“More Than Eternal” || Writing Comp Fan-fic Entry || 1549 words, not including the 2 notes at the beginning and end, and 1614 words including the notes || Bug Fables fan-fic

Warning: Major spoilers for the game, Bug Fables. Seriously, this piece spoils literally the best plot twist in the game

All was peaceful in the glorious Ant Kingdom. Everyone was cheerful, no other kingdoms in Bugaria appeared to be in conflict with one another, and it was yet another perfect, sunny day.
However… the Ant Queen, Elizant, paced around the throne room, seeming to be distressed.
“My queen, what appears to be the problem?” One of the royal guards, who had been watching the queen for the past several minutes, asked.
“I was just thinking… what if we never manage to obtain the Everlasting Sapling?” It was a real worry of the queen's at this moment. They had been searching for moons, and there wasn't even a clue to where the Everlasting Sapling, a plant that provides eternal life (and perhaps more) to those who munch upon even one of its leaves, could possibly be. The worst of it all was that the queen could feel herself aging by the day. She was finally realizing how many aches came along with her age, and she was beginning to accept that if the Sapling weren't found soon, she would be gone.
“Don't worry, that's not going to hap-” the guard tried to reassure, but the queen interrupted.
“We're not going to make it if we don't go any faster!” Elizant fell back onto her throne because of both mental and physical exhaustion she had felt in that moment. The guard looked concerned and began to back away.
“You were talking about the Sapling, my queen?” Suddenly, the kingdom's most well known professor walked into the throne room, holding a bunch of pages, likely of research.
“…yes. Did you find anything?” The queen suddenly seemed hopeful.
“Well, yes and no…” the Professor said. They adjusted their glasses, looking down at their pages. “I haven't been able to get a clue on where the Sapling is, however… I did find a possible plan B.”
The queen looked intrigued.
“So, during my research, I've concluded that there is likely a roach laboratory within upper snakemouth den. It’s rumored they’re experimenting with crystals and some alternative to the Sapling in terms of obtaining eternal life. Perhaps someone within the kingdom could search the area for more insight?” The Professor suggested.
The queen took a moment to take that all in and decide what to do.
“Guards! Call in one of our loyal scout teams!” the Ant Queen finally exclaimed. A few moments later, 2 guards walked in, followed by 2 ants and a moth.
“Sorry for disturbing you,” Queen Elizant told the 3 bugs. “However, I must ask a favour from you. I'd like you to travel to Snakemouth Den, find whatever you can, and report back.”
One of the ants piped up with their concern. “Snakemouth Den? But, that place is full of dangers! I thought you were the one who-”
“You can't just reject a mission from the queen…” the moth whispered. The ant stopped speaking.
“We'll do it, your majesty.” The other ant said, bowing and walking out of the throne room. The other 2 followed.

The scout team made their way to the outskirts of the Ant Kingdom and towards Snakemouth Den, all fearing for their lives. As much as they all were dreading this task, they knew they had to do it. It was for the queen, and they couldn't refuse the queen's orders. The trip was rather silent, well, until they actually made it to Snakemouth Den.
“It's… not as bad as I thought it'd be…” said one of the ants, examining the oddly well-lit cave.
“Yeah, it feels rather cozy, to be completely honest…” the moth replied. The trio continued mumbling to one another about what they could see as they went deeper and deeper into the cave, avoiding any feral creatures and other traps that got in their way.
“Hey, look! A door!” Said one of the ants, pointing at a ginormous door, completely shut. The other ant ran up to it, trying to open it. No luck. The moth examined the area more, noticing an odd patch off ground that appeared to me made of a different material. It wouldn’t have been surprising if it were artificially made. He cautiously stepped onto it, and…
POOF! The floor disappeared from beneath his feet, leaving him to land on a mushroom below him. The ants were in utter shock and jumped down after him, helping him up.
“Oof- I'm… s-sorry, you guys…” He said, looking up where they were a minute ago. It looked too high for any of them to have a chance of getting back up.
“It's alright, we'll just have to find another way to get back up.” One of the ants reassured him. The moth nodded, and the trio continued their search.
One of the ants suddenly heard a noise. “Ummm… was that any of you?” They asked.
“…nope…” the other ant replied, also hearing the noise.
“What are you talk-” the moth was interrupted by a giant spider jumping out at them. It shot a web towards the moth, trapping him. The ants screamed as they fled the scene as fast as they possibly could, leaving the moth behind.

The two ants managed to find an exit back to the Ant Kingdom. They informed the queen of what had happened in Snakemouth Den, and the queen apologized.
Bugs from all over the kingdom gathered to mourn the loss of the moth, but he was forgotten shortly after.

—

Moons passed by, turning into several decades. Queen Elizant bequeathed her blades, her only weapon, as well as her title to her eldest daughter, Elizant II, before falling into an eternal slumber. Kingdoms within Bugaria began to separate and get into conflict. The Explorer's Association was established. Very few things were still the same, one of them being that the queen still searched for the Everlasting sapling. So many events occurred that the moth wouldn’t ever know about.
However, a miracle happened to the moth. A duo of new explorers, a beetle and a youthful bee, were on their first ever mission in Snakemouth Den. The same spider that had taken the moth had come to terrorize this duo. However, the spider wasn’t their only concern. They noticed this unfortunate moth stuck in the web and wanted to save him, if they were to even come out alive. They were lucky enough to survive its attacks, and escape it with the freed moth draped along their shoulder.
When they were sure they were out of danger, the moth surprisingly re-awoke, despite being stuck in the depths of this cave for several decades.
The moth got up, beginning to speak in some sort of ancient language that the explorer duo didn’t know of. The moth didn’t really know the language either, though. Shortly, he came to his senses, and the duo asked some questions.
“What were you doing here? Who even are you!?” asked the bee, rather suspicious of the moth.
“Oh, we’re Leif.” the moth answered. The duo looked at each other, both thinking the same thing.
‘We? What do you mean, we?’ Of course, out of politeness, neither brought it up, and let the moth, Leif, continue.
“We were on a scouting mission, until that spider approached. …where is the spider anyways?”
The explorers filled Leif in with what happened with the spider, and eventually, they agreed to escort him out of Snakemouth Den.

