Daily 09/07/23!
written by the fabulous Scarlet
only 200 words because I slept well last night :D

Abruptly, I woke under a stunning blossom tree. A tiny blossom landed on my nose, and a distinctive yet subtle smell came from it. I looked up at the blossom tree and sighed, a sigh that you make when you feel content. Then, I slowly sat up and looked around me. I found myself perching on a valley full of fresh-cut grass, with flowers blooming everywhere. The sky was as blue as the wings of an Obrina Olivewing butterfly - no cloud was in sight. This was perfect. However, it all felt like a dream, it was too good to be true. I brushed that feeling off and headed off to explore the wonderful place. I pranced through the valley and let the soft grass tickle my feet. My heart was fluttering with every step I took, and I grinned like an 1d1ot.
I kept wandering and wandering until I saw something in the distance. It was a black spot? Just a small, pitch-black spot. For some reason, it made me shudder. My mind warned me to go no further, but my curiosity propelled me onwards. Before I could make another move, the black spot started to swallow up all the beauty of the valley. One by one, it devoured the grass, the flowers, the towering trees - everything that was on its way. As the black spot was heading towards me, the clear sky became a dark colour. It kept going and going, it looked like it was heading toward the blossom tree. I was so frightened, but I couldn't let it destroy the most beautiful thing in the valley. I ran up to it and…

Azure:
Azure can stay up for hours on end, without feeling the slightest bit tired in the morning. We all know we wish we could be like her. However, if she doesn’t sleep for days on end, she starts to feel a /little/ fatigued. This miraculous power comes from the blue fire that burns in her. So when her powers are bound, she instantly begins to feel more fatigued because of all the hours of sleep she missed. Losing her powers for some amount of time allowed her to realize the importance of sleep. We’re all proud of you Azure!


The man who I never gave a name to:
The man who I never gave a name to used to sleep well, until tragedy struck. Now he is lucky to get a scarce 3-4 hours of sleep every night. He spends the time reflecting on his beloved’s death. He didn’t care about sleep, and certainly won’t start too. Until he met a funny girl at the coffee shop. Then his sleep slowly became better and better, but at times he was so ridden with guilt at loving another girl that it dipped back to the scarce hours. Eventually, he let go of his grief and started sleeping at least 8-9 hours every night! Good job, the man who I never gave a name to!


Zara:
Now, I know what you’re thinking. /I’m/ Zara, how can I be a character? Well, I actually use myself as a character in my stories quite commonly. So this is Zara’s (the character) sleep schedule!
Zara doesn’t get a lot of time to sleep in an apocalypse, being called on missions in the middle of the night. However, in the long swim/run/hike she has learnt how to sleepwalk with her eyes open! For example, for any people who play Genshin, the character Layla has a second self, her sleeping self. It is a self that comes out when Layla is sleeping, which can operate as good (maybe even better) than Layla’s normal self. Zara is like that. She is awake while getting rest!

July 9th Daily
Creeke gets a normal amount, about 7-8 hours. Ryl typically does the same, unless he spent all night in the workshop, in which case he can be found passed out with his head on his desk. Other than that, though, he's is cheerful in the morning (mainly because he's the last person to wake up). Creeke doesn't like to get up early, and is generally pretty quiet in the morning (give her 30 minutes and a cup of coffee and she's good as new). Four used to have a good amount, but after Six d1es, she contracts insomnia along with mild anxiety. Dian, Zephyr and Panther have nightmares almost every night. Rather than going to bed, Zephyr lays there until his eyes close against his will. He normally wakes up in a cold sweat about an hour or two before daybreak and will just go outside and wait for the sunrise. Dian will actually sleep hoping that it will be peaceful, but again, most times it isn't. When the nightmares /do/ come, though, he gets up and writes in his journal and just…never goes back to bed. If and when Panther has nightmares, he typically sleeps through them and wakes up breathing hard. Despite this, he makes an effort to be good-natured and lighthearted when he sees his friends. On the rare occasions when the nightmares do wake him up, he just does his best to ignore them and go back to sleep. Leo runs solely on coffee (two things of creamer and a teaspoon of sugar does the trick). To be truthful, it's debatable whether she sleeps at all - she's always the first person awake and the last person to ‘go to bed.’ And then there's Daya. Daya has an unpredictable sleep schedule. One night, she could sleep until 10am, another she could wake up at 4 in the morning. She never wakes up before Leo, though. Which further proves my point about Leo not sleeping. Normally, the wake-up order is Leo, Zephyr, Dian, Four, Panther, Creeke, and Ryl (you can insert Daya anywhere between Leo and Ryl at any given time). Sometimes Leo hears Zephyr going outside and decides to join him, which leads to some enlightening conversations for both. They're very good friends. On the other end of the spectrum, Ryl's natural tardiness leads to him missing a lot of conversations. Of course, he'll come in at noon and butt into somebody's discussion and make a complete fool of himself, but everyone else has pretty much come to expect it.

Weekly 1/4 1953 words :0
Hasn't been beta read. Sorry for any grammatical inaccuracies or misplaced rhetorics or out of pocket word choices heh-

1)
The image was this one!

The octopus is sitting on the kitchen sink. A euphoric gleam dances across his face, as he waves his arm, disregarding the seaweed tangled throughout his fins. The octopus itself is a soft rose colour, darker shades embellishing its base, coupled with shadows extended into the rippling waves of the water. The water is left a subdued hue due to the octopus’s arrival. The octopus is also relatively small: just a few inches vertical, but several inches horizontal, justifying the subsequent lurching the octopus is currently making as it swerves its arms around the rim of the sink, unamused. It can be also inferred the octopus is a gentleman, as it prides itself with the clothing of a tophat, so he probably speaks in a posh accent. Or, he’s British, which means that the author is also very similar to this octopus, because the author would probably find herself in the same position at some day in the near future.

The octopus’s surroundings are nonchalant and relatively ordinary, realistic decor, so the scenario in which the scene is set is pretty laid back, and uninteresting- which is why the octopus’s appearance is a prevailing shock. The sink is silver, with a lighter tint to the north east of the image, which suggests the occurrence of a background lightbulb- concluding in the inference that the image was taken in the night, due to the light usage. There is also a blue figurine of an unidentifiable object directly beside the sink, haphazardly misplaced. Lastly, there’s a lemon squeezer leaning against the wall.

However, the octopus is a sketched out illusion, which could lead to the inference that the octopus’s entire existence is the trickery of an illusion in the reader’s mind; this suggestion is left ambiguous. Literally, it could never be known if the octopus is an illusion, but the octopus nonetheless is very handsome, and polite. All top-hats always allude to politeness and etiquette, anyway.

2)
Holy heck I can write fanfiction. I’m writing a Fundy and salmon moment the opportunity is THERE.

Fundy was always determined. His motives were consistently oriented around the fruits of being appreciated by an authority, as family and connections with those who had motivations oriented with family were the most appreciable individuals he ever knew. Being alongside them was cathartic, leaving him jubilant, earnest to embody the characteristics of a fish, swimming gleefully within the tide of the waters.

Yet, circumstances swayed him. His mood altered with words, like when trash scatters the ocean to deluge every cranny, polluting the waters into a catastrophic orientation of water, sea life, and everything else. Words were that everything. Words could pollute the waters even if it was only a little, because Fundy was someone who heard everything.

Actions too. His family orientated mind constantly prevailed him to love and to cherish things that reminded him of the family he had always been entitled to have. Smoke was his father. The water was his mother.

Salmon was the worst. The belittling reminder that he lost someone who could’ve strangled him with her love, strangling his breathing into something more steady- from being unsteady, and toyed-… but this never happened. The worst of all was when Tubbo had decided the local dish of New L’Manberg to be the fish that mattered to him the most, due to the commonality of sightings near the docks, and the river.

Yet, nobody ever listened.

Tubbo raised his fist, gleefully preparing to toast his drink. A radiant smile glowed on his scarred- yet hopeful- expression. He grinned as he surveyed the ones around him, ultimately leading to his courage to speak up.

“My people!” he laughed, eyes sparkling with every word, inspirited with a youthful passion as he relished and spoke with dexterity to his people, “I hearsay call a toast! For another successful day of building the New L’Manberg walls, I call a toast!”

Ranboo- the newest member- nudged him in the arm and raised an eyebrow at his attitude of formality (after having scoffed between his sentences), but Tubbo only scratched his neck, quickly glanced at the newcomer, and then gleamed at his people again. Ranboo sighed to himself, and proceeded to daydream about the days where his presence could be worthwhile.

Yet, Fundy frowned and whimpered as he glanced before him. He had been tentative since the moment they all arrived, to the moment they all decided to tuck in, as the meal which laughed at his face in recurring taunt jeering at his motives- expression- and tone.

He winced, and clutched his stomach. Then, he let loose.

“Tubbo, man!” he groaned, gritting his teeth, “W-We’re eating this? Oh- come on! You know how I feel about salmon…”

He hiccupped, glancing at between both the meal and the recipients with energy, before leaning over- energy dissipating by the time. Tubbo, however, lacked concern, leading to his expression of surprise.

“What’s wrong with that? It’s the national dish of L’Manberg, Fundy…” Tubbo frowned, raising an eyebrow at Fundy’s resistance, cluelessly trying to decipher the expression of compounded dread which spiralled in his eyes. However, he only shrugged, hat falling over his face as he sulked in his chair, much to Tubbo’s disappointment.

It was as if he was a fish in an endless water, struggling to find his path, bombarded by litter which crawled at his sides and prevailed into the centre ever so slowly.

