♖ How Orrun Became Rue
__ words

Orrun Talettwis grows up in the city, far from the rolling hills of gnome country. That itself is not remarkable, much. But the city they grow up in is large to most gnomes, and huge to others, and thriving there is hard.

Gnomes are often said to be the forgotten race, and they know that much is true. Halflings may be smaller, but they are a lively bunch, and no one forgets them. Gnomes, meanwhile, are overlooked. There is not much for gnomes in the city.
By age five, Orrun is much aware of that.

Walking through the bustling streets, the five-year-old barely makes it to the fruit vendor at the end of the road. In their hands they clutch a small drawstring pouch of coins. Then, they trip, and the pouch falls, and their knee is bleeding and the coins are scattered all around.

There's an underlying fear in the experience, bodies twice you size pressing in from above and all around.
Orrun's breathing quickens.

Someone leans down to help. Strong hands pull them up, dust them off, help them gather their money. In the end, it's all a blur for Orrun, and ends in hasty thank you's and the other person anxiously shuffling away. An appointment, if the mutterings under the other's breath are anything to go by. They roll their eyes and walk up to the stand, trying to ignore the way everyone crowds around. It's stifling.

It takes about three minutes in and of itself to get the vendor to notice them. They're short, they know, but gnomes are not as lively and attention grabbing as the halflings, and five year old Orrun pouts. So when they finally get the vendor's attention, it's with quick

♖ 11th of November - Main Cabin Daily
1,005 words

Sorry if this breaks any privacy rules! I'll try to fix it if it does.

So… hey, future me! This is… kind of strange, to be honest. I mean, I've written you (me?) before for my birthday, but something about this feels different. And, uh, I don't really want to get into the serious part of this yet, so I suppose I'll just ramble.
Hope you're okay with that.

I mean, you should be, considering you're me, and all, but you never know, right? In books, it's hard to tell how much has changed, and I'm inclined to think it's like that in real life, too. Hmmm. You know, I've always wanted to make a time capsule. I just find them interesting, see? Because once you make a time capsule and bury it, it'll be there forever. And ever, and ever, and ever. And you might not be remembered, but some part of you will still exist in that little capsule, some lost (or maybe not, depending on how things go) part of you that used to be or still is.

Okay, I think I'm ready now. To, you know, ask the questions, talk to you, that stuff.

So… do you have a job already? Hopefully you do, if you're not still in college. A good job, a nice job with a nice boss and one that you can enjoy. if you don't have a job, are you in college? What's that like? I hope you've taken a trip abroad sometime. Seen the world and all, maybe get a scholarship. I'm not going to say I don't care if you haven't, because I do, but… I'm sorry, if you didn't manage to get it all.

I trust that you're doing okay no matter how things turned out, though. I believe in you.

Do you still play DnD? As of now, I've only had one session with everyone, but it was so fun. If you do, do you have any new characters, or is Rue still alive? Speaking of characters, I hope you haven't abandoned all your (our?) characters. They might not be real people, but they still have a special place in my heart. If you don't… maybe find a way to get back into it! of course, only if you want to, but DnD should be harmless. Fun, too. God knows adults, which I guess you (I? this is really getting confusing) are, need to relax.

How are your relationships and friendships? Snagged a partner yet? or was I right about it and you've decided to stay single for the time being and focus on living? What about your friends? I, uh, hope you're still friends with our primary school friends (HA-ers) and Alexa's friends and the Double Edged/Edgelord/Elemental fan studio. And I hope any new friends you might've made are great, too.

I miss them, honestly. The HA-ers. I don't think leaving the group was very good for our friendship. I've just been… talking to them less, you know? but I want to talk to them, but I don't know what to talk about, you know? Being in the group felt more like I wasn't bothering them and was allowed to scream into the void as much as I liked.

I really, really, miss them.

If you haven't talked to them in a while, do it. For me, please. I don't think I'd rest easy if I found out we never got a proper goodbye before… whatever happens.
You know, I think proper goodbyes might be a part of why I miss them all so much. Our parents say we're too stuck on it and haven't moved on and stuff, maybe that's true, but I don't think it's something worth being concerned about. Quarantine was so sudden, and we never saw each other again after because I went to a different school and I was all alone when no one else here and there were, and it was just. Hard, I guess.

I hope you're still in contact with everyone at , too.

Back to everything else. How's things with Mum and Dad? Please be on good terms. If not, at least go… call, or text, them or something. Please.

What about your fandoms? Do you still do that kind of thing? You should - it's such a blissful escape from reality. So much serotonin to be had! Haha. What are your fandoms now, if you do still do that kind of thing after all? I'm going to drop some of my current ones right now, so maybe you can rewatch them or something. You know, for the nostalgia!

Here's a list:
- The Owl House, which should be pretty readily available. Most of these Disney shows are. Hope it's finished and complete by now.
- Amphibia. If it makes you cry again, that's on you.
- The incomplete/abandoned/dead shows that I am desperately wishing have got some kind of continuation or a still living fandom by… whatever year or time it is you're reading this: Rise of the TMNT, Randy Cunningham
- Ducktales. Very feel-good. Hopefully you find it just as three dimensional as I do!
- Hilda (also known as Hildafolk, Hilda the Series, or Hilda: Netflix) It's so charming! Also a feel good show just like the Ducks(TM). Hopefully the third season is out by then?
- Empires and the Life series. How are their creators doing now? Say thanks to your first ever Dnd inspiration once in a while. Also, go indulge in your daily “cringe”
- read some fics, watch some animatics, listen to some musicals (Ride the Cyclone! Hadestown! Wicked! Hamilton! Dear Evan Hansen! Be More Chill! Heathers! Literally everything!).

Do it for me (and you. remember the blr culture? being a child once in a while is good for your sanity).

Anyway, this has gotten a lot longer than I expected, so… let's wrap this up, shall we? I'm mostly just hoping you're doing well and in good condition. if you're not, then you will, someday. I promise. I believe in you, in us. We can get through whatever you're going through in the future.

♖ A Study of the Firsts and the Beamset Peoples
510 words

Written by Lief Turnwind, professor at the Sunstream University of Light.

Our great kingdom of Seasand shares a border with the Ringfolk, and lends the seas of the island of Beamset to Tidemoor. At first glance, it may seem like that is all we have in common - sharing the Beamset territory with one another.

However, after extensive research, I have found evidence that suggests otherwise. According to these studies, the people of Seasand, the Ring, and Tidemoor may not be three completely separate lineages and races, but instead more distantly connected through our ancestors, the original settlers of Beamset, than we thought.

The original settlers of Beamset have been depicted in various forms over the ages. From the old pre-Seasand clay pots, to ancient Ringfolk paintings, to the historic epics from the Wandermoons.

They have also been regarded as the Lost People, due to their strange disappearance from the historical archives of Beamset. Some even call them myths, made-up tales to provide a comfort from the unknown of our past.

The one consistency between these old forms and remnants are their portrayals: more specifically, their portrayals as hornless, clawless, two eared beings. In fact, the first settlers seemed more of an exotically blank slate, of sorts. Devoid of many common features, only having the hands of the Ringfolk, the feet of the Dunesoaked, and the faces of the Wandermoons.