—

“And… the rest is history…” Leif explained to the fellow members of his exploration team. He stood there, watching the footage on the hologram in front of him.
So much had happened to Leif in such little time. He found out he had ice powers, he joined forces with the duo that had saved him, he was informed that the first Ant Queen was gone, and that the roaches had mysteriously disappeared. Throughout the adventure the explorers had together, so many questions were raised, and all of them were being answered right here, right now.
The hologram showed footage of a mind-controlling fungus, a cordyceps, being abandoned by the roaches, a failure. That was followed by footage of the cordyceps, and a resting Leif near each other.
After Leif explained all that he remembered about the whole ordeal in Snakemouth Den, and watching this shocking footage, he pieced everything together. He… wasn’t him. He was merely a creature pretending to be him. He was technically gone, like everyone thought he was. The worst part was that it was Queen Elizant’s fault. Ever since Leif was introduced to Elizant II, he had a dislike for her, and wanted the old queen back. Though, at this moment, his perspective seemed to flip. Maybe the queen he followed back then wasn’t as good as he thought. He felt betrayed, in a way. The other members of his exploration team gathered around him, supporting and comforting him.
The trio began to walk out of the laboratory they stumbled upon in Snakemouth Den, all trying to accept what was going on, and to continue trying to find the Sapling for the queen. Though, none of them suspected that they had already found the secret ingredient to create eternal life that the Professor had talked about all those decades ago.
They had walked right out of the alternate answer, and perhaps that was for the best.


Author's Note
Basically, this whole piece is based on what actually happens in Bug Fables, the only not-so-canon part being the whole terrible first queen thing. That was based on a theory someone had when playing this game, which ended up not being the case.

Critiquitaire
critique for @–Zeus @SnowdropSugar

To every ghost that lives eternal (and all the ones that are in me)

I really like the title, it's really relevant and powerful (just wanted to say that lol :lol

-hiding- found again

the friends i didn’t know i had

etc. these titles are a bit confusing, i dont know if it's just me but maybe you could make them a bit more obvious that they're a subtitles
as due to the formatting i mistaked them as writing and i was kinda confused.

To the little ghosts that hide away, you’re somebody.

Also, again, idk if it's me but, I find the mention of u being somebody in this context. Perhaps you could introduce the thought a bit more, maybe other people think you're a nobody, maybe u think ur a nobody, but not the ghosts if u get what I mean.

The ghost girl slips her frozen hand into your own. She lacks the warmth of hope and revels in the chill of frosted invisibility. She is made up of whispers, too quiet and far too silent to reach the ears of anyone but you. She is made of bone and vicious kindness.

I dont know if this is just how u waned to picture ur ghosts or if u just prefere it that way, and no offfence, but this discription gives me the skeleton kinda vibes, ig that is a bit relevant as she is walking dead or i that u could have just been being figurative in the use of adjectives that u used but personally i would have went for more ghost like vibes, like perhaps she disolves to whisps when she grabs ur hands, or she's made of shadows and yk, whispers, as u said.

all of the darkness parts for you
to make friends with the ghost.

Idk if i'm just bieng naive or, but i dont know what u mean by the darkness parts for u to make friends with theghost. It seems to have a deepful insite to it so u can keep it like this, i just wanted to tell u that idk what it means by that tho i feel like im just being naive.

You make
yourself a palace
littered with the bones of
a person that you were before.
A pyramid of all the things you left,
the things you promised you would never, ever
look back on but did.
You liar.
You little liar.

perhaps u could have made this a little more obvious that its the ghost talking, i think its just the graininess that makes it like that tho

ever-so-cruel relief

again, i think im just being clueless here but i feel like this comment is a bit random and idk what it means but it does add some mystery?

after this i never rlly picked anything up

Overall, i think this is rather a quite marvelous peice, the use of emotive language and the formating rlly brings new life to the text, I loved this so much and I cant rlly think of anything else to say i wish u good luck in the writing comp!

t

March 25 daily, 779 words

The snow fell softly into a white blanket on the ground.

Aneira stood in the middle of the snow, letting the flakes fall on her. She loved the snow. She loved the winter. This was her favorite season, she thought. Nobody was there to disturb her thoughts. Silence filled the world. She was alone.

The whiteness of everything was incredibly comforting. White snow, white trees, white sky.

Somewhere in the distance, Aneira heard the faint sound of laughter. She turned, the snow crunching under her feet. A cheerful glow came from inside her neighbor’s house, and through the curtains, Aneira glimpsed the family laughing and throwing pillows at each other. Their muffled shrieks of mirth floated all the way over to Aneira.

She turned back around. She didn’t care. Why should she? Why should it matter that that family was having fun and she wasn’t? Why should it matter that those kids were laughing with their parents, but her own parents were gone?

She convinced herself that it was okay.

She took comfort in the white bleakness of the snowy world.

- - -

Days faded into weeks, and the world slowly changed. The snow on the ground melted, and in its place, green buds pushed up from the earth. The sun turned from a cold white circle to a warm yellow one. Tiny birds hatched from eggs and the air was filled with their sweet music.

And school was starting again. Kids poured out from their houses, energized after a relaxing break, and excited shouts and calls were exchanged as people reunited with their friends once again. Talk of teachers and homework and winter vacations flew hither and thither.

Amidst the chatter, Aneira stood alone. She didn’t have anyone to tell about what she did over the winter. It did sting a bit to watch everyone else, but even if she did have someone, what would she say? That she had spent her entire winter watching the snow fall?

The snow had melted, anyway. Color was starting to come back into the world.

Colors made Aneira feel like all the happiness in the world was a lie.

- - -

There was one girl in Aneira’s class who always wore bright colors. Her name was Yara.

Aneira found her fascinating. Everyday, Yara seemed to wear a different color. One day it was orange, the next day green, then red, blue, pink…

There was something else about Yara, too. The whole village knew that her brother had passed away two months ago after battling cancer. Her mom had passed last year. She had only her father, who was too busy to take care of her.

And yet, Yara smiled.

And yet, she wore colors.

Aneira couldn’t understand it. How could Yara be so cheerful? How could she still talk to people, how could she laugh on the coldest days? How could she keep her hope up when so many of her loved ones had passed?