Subsequently, Ranboo was petting his back; Fundy made a grunt of disapproval, but said nothing.

Adjacent to the pair who had slowly begun to bond over the days in which Ranboo had been the newest citizen, Quackity raised a brow to their motives. Fundy’s sullen nature was almost foreign to his understanding of Fundy’s personality, so it was not only intriguing that he seemed so dejected, but also surprising that he neglected the dish that the country he was born into had always praised so highly. This wasn’t like Fundy at all.

“Hey… d’ya have a fish allergy?” Quackity pondered, the dance of strategy playing within his eyes. Yet, when his request was left fruitless, Tubbo sighed and stared at him at once, explosive resistance evident from his breathing.

“No, he doesn’t… I don’t know what’s up with him!” he sulked, despondently, “It’s not fish- it’s salmon! He’s always resisting it and I don’t get it…”

Ranboo proceeded to pet Tubbo on the back, uneasily. In response, Tubbo huffed, shaking his head, and glanced at the members of the table with a subdued excitement, but excitement nonetheless. It was as if the waters that Fundy was struggling to swim in were caving over him to arrest him into place, too.

3)
Decided to do the little women prompt. austen was a language inspiration… and this spoils the end of LW. also, i can barely remember the plot, so this might be ooc to amy and laurie tbf-

It was a frivolous task to upkeep a sense of calmness and austerity considering Laurie’s attitude with their new baby. Laurie’s playfulness and energy when handling the child was almost stellar to Amy’s nerves, causing her to consistently fret and lift the child into her own arms, trusting herself more than others. It was dire, but necessary.

On a winter's day, the three of them found themselves out in the chilly field. Laurie- being proper in composition and astute in his movements- took the child for himself, while Amy followed behind. Her motives were fixed on the notion of a pleasant day, and no thought brung Amy greater joy than the thought of the happiness of her family.

While Laurie’s grip was fixed on their child, and the two wandered into the open grass, Amy leant over into the nearby lake to rectify her reflection, as she knew she had a speck of dirt on her face from having injured herself in her retreat from the carriage they arrived in, and she wanted to ensure this was truly gone.

She leant into the water. Within seconds, it became obvious to her that she was proper, and her face was unaffected, with her contusions presumably the product of overreacting.

Suddenly, Laurie cried out from afar. His voice was light, and his enthusiasm simmered through every word. He exclaimed that he had seen a squirrel, and was eager to spectate as it ran around the empty fields. The shock of hearing his high voice- however- coupled with the knowledge of Laurie having been confiding with their child- caused Amy to fall into a fit of worryful contusions, shuddering from her position at once.

The turquoise ring around her finger slipped. It escaped through her hand- and had it not been for a vacant palm noticing this at once- it would’ve slipped into the water below. Amy immediately was drawing her palm to her chest.

All her life, the ring was one of her fondest friends. To lose an object piquing such ecstasy would be miserable, and her actions allowed her retreat to occur in an instant, despondent of err. Terrified, Amy glanced at her husband and their child at once.

Yet, she was met with a peaceful sight. The two of them seemingly enthralled by the appearance of the squirrel, and Amy- once obstinate and headstrong- mellowed into warmth upon seeing the two of their smiles. Her reaction lacked force: it was instinct.

The ring on her finger, therefore, was perfused with her selfishness; her instincts were now always out of love, cherishing, and care for others. This was how she wished to be.

4)
Part one all over again dear God

The appeasing smile plastered into the animal couldn’t stray from the dread which filled the observer the moment he took eyes on the baffling sight.

Ruby tentacles slithered out of the kitchen sink, prancing about the rim. These lurched out of the being, clutching onto everything in its periphery and then retreating into its shell, constantly frenetic and uncontrolled. It was as if the being in itself was a lily of the valley, arms hanging in a constant droop like the petals when they prevail downwards and cannot be saved. However, a single arm was raised, waving.

The soft, jubilant grin proved no distraction, as the observer- stricken by fear- backed away into the patient room. That smile was comical, lacklustre of jeering or gloats- but pure, unafflicted joy danced around its face. It was because of excitement that the being was so enthralled, therefore laughing to itself softly as it relished in its new surroundings.

It was a simple being, with its clothing only a single tophat. Therefore, this created a noble air, reforming the animal’s mien to be more respectable, and pretentious. From this, the deduction could easily be understood that it was entitled to own a place in the kitchen sink, and its appearance and expression made sure of it. The observer’s inference had no opportunity to stray.

In quick succession, seemingly after noticing the observer’s flinch, the lily of the valley inched closer, that smile of purity unchanged. Then, it leant out an adjacent tentacle for the satisfaction of the viewer, calmly offering its greeting which only expressed the undertone of peace, and chill behaviour. This, compromised with his outfit and smile, was too precious to disregard, leading the observer to lend over his hand at once.

In an instant, the observer questioned the being, asking it what it was meant to be. It smiled, assuredly, and addressed that detail without any seconds lost: the animal in his sink was an octopus.

His breathing pattern severed. Pure, undisputed horror flushed onto the observer’s face, as he leant against the back of his kitchen wall at once and glared at the octopus that stared him directly in the eyes, and- due to panic- he grabbed his phone, car keys, and raced out of the house.

Immediately, the observer drove away to the nearest psychiatrist within minutes to verify whether he needed an urgent schizophrenia diagnosis. If it came back negative, he was certain he would cry himself to sleep.

Weekly #1 - 1721 words

(Enoki Tales) Part 1 (306 words):
It was dawn. Too early for any people to be up, but animals and plants are already wide awake. In a thick forest of lofty birch trees, the early sun lightly shone across the almost endless area of pure nature. The birch forest was mostly quiet, aside from the breeze softly whooshing past and the occasional animal running around the grass. It was calm. It was serene. It was enchanting, just like a forest in those fairy tales.
In one special birch tree, however, something even more magical was taking place in that moment. The tree that looked like warm black paint gently stroked against a tall, white canvas. A huge canvas, actually – a canvas that was so towering that it seemed like there was limitless length. The huge and delightful tree was being shone brighter upon than others by the early sun. At first glance, nothing may seem too out of the ordinary, but if you look closer, at the bottom of the tree, something absolutely wonderful is happening.
At the very bottom of the tree, a grown, adult amanita muscaria mushroom is leaning against the trunk, with a thick red novel in his hands. Facing the amanita muscaria, two small, young, sibling enoki mushrooms are sitting peacefully on a small tree root that just slightly juts out of the grassy ground. The novel that the large mushroom is holding is called Enoki Tales, and the enoki mushrooms are coming to listen to the read-aloud.
The adult mushroom opened the heavy, dusty book, to the marked page. The book was already about halfway done! This early morning was another session of read-aloud for the young enoki mushrooms. Waiting for the other enoki mushrooms to arrive, the amanita muscaria waited and smiled at the early arrivers, the regular enoki mushroom siblings that are always very early.

Part 2 Food: 火锅 (Huo guo – Hot Pot), a Chinese dish that is normally eaten together with family (519 words):
Looking out the window, I see the airport just to our left. The plane turns, and finally, the wheels hit the ground. Thank goodness. I was going to throw up if I was in the air for even one more minute.
As the airplane starts to taxi on the runway, I can’t help but feel excited. I was away at college for a whole four years, never have which I was able to reconnect with my family in-person, only in extra-laggy meetings that just didn’t have the connection I needed. With my bachelor's degree earned, I was ready to go and get a job, but I have some long-overdue business to do first. I need to see my family for the first time in years.
The plane arrives at the gate, and I immediately stand up, just to realize that I’m in the back of the plane. I sit down, waiting for the chance to leave the plane. Then I see it – a gap! I snatch the opportunity, and slowly, inch by inch, get off.
I take a look at the airport I used to visit every single time I fly somewhere. Ah, I forgot how it looked, the memories rushing by. I go to baggage claim, and after a long, and I mean /long/ time of waiting, I find my luggage. Remembering to tell my parents that I’m back, I scramble through my pocket to find my phone and quickly send a message.
Bai: 我回来了! (/I’m back!/)
I start to leave to go home when my mom texts me back.
Li Na: 好! 当你离开来到 688 Brook Street. (/Okay! When you leave, go to 688 Brook Street/.)
688 Brook Street? I forgot what that was. It was a jewelry store, right? Why would she want me to go there? Or maybe it had changed, though I may be completely wrong. I don’t know. Just doing what she says, I got a taxi to that location.
When the taxi driver says I have arrived, I quickly pay for the ride, thank him, and see where my mom had brought me to. I was standing in front of an old-looking Chinese restaurant. Now I remember. It’s that restaurant my mom loves going to. I forgot – it is dinnertime over here, and the timezone difference is messing with my head.
I enter the building, and I find my family. My mother, my father, and even my older brother, who’s already working, are there. They had seen my enter and are waving me over to a table with火锅, hot pot, and many other dishes. My favorite. Even though it is nowhere near dinner at college, I was already feeling hungry just looking at it.
“火锅啊? 太好吃了!” I say, which means /‘Hot pot, huh? It’s so delicious!’/
“快来吃饭吧！我们一直在等你!” My dad replies jokingly, meaning /‘Come and eat! We’ve been waiting for you!’/
And we finally eat. What a great reunion.