And thus, it would be a possible for us to say that perhaps, all three of our Beamset peoples evolved from these first settlers. Yes, it may at first seem like a stretch, but if we take into account the gradual changes of the First’s depictions based on where in Beamset they lived, and the possible evolutionary changes our environments may have inflicted, it can be concluded that the First were in fact also our ancestors, and not simply the long disappeared people of myths.

With this, I finish my study into the ancestry and connections between the Firsts and our modern day citizens of the three Beamset Kingdoms.

Perhaps these recently uncovered connections will help drive us to better relations, both individually and between our respective kingdoms. With the recently rising international tensions between Beamset and our neighbouring continents, a collective cause or shred of information to band together under would do us much good.

Thank you for reading. Sources will be cited below, along with additional ones cited on the back of the paper.

May the sun light your path, and may the moon guide your way, and may nature protect you from harm.

Sources:
- Dunesoaked Anatomy by Bree Nonimous, 1298
- A History of Beamset by C. Biran, 1356
- The Firsts, by Laks Summers, 1344
- Pre-Historic Artifacts from the Seasand National Museum
- The First Remains, by Laks Summers, 1347
- Living as a Wandermoon, by C. Biran, 1343
- Ringfolk Anatomy by Bree Nonimous, 1301
- The Different Races of Beamset by Bree Nonimous, 1290
- Standard History by Lady Sun the 43rd, 1231

Note: this is meant to be a try at expanding on the wordlbuilding on one of my worldbuilding projects while giving it an immersive feel by writing as an in-universe character!

♖ The Reign of Sovereign Thyme
465 words

Sovereign Thyme was not a well-liked sovereign. Often, he was crass, and rude towards his offenders. Hostile too, in the way that many leaders are.

But there was one thing about him that no one could deny: he was efficient. Ruthlessly so. Under his rule, the Guardian Ring flourished and thrived more than ever. And abundance of imported resources came to them, as well as more and more acts to help grow their people. Relations between them and their surrounding kingdoms of Tidemoor and Seasand improved, and the people of Beamset were more connected than ever.

With the help of the cunning of Lady Sun the 58th and the strategy of Queen-Captain Amaris, the continent and waters of Beamset seemed to be in better condition that ever.

But then, with the innovations that simply kept appearing, came sailors from the neighbouring continents. These sailors shouted and screamed, warning of war between two lands that Beamset was caught between, and for them to quickly prepare themselves. Sovereign Thyme immediately began drafting his plans, but Lady Sun and Queen-Captain Amaris waved this away, for surely nothing bad could happen to their wonderful kingdoms during such a time of peace and prosperity?

They were wrong.

War descended. Not on them, not on Beamset, but on the countries on the landmass just north of them. Not that that mattered much, when Beamset was caught in the crossfire anyway, and people began dying. All at once, it seemed like the time of peace had ended.

Tidemoorian ships were attacked and plundered for their things. Bandits, bounty hunters, scoundrels, and other began roaming Seasand, stealing weapons and machinery from the most technologically advanced kingdom in the surrounding areas. The Ringfolk and their natural resources that came from the forest they lived in was attacked. Wood chopped down, plants uprooted, fauna kidnapped and taken.

Things got worse. messages threatening war began appearing, forcing them to choose sides. Each of the neighbouring landmasses wanted the support of Beamset. The three rulers were at a loss. All their plans had failed, and they had nothing left to give, but none of them wanted to force their nations into war.

So it was that during a fateful meeting the three rulers met in private, to discuss their situation. A decision was achieved, and with Sovereign Thyme's quick actions in negotiating even more meetings with the leaders of the lands at war, the three were able to reach diplomacy with them. The war would be allowed to continue, and Beamset would provide a percentage of their resources to all the countries at war, but only if they were no longer harmed.

With this, Beamset became a neutral territory. No other landmass was to attack it.
And it was all thanks to the efficiency of Sovereign Thyme.

♖ The Twelve and the Thirteen
1,197 words

The twelve empires of the pre-Rapture age were well known. As standard subjects of history, you'd be hard pressed to find a person who hadn't heard of them. Twelve empires, each led by their own ruler, who rose and fell and were legends, etched in time and history.

But history is written by the victors and observers, and history can change. What happened in your history books may not be what happened in reality, and Pixl Riffs, head archeologist of the Archeologists' Guild and unofficial leader of the Ancient Capital, knew that far too well.

The many depictions of the Twelve vary, but most retain a base that cannot be denied. And after thorough inspection, he couldn't help but doubt some things, for as much as he knew the original Twelve, he too knew the current thirteen. Each bore far too much resemblance too the rulers of old, a resemblance that he couldn't deny was uncanny.

In the back of Pix's mind, a voice whispered. In the many tales of the Twelve, from the cultural stories to the history books, a common theme remained: reincarnation. The voice whispered of possibilities. What if…? Maybe, just maybe, the current rulers could be..?
No. He pushed the voice away.

He was Pixl Riffs, head archeologist of the Guild and unofficial leader of the Ancient Capital. He needed to be rational about this. The first thing to search for was always the more reasonable explanations, and only once those were disproved could you move on to the wilder ones. There was no way his friends (which, Pix realised, was what he considered them. Strangely enough, it didn't feel too strange to be friends with royalty and people of importance. Almost like it was natural. Like home) were reincarnations of the original Twelve.

Perhaps they'd simply been named after them. It wasn't that strange to be named after the religious and folk hero, the Elvenking Scott Smajor of Rivendell. What was strange, though was the fact that Scott of Chromia had been named after him at all. As far as Pix knew (and Pix knew a lot), Scott was not of elven descent at all, and had no relations to elves or the snowy mountains.

What was also strange was that the kid protector of Sanctuary was named after the power hungry king of Mythland, that the dainty Princess Gem was named after the studious Wizard of the Crystal Cliffs, and that mayor of Critter City, famously distrusting of water, was named after the Ocean Queen.

Alright, so maybe it wasn't just a coincidence. Most of Pix's friends had no reason to have the same name as some of the Twelve, and that wasn't even taking into account Pix himself. Or the current Thirteen who were not named after the original Twelve. From Great Witch Shelby, to Oli the Bard, the mysterious False Symmetry of Cogsmeade, Pirate Joe, and the Sheriff (who's name Pix didn't even know. Not that anyone did, he suspected).

Of course, there was some possibility that Joe was short for something - like Joey.

The name theory was looking even less appealing, despite all the evidence stacked to it being a coincidence.

There was also how similar to the depictions of the rulers of old that some of the Thirteen looked.

Joe's dirty blond hair and green eyes, only missing the signature features of a parrot avian. Princess Katherine's pale face, dark hair, and tall stature, despite the fact that Lady Katherine had never been shown as particularly muscled. Joel's green streak. Actually, Pix decided; maybe it was best to just not touch on Joel at all. That man (god) was an enigma, when it came to this. Scott's bright hair that he'd never seen on anyone else before.

Okay, these connections were starting to sound more and more unlikely and strange as it went on.

Pix sighed.

Maybe the reincarnation theory was true, then. With how his mind kept wandering back to their similarities despite it all, it certainly made it possible.

After all, Shelby had managed to pull off an ancient gnome spell. Ancient spells from the gnomes, long extinct, were famous for being undoable, for whatever reason. King fWhip and Princess Gem's strangely sibling like banter was another. And then there was the strange… belonging that Pix knew all of them had felt, back there at the campfire all those years ago.

And yet, he couldn't at all imagine the sorcerer Lord Sausage's bloody sacrifices when he looked at the peaceful protector of Sanctuary. Neither could he imagine the regal Lady Katherine or Elvenking Scott when looking at Glimmer Grove's monster hunting princess and the colourful collector of Chromia. Lady Katherine was known for being a pacifist and neutral, aside from her head collecting. Elvenking Scott was a hero who died a tragic death, and devout to the Stag God, Aeor.

They were all so different, and yet so similar.

That wasn't even touching upon False Symmetry and Oli, the ever present mysteries in their lives. Oli, Pix supposed, could perhaps be a reincarnation of the secret thirteenth emperor of the age before the Rapture - the demon, Xornoth. For one, both had come from other worlds, and had come secretly and suddenly, leaving behind a small trail of ominous omens wherever they went (though Oli's had stopped being ominous once they found out what he was really like and what his deal was).

For another, both were also distinctly unlike the other emperors, the other Players. They were different, in a way. Xornoth's demonic appearance was the only reported one of the sort during then, and something about Oli the Bard had always felt distinctly inhuman. Pix had a feeling Oli was hiding more than they knew, and that included when he had really joined.

But False Symmetry was the true enigma between them. She was unknown, and bore no similarities to the last remaining rulers: the Codfather and the Farmer Queen, who had notable connections to Saint Pearl, the goddess and saint worshipped in both Sanctuary, the old people of the Ancient Capital, and other areas. The Codfather, commonly portrayed as a foolhardy and foolish demigod of the sea, also bore no similarities with her.

Then there was the Sheriff. He lived in the Mesa and was the leader of Tumble Town, and was the force of the Law in the whole of the continent. Pix supposed he could be connected to the Mad King Joel, ruler of Mezalea, but the two shared no similarities either, besides the penchant for being teased as small, and where their empires were located. Not quite as big a mystery as False (he's find out the Sheriff's name somehow. He had to have birth records, right?), but still an unknown factor.

Speaking of a person named Joel… Pix's mind ground to a halt. Joel. The god.
He was the answer to this. To all his questions. He had to be.

Pix grabbed his rockets and donned his elytra.

If Joel, the god of the skies who'd been here since the beginning of days and would be until the end, didn't know anything, then no one would.
He shot off.

♖ SWCverse Meta
230 words (part 1)

Lax starts out on the Mythology Mountain in November, XX20. Donning a toga and sandals, they trek up. They don't have a purpose or a drive, not yet, and for most of the time they just wander around, searching for things to do and feeling quite lost. It's their first time, and they're just starting out. But Mythology Mountain is a great place, full of nymphs and spirits and all things mystic, and by the time the session ends they've decided they want to come back.

They don't have a full identity, not yet, but it's growing more and more, and they find themself excited to be there next time.

.

Their homeworld, Sci-Fi, is the next one they choose for March, XX21. A colony, not far from their home planet, under the rule of the Overseers. There, they start finding themself, learning more things. Things like them being a squid alien creature, and who they are and what they like writing and what they do. The colony's plans go well, and they have a lot of fun, and for the first time, they win something in the Wriitng Competition. They make a lot of friends there, too.

Then, the session is over, and it's time to board their space pod and travel back to their planet. But they leave satisfied, and happy, and with a fully realised sense of self.

♖ SWCverse Meta
517 words (part 2)

After the Sci-Fi colony comes Mythology yet again. The Gorgon’s Gardens. They enter the session of July XX21 on the tail end of their hype from March, and comfort washes over them at the sigh of familiar faces. But learning to use legs instead of tentacles is hard, and the panic increases when stone begins creeping up their body, gradually freezing them in place every time their writing speed slows.

They’ve just come to be. They don’t want it to go like this.

In the end, Lax stills becomes fully frozen. Just one more statue in a garden full of them, waiting to be woken.

.

They wake up below Adventure Mountain, clay dust in their lungs and fear in their eyes as they shake off the stone. It’s November XX21, and they’re back. For once, their leaders are
unfamiliar, and climbing to the top of the mountain seems harder than ever. But they persist, not letting it bother them.
This persistence is what gains them a few new friends this time around, and though one had to say goodbye, Lax would always remember.

After the hard work of climbing up, they decide that the memories of fun and writing and the story they crafted together made it worth it.

.

A new year comes far too soon. They board their space pod, once again alongside their closest friend, and go to the Choosing for March, XX22. It’s hard, picking just three and trying not to feel too attached to the familiarity of previous leaders, but they manage, and it all works out. Joining the Fan-Fiction Forest, they’re no longer nervous. The last session had taught them as much not to be.

So they become part of the Adventurers, and witness the brewing tensions between the three factions, and are there when they are united the forest goes back to normal once more. They let go of their distrust and watch as the others do to, and that’s what fixes it.

When they go, they make sure to keep a little talisman to remember the session by.

.

When the time comes for them to join July XX22, they practically jump onto their space pod to go. The Choosing comes and three cabins call out to them, like the call of a siren from beneath the waves.

They end up in the Fairy Tales Trails, and this time it turns into a tangle of lies and betrayal. For as much as their little fairy tale obsessed heart screams with joy, the story must go on, and go on it does.
They devote themself to Queen Gerda of the snow and ice. A court magician, the Queen’s allies called them. The second Sea Witch, said their own people.

The war boils on. They sign up to the Rebellion as a spy, and so every night, they reported back to their Queen. And when the time comes for the final battle and they see their friend amongst the rebels, all they can say is a whispered apology as they protect Queen Gerda.

Then, it’s time to go once again.

♖ SWCverse Meta
137 words (part 3)

Time passes fast, and soon enough yet another session is coming. Lax hesitates. November, XX22. Shakily, they let out a laugh with a hint of a sigh. Their seventh session… they’ve come further than they ever thought they would. Hoisting their things, they slide into their space pod, looking forward to the new beginnings that were going to come from this.

For once, they weren’t world hopping too far. To another nearby planet, where the Sci-Fi Simulation experiment would take place, a project that would be a foray into the known yet unknown of the Metaverse.

They grin, stepping out as the pod came to a halt. The choosing hadn’t been hard this time, and for good reason. The Metaverse was something they would never pass up.

Then, they push open the doors and begin the session.

♖ Character Studies

Lumen
111 words

The thing about Lumen is that he’s self-righteous. He doesn’t think about what others might deserve or need - no, it doesn’t even cross his mind. What he thinks about is what he thinks he deserves, and ultimately that’s what leads to his downfall.
He thought he deserved to be the official Lightbringer in training, and maybe he did. But he doesn’t anymore, not now when he let the bitterness at not becoming it consume him so much that he destroyed himself trying to get the title back.

In the end, Lumen is self centered and self-righteous, and the lack of regard for others causes him to forget what really matters.

Goldilocks
437 words

Goldilocks refuses to be put in a box. She doesn’t want to, doesn’t need to, doesn’t care to. Boxes are for putting things in, for organising and labeling objects. But she’s a human, a person, and she doesn’t think people don’t belong in boxes, because people are complex, and stuffing complex things in boxes forces them to repress what else might be a part of them.

So she resists. The box everyone wants to put her in is labeled “proper lady”, and Goldie doesn’t mind that, not really. She doesn’t mind wearing dresses and doing her hair and having tea parties and wearing dainty gloves and ribbons. She likes it, even.

What she doesn’t like is not being allowed to run wild in the fields too when she wants to. To be barred from being free and enjoying life and connecting with nature the way the animals do, to not be allowed to swing on trees and laugh when the soft rain drips on her cheeks.

That is when her mother, her father, and all their associates try to stuff her in a different box, labeled “wild unruly child”. Goldilocks doesn’t like the wild child box either, because she’s not one. Or at least, it’s not all that she is. She’s not just an uncontrollable little girl who lies down in the earth and gazes dreamily at the sky as dirt gets on her dress, or a scampering creature of the forest.

Goldie is more than that, and that’s why she doesn’t lime being put in boxes. Because she’s not just the wild, free child, and she’s not just the poised, proper lady. She’s both more than and not all that each of those boxes entail, and to her, that is the point.

She doesn’t like having to only do the things a proper lady should do, or having to conform to their low standards of what a wild child is. She likes both, and she is both but not all.

She wants to do her hair and have tea parties and wear pretty dresses, but she also wants to get dirt and hoist her skirts and wade through the ocean and laugh at the wind.

The point of putting people boxes, Goldie thinks, is to make someone just one thing. But she isn’t, and she never will, because Goldilocks is both and wants to be both, and is more and and wants to be more.

So she throws the boxes away and defies it. Goldie is her own person, not an object to be out in a box, and she won’t ever let anyone forget it.

Rue
278 words

While Rue does have an inferiority complex regarding their height and status and a gnome, they strangely don’t have a superiority complex, despite how things may seem. They may shout and yell and threaten, but they do not consider, do not believe that they are and don’t want to be superior to others.

What they really want is to be on equal footing, to be respected and and regarded as an equal regardless of their skills or gnomish features. They feel inferior due to everyone quite literally seeming to look down on them, and so they try to bring others down to their level or to push everyone away and prove themselves as an equal.

Rue doesn’t want people to not take them seriously just because of how small they are, or how they aren’t of the more revered races like elves or humans or orcs. They don’t want people to ignore them or consider them the middle ground, the last remaining choice, the one who’s not as good as others may be but also not the worst.

But they don’t want people to bend over backwards for them, either. They’re not interested in being regarded as superior, as the one in charge, and the best choice. They don’t believe themselves to be.

So Rue never says they are. For all their yelling, and for all their shouting and threats of violence and over-exaggeration, they never ever utter a word about being superior.
All they want is to be considered an individual with as equal footing as anyone else, no better and no less, and Rue doesn’t believe pretending to be superior is the way to do that.

Cyan/Koir
274 words

For all that Cyan is brash, he means well. He acts spontaneously, and jumps to conclusions, and he doesn’t think before he acts. In the end, that’s what gets him killed. But for all of it, he means well, because the thing about Cyan is that despite everything that says to the contrary, he means well.

He’s not rude, or aggressive, but he is a little much, for some people. Sometimes, he seems to be in his own world, a delusion that the world revolves around him. The thing is, however, Cyan is not delusional at all. He’s seen things - bad things, the ones that scar you for life - happen to people he loves and cares about, and that paranoia leads to his complexities.

Because of it, he loves and he cares and fe feels things so much more deeply, and while it’s not something he would tell anyone, Cyan would do anything to protect those he holds dear. His fears fill his mind and tell him, whisper to him, that the job to protect and defend is all on him. Just him.

Whoever it is, whether it’s his family, his mother, or his crewmates and captain, he takes the job and does anything he can to keep them safe. Cyan lives and loves and acts on his instincts. A small suspicion can turn into a real threat fast. So the voice keeps whispering, a fire that keeps him burning and keeps his strength alive.

So he takes it upon himself, burden after burden, but he doesn’t mind, because Cyan Koir would die for the ones he loves, and die he does.

Cee
269 words

Cee didn't like seeing the future. She didn't hate it, of course, but it was… hard, sometimes. To see all the outcomes of all the decisions one could make in a short flash of visions, and to see that in every single one of them, the person you were trying to save would die.
She learnt that trying to save someone from death was a useless endeavour far too early.

She was… nine, maybe ten at the time, and had been watching her neighbour mow their lawn from the window. Then, all of a sudden, scenes flew by her mind's eye of a car crashing and swerving, crushing her poor neighbour. Of course, younger Cee had panicked. By then, she'd learnt that her glimpses were of the future and what could come true, and to predict a death… nine year old Cee had had a lot of trouble accepting that.

But then she'd tried to intervene, to change the course and get a better outcome. It was useless. The visions came back, worse than ever, and each showed all the possible scenarios she could have made by trying to save her neighbour. Each ended in death. Younger Cee had tried anyway, and it still did.

She never bothered with death predictions anymore.

Because Cee didn't always like seeing the future. It was hard, a lot of the time, and knowing that someone would die but being unable to do anything to prevent them from meeting their fate no matter what was worse, so she tried to focus on the good sides of it. It was all Cee could do.

♖ Hilda’s Birthdays, Over the Years
556 words

At first’s Hilda’s family was just a little family of two. Her, her mother. They spent all their time together, and birthdays were a quiet and private little affair between a mother and a daughter, having the time of their lives. Gifts were mostly simple, then, because you could only find so much out there in the wilderness.

Not long after, their family of two became three, with the addition of Twig. The birthday nights at the table became even mote exciting, always ending in laughter and giggles and Hilda being tucked away in bed with her best friend and pet, after having tired herself out.

Several birthdays passed, and slowly, the Wood Man began to integrate himself into their lives too. He wasn’t a very big addition, and didn’t seem to do or add much to Hilda’s birthday, but he always appeared, if only for a few minutes. Sometimes, he even brought gifts, curiosities from his own collection. Silently dropping it off, Hilda learned to appreciate him in her own way.

As Hilda got older, the threats and eviction notices from the elves started coming in. Occasionally, they would even crash her birthdays, making what was supposed to be a great night into a lousy one. These ended in her Mum and Twig cleaning up the house or turning in early, and were some of the worst birthdays of Hilda’s life (never mind that once in a while, she’d find a tiny birthday card from one of the mysterious elves).

After that came the move to Trolberg, and that was when the private affairs of her birthday changed the most. With the addition of David, Frida, and the Raven, those days became the best days of her life. Of course, Trolberg did birthdays a little differently, but they managed to do things both their way and the Trolberg way nonetheless.

Her first birthdays in Trolberg were full of sparkling light shows from the Raven, an abundance of gifts from Frida and David (books on Frida’s end, art supplies on David’s, and adventuring equipment on both’s), and several lengthy birthday cards and contracts and meticulously planned activities from Alfur.

Her later birthdays became even more curious, to the point some of the people in the neighbourhood raised eyebrows. Tontu was an even more welcome addition to her little mismatched family, and on her first birthday with him, he’d brought her many things she’d loved but lost from the Nowhere Space.

Hilda’s first birthday after the Mountain King incident, however, was a whole other thing entirely. There were now so many people who wanted to visit her that they’d had to move any birthday events anyone had planned entirely, settling for a picnic instead.

From Tildy, to Frida (and sometimes her parents), to David and sometimes his, the Raven, the Wood Man, the Bellkeeper, Alfur, a few other elves, Tontu, and even Kaisa, along with nightly visits from Trylla and Baba and sneaky gifts and letters from Kert and the Yule Lads.

Of course, that didn’t mean that Hilda forgot the simple old days back when it was just her, her Mum, and Twig. She’d never forget those.

So on occasion, Hilda would sit down with her family to have a game of dragon panic on her birthday, enjoying the night and the quiet world around them.

♖ How the Chains Began Breaking
547 words

The City has been under the chain of the Cosmic Rulers for long time. That is, long in the eyes of some. In others, it has only been a while, and yet, under these circumstances, a while may still be long enough. Some, like the beings of void and the fae, remember life before the Cosmics decided to take over. But the Rulers are strong, and remembering your former life doesn't mean you can muster up the strength to rebel and go back to it.

.

Deimos is one such person. They remember the Before, the before when the sky wasn't cloudy and life still thrived that wasn't bent to the Cosmic will of the Rulers. And yet at times, the Before seemed like nothing more than a distant dream, unreachable no matter how hard they strained. At times, they couldn't imagine being called by their name, by anything other than ‘Director’, which all those of his kind had been rechristened after the Cosmics took over. At times, they couldn't remember the last time they heard a laugh or saw a smile or just seen anyone or anything truly living.

Deimos (for that was their name, their true name, the name from the Before that had been their identity before they were robbed of it) sighed, fingering the loose cloak pinned around their shoulders, always too long no matter how high they floated off the ground. The pin that held it together seemed to taunt them. Their fingers itched to tear it off, but… no. They wouldn't. It wasn't something worth risking their and the people they oversaw's lives over. Nothing was.

They sighed. Void knows when this would all end. At this point, it seemed like it never would.

.

Argloth knew of the Before. He'd never experienced it, hadn't been there when it happened. He'd been born just after the Cosmics places their hold over them all, and had never known anything other than the dull monotony of the City, with its permanent grey clouds and the strangely dull trees that seemed to grasp at the sky and sun that they would never reach. But while he hadn't been there during the Before, he'd heard of it. Tales from the other dwarves, whispered between bunks when they took their rest. Murmured songs from the sirens and harpies as they worked, and from books some of the gnomes had snuck in.

Argloth knew of the Before, and it sounded so, so wonderful. So wonderful, that he had to wonder: why? Why were the Cosmics making them do all this? Force them to work day and night, restless, tearing all the energy and life from everything around. Something about the Before drew ideas to him. Dangerous ideas, rebellious ones, but ideas nonetheless,

And maybe, he thought, one day those ideas could become reality, and the City would have laughter and life once more, just like in the Before.

.

In the castle at the edge of the City, a boy slumped in his seat. He was barely a boy, anymore. By now, he'd been the vessel and eyes and ears of the Cosmics for centuries, longer than any human was meant to live. A boy in appearance only, he whispered pleas under his breath.

When would this be over?

♖ Soulbound
269 words

Mordred and Rin's souls had been bound together, that much was clear. Neither were particularly sure how it happened, from a botched summoning ritual or Rin signing the wrong contract. But they were bonded, and that's what mattered, because neither could break apart and Mordred could not get out. They'd tried, and each time they did, it hurt more.

First was when they tried to conduct a reverse ritual, to shove Mordred back to the Underworld and expel him. That had been like a stinging thorn in both their sides, constantly pulling yet never able to get out. The next was when they tried to undo the possession. That had worked, for a bit, but Mordred could still feel a piece of him inside Rin, and the next moment there was a hot, searing pain and he had been pulled back by some strange force. The third thing they tried was breaking the contract. Out of all of their attempts, this had hurt the worst.

It was like there had been a sword, or a scissor, some blade forcibly hacking and cutting at the thing that held them together, and it was as if they were bound not by soul, but also by flesh, and by the gates of the Underworld did it hurt.
Mordred had recoiled, after that, hiding in the depths of Rin's mindscape and nursing his wounds, and ominous aura emitting from his corner. And then, RIn was left alone with Quill, and Tomi, and Yua, and for the first time in days it was quiet.

Then, he sobbed, and fell into his cousin's arms.

♖ let history repeat not
666 words

Once, a long, long time ago,
Twelve empires stood strong and mighty
Their rulers raised on pedestals,
Their lands filled with riches aplenty

Between them there were squabbles,
Wars and battles were fought
As is the nature of Emperors,
They nurture as much as destruction they wrought

For they lived for their empires,
And they died for and with too
Each and every single one of them,
To the end of their era now due

The first to fall was the noble Elvenking,
He with a winter's touch
Proudly he felled and fell with the demon
Who threatened to crush them all in their clutch

Then came the end of the Farmer Queen,
A paragon of victory, battle, and life
She withered away for to her kingdom was she tied
What remained was a goddess, her blessings so rife

Next the Lost Emperor, in a maddened frenzy,
Crazed and struck with loss
Recklessly he fell like the fool that he was,
His fate becoming a mere coin toss

The Ocean Queen's death was one of tragedy,
Strong but at mercy of the waves
As the waters disappeared, the ocean floor bare
She followed, her writings the only thing saved

The Mad King, who crumbled long, long after,
The Ocean's partner in all
Losing his love and losing his kingdom,
He grieved til he could no more, come his time to fall

And now the ones who hadn't perished still died in a way,
They ran and hid and escaped
From what we may never know,
But for their cowardice their empires have paid

The Lady, of the spring and Overgrown,
Struck with a sudden fear
Away she ran from fae in need
Journeying far and near

Then there was the Copper King,
Disappeared long before
Unable to bear the responsibilites he had,
An exile, banished, and more

A lonely gnome, the last of her kind,
Leaving the new home she had made
Running from the Rapture in search of lost kin,
The Undergrove's spirits began to fade

There were heroes too, who sacrificed all,
Offering a guiding hand
Their people they saved, and away those people sailed,
The Rapture long left in search of new homeland

As the blood sheep rained from the skies,
The Lord of Mythland stood at the altar
A ritual he conducted, banishing the creatures,
Himself blasted to bits soon after

The wise wizard of the Cliffs, whose staff shone like a gem
She gathered the dragons and on them she rode
In her grand tower a legacy she left,
To her people, knowledge and magic she bestowed

And lastly the two men behind it all
Behind the Rapture, behind the end
A decision they made, a mistake it became
Their world the gods condemned

The Codfather and the Count, both fools seeking power,
Like cod and salmon bonded
The end of a feud, the end of the world,
With a flick of a switch it started

So listen dear child, and repeat history not,
Hold no grudge too long
Be loyal, be brave, be dependable
Learn to right your wrong

For when the twelve Emperors rose, they fell harder yet,
Their downfall of folly, actions without thought
Our ancestors fled, starting here anew,
Away from the Rapture their decisions had brought

And learn from them, child, as these lands are worth keeping,
Tread carefully and hold all life sacred
Be strong and be mighty, though war matters not,
And do your role in nature

Hold not our new Emperors on a pedestal,
And know when the time is right
Watch, and listen, and let not their squabbles distract you
Never stray far from the light

For as the prophecies say, the Twelve were bonded,
In soul and in heart, forever
They told of new Emperors, reminiscent of the firsts,
Incarnated once more together

But if the Rapture should once again come,
Remember and listen to my words
Sleep tight and sleep well, my child
So as our saviour you may serve

Author's Note: while not necessarily a fanfic in a general sense, this nursery rhyme/lullaby piece is about the events in Season 1 of the SMP storyline, meant to be something an in-universe character from Season 2 (which implied to be set about a thousand years after the first season) would sing to their child as the child slept. Also an example of how the truth of history can be warped over time, as seen by the inaccuracies in the piece compared to the actual events and context.

♖ 16th of November - Main Cabin Daily
865 words

At the beginning, the world is a true grey, simply a lighter black or a gloomy white. It paints its surroundings in gloom, forcing the dull monotony of itself onto everything and everyone.

The only thing that is not grey is the grand castle raised on the hill in the centre of the city, its walls a gleaming salmon pink, fleshy and wrong. It beckons, seemingly the only splash of colour in the City, commanding an aura of forced happiness and control. It's confident, and bold, and towers high beyond the ramshackle houses around it. But the pink flakes in places where the eye doesn't usually wander, revealing a dull, musty brown that is not unlike a putrid, polluted river.

The shadows only serve to accentuate the gloom. Citizens walk with blackness under their eyes and large shadows under their steps, ever present and dragging them down. Their clothes, meanwhile, are whites, fleshy pinks, deep reds and the dry, tired brown of leather. The red is like a mark on them, a marker and a sign, like the dull rouge of of dried blood. These people are alive, but just barely.

Then in a factory just outside the entrance to the mines, stands Argloth, the first relief in the patronising warmth of everything else. The beads interwoven in his hair are a cool blue, desaturated but still fresh in the eyes of everything else. A statement, a proclamation of his individuality. His gaze and the way he sees the world around him is painted in shades of blue too, a soft sea green that looks at the world around him and sees, questions on the tip of his tongue.

'Why must things be the way they are?' thought in a muddled misty blue, and self-assuredness thought in the same colour.

Argloth stops, eyeing the broken, red ringed eyes of the factory workers, his fellow miners, and the others outside the factory, endlessly carrying out their assigned jobs. He knows he'll get in trouble for it, but like always, curiosity and a silent ‘don’t we all deserve better than this?' nags at his mind. In the end, he still does anyway, and the Director comes and shoves him back to work.

The Director's entrance is all swirling whites and golds and magentas. They enter the room in a whirl of teleportation magic, swift and silent but not at all subtle. Their long white cloak that trails no matter how high they float off the ground is a pure white, the embroidery and burdening jewellery that adorns them a sheen of gold and yellow. Their body and face is a dark void of magenta and black, white eyes and mouth set against it all. Not a speck of fleshy pink or grey or off-white on them, and while at first they seem to fit in with the warmth, their presence and entrance is bright, demanding attention.

They're important, and the story wants you to know it.

As the Director threatens Argloth with words of an angry but controlled red, blistering and restrained, Argloth replies slowly and meekly, a soft blue wave lapping at the shore, until they float away and the world returns to normal once more.

Their interactions continue like this, a confusing mix of blues and purples and reds. The Director stops acting harsh as Argloth continues to show him mercy and kindness and strive to do his best, and in turn each becomes more comfortable with the other, meeting up with him and sharing their thoughts, worries, dreams. Subtly, their conversations shift from a burgundy to a violet, edging closer to Argloth's signature blue but never quite stepping on it.

When the time comes and he finally asks the question, the Director's world stills in shades of purple.
“Why do we have to live like this?” Argloth murmurs in a deep, oceanic blue. It strikes and cuts deep, and at long last the Director finally breaks, and tells him. They begin with the story of the green Before, of the life and nature and bright skies, and how it became what it is today, a barren grey land with no dead but no one truly living, either.

Tears spill as the Director casts their final confession, wishing for a better world and cursing the Cosmics. Those tears are a clear blue, the first ever seen on the Director's face. Argloth takes their hands, and their faces glow a pleased blue the same colour as cornflowers and bluebells. And he swears, and promises.

“We can do something,” says Argloth, a strong red flame in his words. For once, the crimson is good, and flickers with determination. “We can make this right. You and me, both. No one in the City deserves to be a slave to the Cosmics for nothing in return.”
And the Director looks up, and there's something new in their expression. The deepest azure depths of the void shine from within them, resolute.
“We can do something,” says Argloth again. “We can take back the City.”

And the Director nods, and their world is bathed in the blues and greens of life and freedom and the luck on their side.

♖ 17th of November - Main Cabin Daily
220 words

Bread: Roti cane/cane bread, specifically the Indonesian variants (originally derived from Indian flatbreads)
Acrostic Poem - I may or may not be biased when it comes to acrostics ;)

Early mornings and late night dinners,
Any time, always a good food to fill your inners
The buttery taste melting on your tongue,
Toppings adding more flavours yet to come
Here and there the aroma creeps,
Ever pleasing to the nose, soul and inner deeps
Runny curry dripping into the cracks,
Or sugar creeping into gaps,
Torn carefully by hands so eager,
Its crispy top layer and softer inside just deeper

Cooked with experience and passion,
A delectable food and culinary expression
Never bad for cooks to put on their resumé,
Eat and go try some roti cané

Please, I beg for you to try this dish,
Let the taste settle in your tongue however you may wish
End it and think for a minute and then release

At last, tell me what you think of it, please
So before you do, remember my words

Easily recall it as you wait for the cooks's stirs
In the day and both the night,
Food like this is just so very right
You'll never feel more satisfied,
Of the expectations this bread will have defied
Under which this poem will too beam with pride
'Cause of how it convinced you to try,
A food with taste, smell, and texture so fulfilling,

-Not to force you to try if you're not willing

♖ 3rd Weekly
1,974 words in total

♖ Part 1
403 words in total

Methods: Eisenhower's Matrix, Time Blocking

Time Blocking:
367 words

Friday, 25th of November:
06:45 - 17:00 || School, going home, etc
17:00 - 17:30 || Evening/afternoon/'just got home' routine
17:30 - 18:00 || Preparing for the next day
18:00 - 18:30 || Homework
18:30 - 19:00 || Watching videos
19:00 - 19:30 || Dinner
19:30 - 20:15 || Work on weekly
20:15 - 20:45 || Scavenger hunt set up (write fake article)
20:45 - 21:00 || Read Journey to the west
21:00 - 21:15 || Night routine, getting ready for bed

Saturday, 26th of November (cabin wars not accounted for):
06:45 - 12:15 || School
12:15 - 13:00 || Lunch
13:00 - 14:00 || Cabin Wars
14:00 - 14:30 || Read a book
14:30 - 15:00 || Homework
15:00 - 15:45 || D&D character/NPC making
15:45 - 16:15 || Social/Familial interaction break
16:15 - 17:00 || Chores
17:00 - 17:30 || Work on weekly
17:00 - 19:00 || Cabin Wars
19:00 - 19:50 || Dinner (with family)
19:50 - 20:00 || Dinner and dishes related chores
20:00 - 20:15 || Night routine, getting ready for bed
20:15 - 22:15 || Movie night

Sunday:
05:00 - 06:30 || Morning routine (shower, getting dressed, breakfast)
06:30 - 07:30 || Chores
07:30 - 08:00 || Work on daily
08:00 - 08:45 || D&D character/NPC making
08:45 - 09:00 || Draft thank you note
09:00 - 09:30 || Get ready/prepare for wall climbing class
09:30 - 09:45 || Study for end of semester exams
10:00 - 13:00 || Rock climbing
13:00 - 13:15 || Getting home
13:15 - 13:30 || Shower
13:30 - 14:15 || Lunch
14:15 - 14:50 || Study for semester exams
14:50 - 15:00 || Prepare for D&D session
15:00 - 17:15 || D&D session!
17:15 - 18:00 || Work on weekly
18:00 - 18:45 || Encode and finish Part 1, Section 1 of scavenger hunt
18:45 - 19:00 || Study for exams
19:00 - 19:45 || Dinner
19:45 - 20:00 || Chores
20:00 - 20:15 || Sketch mini comics
20:15 - 20:45 || Freewrite
20:45 - 21:00 || Prepare for Monday
21:00 - 21:15 || Read Journey to the West
21:15 - 21:30 || Night routine, getting ready for bed

Matrix:
36 words

♖ Part 2
408 words in total

Faction: Brainstorming

Prompts Added to (replies):

Original comment
“Add on! Make the main character of the story a distinct contrast to the randomised month/colour - for example, by making their personality or vibe seem like the direct opposite. So a winter themed world would have a sunny and summer-esque main character, a main character who either acts very ‘yellow’ or dresses like it would have a world full of the colour purple, and so on! But make to use your chosen adjective to tie in the character and world, so that they're still connected in some way,”
89 words

Original comment
“Add on: Now, choose your least favourite vegetable and somehow incorporate it into your protagonist as their worst flaws! You can search for the symbolism of the vegetable (if it has one), or you can go off of what you don't like about it, or do anything, really - just make sure that it's present in your protagonist as a flaw or weakness. Now do it the other way around! Choose your least favourite plant and your favourite vegetable, and turn their meanings into the main antagonist of your story,”
89 words

Original comment
“Add on! Write about how everything else would react if the disappeared animal was suddenly dropped into the world you made that didn't have it! How would it compete with the new animal you made to fill its gaps? Would it compete at all, or would it try to coexist? How does it change the world around them, from food chains to its habitat? How would it have to adapt to the strange new world around it? Would it evolve, or would it simply not survive? Explore these questions as you write,”
92 words

Prompt Given (original comment):
138 words

“Imagine you're just a normal D&D character. Maybe you're a gnomish bard, or a dwarven paladin, or a tiefling rogue. For ages now, you've felt like you and the world around you were controlled by something. Some entity, puppeteering you and your party like marionettes. You've always brushed it off, but when one day you're hit by a spell, reality seems to break and you see several larger than life beings crowded around you and your party, with dice and sheets in their hand. Strangely enough, the rest of your party and the world around you begins to look like game pieces on a table. Now, you (the author!) need to roll a d20 to determine your character's reaction to this! The higher the number, the more extreme your character's reaction is. Once you do that, start writing!”

♖ Part 3
1163 words in total

Techniques Checklist:
422 words
- Sleep
Compared to the amount of sleep other campers get, I think I'm actually pretty good in terms of the amount of sleep I get. But it's still less than the recommended 7-10 hours, so…there's definitely some stuff to improve. Also, I'm near constantly sleepy and tired, so I guess that's more proof that I need more sleep.

- Exercise
I've been wanting to be able to get a daily exercise routine down for ages, and at some point I was able to maintain one for about a month, but all my attempts so far have kind of been in vain and I just haven't found the right time slot for it? I do have weekly wall/rock climbing classes every sunday and PE on thursdays, but I could probably still do with some more.

- Healthy eating
Usually I'm actually a decently healthy eater, and I make sure to always keep a balanced diet. However… lately I've been eating a little too many sweets and not eating enough fruits, which I think might be a factor in my constant sleepiness.

- Turn electronics off
I'm willing to admit that I might be spending a little too much time online, whether it be on scratch or other websites, and honestly it is a little draining. My eyes get tired and my eyesight is already horrible so… I really shouldn't make it any worse. Plus, it would really help me unwind and get rid of my many distractions.

- Listen to music
One of my favourite past times is listening to music, mostly while doing other things like chores! This will definitely be one of the easier methods for me, since there's nothing I like better than just playing some music and belting my heart out whenever I feel the urge. Unfortunately I cannot listen to music while doing important things at all because of how in tune and enveloped in the song/piece I get, which distracts me form my task at hand. My current goal for this is to find some balance.

- Reading
I used to have a lot of time to read but these days (especially ever since offline school started for me) I never seem to have enough time. There's just so many passion projects and school assignments and other stuff rattling around my brain that I want to do, and I keep putting off reading. Also, getting the english books I want is a little hard here and reading online copies is draining and tiring. I do miss reading a lot, though.

Why Self-Care is Important, and Why You Should Do it:
741 words

A lot of the time, we feel tired. Being tired is a normal thing, of course - everyone feels it, and everyone knows what it feels like. But sometimes, extended periods of feeling tired can lead to other things. This fatigue is a sign that you're not getting as much rest and relaxation (be it physically or otherwise) as you should, which itself is not good for your mental health. Because while determination is a good thing, pushing yourself despite your body's protests is not, especially when you're not even sure why your body is protesting. This kind of determination is what leads to your tiredness, becoming a never ending feedback loop/cycle that keeps you exhausted at all times of day.

Speaking as someone who is almost always sleepy: that is not a good thing.

Of course, there are ways to circumvent this problem! These methods are called self-care. And they're important, not just because they stop you from feeling fatigued, but because they also play a role in your overall health, both mental and physical. They keep you energised, better your mood, and more! Some of these methods include sleeping enough, exercising, eating healthily, turning off your electronics, reading, and even something as simple as listening to music.

A good amount of sleep might seem like too obvious of an answer, but it really is extremely helpful and beneficial. In fact, you could even call it the key to all this! If you have an important event or activity, try getting at least seven to eight hours of sleep during the night before. The next morning, you'll probably feel much better after having slept well. It's also been proved that sleeping properly can improve your focus and memory, therefore making you more productive. Also, sleep deprivation is just not fun in general.

Now, exercising and eating healthily are two very intertwined methods, because they both deal a great amount with your physical health. Your bodily functions depend a lot on having a stable, healthy body, and exercising and/or eating healthier will help a lot with that. By doing one or both, you decrease the risk of more dangerous effects to your body (which includes your brain and mental abilities/functions), and you give yourself a lot more energy for the rest of the day.

Meanwhile, reading and listening to music are nearly direct opposites to exercise and healthy eating, but that doesn't mean they're any less effective in decreasing your tiredness. These focus a lot on the mental side of self care, where you relax and let your mind and emotions catch a break as you do things that bring you joy! Reading books is a great way to give yourself a little reprieve from the real world and dive into the excitement of another one, though to some, music can do this too. To the people who don't really enjoy listening to music as a form of escapism, it's also a nice tool for unwinding subconsciously as background noise while you do other things. Music is very calming.

And last but not least, we have turning our electronics off. I know that now, our devices are almost like our extra limbs, and we are bound to them both emotionally and mentally. The internet is actually a good form of escapism, but it can also be draining. Sometimes, you'll no doubt find it incredibly tiring to scroll through it all and check everything and keep up with the online world. It's also detrimental to your health (especially your eyes) when you look at your screens too long, and as such, turning them off for a little while can be a massively helpful change. Free of distractions and worries, it might let you relax a little easier, and for some maybe help you find a way to enjoy the smaller things in life more.

So, the next time you feel as it you don't have any energy left to do anything, try allotting some time for yourself and try these methods. There are other ways of course, and not everything works for everyone. This is why you should feel free to experiment! Research, mix and match, and fidn out what works for you. The important thing is to just do it, and you'll find yourself feeling much better after.
Because remember to take care of yourself is important, and who knows? It might even make you more productive afterwards.

♖ 18th of November - Main Cabin Daily
306 words (without quotes)

Piece Critiqued: @Willow_wonderful's ‘The Thrill of Losing’

So, starting off, I really like your writing style! Your vocabulary is amazing, and the words you chose feel really pronounced and the vibe you weaved for your poem is just perfect. Vibes are different for everyone, of course, but to me this kind of just felt so sorrowful and pleading and sort of similar to a self-reflection of sorts.

On some parts, though, the phrasing didn’t really flow well with the rest of the story, or the word you used was just a little… off, and felt a little unnecessary. For example, I think the word “abominable” in “Is no more than an abominable failure in disguise” could have been removed. I don’t think it’d impact the overall emphasis much, and instead it would give the line a bit more finality.

There were also parts where I was confused on whether or not the poem was supposed to rhyme, and what the rhyming structure/pattern was supposed to be. I’m not really a poet and I don’t really write poems all that much, though, so I’m not sure if this is even a valid criticism considering I don’t know much about Poetry, haha!

The other things I liked about your piece are the metaphors you used - like the Pool of Hindsight, the eternally crippling freight, the cozy little nooks symbolising our safe places - everything! Your wordplay doesn’t cease to impress me. The use of ‘we’ instead of ‘I’ because of how widely felt the feeling is is a rather clever choice, too.

Also, I caught that little Anne of Green Gables reference (before reading your notes)! “In the depths of despair” is a very appropriate quote to use. I haven’t yet finished reading it, but it’s been fun so far, and I’ve seen a bunch of other Anne of Green Gables related content beforehand.

Thanks for letting me critique your writing! I’m sorry if I was too harsh

♖ 19th of November - Main Cabin Daily
843 words

Item: Vampire that represents the concept of panic

The day our town found a sheep lying dead in its pen with most of its blood sucked out and the rest dripping onto the ground, everyone brushed it off as some freaky coincidence. We went about our daily lives, simply making sure to lock our doors and animal pens a little more and keeping an eye out for weird rats. Most likely, it was a punishment from our patron gods, or just some strange creature that managed to crawl into our territory.

But then another sheep turned up shrivelled, bloodless, dead, and more followed soon after. Rumours began flying about, whispered between neighbours in hushed voices. Surely the farming deities couldn't be this upset with us? We hadn't done anything different. It was still the same amount of offerings being placed every morning - sometimes even more. So did we have an infestation of something? No one could seem to agree on a cause.

As the incidents continued, more and more people began becoming increasingly paranoid. Quiet rumours became loud proclamations and warnings against what could be happening. By now, it was commonplace for all sheep to be led to a barn and locked securely inside, where nothing could get them. Our people were becoming afraid. The offerings to our deities became larger, with more things being sacrificed each day. Less and less of our produce went towards us and sales in other towns and more for our patrons.

Then, the culprit moved on to chickens, and then to cows. The offerings weren't helping, and so the leaders of our town took action. They began setting up traps close to the paddocks, and patrolling the cobbled streets and farmland. When that didn't help, they issued a decree that all farm animals must be kept inside a barn during the night.

Without access to farm animals, our pets and companions were next. Pale, lifeless, all the blood sucked out of their body, lying limp in front of our homes. Dogs, cats, parrots, horses. By now, the town was in a full blown panic. People began asking, “When will it get tired of our animals? how long until we're next?”
The traps became increasingly deadly, the patrols and curfews more strict. Padlock sales went through the roof, and windows and doors were barricaded. As time went on, our resources drained ever so slowly, and our once prosperous town suffered.

One day, the blacksmith claimed he saw a person doing the deed. A vampire, a horrible creature of undeath.

The next night, the town razed everything to the ground. With garlic hung in front of their windows and grains of rice scattered on their doorsteps, they marched out with flaming torches in hand and wooden swords and pitchforks in the other, holy water and holy symbols and bags of rice fixed to their clothing. They roamed the streets and torched anything that the sliver of shadow that they chased came into. The moment the vampire flew into a building to avoid them, that building was set immediately on fire.

But the vampire was just one person, no matter how many abilities they had on hand, and our town was many. Chasing them into the farmlands and fields of crops with angry cries driven by fear and the thudding of their hearts that told them to fight or fly, we shot the vampire down. Silence followed. Then, a huge sigh of relief, as the morning sun began to rise.

But when we turned back around, our town was nearly ashes. Buildings and crop fields, burning in our haste. The taste of ashes on our tongue and the feeling that we did wrong, somehow. And then we saw the body of our vampire, and we realised: we did do wrong. For the vampire who we faced was not a deformed monster, or a scheming demon. It was a little girl, deathly thin with bloodshot eyes and a flushed face and burns on her body from our attacks, dressed in rags.

Weakly, the little vampire raised her head. “I'm so sorry…” she forced out, trembling. “It was so cold and- and - they looked so good, and I just didn't want to be hungry anymore,”
We could only look on as tears flowed from her eyes and the sun's rays hit her skin. Then, she screamed in pain, and was still.
Later, the elders carried her back, and gave her a proper burial.

Since that day, our town has been forced to suffer for our mistakes. We've never forgotten how bad those times were, how for all our efforts, we were mistaken and had ended up killing a small child. Now, our town has sworn an oath to never again let our panic get the better of us.
For panic forces us to act, and it makes all thoughts and awareness cease. For when unchecked, panic feeds into fear, and fear can lead to tragedy, just like we did that day. For panic was our bane, and it too will be the bane of others who let it run free.

♖ 22nd of November - Main Cabin Daily
314 words

Continuation of my old Different Fairy Tales series

It wasn't long until their Pa had found a new wife, a new Ma for them. Or maybe it had been long - Hansel wasn't sure. Time always seemed to be passing faster these days. The point was, it was no longer just the three of them. Instead of him, Pa, and Grettie, they now had their new Ma too, though he didn't know if he liked calling her that. They would never have a new Ma, a new adult to take the place of the one who'd cared for them so deeply until she passed.

But their new Ma was nice, most of the time. She took them out on walks, taught Hansel how to cook better, and gave him things to do and told him how to better take care of Gretel. She didn't like it when he dawdled, though. Then, she got angry, and when she was angry she shouted and yelled, and that always made his heart feel like lead. Gretel was always quiet, then. Sitting alone in a corner and trying to cover up her glassy eyes.

Pa had never seen her get angry, not yet, but Hansel was sure he'd make her stop once he did.

Hansel sighed, dropping the bundle of firewood from the Hoods inside their fireplace. These days, Gretel spent her time out with Mrs. Hood's daughter, Red (Mrs. Hood had said to just call her Carmine, but Pa said good boys call people their proper names). And when she wasn't, she was out picking apples or watching Pa chop wood.

He was happy for Gretel, really. Her being out meant she'd be less likely to catch their new Ma's wrath, and Hansel would give everything so that she wouldn't ever have to face it alone. In the meantime, all he could do was focus on the good things their new Ma did for them.