One day, Aneira saw Yara sitting alone on a bench, while the other kids were screaming in the playground. She was wearing a bright yellow sundress. And she was looking down at a photograph in her hands. Of a family photo, Aneira realized.

She didn’t know what she was doing, but she walked over and sat down beside Yara. The girl didn’t say anything, only looked up at Aneira and smiled before going back to the photograph.

“Do you… miss them?” Aneira found herself saying.

Yara nodded.

“Everyday,” she said quietly, tracing her finger softly around her mother’s face.

“Then… how?”

“How what?”

“How-” Aneira paused. “How can you still smile despite it all?”

Yara didn’t say anything for a long while. Aneira didn’t mind. Maybe she had gone too far. The two girls sat in silence. The leaves rustled above them.

Then–

“I smile because what else is there to do?” Yara said softly. “I can’t change anything that happened. I can’t go back. I can only go forward. And I’d rather do it with a smile.” She fingered her dress. “There’s so much more to live for. What’s the point in moping? I don’t want my world to be bleak and hopeless, so I try to add some color to it. It’s what’s keeping me going, despite everything.”

She fell silent again, and Aneira gazed at the grass. It was green. The sky was blue. The flowers were blooming, and the bees were buzzing. Colors suddenly seemed to be everywhere.

And for the first time, Aneira understood why Yara liked them so much. They were beautiful.

“Thank you,” she said. Yara smiled.

And for the first time, instead of seeing lies in all the colors, Aneira saw hope.

-lxve-bug- wrote:

pup's thread (boy am i late :skull: )


AYYYY IM 100TH LMAO

writing comp entry !! edited flower weekly at 534 words (without symbolism explanation. WITH symbolism explanation 642 words)

(flower symbolism- Ashphodel - my regrets follow you to the grave Buttercup - childishness Daisy - innocence Pansy - you occupy my thoughts Dahlia - yours till the end Ash’s name symbolize their deep regrets and dark past/present, pansy’s name means she is occupying ash’s thoughts & makes them feel better, its like a sweet thing yk their always thinking about her. And then the flowers ash crushes are symbolizing their lack of innocence & childishness, like they were forced to grow up fast because of their familial situation and stuffs. The small handful of dahlias symbolizes pansy’s dedication to ash, and sort of saying like “hey im here for you & i love u”)

Asphodel trudged up the flower laden path, the slope of the hill and the weight of their pack making it difficult to walk. They took a deep breath when they finally reached the top, filling their lungs with sweet spring air. They surveyed the valley beneath them, the setting sun warming their face. They sighed contentedly, allowing the warm spring breeze to wash over them. They enjoyed nature. It helped distract them from…well, everything. They shook their head, refusing to allow themself to think about anything except the current moment.
They slid their backpack off their shoulders, and it fell to the ground with a thud. They didn’t really like the spot they’d picked out though, so they stranded their backpack and walked around the hill for a few minutes, looking for a spot to hold their solitary picnic. The daisies and buttercups that peppered the landscape were crushed under their chunky combat boots as they roamed. They gave up, and went back to their backpack, settling for the original spot.
They got their blanket out of their pack, and laid it on the ground, careful not to crush any more flowers. They sat down with a sigh, sprawling out on the blanket. They stared at the sky, noticing the clouds and the receding sun. Dusk was their favorite time of day. The world wasn’t yet asleep, but it was still somewhat dark outside, the lighting sparse. They enjoyed dark environments with just enough to see.
They opened their backpack once again, this time pulling out a rather dented wicker basket containing a sandwich, a few slices of watermelon, and a bag of Fritos. They began to eat, chewing slowly to stay outside and escape for as long as possible. It began to get dark, so they pulled out their lanterns, setting them on the edge of their blanket to illuminate the early night.
Suddenly, they heard a voice. “Ash!” it called. They whipped their head around so hard their neck cracked and their small ponytail came loose.
“Hello?” they called into the night. There was no reply. They worriedly undid their hair, allowing the choppy strands of their wolf cut to wave freely in the cool breeze. The figure approached quickly, holding what appeared to be a few flowers.
“Ash! Hi!” The figure came into the lantern light and gave Asphodel a bear hug. They laughed, returning the hug with equal force.
“Hey, Pansy,” they said with a chuckle. Pansy presented them with a small handful of flowers, clearly freshly picked.
“Aw, thanks Pansy. You’re really sweet, you know that right?” They smiled at their girlfriend, holding her close as they watched the moths flitting around the lanterns.
“Of course,” Pansy replied, “it’s been a while since I’ve seen you; I didn’t realize you would be here, though.”
Asphodel smiled again.
"I’m always here.” They examined the flowers they’d received. On closer inspection, it appeared to be a bunch of dahlias. Asphodel felt a sudden wave of affection for Pansy for this small action. They leaned over, and kissed Pansy on the cheek. She turned her head to lock their lips together, turning a small kiss into a passionate one under the stars.

-lxve-bug- wrote:

pup's thread (boy am i late :skull: )


AYYYY IM 100TH LMAO

daily for poetry !! 504 words about me rambling about moving and trying to combine colors with that somehow

When I first moved here, I told myself I’d hate it. I told myself it wasn’t my home. I said I wasn’t going to make a single friend. I told myself not to get comfortable, because this wasn’t where you belonged. On my first day at my new school, I wore black. The second day of school, the unthinkable happened: I made a friend.
On the third day, I wore a yellow sweatshirt.
As time wore on, I made more friends. I stopped talking to my old ones. Originally, I hated this. I cursed inside every night, how dare I fit in! How dare I get comfortable! How dare I make this my home! How dare I not hate it! I realized that this was better than where I came from. I realized the people were better.
I painted my new walls white.
It’s funny that I detested this place so much at first. I can’t believe it, looking back. It’s infinitely better than my old place of residence. Not to mention the people are nicer. My girlfriend, for example. Gosh… when I first met her I never thought we would actually end up together, but here we are!
I think the main reason I hated it so much was because it was new. With the tall, green grass and the red country club, the big brown house on my street. I think I’m stalling for words at this point, but I’ve never used color imagery before.
Blue and yellow are rather odd colors. Not separate, but together. I thought red and white was a much more pleasing combination. Unfortunately, one cannot control the colors their school board thought would look good together. And “let’s get rowdy?” What kind of slogan is that? At least this school has a slogan. My old school did not. This school is far better, though, despite its blue and yellow oddness. I’ve grown to embrace the blue and yellow, despite my distaste for the two when they’re together.
Now what I really would like is a school with red and black colors. Passion and strength. Not only is it my favorite color combination, but it’s one that commands respect. Anger and authority. Love and the unknown. Not only were the colors themselves made for each other, but so were their meanings. Maybe I should take this up with the school board.
Not that I would want new colors, though. I’m perfectly content with the blue and yellow, though I feel it would be better as blue and orange. Which is funny to me, as orange is the color of change. So really, the whole journey of rambling up to this point would be painted with a backdrop of orange. Orange skies, orange leaves, orange… oranges.
And that’s pretty funny, because we moved in fall. When the sky, leaves, and the ground were all orange. It’s strange how nature and the earth do that sometimes. Subtle things one wouldn’t pick up on right then and there, in the moment.