Part 3 (Lord of the Flies – Conch) (484 words):
After the conch was abandoned, nothing really changed right then. The conch was thrown into the vast expanse of the wide sea, to be not seen again. Everything was fine for a week. A month. But then, one day, something happened that made them question if leaving the conch was a good idea.
“Ralph broke his leg! We are no doctors. What should we do?” Jack asked some of the boys.
The boys all pondered, and without Jack knowing, some others that he didn’t want eavesdropping also heard and started to think.
“Make him stay in the same place and give him food so his leg can heal.” Bill suggested.
“Wrap his leg in toilet paper?” Simon thought aloud right after him.
“Oh, I got it!” Walter replied, immediately after Simon. “I saw that a cast is basically a thick wrap. Let’s put stuff on his leg!”
“You guys! What are you doing in here?” Jack shouted, finally noticing them.
The three boys raised their arms in defense. “We, we’re just trying to help y’all, okay?”
“I have told you enough already. We make the decisions, you don’t. We can talk, and /you don’t/!” Jack angrily replied.
“Ok, don’t thank us later for helping to heal Ralph.” Bill said as he left.
“You’re all unfair. We can’t even talk to you about any type of decisions.” Simon left behind Bill.
“The conch system is way better, you know. When will you ever learn.” Walter then left as well.
Jack saw the three leave. Sighing, he mutters, “When will /you/ ever learn.”
Turning back to the original boys Jack was talking to, he asked them again.
“Now, how will we help with Ralph’s broken leg?” Jack asked, turning back to group of boys he was originally talking to.
“Make him stay in one place?” The first said, copying Bill.
“Wrap it with toilet paper…?” Suggested the second, also copying the three that just left.
“Put stuff on his leg?” The third, not knowing what else to say, copied Walter. The three of them had no idea, so all of them copied off of the three.
Jack thought for a minute. “Maybe…”
Meanwhile, the Walter stood on top of a table in an area with most of the boys.
“Boys!” He shouted. “I have a question. How happy were you guys when we used the conch?”
They all shouted that they were happy.
“Another question. How about now? Are you happy still?” Walter asked again.
Many said yes, mostly the ones who were able to talk as freely as they like. However, a few, those like Bill, Simon, and Walter, didn’t reply.
“Well, I got this!” Walter showed a conch, the same one that they used to use.
Jack, apparently, snuck into the area. “Is that… the conch?”
“Well, yes, it is. And I’m going to recreate the rule of the conch.” Walter replied.
“You, you can’t do that!” Jack replied.
Smirking, Walter replied. “I can, and I will.”

(Enoki Tales) Part 4 (412 words)
In a birch tree forest, dawn had past, and the early morning sunrise is shining upon everything in sight. The birch trees looked like they were painted with gentle strokes of dark paint on an off-white canvas. A canvas that is so tall, that it seemed like it could touch the sky. The sun softly shines upon those trees, illuminating them for the world to see.
The light breeze gently blows around the forest, making an ever so subtle sound. The grass on the floor sways around, and the leaves in the tall trees crash into each other, making the perfect background noise in the early morning. The light wind, mixed with the bright sunrise, makes the forest enchanting. It was like a magical forest in those fairy tales.
The forest itself, not the trees, but animals, are also lit by the early morning sun. Some animals are already on the move – some are running around bushes, and some are walking on the forest floor. It was lively. Some of the animals were already grazing in the thick grass, and some others were talking with their group.
Not only animals, but the plants are awake too. Awakened by the sunrise, the plants are up and about. And it was magical, in the forest, with both plants and animals already doing their thing. The wind was letting the grass and the leaves up in the birch trees have life, and a few mushrooms were dancing in the wind too.
At one birch tree in the forest of hundreds, one grown, adult amanita muscaria mushroom was sitting against its trunk, holding a thick red novel. Facing the amanita muscaria, two small, young, sibling enoki mushrooms are ready to listen to the book, read aloud by the one and only amanita muscaria. The two enoki mushrooms are sitting on a small root, just slightly peeking out from the bottom of the forest completely covered in grass, making an area to sit.
The sun, early in the morning, is already making the forest so bright. The book that the adult mushroom was holding was called Enoki Tales, and the children enoki mushrooms are fascinated by the book. He opened the book to the marked page, opening it to about halfway through. They were already that far done with the novel! As the amanita muscaria mushroom checked where they are on the book, he recalled what was just before, making sure everything he was reading made sense.

Weekly #1 - 1721 words

(Enoki Tales) Part 1 (306 words):
It was dawn. Too early for any people to be up, but animals and plants are already wide awake. In a thick forest of lofty birch trees, the early sun lightly shone across the almost endless area of pure nature. The birch forest was mostly quiet, aside from the breeze softly whooshing past and the occasional animal running around the grass. It was calm. It was serene. It was enchanting, just like a forest in those fairy tales.
In one special birch tree, however, something even more magical was taking place in that moment. The tree that looked like warm black paint gently stroked against a tall, white canvas. A huge canvas, actually – a canvas that was so towering that it seemed like there was limitless length. The huge and delightful tree was being shone brighter upon than others by the early sun. At first glance, nothing may seem too out of the ordinary, but if you look closer, at the bottom of the tree, something absolutely wonderful is happening.
At the very bottom of the tree, a grown, adult amanita muscaria mushroom is leaning against the trunk, with a thick red novel in his hands. Facing the amanita muscaria, two small, young, sibling enoki mushrooms are sitting peacefully on a small tree root that just slightly juts out of the grassy ground. The novel that the large mushroom is holding is called Enoki Tales, and the enoki mushrooms are coming to listen to the read-aloud.
The adult mushroom opened the heavy, dusty book, to the marked page. The book was already about halfway done! This early morning was another session of read-aloud for the young enoki mushrooms. Waiting for the other enoki mushrooms to arrive, the amanita muscaria waited and smiled at the early arrivers, the regular enoki mushroom siblings that are always very early.

Part 2 Food: 火锅 (Huo guo – Hot Pot), a Chinese dish that is normally eaten together with family (519 words):
Looking out the window, I see the airport just to our left. The plane turns, and finally, the wheels hit the ground. Thank goodness. I was going to throw up if I was in the air for even one more minute.
As the airplane starts to taxi on the runway, I can’t help but feel excited. I was away at college for a whole four years, never have which I was able to reconnect with my family in-person, only in extra-laggy meetings that just didn’t have the connection I needed. With my bachelor's degree earned, I was ready to go and get a job, but I have some long-overdue business to do first. I need to see my family for the first time in years.
The plane arrives at the gate, and I immediately stand up, just to realize that I’m in the back of the plane. I sit down, waiting for the chance to leave the plane. Then I see it – a gap! I snatch the opportunity, and slowly, inch by inch, get off.
I take a look at the airport I used to visit every single time I fly somewhere. Ah, I forgot how it looked, the memories rushing by. I go to baggage claim, and after a long, and I mean /long/ time of waiting, I find my luggage. Remembering to tell my parents that I’m back, I scramble through my pocket to find my phone and quickly send a message.
Bai: 我回来了! (/I’m back!/)
I start to leave to go home when my mom texts me back.
Li Na: 好! 当你离开来到 688 Brook Street. (/Okay! When you leave, go to 688 Brook Street/.)
688 Brook Street? I forgot what that was. It was a jewelry store, right? Why would she want me to go there? Or maybe it had changed, though I may be completely wrong. I don’t know. Just doing what she says, I got a taxi to that location.
When the taxi driver says I have arrived, I quickly pay for the ride, thank him, and see where my mom had brought me to. I was standing in front of an old-looking Chinese restaurant. Now I remember. It’s that restaurant my mom loves going to. I forgot – it is dinnertime over here, and the timezone difference is messing with my head.
I enter the building, and I find my family. My mother, my father, and even my older brother, who’s already working, are there. They had seen my enter and are waving me over to a table with火锅, hot pot, and many other dishes. My favorite. Even though it is nowhere near dinner at college, I was already feeling hungry just looking at it.
“火锅啊? 太好吃了!” I say, which means /‘Hot pot, huh? It’s so delicious!’/
“快来吃饭吧！我们一直在等你!” My dad replies jokingly, meaning /‘Come and eat! We’ve been waiting for you!’/
And we finally eat. What a great reunion.

Part 3 (Lord of the Flies – Conch) (484 words):
After the conch was abandoned, nothing really changed right then. The conch was thrown into the vast expanse of the wide sea, to be not seen again. Everything was fine for a week. A month. But then, one day, something happened that made them question if leaving the conch was a good idea.
“Ralph broke his leg! We are no doctors. What should we do?” Jack asked some of the boys.
The boys all pondered, and without Jack knowing, some others that he didn’t want eavesdropping also heard and started to think.
“Make him stay in the same place and give him food so his leg can heal.” Bill suggested.
“Wrap his leg in toilet paper?” Simon thought aloud right after him.
“Oh, I got it!” Walter replied, immediately after Simon. “I saw that a cast is basically a thick wrap. Let’s put stuff on his leg!”
“You guys! What are you doing in here?” Jack shouted, finally noticing them.
The three boys raised their arms in defense. “We, we’re just trying to help y’all, okay?”
“I have told you enough already. We make the decisions, you don’t. We can talk, and /you don’t/!” Jack angrily replied.
“Ok, don’t thank us later for helping to heal Ralph.” Bill said as he left.
“You’re all unfair. We can’t even talk to you about any type of decisions.” Simon left behind Bill.
“The conch system is way better, you know. When will you ever learn.” Walter then left as well.
Jack saw the three leave. Sighing, he mutters, “When will /you/ ever learn.”
Turning back to the original boys Jack was talking to, he asked them again.
“Now, how will we help with Ralph’s broken leg?” Jack asked, turning back to group of boys he was originally talking to.
“Make him stay in one place?” The first said, copying Bill.
“Wrap it with toilet paper…?” Suggested the second, also copying the three that just left.
“Put stuff on his leg?” The third, not knowing what else to say, copied Walter. The three of them had no idea, so all of them copied off of the three.
Jack thought for a minute. “Maybe…”
Meanwhile, the Walter stood on top of a table in an area with most of the boys.
“Boys!” He shouted. “I have a question. How happy were you guys when we used the conch?”
They all shouted that they were happy.
“Another question. How about now? Are you happy still?” Walter asked again.
Many said yes, mostly the ones who were able to talk as freely as they like. However, a few, those like Bill, Simon, and Walter, didn’t reply.
“Well, I got this!” Walter showed a conch, the same one that they used to use.
Jack, apparently, snuck into the area. “Is that… the conch?”
“Well, yes, it is. And I’m going to recreate the rule of the conch.” Walter replied.
“You, you can’t do that!” Jack replied.
Smirking, Walter replied. “I can, and I will.”

