thoughts all the time. It seems to them like it must be rather overwhelming. Constant noise. Floods of emotions. Information that'd be better off private. Plus, mind-reading wasn’t even the only thing that this deity could do, either. Suddenly curious about the full extent of Knowledge's abilities, Aster decides to ask: “So… if you’re the essence of knowledge itself, does that mean you know everything?”
<<Oh, not at all! I know a lot about this world, but there is still plenty to discover. And I know very little about the worlds beyond, as they are so far out of my reach.>>
“Worlds beyond?”
<<Yes—this is not the only planet. There are others, but they are far, far away… I have often wondered whether there are other deities, other magic, somewhere out there…>>
“I've never even thought about that before.”
<<I've been around long enough; I've had a lot of time to watch the sky and to think. I like to imagine that if there is other life, it's doing better than we are here…>>
Aster shrugs. “Even if it is, it's not like that does us any good.”
However, as they gaze upward, they feel a trace of Knowledge's enthusiasm about the idea. Maybe the solution to every problem existed somewhere overhead, hidden among the constellations. Maybe there were wonders so amazing that they'd make this world's turmoil seem insignificant in comparison. Maybe someone out there was even watching over them right now…
Meanwhile, around a different star, a similar conversation is being had.
Pherrul and Vara emerge onto the rooftop just as a breeze stirs through the ruined city. Although it's the middle of the night, the ocean of stars overhead is bright enough to make all three of Pherrul's eyes squint.
“Wow, check out that sky,” Vara breathes. “I bet there are loads of worlds up there!”
“You better not be planning a journey to space, Vara,” Pherrul grumbles. “We had to travel far enough for this adventure.”
Vara laughs. “Nah, there are plenty of discoveries down here to keep me busy. I just like imagining what else might be out there, beyond what we can see. Don't you think so, Pherrul?”
Privately, Pherrul didn't find the idea of something lurking out of sight to be a particularly pleasant thing to think about, but—well, now he was thinking about it. He glances at Vara, who blinks at him, expecting a response. Finally, he asks quietly, “If there are worlds, then could there be people living on them? People like us?”
Vara's ears twitch. “I don't know. Maybe!”
“But they'd probably look different.”
“Probably.”
“They'd think differently.”
“I'd imagine so.”
“They'd have their own language.”
“Their own history.”
“Their own problems.”
“Their own stories.”
They both stay quiet for a moment. Then Vara speaks again. “I wish I could ask them what their lives are like.”
Pherrul looks up once more. There were so many stars. Thousands. Millions. Numbers beyond anything anyone had ever counted before. He had never really thought about it until now.
“…Do you think,” he says after a long pause, “they have rockbeasts?”
Vara bursts into laughter. “That'd be your first question?”
“It's an important question.”
“It really isn't.”
“It absolutely is.”
“If you could talk to people on other worlds, you'd ask about the wildlife?”
“If the wildlife might try to eat me, yes.”
Vara shook their head, still smiling. “I was thinking more along the lines of… whether they wonder about us.”
Pherrul considers that, and a strange feeling settles over him. The ruins of the ancient city felt so empty, so alone. But maybe no one was ever truly alone within the impossible vastness of space. Maybe someone else was out there right now, wondering whether the little lights overhead were worlds. “…If they are,” he said, “I hope they're smarter than us.”
Vara looked at him in surprise. “Really?”
“No.” A grin spreads across Pherrul's face. “I hope they're even worse.”
Vara groans. “You were almost profound.”
“I was never profound.”
“I noticed.”
Together they stand among the ruins of a civilization long forgotten, gazing toward a horizon that suddenly seems far larger than either of them had ever imagined. Neither realizes that, somewhere across the darkness between the stars, another pair of curious minds is looking right back at them, echoing the same thoughts into an endless sky.

Dear Pywife,

Wow, what a speedy reply — my wife never fails to amaze me.

Graduation? Holy speedrun, you’re only 3 months older than me LOLLL. I hope it goes well and you enjoy though! And absolute cookery on the English paper, full marks is amazing!

I’m about to be year 12, yes! You’re saying the British education system is weird but it’s definitely the other way round, I have no idea what the American system is on about. To be honest I don’t feel strongly about it yet. I think I’m just enjoying my break off school — technically, I’ve been off school since the 1st May and I’ll stay on holiday until early September, which is absolutely diabolical. Hence the Minecraft bumsweat era. University is perhaps just round the corner, if you can call 2 years just round the corner, but it feels like a long way away. Especially as I have no idea what I want to study yet. I’ve got a few subjects in mind, but not a decision yet. Luckily, I don’t have to officially decide until year 13.