Daily 025: 570 words, Change

The wind whistled around the flowers, whose petals were just beginning to unfurl in the warm spring sun. Grass rippled and began to turn green again after the long winter of yellow dryness, and the birds and bugs swooped back down from the skies and scuttled back up from the ground and nestled in the meadow to hunt and to hide. Bigger things were stirring, too–the rivers and creeks, swollen with snowmelt, roared in their beds, and the trees budded and blossomed and threw out their splendor with full abandon.
And the best was yet to come.
The caterpillar quivered on the leaf, a tiny scrap of a worm that looked as though the slightest breeze would knock it to the ground, where the hungry ants would soon pounce on it and carry it away, a sacrifice to their queen. Already it had begun destroying the leaf, nibbling it with tiny mandibles that made big holes. The plant had nothing to fear; it was a hardy tree that had seen many caterpillars in its day, and the leaf was merely one out of thousands.
Below in the meadow, a deer paused to stretch her neck upwards towards the lower-hanging juicy leaves, ripping away a mouthful before lowering herself to earth again. At her side tottered a tiny, clumsy fawn, its eyes wide and brown and curious as it sniffed at the tree and then wobbled back to its mother’s side, crushing green grass underneath its hooves.
The brook was vibrant and blue, a laughing, sparkling, merry thing, rippling on its long journey to the sea. Minnows darted here and there, scattering suddenly when a half-grown frog plunged through, intent on reaching the surface, kicking new green legs out behind him.
The caterpillar had moved on to the next leaf, and the next, and the next, slowly munching its way across the tree, one humpy squirm at a time.
The deer moved on from the tree, her unsteady fawn hopping beside her, pausing every few minutes to shove its inquisitive nose into clusters of rich, emerald-colored grass, or eye a shiny black beetle, trundling across the soil.
The minnows returned to their darting, the frog already forgotten. Minnows do not have very long memories, but luckily for them, they had nothing to fear from the frog, who only wanted to see the surface.
And the frog paused–faltered–considered. Perhaps it would be better to stay where he was, safe under the water with the things he knew, at least until his legs grew a little longer.
The caterpillar had eaten the last leaf, squirmed the last squirm. It was time to spin a chrysalis, imprison its caterpillar body within a leaf-colored prison.
Yet it did not begin, right away. It was so hard to leave the sunshine, the green leaves, the breeze.
The fawn, still gangly and awkward, was yet big enough to strike out on its own and forage for itself before returning to its mother’s side, but it hadn’t dared to yet. Anything could happen if it left her side, after all.
There was a beat of hesitating, of anticipation, of fear.
The waters broke in a tide of crystal-sapphire droplets as the frog leaped upward. The chrysalis burst in a flurry of wet red-and-yellow wings. The fawn nosed a patch of green grass, a few yards away from its mother.
In time, all things arrive to their true home.

In the vibrant haven of green, where reality fractures and unseen worlds beckon, I draw my lines. It’s a landscape of my own creation, shifting and changing at my every whim. Almost without me noticing. But I am not the only one here. With bright cyan, I trace the path where the River likes to run, intertwining with companions, navigating the demands of existence. Chaos arrives, too, her lines of gold weaving and shifting with the tales told, each hue adapting to the whims of destiny.
In the embrace of Eclipse, tinged with orange, lines connect souls and dreams, curiosity fueling every stroke. He searches the night sky with a brilliance and purity unmatched by anyone else. Meanwhile, the Indigo lines of Silence offer solace within the unknown, a gentle glow amidst the shadows, unexpected, yet welcomed. Teal Rain brings clarity in its sarcastic wisdom, cutting through the fog of confusion with blunt honesty. They are like the truth, sometimes difficult to accept, but often needing to be heard. I have come to appreciate that
Within the forest, Chervil's lines remain harsh, a turtle's chorus of mental whispers often ignored yet somehow comforting. Mandala patterns reflect through the leaves, cast by her own thoughts, echoing throughout the invisible connections shared by all living things. Parsnip's lines of time lead to a woodpecker perched above, while Sundial remains a mystery drawn in infrared, his purpose veiled in enigma. Someday, I will learn what he is here for. Just not today.
Occasionally, there are colors I can’t see, but I can feel. Raven's heart and Wander's sky pass by, glimpsing the other side as I sketch a few more lines, adding to the colorful tapestry of existence. This is where ideas are born, where thoughts take shape and dreams intertwine, a rainbow made of our collective lineart.
Amidst the myriad hues and shades, I find my place, drawing lines that bridge worlds and connect souls, each stroke a testament to the beauty and complexity of life. In this realm of creativity and imagination, we all play a part, contributing our unique lines to the ever-expanding canvas of existence.
I call this place Half-Canon. It has no physical form- not yet. Its purpose is merely to be a bridge of dreams, so that, one day, I can be real.
The images in my brain finally coalesce into words, one more step forward:

I draw my lines in Haven’s green
Cracks in your reality
The other world that thinks unseen
That is where I long to be

I draw your lines in bright cyan
Along the way the River ran
Hanging together whenever we can
Keeping up with the demand

Chaos came with lines of gold
Adapting as the tale is told
Any color, calm or bold
The shifting lines that shall unfold