(Enoki Tales) Part 4 (412 words)
In a birch tree forest, dawn had past, and the early morning sunrise is shining upon everything in sight. The birch trees looked like they were painted with gentle strokes of dark paint on an off-white canvas. A canvas that is so tall, that it seemed like it could touch the sky. The sun softly shines upon those trees, illuminating them for the world to see.
The light breeze gently blows around the forest, making an ever so subtle sound. The grass on the floor sways around, and the leaves in the tall trees crash into each other, making the perfect background noise in the early morning. The light wind, mixed with the bright sunrise, makes the forest enchanting. It was like a magical forest in those fairy tales.
The forest itself, not the trees, but animals, are also lit by the early morning sun. Some animals are already on the move – some are running around bushes, and some are walking on the forest floor. It was lively. Some of the animals were already grazing in the thick grass, and some others were talking with their group.
Not only animals, but the plants are awake too. Awakened by the sunrise, the plants are up and about. And it was magical, in the forest, with both plants and animals already doing their thing. The wind was letting the grass and the leaves up in the birch trees have life, and a few mushrooms were dancing in the wind too.
At one birch tree in the forest of hundreds, one grown, adult amanita muscaria mushroom was sitting against its trunk, holding a thick red novel. Facing the amanita muscaria, two small, young, sibling enoki mushrooms are ready to listen to the book, read aloud by the one and only amanita muscaria. The two enoki mushrooms are sitting on a small root, just slightly peeking out from the bottom of the forest completely covered in grass, making an area to sit.
The sun, early in the morning, is already making the forest so bright. The book that the adult mushroom was holding was called Enoki Tales, and the children enoki mushrooms are fascinated by the book. He opened the book to the marked page, opening it to about halfway through. They were already that far done with the novel! As the amanita muscaria mushroom checked where they are on the book, he recalled what was just before, making sure everything he was reading made sense.

Part One:

Idea Bank post a workshop concept or two
choose someone else’s to write about. Do a bit of research on their topic, then write an informational workshop of at least 500 words about it. share workshop in the sharing forum.

Part Two:

Browse through the workshops people have posted, and pick one that interests you. Take some time to read through the workshop entirely and learn something new!

write a 500 word or more story that implements elements that you have learned from the workshop

Part Three:

submit writing piece from Part 2 to the Critiquitaire and provide 200 words or more of feedback towards another SWCer's work there.

Conclusion:

1. Your own workshop on a writing topic (500+ words)
   
2. A story using elements from someone else’s workshop (500+ words)
   
3. Feedback on another SWCer’s work using the Critiquitaire (200+ words)

This should result in at least 1200 words total.

July 16th at 11:59 p.m. UTC
2000 points

Weekly 1
Total 2201 words

Part 1 - Comic Strip Interpretation
The Highest Depths
The weather was windy, the sky stormy, and the landscape lulling to and fro in the breeze. It was late morning as the fisherman was trekking amongst the fields for the right spot. He was searching for an especially gloomy patch of sky. His net dragged behind him as he moved across each hill, glen and paddock. The grass was blown about in the wind, and it was on the top of an especially blustery hill that the man finally stopped.
He looked upwards, leaned back, and heaved his fishing net into the air. The tumbling masses of rope rose higher and higher, and began to be weighed down by the writhing masses of fish. Fish of all shapes and sizes, a bright array of colours floated gracefully in the air. He tugged upon the net, hauling it down, and a selection of creatures presented itself in front of him. He sat, filtering through the different fish. Too big, he thought; too little, he thought. Too dull, too young, too noisy, he thought. One by one, he released the fish back into the air, where they swam off into the clouds. He was left with just one fish, small and red. It fit into the palm of his hand, and looked rather pathetic all alone, but it was the right one.
He took it back to his little cottage, where he gave it a glass bowl to remain in for a while. It was surrounded by others of similar size and personage, in tanks of their own.
The old fisherman wasn’t collecting these fish for fun. Oh no, he had a job, a business in trading these creatures. He left his cottage a few days later, making for the sea. When he got there, he set out his spoils, all the various fish in their bowls and tanks. Then he sat on his old chair, smoked his pipe, and waited.
After a good while of waiting, a lonesome diving suit who was walking along the beach stopped to stare at the fish.
“Good day, sir.” said the fisherman.
“Good day,” said the suit. It was peering at the fish in a curious way.
“May I?” It asked.
“Go ahead.” It picked up the small red fish in its bowl, and examined it closely. If a diving suit could look happy, this one did.
“Yes. Certainly. This will do.” It looked to the fisherman for approval.
“That looks like it will fit just fine. Now get out of my sight, and go see the world.” The man smiled warmly. The diving suit screwed the glass tank upon the space where its head would go, and the fish inside swam around in approval. The suit stepped along the beach, closer and closer to the sea. When it reached the shore, it did not hesitate, simply continued to walk. It let the sea swallow it, as it waded in, deeper and deeper, until its strange figure disappeared entirely beneath the waves. It stopped wading, and began to swim. It swam deeper and deeper, and suddenly was surrounded by graceful figures, floating and flying through the water. Birds!
The fish looked on in amazement, mesmerised by the birds’ smooth wingbeats.
(536 words)

Part 2 - Use of Symbolism

Note: Don’t ask about the names. They’re nicknames. Twig’s a bit ironic since she’s very energetic and colourful, and slightly more emotional than a twig. Duck, well, he’s really nice, but he never seems to be able to get it right. Actually, just read.
Churros
It was early morning, just after nine, when Twig was in town. The shops were just opening. She was an early riser, and fancied something to eat. She started to walk to the bakery, and got out her phone. She texted her friend Duck:
-Hi
-Hi
-You want something to eat?
-Yeah sure
-Why r u even in town
-Went for a walk
-What do you want 2 eat?
-Churros
Twig Paused. Do they even sell churros? She waited for a few seconds for an explanation, but when she realised none was coming, she simply replied:
-B—–d.
She was at the bakery by now, and sure enough, they sold churros. She got a croissant for herself, and brought everything home in a brown paper bag. She stopped off at Duck’s house on the way back to drop off his odd request. She stood at the door, holding the bag in her hands, feeling the warmth of the sweet smelling contents. Duck opened the door.
“Hello.”
“Hi! I’ve got your order, sir.” she grinned pointedly at him.
“Why thank you, madam.” he shot back. Then Twig remembered, as she handed over his breakfast, what she was going to ask. She decided to approach in a nonchalant manner.
“This is all very well and good, but how did you know they were selling churros? I’ve never seen them before.”
Duck’s expression changed from playful to unreadable.
“Twig. I need to tell you something. I’m leaving.” She didn’t understand. Leaving? Leaving?
“Leaving? What do you mean?”
“I’m going to Spain. I have family there.”
“No. You’re kidding, aren’t you,” she said. Twig was confused beyond belief.
“I’m not. I’m so, so sorry. I’m staying there for two months, and I’m leaving tomorrow.”
“Two? That’s a long time Duck! And you.. you didn’t think to tell me?!” Twig was upset; she couldn’t hide it, and although she didn’t often cry, her vision was beginning to go hazy.
“Of course I did, Twig. But you know I can’t do confrontations. I just couldn’t- I didn’t have the heart to tell you.”
“Why? Why can’t you just get it right?!” she cried. Her best friend, the one thing she needed in life, was leaving.
“And now I suppose you’re gonna run off and never talk to me again?” Duck hung his head, ashamed.
Twig just stood there staring at him. She looked puzzled, anxious, betrayed? Who could tell? But a moment later, she was hugging him tightly. As she felt his warmth, and smelt his sweet hair, she mumbled,
“And that’s why you got the churros, is it?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s stupid,” she smiled and let go of him.
________
Duck had been gone for two weeks. Twig missed him a lot, but they texted most days. And every time she went to the bakery, she bought churros.
(471 words)

Part 3 - Themes and Motifs
Lord of the flies continuation.
Note: Not read the book, but I’m planning on getting hold of it asap