I don’t take Chinese at school! I’m a heritage speaker and both my parents are Chinese, but unfortunately my Chinese skills have declined, like a diabolical amount. Hopefully this summer I will lock in and relearn everything though. I can still understand conversational Chinese, and my parents talk to me in Chinese, but I’m pretty bad at speaking, and I’m practically illiterate. I know some schools offer Chinese, but not mine, alas.

In terms of grammar — no noun genders, no verb conjugation, no tenses! It sounds easy when you put it that way but it still bullies me every day. I think the word order is SVO although it’s different from English, because you have to put stuff like time in between the subject and the verb, and I always forget to do that. Oops.

I would love to more know about Latin! I am definitely not amazing at languages and their grammar but I think I know a little bit? Beaides, I want to see my wife absolutely mog everyone else in this camp by showing off her Latin skills.

Oh yeah, what made you study Latin in the first place? Were you just interested in it, or did you want to do something with yur knowledge of Latin? Or was it a requirement for a specific course? When did you start learning?

Woah I will be having a listen to Monarch of Monsters soon! I’d love any other recommendations — particulary hyperpop and sapphic pop because I don’t really listen to those genres (yet). Apart from MCR and Vocaloid, I listen to other rock and metal bands, like Radiohead (In my entire life I have listened to an ungodly amount of Radiohead), Three Days Grace (hard rock), and I Prevail (metal). I didn’t give a genre for Radiohead because they switched genres with pretty much every other album they released. You said you liked rock, so I think I’ll recommend the albums Alienation by Three Days Grace, and In Rainbows by Radiohead. In Rainbows is extremely good, although not my favourite album by them — I think my fsvourite albums are an acquired taste though, because I definitely know when I first listened to them, I really hated them lol.

Oooh enjoy the rest of Volume 4! The slack off from LOTM is real, I swear that happened to me about seven different times when I was reading. You’ll probahly pick it up again soon though, and you should definitely prioritise more important things.

I would love to work on the City of Silver! Yeah, I’m pretty sure that ancient city was massive so it will be quite the project… I might also need you to mark out the path down to the city because I got so lost trying to get out last time that I ended up digging up until I reached the surface. Not my greatest moment, especially because I literally had the minimap. I had the minimap and I still could not find the exit. I literally found some of your torches, and I still couldn’t find the exit. That was a diabolical moment.

Villagers! I might need a Mending villager soon, because I made the genius idea of putting a Ward armour trim on my half durability diamond chestplate… So let’s hope I catch that and store it away before it breaks, and then hopefully I can put Mending on it later.

If you’re looking for any blocks for the City of Silver I’m happy grinding for them! As long as they aren’t like, prismarine blocks or something. I know the main problem will be actually clearing out the shriekers but I think I should probably have aomething to do when it’s just me online and I don’t feel like braving the deep dark, lol.

Hmmm I think I read a variety of books! I’ve definitely started leaning more towards confemporary fiction in the past year or so though — like, think Booker Prize fiction. A bit weird (in a good way), very contemporary. I definitely recommend Our Wives Under the Sea by Julia Armfield — it’s this genre I can only describe as weird horror — not jumpscare horror, not impending doom horror, not entirely psychological horror. It’s not that scary, just weird. I’m doing a really bad description of this book, so I will say — it has yuri and deep sea creatures. You should read it.

I would love recommendations! And hit me with that GL any day. I really need to get on the GL grind because I am such a larp in BL and GL fiction.

Also, aren’t you writing some GL? Eyes. No pressure lol, but that is so cool. Next Pyrite writing competition entry incoming??

I am a bit tired so I will probably sleep soon, but before I do that I should think of some more questions for you. This is a bit like the interview, just less serious. A tangent, but I was reading everyone else’s interviews and realising they were so light-hearted compared to ours. I wonder why the Scratch filterbot didn’t let my daily theough, hmmm.

Okay, questions.
Do you like poetry?
What’s your favourite season and why?
Do you play any other video games, other than Minecraft?
What made you like/take an interest in GL originally?
How do you like to spend your weekends?

Alright, my eyelids are about to forcibly glue themselves shut if I don’t sleep soon, so I!ll end this letter here. I would have liked to sdd a few extra questions but I think I’ll be lond asleep by then.