Eclipse is more an orange hue
I draw the lines of him and you
Curiosity, through and through
Everything we dream, we do

The lines of Silence, indigo
Within the fear of the unknown
Turned out to have a gentle glow
Unexpected, but now my home

Can’t forget the teal Rain
The sarcastic voice within my brain
Can be blunt, but feels no shame
Lines of clarity in times of pain

Chervil resides within the forest
Probably will just ignore this
Her lines are harsh, but they don’t bore us
A mental whisper, turtle’s chorus

Parsnip’s lines of time have led
To a woodpecker above his head
Sundial’s a mystery, we all said
For he is drawn in infrared

Sometimes others pass on by
Raven’s heart and Wander’s sky
They can glimpse the other side
So I sketch a few more lines

This is where ideas start
The place of thoughts, close to my heart
Each of us all taking part
A rainbow made of our lineart

Tw war I could taste the metallic red sting of blood in my mouth. The red carnage and the blinding white flashes still shine in my eyes. The colors clash together, angry and fierce, the lines are jagged and rough, fighting each other the way that we humans have been fighting each other. But it's been a week since we drove out the invaders, the carnage of war is gone and we've all been trying to rebuild, but the sky is still black with smoke blocking out the sun and the ground is still gray with the ashes and rubble of our homes. So many of my friends and family are dead, their deaths have sent my heart deep into a black void, and I do not think that light will ever reach it. We are still struggling to rebuild and in a way I didn't want to at first, after all I had been through I just wanted to close my eyes and see that soft gray behind my eyelids, but I do not know how to do that anymore. We aren't fighting but the colors still fight behind my eyelids whenever I try to sleep. But my son has woken up, I had thought he would not survive his injuries, but he did and it shines a little yellow light. The darkness in me wants to consume it, the darkness and the chaos cannot accept that their is something soft can exist in a world like this. But I love that soft light and I sit with him in the crowded hospital whenever I can, and I hold onto that yellow light and pray that he will be okay and that he will forgive me.
“How is he doing?” I ask the doctor as she checks his vitals. The machines they have are not the best, this is because we are still recovering and so many of our things were destroyed, but our doctors have not given up hope as I nearly had and for this I feel like maybe I should hug her but thst yellow hasn't gotten rid of enough of the black just yet, I am not yet able to let hope or happiness or gratitude shine through that crushing suffocating black. The yellow hope lays there just a pinprick. I can not make it bigger yet. She tells me that he is doing well and can come home with me soon. But the yellow doesn't get bigger than a thumbprint on my heart until one week later when I carried him into our home, because despite what he had been through he was laughing and it spilled out of him bubbly and bright. The black is no longer suffocating me, and though I still see the flashing colors on occasion, they are not overwhelming me constantly. I cannot leave behind that carnage completely but time has passed our building rise into a clear blue sky the sun is shining and the grass is green once more

Critique! 230 words

Okay, for my general thoughts about the passage, I honestly really enjoyed it. This is very stylized piece that, at least for me, invokes emotion. I loved the prose, which was very vivid and lively.

In terms of understanding, I think I got the gist. I was able to process everything very well. I thought it was a great character piece. It focused very much so on location, which worked well. I don’t think I did this daily and so I don’t remember what prompt this is connected with, but coming from an outsider's point of you who didn’t do this daily, it seemed to be focused on the symbolism of a location which I think was done very well. I think it was communicated very effectively. I am very fond of the way that you wrote this person‘s inner dialogue. I never felt like I could get bored. I was always intrigued by what this person had to say about themselves and there are a lot of really interesting things.

In terms of corrective suggestions I legitimately do not have any. You did an awesome job with everything and I cannot really find fault aside from maybe the fact that I was left craving more, which isn't necessarily a bad thing.

I think it was a really great passage and I am so glad that I read it!

Fanfic daily thing (Percy Jackson, switched Lucke and Percy): Well, guess I'm here now. I thought. Yesterday my mother had been kidnapped/died (I wasn't quite sure, it was strange) and now I was here in some sort of camp for modern mythology. I figured I should probably get out of bed, I had training practice with Percy this morning. As I walked to the training grounds I noticed that I was already older than a lot of the kids here, including Percy. As I came up to him he took notice to me, and called out;
“Hey, Luke!” He said, giving me a wave. I saw him excuse himself from Annabeth to come over to me. “Heya, ready for some training? You were a natural yesterday with the minotaur.” He said with a grin. He was a son of Posiedon, and had been here for years already. He seemed like a nice guy, but at times he seemed like he was hiding something for some reason.
We did some sparring back and forth, I won some, Percy won some. By the end we were both sweating.
“Bye, you were good!” He said turning hurriedly to get to something. He seemed highly suspicious, and I had been waiting for a moment like this, so I went ahead and crept up on him, following him. As figured he went back to his cabin, and I was able to peer in through the door's crack when he closed it. Then, he took some of the water in the fountain and had it spray itself into a rainbow. He put into it a golden drachma and said
“Tartarus,” when he said, he seemed to resent the word a bit. I tensed, Tartarus was a place worse than the underworld. What Percy was doing with the forces there I had not a clue. On the rainbow it showed something like an open coffin, which was in a room that was dark and looked like it was supposed to be hidden and not looked at.`
“Finally.” Said a cold powerful sounding voice from the coffin. “It's taken you a while to call me again, Perseus.”
“Yes, yes.” Said Percy. “I have things to do here, you know.” Which I thought seemed quite disrespectful to say to this… probably deity.
“Don't be petty with me.” It said.“You know you're lucky to be working with me.” It said,
“Yeah okay. Said Percy. ”So, was there anything you actually wanted to talk about, or did you just want to make sure I was still alive?" He said, slipping a small grin at the end.
(Author's note: Alright, sorry for the abrupt end, my mom made me go to sleep (boo) so this is all you get lol. Okay bye-)

Brackish: Once there was two sea serpents. One lived in the ocean, and could only breathe salt water and air. The other lived in a lake and that one breathed only fresh water and air. However the lake was quite close to the ocean, and the serpents would see each other sometimes, and eventually started to talk. They wanted quite badly to live together in the lake or the ocean, and so together they prayed to a deity. It told them that they would need to do a series of quests for it, and then it might give them what they so badly wanted. The deity said that it would first need for the serpents to help the poor clam farmer that’s farm had been overtaken by octopi. The sea serpent was able to complete this, and went ahead and took one after another octopus and threw it on to the land. Once it had finished the water serpents returned to the deity. It said it needed them to throw a piece of quartz into the nearby geyser. This one was easier for the lake serpent because its fins could lead it better on land. When the serpent dropped it in, it almost got full on sprayed by the geyser, though thankfully only two drops got on the serpent.Those scars left behind would be a permenant reminder of the quests for the rest of their life. After they dropped the quartz in they returned again to the deity. For their last quest it said it would need them to walk to the top and back down to the hill behind the lake. This was quite the task, since even though it was more of a medium-sized hill and less of a mountain, they still only had fins, not legs. Despite this, they were able to do it, after spending hours climbing the mountain, encouraged and full of determination because of the others presence. Then, once more, they returned to the deity. The deity congratulated them and gifted them two pearls. The deity said the pearls were from the clam farmer, who had been very grateful. The deity had enchanted them so that the pearls would make it so they would both be able to breathe fresh and ocean water once they ate them, as well as making a lakeish area connecting to both the water and the sea so it was a mix of both. The serpents immediately picked up the pearls from the sand with their teeth to eat them, and they lived happily ever after, living together at last.

god

Daily// 3/26/24 //
!Warningi not going to have the same wording!!
Word count // 584

“Percy, how about we go find a monster to battle. For old time's sake.” Luke asked.
“Sure.” I said. Luke was cool, and I was glad he was talking to me. I was worried he was mad I was getting a lot of attention.
We grabbed our swords and went into the forest, hoping for some end of camp fun. We walked for about ten minutes before we sat down next to a creek.
“Want some soda?” He offered me a can of soda.
“Sure.” I took it and sipped it. “Wait, where did you get this?” There wasn't really any soda in camp. The Chalices we had could make soda, but it never really tasted the same.
He shrugged. “Annabeth gave me a few of these.” He took a drink of his soda. Then, his face turned just as confused as mine. “How did she get these?”
He turned to me. “Did you go get soda or something on your mission.”
I shook my head. “I mean, if you can count Auntie Em's garden gnome emporium.” I looked down. “But, I don't think that's where this came from.”
Luke's face went pale. “You're saying she's been out of camp.”
I nodded. “Which means…”
“She's the lightning thief.”
Suddenly, clapping behind us. “Good job, boys. Took you long enough.”
I immediately stood up, but didn't see her, then I was pushed to the ground.
“She has her cap.” Luke said. He put his hands up, looking paler than ever. “Annabeth, why? How could you do this?”
“You of all people should know why, Luke.” She took off her cap, revealing she was right in front of Luke. She turned to me. “You too, Percy.” She backed up from Luke. “The gods have been taking advantage of us for too long. They are our parents, even if they don't act like it, they shouldn't be able to treat us this way.”
“Annabeth-” Luke tried to stand up, but Annabeth kicked him back to the ground. “No!” She took a few deep breaths. “No. Nothing will change my mind.”
Luke winced at his side. He cut it on a rock falling to the ground.
“Luke are you-” She went to kneel, but stopped herself. She cleared her throat and turned away. “After you came back from your quest, Luke, I was angry. How could they let you fail? How could they let you get hurt?” She started to cry. “There was also the fact that they sent you on a quest that had already been done. They were just repeating old scripts.” She grabbed something from her pocket. It was a scorpion. “Could you hold my pet while I'm telling my story?” She put it on my knee. “Thank you. Anyway, I wanted destroy them. I felt as if the world deserved to crumble, and that night, I was confirmed. Kronos came to me in a dream. He showed me all the other quests the gods had sent half-bloods on that had failed, and how they did nothing. Nothing. Where were they when Thalia-”
“Zeus saved her!” Luke yelled, holding his side.
“By turning her into a tree!” She yelled back, with a look of pure evil. “Yeah, great help.” She kicked a rock. “Kronos told me we could rebuild the world. A world where everyone could be cared for. A world without the gods. A perfect world.” She stroked her scorpion. “A new golden age is coming. One without either of you in it.”

Daily 26th March

Skandar spiralled down on Scoundrel, the ground rushing up towards him. The wind howled in his ears and its cold hand slapped his face. At the last moment, Scoundrel arched his back and pawed the air, narrowly missing the soil by an inch. He then went on to smoothly land on some velvety grass.

Skandar then hurried towards a clump of blackened trees. Beyond them was a sea of grey. The grass was grey. The sky was grey. The soil was grey. It was as though all the colour had been sucked from the world. But for Skandar, this was the best place to be. A malicious smile curled on his lips.
Come on, Scoundrel.
Their bond pulsed and Skandar felt anger this time, hot and searing. Scoundrel reared up and shrieked, pointed his raven-black horn towards the churning clouds. His wings beat ferociously, as he tried to lift his rider up, but Skandar summoned a pile of earth to come toppling down on his wings.

A masked rider appeared, her hands pearly white and clenched.
“So you came then.”
Her voice was cold and harsh.
“Yes.”
Skandar’s face hardened.
“Time to go destroy that dreadful place.”
She shuddered as she recalled what had happened back there.
Skandar turned around quickly and began loping towards the forest of treehouses. Scoundrel roared in appreciation. But then the masked rider was following them.

What’s Skandar doing?
He’s never like this?
What’s wrong with him?
I thought he was supposed to save us from the Weaver, not help her!

Skandar raised his hands and sent a column of fire at one of the treehouses, his face careless and almost looked bored. The ferocious flames licked the metal framework and shouts echoed through the air. More lightning forked from the ominous skies, splitting the treehouses into halves, burning them. Rocks were hurled and smashed into them and cavernous holes opened up.

He turned away and back up through the charred bushes. Scoundrel kicked the air with his scuffed hooves and bolted back to the Eyrie, his mane flying out behind him.
Skandar uttered one word, a word poisonous to any Islander or Mainlander at the time.
“Victory.”

Part 1:
A girl in the 1950s discovers a note left by her long dead father. The note explains how he was a leader in one of the two rival groups in the area. The note instructs her to go stay with her older brother and his girlfriend. When she gets there, her older brother hands her an envelope that he says he was supposed to give her.