Ralph stood tall upon the rock, his rock. He could see the small valley stretching out below him, and as he looked further into the distance, he saw the smoke of his enemies’ campfires. It was morning, the sun was young in the sky and the ground was new and soft with dew.
The conch hung heavily around Ralph’s neck. A hole had been chiselled into it, and a piece of rope wound through it. It was worn out; it had passed through so many hands and been the victim of much wrath in arguments and quarrels. But, despite the cracks forming on its surface, the shell’s structure held sturdy. In the morning breeze, it knocked against his ribcage like the beat of a drum. He noticed that the sound it made was almost hollow. This reminded him painfully of how long ago it had been since his last full meal. Ralph was growing weary and ill, but to surrender to nature would be death.
So he rallied his troops for battle, they sharpened their spears, and met with Jack’s
party at the bottom of the valley. A shallow river separated the two sides, nothing else. They hissed and shouted terrible words. They strained like dogs on a lead, ready for the hunt. Ralph stood further back, in the middle of his miniature army. He stood on a fallen tree so that he could see those before him. He saw Jack. Their eyes locked. Ralph held the conch to his lips, paused, and blew with all his might. At once, the two sides charged.
Blood was shed during the battle. The boys had thought that it was all child’s play, but they pushed each other beyond their limits. You don’t need metal to inflict serious injury, only sharpened sticks, as the children proved. Some boys were injured, all bruised and grazed, some bleeding in places, but it was well after the battle before anyone noticed Ralph was missing.
A youngster, no older than ten, with bleeding elbows and knees, let out a sharp cry of despair. He had gone to clean his wounds in the river as soon as he deemed it safe, and had followed a red trail in the water to Ralph, lying face down on the riverbank. The boy had sided with Jack in the end, but this had already escalated beyond anything he knew. His scream had sent the other boys from both sides running, and they all worked together to turn Ralph over. He had a serious stab-wound in his stomach, and the dark red stream flowing from him had joined the river.
“Ralph is dead!” pronounced Jack, as he stood uncertainly over his enemy’s dead body. He had known there would be loss of blood, but life was another matter. Still, what did it matter if he had won?
Jack pushed his boot into Ralph’s upturned face. His eyes were still open, and he looked mildly surprised at the turn of events. Jack then removed the conch savagely from around the young leader’s neck. He held it to the light and examined it. Largely unharmed, apart from the spatter of blood at its tip.
He held the conch in the air for all to see, and shouted,
“Conch people! I am your leader now! Surrender!” All the boys, even Jack’s own loyal army, stood dumbfounded. Ralph, notorious leader, friend, foe, child, was dead.
Jack made sure everyone was looking, and held the shell high. He then smashed it brutally on the ground, where it shattered, along with the boys’ hope of keeping their sanity.
“You are conch people no more! We are.. We are…” Jack was lost, but not for long. He took a branch, stuck it deep into Ralph’s body, and pulled out the bloody cane. He held it in the air, and said,
“We are the stick people!”
(646 words)

Part 4 - Rewrite
The Highest Depths 2.0
When the old man Avel set off from his little countryside cottage, the world around him was stormy and dark. The bracing wind tugged at his weathered white hair, and carved out every tiny crease and wrinkle in his ageing face. He travelled for miles under the murky sky, through fields and forests, hill and dale. It was early afternoon when he finally stopped. He looked at his net, coiled up behind him, empty and ready for a catch, and he looked at the sky, a swirling, churning, endless sea of clouds and life. He threw his net into the air, and hungrily it rose, its long tendrils of rope reaching out to the shoals of fish flying through the sky. It grabbed hold of a few, and as it gained the weight of all the creatures of the endless sky, it tumbed back down again.
Avel sat in the field, sorting through his spoils. The fish he had caught came in different colours, shapes and sizes. He was searching for only one. He released the others, one by one, back into the air. As the breeze caught their fins and scales, they were whisked back into the sky to freedom. He picked out one fish, near the bottom of the pile. Small, red, quite pitiful, really. But it was the right one. Old Avel flung it in his bucket, and, with the biting wind at his heels, he made the journey home.
The next day, he slung a large holdall onto his back, filled with jars and tanks and bowls of all kinds, all containing fish. Fish of just the right shape and size, all perfect. Avel made his way down the road towards the sea. When he reached the shore, he sat down, perched himself between the stormy sky and swirling sea. The waves lapped ceaselessly at the beach, and, as he set out each fish in turn, he lit his pipe and listened to the sea.
After a good while of waiting, a lonesome diving suit who was walking along the beach stopped to stare at the fish. He picked one tank up, and inspected it thoughtfully. The one he held contained the little red fish, and its small round eyes peered out at the diving suit. It asked in a strange, hollow voice,
“May I?” Jacob replied,
“Sure, he’s all yours.” The diving suit solemnly raised the bowl above his neck, and attached it to the space where his head would go. All of a sudden, the fish, who had been rather docile before, sprang to life, and began flicking its tail about excitedly.
The suit turned to the sea. It seemed to stretch on forever. He took a couple of steps towards it. When the waves began lapping at his feet, he did not stop. When the water rose above his waist, he did not stop. When the deep blue void finally swallowed his entire figure, he did not stop. The suit sank beneath the waves, and the only sound was the howling of the wind. Below the surface, the fish in the diving suit was mesmerised by the infinite flock of birds, flying gracefully through the water on feathered wings. The suit swam close, and joined their elaborate dance, their flowing movements.
(548 words)

weekly 1
total word count: 1743

part 1 - silent comics
i used the silent comic ‘the secret of life’ for this part and the last one.
word count: 301

On a small, faraway island, there sat a single tree, with long, weeping branches. The tree bloomed, its small orange buds growing and blossoming into cages, each holding a bright blue egg. At some point during this season, a lone man in a little canoe stumbled upon the island, and picked some of these cages to bring with him on his travels.
He eventually reached land once more, and noticed that all of the children there were missing parts of themselves. He decided to set up shop there and sell his cages to the incomplete children. One of these cages was bought by a mother and her child, the latter of whom was overjoyed by it and used it to complete herself.
As the child grew, meeting other children like her along the way, the egg in her cage eventually hatched into a blue baby bird. This bird began to grow and experience life along with her, being her constant companion as she talked, played, and met even more people like her–with their own birds and cages–as an adult. Even as she grew older and eventually had her own child, the bird stayed with her, but soon, however, it was nearly too big to fit inside of the still small cage.
Finally, as an old woman, she decided to let the bird free. The woman traveled up to a high, barren mountain, opened up the cage, which was still part of her, and let the bird walk out onto her arm, into the open for the first time. The large, brilliant blue bird unfurled its wings, soaring out into the beautiful sunlit sky. It was, finally, free; but in letting it be that way, the old woman had needed to give up a lifelong companion, and an integral part of herself.

part 2 - symbolism
the dish i used for this part was apples and honey, traditionally eaten on the jewish new year to symbolize that the upcoming year should be a sweet one.
word count: 487

The first few things that struck me as I opened the large mahogany door to my new home were the house’s size, the wide marble staircase going up in the center of the sitting room, and the intricate crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceilings of many rooms–all things that I once would have found very exciting and desirable, but, under my current circumstances, I barely spared a glance for. I sat down in the nearest armchair, a soft, embroidered red one, and waited for my hostess–I refused to think of her as anything more–to arrive. After what seemed like hours, I finally heard footsteps, then saw a short figure wearing a green skirt and yellow jacket run down the stairs.
“Hello! You must be James?”
I nodded.
“Well, I’m happy to have you here! My name is Maria, if you didn’t know–nice to finally meet you in person!”
I nodded again, still not getting up from my armchair.
“I’ve prepared a little snack in honor of your arrival,” she continued, “if you’d just follow me this way…”
Reluctantly, I got up from my chair, following Maria up two stairways, through at least ten rooms, and finally onto a balcony overlooking her vast gardens, where a small table was set up. On it sat their two plates, small dishes of honey next to each of them, and a porcelain bowl filled with apple slices.
“I’ve decided to get us some apples and honey,” she said, “something that I would traditionally make around the time of the New Year. I do think it fits now, though, to celebrate the start of your new life here.”
I made a small, noncommittal gesture, not exactly keen on the food or the attempted symbolism. My hostess, however, immediately took a slice, dipping it in her honey before eating it.
“Go ahead, take one! It’s not like they’re poisonous or anything.” She handed me an apple slice from the bowl, and I had no choice but to take it. I lowered it towards the honey, gingerly dipping its very tip, and then raised it towards my mouth.
I didn’t know what I had been expecting–from how I had been acting, it had seemed as if I thought the food would poison me–but as I took a bite and chewed up the tangy apple along with the sweet honey, I found myself actually enjoying the combination.
“Well, what do you think?” asked Maria, who was already on her third piece.
“…it’s good,” I replied, realizing only afterwards that it was the first time I had actually spoken since arriving here.
My friend smiled, glad to hear I was satisfied, and I took another slice from the bowl, this time being much more liberal in my use of the honey. It was just as good as the first bite, and I smiled back–maybe this new life was not going to be so bad after all.

part 3 - motif
i used the first excerpt from ‘klara and the sun’ with the sun as the motif, symbolizing life, nourishment, health, and hope.
word count: 401

The wide glass doors of the store closed behind the last of the workers, leaving me alone, besides for the company of the other robots, on the shelf for the first time. The aisle seemed hollow, dark, and empty, lacking any of the loud bustle and bright lights that I had gotten used to on my first day here. I nervously turned towards the robots on either side of me, seeing if they felt the same way I did, but each of them seemed completely comfortable with what was happening. Didn’t they worry about what could happen to them? Weren’t they also nervous in the quiet, the darkness, the lack of sunlight?
“Hey, you look concerned about something. You okay down there?”
It took me a second to realize that the voice was coming from the shelf above me. I looked up and met the eyes of another small, solar-powered robot just like me.
“…yeah, I’m fine. Just…”
“First day here?”
“Yeah. I was just a little nervous about this. There’s nobody here but us, and we’re not able to see the Sun…”
“Hey, we’ll be fine!” said the other robot, “I remember spending my first night here, not that long ago. I was just as worried as you were–all the humans had left, and it seemed so… dark! Where was the Sun? How could we stay like this? Then I realized something; a little trick, I guess you could say.
“Look at that pattern on the floor–can you see it?”
I nodded, still not exactly sure where he was going with this.
“Well, you might not be able to tell from here, but that’s from our same Sun, as bright and lively as ever! Just touch that light”– he waved his hand in front of the rays of light that were creating the pattern– “and you’ll be just as restored as if you were outside on a bright day! Come on, try it!”
Nervously, I reached my hand out towards the pattern and the light, and–just as the still anonymous robot had said–I was immediately filled with the familiar feelings of hope, joy, and completeness. I smiled up at my newfound friend.
“How are you feeling, huh?” he asked.
“…better. Thanks,” I replied, and I meant it.
“No problem. Hey, I just realized–we still don’t know each other’s names. I’m called AF Rex.”
“Oh, you’re right.” I laughed. “I’m Klara.”