Forever yours,

Hope

(1114 words)

Part One:

magical creatures (dragons, fairies, nymphs, etc.) usually have some sort of power
Magical powers (people usually have telekineses, elemental abilities, extended elemental (like metal, ice, etc.)
Ancient artifacts with magic (like swords, wands, jewels)
Libraries with spell books
Prophecies and chosen ones

Dystopian world with many magical creatures, magic creatures each have own abilities based on element?? (Dragon = fire, fairy=wind)
Ancient artifacts can enhance powers (ice amulet can boost power)
The powers can help you woth certain jobs
World segregated based off of your ability (more powerful=higher up)
Monarchy system, however slightly different. The ruler /must/ have the ability to control paradox abilities. The first child in the family that develops paradox abilities will have a claim to the throne. There have only been 2 instances where a generation did not possess a paradox ability, both times the kingdom dissolved into chaos.
with certain jobs (water = fire fighter, cook/baker/smelter/etc = fire powers,
Image
Part Two:
What if the entire world was dependent on the elements?
There are three main kingdoms, each based off of paradoxing elements. Equmdro, the kingdom based off of water and fire, is split into two. The north is based off of Fire, which each citizen having fire powers. The opposite is for the south, where it is water dominated. They are ruled by one dominate ruler, who has the ability to control both Fire and Water. However, Tarroe, the kingdom of earth and air, is different. People of the two abilities mingle and mix together. While there is a single leader with a earth and air abilities, a council of rulers (an even split between earth and air) help them.
Lastly, the mystical Selenuia, the kingdom of shadows and light. Little is known about this kingdom, other than they are rumored to have the most powerful citizens. Their political structure is different, though. Instead of having one paradoxical leader, they have two— one controlling light, and the other dark.
Each kingdom (except for Selenuia) have caste systems.
The paradox abilities are at the top.
They are also joined by the dual abilities. They are prized for their ability to control more than one element at once.
Following them, are the pure abilities.
(Water, Fire, Air, Ground — depends on which country)
Next, are the hybrids.
(Ice, heat not fire, storms, plants)
At the end, are the ones from other countries. Foreigners are mocked and tourists nonexistent. They are considered lower than the low, unless they are involved with politics (diplomat, etc.), then they are ranked based on their ability.
Marriage or any love between countries are forbidden. In strict countries like Equmdro, love between elements are frowned upon, but not officially forbidden.

Part three:

Six-year-old Kiera Sparks tossed a fireball between her hands. She made sure to keep it small, so that she couldn’t be seen from afar. She was crouching behind her cousin’s house, getting dangerously close to the border between the firelands and the waterlands. Not that Kiera really cared. Unlike the majority of her small simple-minded neighbors, she was fascinated by the towns beyond the border. Sometimes, if she looked hard enough, she could see the faintest silhouette of a water-bender walking about, or even making things with the water. Of course, she would never tell anyone that she had looked for them. If she had, her mother would have kept her locked up forever.
“Kiki!” she heard her cousin call out, “Kiki, where are you?”
Kiera stole one last glance at the world vetoing before hurrying out from behind the house. “I’m here, Amby. Don’t worry.”
“What were you doing so close to the border?” Amber, nicknamed Amby, hissed. “Ama would have a fit if she saw you over here! Let’s go inside before she catches us!”
Kiera nodded timidly and trailed Amby into the house. She knew better than to tell even Amby, her best friend, about her secret longings to learn about the water-benders. After all, the two were opposites. They weren’t meant to dwell together.