When she gets to her brother's place, he gives her a note that he was instructed to give to her by their father. It instructs her on a certain date to go down into the other rival groups territory after the big citywide party. There she will find the next clue.

She goes out with her brother and his girlfriend to a dance club that is right in between the two groups territory. While both of the groups are there, she sneaks out back behind the club to the location she was told to go to. When she gets to the back, she meets a boy from the rival group. He agrees to help her and they find the final clue.

She starts to fall for the guy that she met behind the club but since they are from rival groups they can't do anything. They meet up at midnight and look for where the final clue leads to. When they get to the final place they are caught by the group that the boy is a part of. The group members thank the boy for leading them to the location of the mans treasure even though its obvious that he did not want to do this. He begs the girl for forgiveness for betraying her.

They manage to shake the group and double back around to the spot. Up high there sits a small wooden box. She opens it with the boy and inside the box lies a series of pictures and other things given to him by the girl over the years. There is one small note in the box that says my treasure was you all along.


Part 2:
The first clue is that she needs to go to her old house which is now her brother's place and look for where they made the sweetest of music. this is the inside of an old guitar that she and her father used to use when she was younger. The guitar sits in her old bedroom.

The second clue inside the guitar says to go to the top of their favorite place to dance. This is a dance club that is in between the two groups' territories. When she arrives there the next clue is hidden in a pair of dance shoes underneath a bench on the roof.

The third and final clue was inside the shoes. On it it says go to where they said goodbye one last time. This is out at the rocky cliffs to the old treehouse where she last got to see her dad. The treasure from her dad sits inside of the old chest in the center of the treehouse.

The boy that she meets behind the dance club is from the rival group that her father hated. The boy agrees to help the girl but he ends up being forced to betray her. The girl had thought that she could trust him and that he knew how to help him but he ended up being a red herring.


Part 3:
Hello sir! My name is Linda Scott and I'm the reporter for The Times. Can you give us your name and what exactly happened down at the cliffs last night?

Well Im not really feelin' like giving you my name. Priviacy and all. But last night at the cliffs was crazy. I really thought that them kids wouldn't be able to get away.

Kids sir? Would you care to elaborate more about this?

There were two of em. A boy and a girl. The boy was from the Everly gang, my group. The girl I could tell was an Ivy. She kinda looked like the old leader, James kid. We saw the pair sneak up out to that lil treehouse that is out by the cliffs.

Treehouse? I wonder what they were doing out there.

Anyways the two kids were getting ready to climb up the ladder and then some of the Everly people stepped out from the shadows. They started to run after them kids and were shoutin “give us that box.” The girl and boy ran away from em and they went straight towards the woods and disappeared. The Everlys went running after them shouting and making a racket. Later on the kids creeped back into the clearing. They snuck up that treehouse ladder and later on came back down with a box. i wonder what was so important in that box to them kids.

I don't know sir. But thanks so much for agreeing to speak with us. Linda Scott, signing off!


Part 4:
Nancy took one last deep breath. She stood outside the dingy exterior of the dance club while she waited for her brother and his girlfriend to catch up. She smoothed down the fabric of the yellow dress she wore and stood up. “Now or never” Nancy muttered under her breath. When she pushed open the door it felt like an explosion of color and sound. The girl's bright dresses swirled this way and that as they danced in the center of the room. She could hear rock and roll music playing above the clamorous noise of chattering. The men were off to the sides mostly and were sipping drinks. Shutting the door behind her, she immediately scooted off to the sides. Her brother and his girlfriend walked in right after. She stood where she was until they disappeared into the crowd. Nancy stood there against the wall and pulled the note out of the pocket of her dress. In her dad's flowing script it read “Go to the top of our favorite place to dance my little star.” She felt a twinge of sadness whenever she read over the part that called her his little star. She slung her black jacket over her shoulder and started to make her way towards the back door. Her head was already pounding from the music and the sound of people talking. When she reached the door she gave one look around to see if anybody was watching her. They were all focused on the dancers. Slowly she pulled open the creaky door and stepped out into the cool night air. As Nancy shut the door behind her back she could feel her headache start to cease as the sounds inside became muffled. Out back there were some old wooden crates alongside some old chainlink fence. She stepped around the puddles and walked towards the rusted old ladder that led to the roof. Suddenly a voice behind her said “What's a girl like you doing out back here” She jumped and slowly turned around to face the voice. Nancy saw that he was a boy. He appeared to be around her age and was wearing a beat up leather jacket, jeans, and black high tops. He had his blond hair slicked back and had these starling green eyes that seemed to pull Nancy in. Finally, she snapped out of her trance and managed to get out “And who are you?” she asked. She turned back towards the ladder and began to climb. She threw her jacket up to the ledge and looked back down at him as she waited for an answer. “My name is Michael” the boy responds as he looks up at her. “Nancy” she quickly responded as she reached the top. She turned away and was getting ready to look around the rooftop when she heard the sound of someone climbing up the ladder. She whipped back around. Michael's head popped up from over the ledge and he called out “What exactly are you doing up here?” Nancy sighed and turned back around. “I'm looking for something that my dad left for me up here.” She called back. Up there on the roof, sat was a small tent area covered in gauzy white sheets. Inside Nancy could make out a string of lights and a pair of red dancing shoes. On the ground sat a small radio and basket. Just looking at this place brought back memories of dancing up here with her dad. She could hear the sound behind her of Miachel pulling himself up onto the roof. She walked over to the tent and skirted around the puddles on the ground. As she got closer she could make out something sticking out of the pair of shoes. When she stepped inside she could hear soft music pouring out of the rickety old radio. Nancy snatched up the pair of shoes and pulled the note out of the toe of the shoe. On it read “Go where we said out goodbyes one last time.” She took in a deep breath and said “I'm coming Dad”

totals
part 1:353 words
part 2:225 words
part 3: 255 words
part 4:685 words
all:1518 words

(Dream SMP fanfic? Except it’s Tommy wanting to destroy L’Manberg instead of Dream? And friends are formed instead of enemies? I don’t know, fanfics really aren’t my thing -w-)