part 4 - rewriting silent comics
word count: 554

On a small, sandy island in the middle of a vast ocean, there sat a single tree, its branches long, weeping, and barren. Spring came around, and flower buds began to appear all along them, bringing the first signs of life to the formerly desolate island. As the Spring grew into Summer, the buds that started out small, orange, and barely the size of a strawberry grew, turning larger and changing color, until eventually they came into full blossom, revealing intricate metal cages about the size of a heart, each containing a single bird’s egg.
As Autumn began to sweep in with its breezes, red-and-orange leaves, and birds flying through the sky, a merchant in a boat stumbled upon the island and the tree, and was awed by the strange, exotic cages that grew there. He picked several, piling them into his boat, and set off towards a distant land. All the while, the distant birds flew over the blue sea.
The land that the merchant arrived in was strange and exciting, and there was one major feature that immediately stood out to him–all of the children here were missing a vital part of themselves: their hearts, and they would not be able to grow or experience life without them.
Holding one of the birdcages in his hand, the merchant realized that fate had driven him towards this broken land for a reason, and knew what he was meant to do. On the side of a bustling promenade, he set up a shop with his cages, selling them to all those incomplete children and letting them truly live their lives.
One of the birdcages was bought by a mother and her child, who was overjoyed at the purchase, and put it in the place of her heart, to complete herself. Although it had once been a simple flower on a faraway tree, the girl knew that this cage, and the bird that slept in the egg inside it, were going to be her lifelong companions.
As the girl grew, the cage and the egg grew with her. It was there for her when she played with other children with their own cages, she was there for it when it hatched into a beautiful blue bird, and it was there for her again as she grew into an adult, met more people, and eventually had a child of her own.
The woman and the bird grew older and older together, it soon became so large it could barely fit inside the small cage. And finally, at the end of her long, full life, it became clear what she had to do. The old woman, with the bird waiting inside its cage, traveled to the edge of a faraway mountain, opening the cage up and letting the brilliant blue peacock walk out onto her arm. She watched, melancholy and proud at the same time, as it unfurled its wings for the first time and soared off into the sunlit sky, their lives finally coming full circle as it joined its brothers and sisters in the air.
Incomplete once more, yet somehow feeling as full of hope as ever, the old woman fell to the ground, having finally witnessed the secret of life–but, in doing so, having lost a lifelong companion, and a fundamental part of herself.

Daily 9: Sleep Habits (449 words)

Aurora grew up in the Wizard campus, which means she was never exposed to the outside world. She followed strict rules, harsh punishments, and constantly disappointed her teachers. Her sleep schedule reflects the rigorous environment she grew up in, with constant bed checks and curfews. When she was little, she got at least 10 hours of sleep a night, but as she grew up, she started to get less sleep and rebel a little bit. Her curfew was around 9 o’ clock, but in her teenage years she stayed up sometimes till 12, painting the walls and trying desperately to get her magic to work, but it was futile. Sometimes she even pulled all-nighters, but that always left her cranky and irritable. She always woke up at 5 am sharp. She knows how to function with hardly any sleep, so sleep was never really a priority for her, but she knows she can get cranky, so she tries to get a reasonable amount of sleep each day. But when she moved to Reyna’s mansion, she slept in for the first time, sleeping from 11 PM to 9 AM. She began to sleep in almost every day.

Connor sleeps the same way almost every night: 9:54 pm to 7:12 am EXACTLY. He has no idea how it happens, but he’s fine with it. He usually gets in bed at around 8:30, but he reads murder mysteries until his moral compass makes him go to sleep and then falls asleep almost immediately. (slay connor I could never-) When he moves to Reyna’s, this schedule doesn’t change a bit (besides a couple of all-nighters he was convinced to pull by Aurora and Aric). This really shows how he doesn’t like change and prefers a schedule, but his friends can get him out of his comfort zone, and how he doesn’t like to argue with people he trusts, so he usually bows to peer pressure.

Aric barely sleeps at all. His normal night consists of midnight to 6 am. He’s usually writing stories or just thinking until sleep finally takes him. His mind moves too fast and frenzied to ever get good sleep, and his experience with nightmares often keeps him awake. He often finds himself waking up in the middle of the night from the shadows stalking his dreams, and when that happens, he can’t fall asleep again. (Maybe his cranky mood is influenced by his complete lack of sleep, or maybe he’s just an incredibly cranky person- who knows?) Aric’s sleep schedule shows that he’s really not all that okay, and he feels alone and scared to fall asleep, because he doesn’t really have anyone to help him.

ollie’s daily 7/9/23 (325 words)

lorelei’s life is pretty chill. like, nothing about her isn’t normal (except for the fact that she has really tiny cute wings). which is, probably, the reason i designed her, because she’s easy to draw and relatable. her sleep schedule would vary, like any human’s, meaning some nights she passes out around 9pm and other nights she’s full of energy until 2am. her varying sleep schedule is due, in part, to her nature, because she has qualities of both an introvert and an extrovert. she likes to have people over or hang out, but not all the time, because she is reflective as a person. so, with the free time she spends with herself, she might stay up reading, or playing video games, or she might crash after getting home from a big party (which she doesn’t love going to, but tolerates). so, in conclusion, her sleep schedule is what any normal ambivert’s is—anything but normal.

lilia’s this other character i love. (but i love all my characters.) shes really bubbly and sometimes shy, and while it may seem so, she doesn’t enjoy social events. she is really organized, which is the main reason she likes to keep a sharp sleep schedule for each type of day. on school weeknights, she opts for a modest 9:30pm. on fridays and saturdays, she goes to bed at 10:30pm. during the summer, she goes to bed around 10:30 or 11, but never past 11.

bud has the most interesting sleep schedule—i mean nevermind, most interesting sleeping arrangements—, i’d say, because he actually isn’t human. he’s part plant, so his head is like a big bouquet of flowers and plants, but the rest of his body is totally human. he has a special sleeping configuration due to his situation, which is a sleeping pod made custom for his needs. apart from the occasional nightly activity, he obeys the sleeping pod’s directions, which are no later than 11pm every night.

Weekly 1- https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/695082/?page=1#post-7352794
Overall: 2213 words
Part 1: 345 words
Part 2: 657 words
Part 3: 691 words
Part 4: 520 words
—
Part 1:

Congratulations! If you are reading this pamphlet then you have officially acquired a soul bird! These birds and the cages they are located in are designed to fill in the quite-literal hole in your heart and body. Before you decide to take in this new responsibility, here are a list of important guidelines you will need to know and follow.

* Soul birds are harvested once a year by the Hatted Man and located on the Tree of Life and Death. Nobody knows how he is able to make it that high to reach the eggs, but a magician never reveals their secret. Nobody knows where he is going to be selling his eggs, whether it be in his house or on the streets. But, when people find him, word quickly travels around and mothers scramble to him to fill the gap in their child.
* Everyone has a soul bird inside of them, but don't always choose to show the birds. Children, whose birds are merely eggs, and those who are less experienced or just want to test the status quo will choose not to cover up their soul birds. Around the age of pre-adolescence, the soul bird egg will hatch. While this experience may be uncomfortable and jarring, just know that it is perfectly normal and that anyone lucky enough to have an egg will have the same happen to them.
* When the soul bird becomes too large or heavy to continue keeping, then it is acceptable to release the bird into the skies to continue its journey beyond. Premature release is looked down upon severely. The jarring feeling without a soul bird in your body may make the body more vulnerable to injury and death. In most cases, the bird will leave by itself during old age but in rare instances, a bird might stay with its holder as long as after death.

Having a soul bird requires quite a bit of nurturing and care, but with this purchase, we are sure that you/your child will be able to take up the responsibility.
—
Part 2:

“Congrats on the baby!”

“Thanks!” Nia shook her best friend's hand. “I'm happy you could come to help me prepare for the baby shower.”

“Anything to help my bestie.” Emmy grinned. She rummaged through her bag. “Here- I went to my grandmother's market and got you this-” She took out a carton of thick, brownish powder.

Nia furrowed her brow. “What's that?” She asked.

“It's tom-brown!” Emmy walked over to the kitchen and filled a pot with the tom-brown. “My grandmother says that it's great for babies and toddlers! But, if you ask me.” She whispered in her friend's ear. “I find a good bowl pretty satisfying too.”

Nia frowned. “I'm not convinced.”

“Oh, come on, bestie!” Emmy poured a cup of hot water into the pot and turned the stove on. “I was the person who convinced you to try the unicorn frappe at Starbucks- and now you can't go a week without it!”

“I guess you're right.” Nia sighed. “Here, show me how to make it.”

Emmy went through the process of making tom-brown, going slow and steady to reach Nia's level. With the water now poured in the corn flour base, she slowly mixed the combination together on a medium heat until the consistency was rich and thick. Nia took a whiff of the porridge in; It didn't smell all that bad.

When the porridge finished, Emmy poured out three bowls- one for her and another for Nia, making sure to put a generou s bowl of sugar and milk in each. “Bon appetit!” She slid a bowl over to her friend, who was still a bit reluctant to try.

“Are you sure this isn't gonna kill me?” Nia pat her tummy. “Or the baby?”

“Nobody has ever died eating tom-brown, Nia.” Emmy blew on her porridge and took a bite out. “Relax.” Emmy took a sip of the porridge and smiled. “Delicious!”

Nia hesitated for a moment. She looked back up at her friend, who stared back and eyed at the untouched bowl of tom-brown next to her. Nia took a deep breath, took the spoon, and placed it in her mouth.

It tasted like heaven. A weird sort of heaven, where instead of going to the place you've always wanted to go, you went back to a memory you didn't even remember until you entered.

Nia chewed the tom-brown and remembered a memory when she was little and a woman wearing a long dress and a baby tied to her back fed her the porridge. What had been so weird to her before was now so familiar.

“So,” Emmy took a sip of water. “How is it?”

“It's everything I could have ever imagined.” Nia seemed to babble.

Emmy chuckled. “I knew you'd like it, Nia. You know these things.”

Nia glanced at the third bowl of tom-brown and pointed to it, confused. “Who is that for?”

“My grandmother.” Emmy took another bite of the porridge. “She's coming to help set up too.”

Nia almost choked on her tom-brown. “W-what?”

A knock on the door, and she jumped. “She's here!” Nia exclaimed with a mixture of worry and excitement in her tone.

Emmy ran to open the door for her grandmother. Aunty Moe coddled he granddaughter and gave her a big kiss on the cheeks. “Emmy!”

“Akwaaba (Welcome), Mama.”

Nia wished she knew as much Twi as her friend. The language just didn't come so natural to her, and neither did the culture.

Emmys grandmother turned towards Nia, who was about to take a bite of the tom-brown. “Nia, you are pregnant!” She smiled. “Wo ho te sen (How are you)?”

Nia looked down at the tom-brown an remembered her culture. Where she came from. Hoe she was Ghanian as a baby and is still Ghanian now. She smiled and sighed, trying her best to mosey up some Twi words.

“Me ho y3, Aunty. 3t3 sen (I'm fine, Aunty. How are you)?”
—
Part 3:

“Let's play a game.” He adjusted his red tie and smiled widely. But it wasn't the kind of smile that filled you with happiness. It was more like the kind that made you cower in your seat and groan.

Little Kimmy, only six years of age, sat down, stroking her dolly's hair and humming “Do you know the muffin man, the muffin man, the mufin man…” over and over in her six-year-old brain. She loved muffins.

“I said,” He slammed his fish down on the table. “Let's play a GAME!”

Kimmy jumped. “A-are you talking to me, Alistar?” She whimpered.

“Well, there's no one else to talk to in this trap!” He kicked the door, for no reason in particular. “Now,” He said, taking shallow breaths, his face becoming warm. “Let's play our little game: Secrets.”

Kimmy put the dolly down and cocked her head. “What's Secrets?” She asked. “I've never played it before.”

“It's a very fun game, Kimmy.” Alistar pat his sister's back. “First, you tell me a secret, and then I tell you one and show you a magic trick.”

Kimmy squealed and clapped her hands together. She loved magic tricks. “Can I go first?”

“Of course, sister.” His red polo seemed to gleam a bit brighter. “Besides, that's all the fun in the game.

Kimmy's dress contrasted the bright red of the polo; It was a soft green, with a small blue flower on the waist. She laughed. ”Okay, I'll tell you a secret.“ She lowered her voice in a mischievous way. ”It was me who ate all the poffertjes in the cabinet yesterday.“

Alistar took a deep breath and tried to hold in his bellow. It was him who had been blamed for the mishap, and his bum was still sore. ”Great.“ He rummaged through his pockets. ”Now I've got a secret for you.“

Alistar went through his pockets and took out a small, red match with a matchboard. ”I have some toys to play with.“

Kimmy gasped. ”Alistar!“ She managed to utter out. ”Mum said we're not allowed to play with the matches!“

”I'm fourteen, Kimmy!“ Alistar groaned. ”I know what I'm doing. Now here-“ He handed her the white piece of paper, the red polo glistening in the sun's hot heat. ”It's time for the magic trick.“ His sister shook her head. ”Trust me. Kimmy, this is a cool one.“

Alistar took out the first black match and scratched it on the matchboard. As Kimmy watched diligently, he slowly formed a small spark, scratching more and more until a flame had built. Alistar took a deep breath and threw it out into the garden, starting a small fire and burning some shrubbery. Kimmy's jaw dropped.

Alistar took a moment to let her consume the shock. ”Here,“ He took out another match and started to slide it across the rough surface some more. ”Let me show you another trick. This time,“ He grinned. ”You get to help me.“

Kimmy whimpered. ”Don't do it, Alistar.“

”It won't hurt a bit, sister. Now, stay very, very still.“ His match ignited a flame, and he bent over to Kimmy, the match flaming hot. Slowly, he set the match onto the paper as his sister's breathing grew shallower and colder.

Just then, a large, angry flame seemed to burst out of Kimmy's hands. The pain was dull at first, more like a scrape or a paper cut, but soon the pain seemed t jolt and it truly seemed like she was holding the Sun.

Kimmy screamed and dropped the paper onto the carpet floor if the room. Soon the rom, which was before a dim white, exploded into a red and yellow hue. ”ALISTAR!“ She screamed. ”IT'S A FIRE!“

But her brother was gone. Kimmy looked around desperately for her older brother until she noticed a wide-open window and some fingerprints on the top. Her breathing seemed to stop. She fell onto the floor and screamed.

”HELP! HELP!“ was all she managed to hiccup out, her little body being engulfed by the flames. ”SOMEONE, HELP!“

The room was red and yellow, but the red seemed to stand out more.
—
Part 4:

Up in a tree, an egg started to shudder.

A man, wearing a long hat that covered his eyes and face, canoed over. He gave a glance at the tree and chuckled, his larynx raspy. ”Now, what have we here?“ He climbed off the boat and onto the tiny island ”A little soul egg, huh?“ He smiled. ”I wonder who will be lucky enough to get you as their soul.“


”Mama, look!“ Little Effie jumped up and down, her enthusiasm infectious. ”The Hatted Man has come!“\ And he has his eggs!” The child laughed and cheered, dragging her mama over to his stand.

Effie's mama couldn't help but stifle out a chuckle. “Yes, Effie, he has come. And today, you are getting a soul egg, too.”

“Really, Mama?” Effie's little green eyes twinkled with soul.

She nodded, and turned over to the hatted man, giving him three coins. “I'm very sorry I can't pay more. Hussein is out at war and the babies are sick, but Effie needs her soul egg.” She sighed. “The schools won't accept her without one and she's already behind in her studies.”

The hatted man only nodded. He was not one for socialization. He ushered for Effie to come over and assisted her in placing the soul egg inside her empty hole. Effie giggled as he did his magic- “It tickles!”

The man grunted to signify that he was done. Almost as soon as the fitting had been done, Effie bolted over to another boy with a recently-fitted soul egg.

“Marton, LOOK!” Effie cheered. “My soul egg! Mama finally paid for it and now it's here!” She squealed.

Marton just smiled, letting his friend relinquish her excitement.

Every day, Effie grew and grew, and soul did her little bird. When she reached the age of twelve, after a long period of discomfort and not wanting to do anything with herself, the bird finally hatched, and she found new passions. She loved dressing up people's hair, and could always be found grooming her own hair when she wasn't working on schoolwork. As her passions grew, her soul bird did as well, being nourished by Effie's zest for life.

By the time Effie had found herself a husband, the soul bird had grew from a hatchling to an magnificent adult bird, singing its love song to the soul bird adjacent to it. It was growing faster, Effie's husband helping nourish it by showing her how to play the piano. And, by the time Effie became a mother, the bird was so large it no longer fit in the cage without sticking its tail feathers out of it.

When Effie was very, very old, the bird could no longer fit its head in the cage either. Both of them were getting older and more absent from the world, spending their days looking around more than actually engaging.

One day, Effie climbed up a tall mountain peak and let the bird out, As she took her final breath, she looked up at the moonish-grey sky and watched her soul fly away to a better future, singing a happy

july 9 - 207 words
i slept at 11 and woke up at 9

June: June is a light sleeper and cannot fall asleep easily. She has many fears and doubts that keep her up at night. When she does sleep, however, the tiniest bit of noise such as small footsteps or the rustling of leaves will jolt her awake. Because of this, she has bags under her eyes, but surprisingly, she is great at focusing and is not disturbed by the lack of sleep she gets.

Indigo: Indigo is the opposite of June (though they aren't in the same stories) and she sleeps peacefully, often having dreams. Falling asleep is one of her strong suits, especially when there's the noise of pattering rain, which is calming to her. This means that it is hard for Indigo to leave her bed in the morning, causing her to be late for everything and have to deal with an angry cat who was sleeping on her bed.

Ella: Ella is a young seven year old, so she, naturally, sleeps well and over 10 hours per night. She cannot sleep without her favourite stuffed toy and dislikes the dark, so she has a small night lamp next to her bed. She never oversleeps, wakes up on time and is always hungry in the morning.

