Daily #26
3/26/2024
307 words

The school buzzed with excitement, talk of the town's new superheroes spreading like wildfire, catching on rumors and gossip. The day is just beginning and Chloé loves the indirect praises she's receiving. Of course, she wasn't positively accepted by them all, some comments were tossed around about how young and incompetent these new heroes were. Chloé mentally scoffed; she'll learn and she's going to show them.
She walks in through the entrance, the familiar bustle of students around her. Her eyes fixate on the jet black pigtails that she detests.

Chloé glares at Marinette, who is nervously blabbering in front of Adrien. She turns away sharply, her ponytail flicking behind her. “Come on, Sabrina. Let's leave these losers,” she seethes, the sour image burnt into her brain.

It takes everything within her not to tell them all who she really is, that she's Ladybug.

The clicking of Sabrina's footsteps trail her as she storms into Ms. Bustier's classroom, plopping down into her seat.
“Uh, Ch-Chloé? Are you okay?” Sabrina stammers gently.
“Do I look okay?” she snaps, "It's Dupain-Cheng with Adrien again."
Sabrina nods in agreement, glancing around nervously as the room starts filling up.

Chloé tunes the others out, watching idly as her classmates come in one by one. Seriously, does Rose have to keep wearing that obnoxious bright pink? Chloé rolls her eyes.
What she wouldn't do to tell all of Paris who she was right now… The level of fame that she could achieve was so much bigger than just being the mayor's daughter. Her lips twitch upwards.
But Chloé also knew what this meant; Tikki had told her. It's a secret identity, and if she gave herself away, Hawkmoth could come after her. She didn't need another admirer to be coming after her. Not that she had many, but that's not the point!

-lxve-bug- wrote:

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


AYYYY IM 100TH LMAO

314 words !! i wrote this in 10 minutes im sobbing

I’ve always enjoyed destruction. After all, destroying Applejack’s things has always been one of my favorite pastimes. Now I know someone out there is probably thinking, “but Rainbowdash! You’re one of the Mane 6! You’re a good pony.”
Well, kid, don’t believe the propaganda, okay? It’s what they want you to believe.
You see, I’ve never enjoyed friendship, or the ponies, or anything in general. From the moment I was born, it’s always been about speed and destruction for me. The ponies attempted to make friends with me, that much is true. I played along for a little while. After all, I’d never had friends as a kid. I thought it wasn’t too late to make friends. I thought, if I pretended hard enough, I’d feel friendship.
Unfortunately, that’s not how it works. Since I’ve never felt friendship before, I have no idea what it feels like, and that was no exception. Well, I may not have liked the ponies, but they certainly liked me. Oh, they practically begged me not to go when I told them I was leaving Ponyville. Of course, I wasn’t actually going anywhere other than my house, retreating to a life of solitude and scheming.
The Rainbow you know… well she’s very different from me. The Rainbow you all are familiar with is the Rainbow the Mane 5 wants you to believe exists. Unfortunately, she does not exist. Well, it’s fortunate for me.
I enjoy flying at top speed over the country, surveying the damage I’ve caused. Watching the ponies as they argue, knowing I caused it. Oh, the JOY I felt when they didn’t talk to Rarity for a solid week… that was one of the best weeks of my life, knowing that I finally drove a wall in between them. If I try hard enough, well, I might just be able to end each and every pony.

Google Translate daily (I used still feel by half•alive)
1050 words……

Tendrils of starlight grip me, as they do every night. You’re gone. I lie alone in the darkness, hollow, icy grief penetrating my bones. I shiver without your comforting words to warm me. Darkness was bearable with you. But alone, every shadow sends shivers up my spine, taunting me with their carefree movements, appearing and disappearing with the moonlight. Why would you leave me? Why would you desert me in my darkest times, at midnight in the cold rain? Speak to me. I know you’re somewhere. I know you’re here!
Only when tiny echoes bounce off the walls do I realise I spoke.
My anger falls into a pit, deep in my stomach. Despite its nagging cries, I fall asleep.
I’m driving on a freeway, the mountainous landscape stretching out before me. You’re next to me, pointing out interesting shapes in the clouds, me reminding you that I have to look at the road, you telling me there’s nothing on it. I can’t smell the musty aroma of our old Toyota, and I can’t feel the warmth of your hand on mine. But I know there’s something wrong. My heart is beating faster. Something is going to happen, I know it. I stare at you, not caring about the road. Your face is growing pale. Your hand is shaking, and I know that your hand wouldn’t be warm if I could feel it. Your mouth opens, but you don’t speak, you can’t speak. I watch in horror as your body falls-
My heart pounds in my ears. Let me sleep, Noah. