12 is the number of observation because 2 can use 1 like a spyglass.

What I'm going to do/have done! (Section)

Getting deeper into the outline. I'm roughly on chapter 6-7 right now.

I'm not sure if I'll keep the idea (And I'll almost definitely write it differently) but here's a interaction I made while thinking about what two characters would say

W: “Luckily you have the perfect teacher to tell you everything you need to know. Let’s start from the very beginning. The conception of the universe is believed to have come from-”

M: “Excuse me but…how long will this take?”

W: “I suppose an hour or so-”

M: “Exposition dumps are bad for my health.”

W: “...What?”

M: “They stress me out. And when I’m stressed out I start to…think of other things that make me even more stressed and-”

W: “It's only an hour!”

M shrugs. W groans.

W: “Fine…then I’ll teach you all you need to know about our world…in…reasonably divided chunks.”

I hope you enjoyed that not sneak peak. Hopefully when I get closer to the finished product I'll be able to share bigger parts of the story. (Not the actual names btw)

Things I wrote just for you (And the others here as well!...Section.)

(319 word-limit)

The soft humming that flowed through the kingdom's streets was gentle yet quick, like a chirp of a bird with the softness of a well-made pillow.

Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

Elsewhere, in a universe of considerable distance away a man in his mid-thirties tossed around the idea of early retirement. And like most tossed things, it fell and broke apart. The economy the man lived in simply did not support the average individual retiring at an age in which they can walk about without regrets or sore backs.

However, in another building, a woman in her early thirties shaved off her hairy hairs. Outside of living in the same street the woman and the man had no connection with each other. Nor would they have.

In-

Oh, it's you. Apologies for my late introduction. I'm the narrator. But that doesn't quite capture who I am, does it? No, it does not. So let me make this clear, you are in good hands. Unlike those OTHER narrators, I won't waste time with childish jokes or poorly rhymed songs or anything else of that sort.

No, I am a narrator of a much different type and...if I'm allowed to be so crass, of a much higher quality.

With me, you shall get what is sorely lacking in this fiction. Proper description, eloquent explanations of a building's structure, and an excellent feel for the atmosphere of any given location.

Yes yes, since I am undoubtedly the best you'll have I suppose it is only fair that I'm given a proper name.

You may call me, Goatrrator. It might be hard for a person like you to understand but it's in fact what you'd call a pun. As in Goat, Greatest of all time meshed with the word narrator. As I've made quite clear, I will be your best.

Now, may we continue with our sightseeing?

Yes, we may.

Let me just check the word limit so-

(Anuther one)

The evolution of weaponry? Why giving that history is my specialty, so let's begin with the basics.

First comes rock, hard-hitting but with no range unless you want to throw it away.

Then comes the spear, pointy and long like my schlong. Great melee, great for throwing, and great for everything. Then comes this motherfucker

They call it the sword, I call it a useless piece of shit. Less range than a spear, bad to throw, and just used to look cool by smelly weebs.

Then we got a gun, it goes bang bang. Instant kill, long-range hits, easy to hold and reload. Also known as the pussy's weapon.

Instead, why not try the spear one more time? It takes skill yet is practical and fun to kill your enemies with.

So I'll reiterate one more time.

Rock is for hardheads.

Sword is for losers.

Gun is for bitches.

And Spear is the BEEESSTTT!

The final section! (Section.)

I spy with my little eye that this is the chapter's end!