TommyInnit sprinted through the streets of L'Manberg, his heart pounding with adrenaline. His mind was a whirlwind of chaos as he recklessly hurled TNT at buildings, his laughter echoing through the once-peaceful town. But amidst the destruction, there was a hint of desperation in his eyes, a longing for something he couldn't quite grasp.
As the chaos intensified, Dream, the enigmatic figure known for his cunning and prowess, watched from the shadows. His brow furrowed with concern as he observed Tommy's reckless behavior, recognizing the turmoil within the young man's heart. Without hesitation, Dream sprang into action, swiftly intervening to prevent further destruction.
With a calculated move, Dream intercepted Tommy, his voice firm yet gentle as he reached out to him. “Tommy, stop. This isn't the way,” he urged, his words cutting through the chaos like a beacon of reason in the darkness.
Tommy paused, his hands trembling as he looked into Dream's eyes, seeing not condemnation but understanding. In that moment, a wave of realization washed over him, the weight of his actions crashing down upon him like a tidal wave. He had lost sight of himself in his quest for power, but now, in the presence of Dream, he saw a path to redemption.
With a deep breath, Tommy surrendered to Dream's guidance, allowing himself to be led away from the chaos he had wrought. Together, they stood amidst the rubble of L'Manberg, their bond forged in the crucible of conflict and redemption.
In the aftermath of the destruction, Dream extended a hand to Tommy, offering him a chance to rebuild and atone for his actions. And as they walked away from the ruins, Tommy knew that with Dream by his side, he would find his way back to the light, one step at a time.
This friendship was meant to be.

Daily 026: 306 words, Howl's Moving Castle

The castle shook and rattled as it lumbered its way towards…well, no one in the castle really knew, because Howl and Calcifer were arguing again.
“RIGHT, I SAID GO RIGHT,” Calcifer shouted, banging his fist on the hearth.
“YOU WERE WRONG,” Howl shouted back from the ashes, his fiery face flickering angrily. “THE RIGHT WAY IS ACTUALLY LEFT.”
“NO, THE RIGHT IS THE RIGHT WAY, YOU SILLY DEMON!”
“NO, BECAUSE THE LEFT IS THE RIGHT WAY, AND THE RIGHT IS THE WRONG WAY!”
Calcifer made a threatening motion towards the water bucket, but Howl folded his arms and gazed back stubbornly.
“Fine, we can go in circles, for all I care. Left this, right that, no one listens to me anyway…” the wizard grumbled, throwing his hands up in the air. Howl nodded triumphantly and continued steering the castle wherever he wanted, which happened to be left. Or was it right? Neither could remember, and really, neither cared so very much. They were arguing simply for the sake of arguing.
Calcifer stomped upstairs moodily, sweeping into his room and slamming the door dramatically. Howl pretended not to hear, but he also directed a burst of warmth towards the fire in Calcifer’s room. For all their bickering, which was only natural, given that the contract forced them to live together constantly, the two were really friends. Even though their squabbles over left and right might lead one to believe otherwise.
Rain began to sheet down, and the wind howled and moaned over the moor. Howl curled up in the ashes and closed his flickering eyes when the door creaked open, and someone came in. An old woman, hunched over and bundled in a shawl. She stretched knobbly hands out to his fire, moaning with satisfaction as she settled into the chair.
Well.
This was an unexpected development.

Hey, this was pretty good! I like how it includes elements of mythology while at the same time, telling a story about being an outcast and getting bullied that many people can relate to and/or sympathize with, even if they knew nothing about the mythological stuff. Your characterization was well done, especially the body language and small behavioral details. Each character, as well as the protagonist's relationships with them, was unique and memorable. However, more detail could be given to the bully characters. It would make sense to add in some backstory about how and why they had picked on him in the past, and explain why they seemed willing to literally kill him when his only fault was that he didn’t live up to their expectations. The fact that he almost died of drowning is pretty extreme, going beyond just normal bullying. Were the bullies truly intending to drown him, or were they messing around and went too far? They didn’t seem too bothered by the fact that they almost killed a person, as they left laughing, so do they simply have no regard for life in general, or is there a reason they target the protagonist in particular? Do they hate him for any personal reasons, or is he just an easy target for their cruel desires? Not all of these questions have to be addressed in this passage, but since you said this was an excerpt from a larger novel you’ll working on, these are some of the things that should probably be touched on at some point, especially if the bullying persists and becomes a significant part of the protagonists's character arc as a whole- which it should be, as it wouldn’t make sense for this to be just an isolated incident. Anyway, I really liked his complex relationships with the other figures in his life, too. It really gives the impression of a person who has a complete, multi-faceted life, not a character that exists for one specific plotline with no other interests.

Daily 26
word count - 325 words

It was as if we had switched places, one mind and one motive.
No longer tied, separated by woes,
my heart felt as if it could carry no longer.
It was as if I was lost,
l o n e l y
and scared.

Comfort residing in the thing we love,
though when they seize to exist, the world around it crumbles.
What holds one up tears them down, and through this change I realized.
I realize what she went through just to come to me every day.
The hatred and darkness surrounding all those thoughts.

Hints of loneliness and disgrace, a constant reminder of imperfection,
yet requiring to be perfect. Constant pressure and stressors-
as if never-ending change was something that someone
loved to live by.

Creating illusions is what she was about, and the she did
to get away. To escape from reality,
And fall into a dream. Perfect, dreamt alive
and understand. A place to feel comforted,
even when the surrounding world begins to turn inside out.

l o n e l y.
There's that word again, as if haunting,
gliding back. A constant reminder of the things that will never be,
despite how hard one wishes. A thought, a feeling,
a little goes a long way. Wanting to forget is easy to say,
though the act of forgetting is more complex.

Butterflies twirling, a whole new perspecrtive,
the world seems alive. Happy and sound, despite inner turmoil-
that's the way to make yourself shine. So they told me,
time and time again, the ending never found nor written in near sight.

Another day, just one more breath, got me through it all,
one step at a time. Hiding away the darkness,
a lasting journey towards light. As hope began to fall,
I stumbled between the cracks. Noticing others struggles,
humbling you'd think, though it's more of a chance for change..
and opportunity at redemption that one will
never get once more.