10 years later…
Kiera’s heart thumped faster and faster and faster.
‘No way’, her brain was thinking, ‘no freaking way!’ Because there, just feet away from the border was a water-bending boy. Or… ice-bending to be more specific. He was juggling ice spheres. Kiera has changed a lot in ten years, but the sixteen-year old firebender was still as enthusiastic about the life beyond the border. However, she had learned to be more subtle about it. She no longer camped out behind her cousins house, spying on the waterbenders. By now, she had mastered the navigation of the forest. So, whenever her mother or aunt sent her out to get firewood (always with the warning to ‘not go anywhere near the border), Kiera would bend the rules a little. She would cross the border and spy on the town. She learned a lot about waterbender life. But all of the waterbenders she had seen were from afar. This boy, this ice-juggling boy, was right up close. Kiera didn’t dare be caught looking, so she made sure she was camouflaged by some shrubbery. Still, he was there. She could spot little kids staring. This was probably the first time they ever saw a waterbender of any kind. There were some adults trying to steer the kids away, but they too were mesmerized. Also, no one really wanted to break the rules and approach the waterbender. That had long been the sole instruction from High King Andorr. The water and fire must not interact, for they will only destroy each other.
Eventually, the chief stepped out. Chief Errol was a big man, woth flame tattoos up and down his arms. He had rough hands and a long red beard. In truth, he resembled most of the men in the village, just more intense. Way more intense. He was also Kiera’s father.
“Who do we have here?” He grumbled in Anique, the waterbender’s dialect. Technically, the main language of Equmdro was Naikun, and everyone was schooled in it. However, the water and fire had their own dialects: Anique and Ondro. They were both based on Naikun, just slightly altered throughout time.
The boy winced. He had good reason to. Although my father was fluent in Anique, Ondro, and Naikun, he had a thick Ondronian accent that waterbenders openly insulted, due to how it butchered their language.
“Not trying to catch trouble sir,” the boy muttered, “just having fun. A dare.”
“A dare, huh?” Errol growled. “Thats definitely what’s going on, Jean.”
The boy’s eyes widened in surprised.
‘Jean?’ Kiera thought, ‘Is that his name?’
“S-sir,” Jean mumbled, “I’m only juggling.”
Errol rolled his eyes. “Hmm, okay. Well, then tell your father, or whoever ‘dared’ you, to stop spying on my town!” By now, he was shouting.
Jean, face pale, nodded and rushed off. Only… just before he ran away, he caught Kiera’s eyes between the bush and winked.
Errol murmured something underneath his breath that sounded a lot like a certain word that he had grounded her for using just weeks before. Then, he looked into the crowd and said, “Nothing to see here! Just some pesky waterbenders. Go back everyone!”
When the crowd has dispersed, Kiera creeped out of the bush and raced home.
—
“I’m home!” Kiera yelled, opening the door to the cabin. Her mother, Eliana, and her little sister were in the living room, knitting.
“Kiki!” Her sister exclaimed, and ran towards her for a hug. Technically, Mia wasn’t her biological sister but Kiera loved the seven year old all the same. Mia was the result of one of the greatest scandals. Her mother, a firebender (also, Eliana’s best friend) had an affair with a waterbender. They had eventually caught and punished, but their newborn daughter was adopted by Errol and Eliana. Mia had the extremely rare ability to control steam. It wasn’t the most powerful ability, but it made her amazing with engineering.
“Kiki, did you see the waterbender?” Mia asked.
Kiera nodded. “I did,” she admitted, “it was… interesting.”


https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/891109/?page=16#post-9281626

“Kiera…”
Kiera looked up at Jean. “What?” She asked. She was tired. She didn’t have any time to deal with his nonsense.
Jean didn’t respond, he just pointed up at a house in their path. “The light’s on in there. Someone’s in there.”
Kiera’s head jerked upwards. They hadn’t had sings of human life in days, not since they had both fled their village. “Should we go in?” She asked,
Jean thought for a while. “I guess,” he admitted. “I mean, there’s not much else that we can do. We can’t stay in the forests forever.”
Kiera nodded, she had figured the same. “Be sure to cover up our footprints,” she mumbled, “so no one can track us.” Jean obliged and summon some water to turn the dirt into mud and conceal our footprints. Cautiously, they approached the house.
Timidly, Kiera knocked on the door and crossed her fingers. When no one answered, she knocked again. Suddenly, the door creaked open and there stood an old man.
“What do you want?” He asked.
Kiera bit her lip. “Uhm, sir, we… we just wondered if we could come in and freshen up? We’ve been on the road for ages.”
The old man nodded. Kiera was surprised that he was so… welcoming wasn’t the word. But willing to let strangers into his home.
When Kiera and Jean stepped in, the strangest things happened. The old radio on the table creaked, “Welcome, strangers.”
“Ah!” Kiera exclaimed, “did that radio just talk?”
The man nodded. “This house is pretty magical, to say the least.”
“We know a bit about magic ourselves,” Jean admitted. The man raised an eyebrow, intrigued. Jean held out his hands, and showed how the water pooled in. Kiera did the same, but made sure to keep the flame small.
The man’s eyes widened. “You’re… one of them.”
Kiera could only assume he meant a citizen of the three kingdoms. “Does that mean that you’re not?” She asked.
The man shook his head. “Most folk out here aren’t,” he explained.
Kiera’s eyes went wide. “So are we in the other world?” She asked. The other world was what the people in her kingdoms referred to as the lands of those with no powers. 
The man shrugged. “I’m not sure what that means,” he admitted. “I’m Joe, by the way.”
“I’m Kiera Sparks,” Kiera introduced, extending her hand. When Joe shook it, Jean too extended it.
“Jean,” he explained, “but I don’t share my last name with strangers.” She glanced at Kiera.
“Fair enough,” Joe admitted. “Come sit down and tell me about your travels.”
They took a seat. “See,” Kiera began. Jean placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Kiki,” he hissed, “are you sure we should share that much information with a stranger? He could be working for our fathers.”
Kiera stalled. That was true, they couldn’t really trust anyone anymore. In fact, it was a huge security oversight that they were talking to this man in the first place. 
Joe must’ve realized their worries. “It’s alright,” he said, “you don’t need to tell me. I can just go on with not knowing.”