Sleep Schedule Daily
10 hours of sleep, 203 words

Storms sleeping habits are strange, to say the least. Due to the fact she's an assassin, she normally works at night. But to blend in with normal people, she has to be out during the day. Therefore, she doesn't really get as much sleep as most people. She goes to bed around 6:30pm, wakes back up around 11:00pm, does whatever she was hired to do for that night, then goes back to bed. Waking back up again near 7:30am. Scott on the other hand gets even less than that. He not only works at night (for he too, is an assassin) but he also hangs out with his best friend in the evenings, stays at the Guild most of the day, and has to be seen by the public to keep suspicion at bay. Resulting in him going to sleep at 8:50pm, waking up at 11:00pm, getting back to bed around 5:45am, just to wake back up and do it all over again at 7:00am. Overall bad sleeping habits from both of them. But that's just how being an overnight assassin works. Too bad there's not some way they could get out. Or is there?

when green flag clicked

forever
say [Dystopian Ruins FTW!]
end

Daily 7/9, 408 words

Asher doesn’t get nearly enough sleep. Especially around the time the story begins, given all the chaotic happenings in his life. This causes him to be stressed, and makes him feel as if he has no foundation in his life. He is often tired and this causes him to not be at full mental capacity very regularly. However, he cannot be blamed for this, because of the many things that happen to him that easily prevent sleep - such as learning that all you’ve known before is fake and getting beat up by a vengeful girl despite doing nothing wrong himself.

Trevor sleeps fairly well - he generally goes to bed at 11 PM and wakes up at around 9 AM, given school is out at the beginning of the story. Unlike his brother and sister, Asher and Gia, he both sees the need for a good night’s sleep and has a way to obtain it. He is, when sleeping in his bedroom, annoyed by the noises Gia makes whilst she is obstinately not going to bed. They usually don’t prevent him from sleeping, but annoy him nonetheless. Sometimes, even though he doesn’t need to, he goes to her room to tell her to be quiet and to stop making any noises, and claims that they prevent him from sleeping. Even though, as already mentioned, they don’t really.

Gia tends to only sleep a few hours every night because she often has nightmares and otherwise disturbing dreams. She avoids telling Trevor about this, though, because she is both embarrassed by this fact and doesn’t want him to worry about her, or try to help her. She doesn’t think it matters that much - who even needs a full night of sleep? - so she doesn’t want him to bother. This results in her often being tired and cranky.

Koi, as an alien, has a rather irregular sleep schedule - at least to humans. She only needs to sleep once a month, for seven days in a row. She has a fairly average sleep schedule for one of her species, and she rarely doesn’t follow it. She is sometimes teased for having such healthy sleeping habits, especially by those of her age, but she doesn’t particularly care what they think, and she notices how often they complain about being tired - and how often she doesn’t. She truly hates it when her sleep is interrupted, and might hunt down anyone who interrupts it on purpose.

July 9th daily
459 words
I slept about 8 hours, so 400 words :0
Hunter: My chipper little main character, huh? I feel like everyone’s like “the main character can’t get any sleep bwahhahahaha” but naw, Hunter sleeps like a baby. Back when he lived in the orphanage, he had a pretty good sleep schedule because there, lights out meant lights out, and they weren’t the type to do stuff before bed. He somehow managed to learn responsibility when it comes to sleeping. Other stuff? Not so much. He’s just not used to reading before bed or other stuff, so he doesn’t waste his sleeping time. He’s also really good at sleeping through noise, so he’s basically set for life when it comes to sleep. And he always wakes up cheerful in the morning when it’s annoying to others. The downside of his structured sleep schedule is that he can’t wake up and function at 100% at odd hours of the morning, which, unfortunately, is a skill he needs to cultivate in his new environment.

Vincent: Ignoring species stereotypes, Vincent actually has quite an interesting sleep schedule. Yes he’s a kid/very young adult but that doesn’t excuse him from duty. And thus he and his parents spend most nights on lookout in their forest. (Not technically “theirs”, just theirs to protect) So my boy gets to sleep on the floor 98% of the time. Joy. But as a result of that, he’s a very light sleeper and is accustomed to waking up quickly in the event of something bad happening. (Or when mischievous tree spirits want to talk to him. I’m looking at you Unnamed Tree Spirit #1) But it’s also kinda sad because he never gets to use his room. D: But not too much to not make how much he enjoys sleeping in a real bed not amusing. I mean, I imagine they’re the kind of people who have nice beds, it’s just they never use them. But due to Vincent’s self sacrificing nature, he never lets how well he sleeps or how tired he is affect how he acts; it’s only a problem when it affects how well he can do his job.

Julia Howard: Julia is a pilot, which should mean she’s used to waking up at all odd hours. She isn’t. She requires a large amount of coffee to fully function in the morning, but after that, she’s fine. Now, see, Julia tries to sleep more, but it's just a hazard of the job, really. And now she’s so addicted to coffee that even if she slept twelve hours straight, she’d still not be a morning person. But. But. She could be a morning person if it meant being disgustingly chipper at 3 in the morning while her poor student, Eugene, can’t even get out of bed.

Kar's SWC Thread

Jul. 9th daily - 400 points & 389 words

I wake up in a cold sweat, my heart pounding against my chest. The nightmare has returned, haunting my sleep night after night. Ever since we moved into the new mansion, an eerie presence has taken hold of our lives. It started with strange occurrences—a flickering light, a distant whisper—and soon escalated into something more sinister.

The trapped soul that terrorizes my family has driven me to the brink of madness. I can no longer find solace in sleep, as each night brings a new wave of nightmares. The darkness becomes my enemy, its tendrils reaching out to suffocate me in the depths of my own mind. I yearn for a peaceful slumber, free from the clutches of fear and despair.

Desperate for respite, I have developed a peculiar sleeping habit—a ritual, if you will. Before I lay my weary body down, I carefully arrange a circle of salt around my bed. It acts as a barrier, a line of defence against the malevolent forces that lurk in the shadows. With each granule of salt, I silently pray for protection, hoping that this simple act will shield me from the tormented soul that seeks to harm us.

I curl up beneath the covers, my body tense with anticipation. The room is cloaked in darkness, and I can feel the weight of the night pressing down on me. The sound of my own breathing reverberates in my ears, a constant reminder of my vulnerability. But as I close my eyes, I summon all my strength, refusing to let fear consume me.

Sometimes, in those rare moments of tranquility, sleep finds me. I am transported to a realm where nightmares cannot reach, where I am safe from the clutches of the trapped soul. In that blissful state, I find solace and fleeting moments of peace. But they are all too brief, shattered by the abrupt return to reality.

My battle for a peaceful night's sleep continues, but I refuse to surrender. With each passing night, I gather my courage, facing the darkness head-on. Though my sleeping habits may seem strange to others, they are my lifeline—a fragile thread connecting me to a world untouched by terror. And until the day we can rid ourselves of the malevolent spirit, I will cling to that thread with unwavering determination.

DAILY FOR 09/07, 584 words (min of 300 for 9 hours), +400 points for tragedy


Before Arley's disappearance, Clair slept rather well. However, after her twin's disappearance, her and Paulo's adventures left many sleepless nights. In between finding Arley and the two of them being separated again, she started to get enough sleep again, though thinking about Cypress, her crush, this was sometimes difficult. After being separated from the others, she barely slept as she was always worrying about the future, even after being reunited with Cypress, her partner.
Arley often had trouble sleeping, even before realising he wasn't human. But things only got worse after he noticed his scales. After getting together with Paulo, he started to sleep much better, but this was short-lived, as once he was separated from his sister again, the guilt always kept him awake. After Clair's death, Arley could barely sleep, though this gradually improved over time, mostly through his boyfriend's help.
Throughout his life, the expectations Paulo's parents forced onto him caused him to not get much sleep, though after travelling to Migalia and dating Arley, Paulo could no longer keep in contact with his parents, so his sleep habits were much better than before. He had found that being there for his boyfriend helped him sleep better. While Clair's death did keep him awake a little, Arley would always make sure that Paulo got to sleep.
Before running away, Cypress would often worry about coming out to their parents. They were right, and slept much better after meeting Cosmo and finding a new family. While controlling their body, Gorgon didn't rest much, and they could feel the effects of this, but got plenty of sleep after being reunited with their girlfriend, Clair. After Clair's death, they didn't sleep to well due to the guilt they were feeling, alongside everyone else.
Cosmo had a little childhood trauma, but it had been so long since it happened that he didn't have too much trouble sleeping, though after meeting Arley, he spent plenty of time trying to figure out what he was really up to, which affected his sleep a little. While being separated from Cypress, he did worry quite a bit, but this didn't affect his sleep too much. He never got too attached to Clair, so had little to no problems sleeping after her death.
Goggles often worried about his family, especially after his wife's death several years prior to Cypress's arrival, so his sleep schedule was rather irregular.. After he realised that Cosmo was a part of the prophecy, his sleep only reduced from the worries and regrets he had from the past. After Clair's death, he was happy that his family was no longer in danger, and knew that there was nothing he could have done to change what had happened.
Skye was always carefree, and always slept well. She didn't know too much before meeting Clair and Arley, so her sleep was good. However, her job did sometimes mean that she would sometimes go days without any sleep.
For a long time Lyle knew there was something peculiar about Clair and Arley, and would often stay up late worrying about them. After each of their disappearances, he worked with Orel, his boyfriend, to figure out what had happened to them, so didn't sleep much. He did have regrets over what had happened to Clair, but Orel made sure to not let them bother him.
Gorgon is a ghost, so has been dead for hundreds of years. Therefore, he hasn't slept in several hundred years as he doesn't need to.