ੈ✩‧₊˚ Fairytale Retelling ⋆.ೃ࿔

Little Red Riding Hood and the World's Hungriest Wolf

Everyone always tells the story wrong.
According to the books, the Big Bad Wolf was a terrifying beast who lurked in the forest, waiting to gobble up innocent grandmothers and unsuspecting girls in red capes.
The truth?
He was just unbelievably hungry.
Not “I skipped breakfast” hungry.
More like “I've eaten six pinecones because I thought they were potatoes” hungry.
So when he spotted Little Red Riding Hood skipping through the woods with a basket, his eyes lit up.
Food.
He leaped onto the path as dramatically as possible.
“HALT!” he roared.
Little Red blinked.
“…Hi?”
“I am the fearsome Big Bad Wolf!” he announced proudly.
“Congratulations?”
“I demand…” He pointed dramatically at the basket. “…your lunch.”
Little Red looked down.
“Oh.”
The wolf frowned.
“'Oh?' That's all you have to say?”
“I thought you were going to eat me.”
“What? No!” the wolf scoffed. “Do you know how much paperwork comes with that? Talking animals have a terrible reputation already. I just want a sandwich.”
She slowly opened the basket.
“I've got bread, cheese, apples, and blackberry jam.”
The wolf gasped.
“Blackberry jam?”
“It's homemade.”
Tears welled in the wolf's eyes.
“No one's ever offered me homemade jam.”
Little Red handed him a slice of bread with jam spread across it.
He took one bite.
“This…” he whispered, “…is the greatest thing I've ever tasted.”
He immediately sat down on a tree stump.
“I've made some mistakes.”
“I can imagine.”
“I once tried to eat a porcupine.”
“…Why?”
“I was desperate.”
Little Red nodded sympathetically.
“Fair enough.”
“So… where are you headed?”
“My grandmother's cottage.”
“Does she bake?”
“The best bread in the forest.”
The wolf's ears perked up.
“Really?”
“She also makes cinnamon rolls.”
The wolf stood up so fast he nearly tripped over his own tail.
“Lead the way.”
A few minutes later they arrived at Grandma's cottage.
Little Red knocked.
Grandma opened the door, took one look at the wolf, and sighed.
“Oh dear.”
The wolf quickly raised his paws.
“I can explain.”
“He was hungry,” said Little Red.
Grandma looked at him carefully.
“How hungry?”
“I almost ate bark.”
Grandma's expression softened immediately.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
She ushered him inside before he could protest.
Within minutes the table overflowed with warm bread, vegetable soup, fresh butter, pies, and an entire tray of cinnamon rolls.
The wolf cried into his soup.
“I've never felt so understood.”
Word spread surprisingly fast.
Soon every woodland creature arrived carrying food.
The squirrels brought acorns.
The rabbits brought carrots.
The birds somehow contributed muffins.
Even the bears donated honey.
By sunset, the cottage had become the forest's first community potluck.
The wolf leaned back in his chair with the happiest sigh anyone had ever heard.
“I haven't wanted to eat anybody all day.”
Grandma smiled.
“Funny what a good meal can do.”
From that day forward, the Big Bad Wolf retired from villainy.
Instead, he became the official taste tester for Grandma's bakery.
Whenever travelers wandered into the forest expecting a terrifying monster, they found a well-fed wolf wearing a flour-covered apron who cheerfully offered them fresh bread and recommended the blackberry jam.
To everyone's surprise—including the storytellers—that ending turned out much happier than eating anyone ever would have.

ദ്ദി(ᵔᗜᵔ)

✏ 7.10.2026 ~ Daily #10 ⛧ ~ 540 words ౨ৎ
⛱ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴀꜰꜰʀᴏɴ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇʙᴏᴏᴋ ⋆˚࿔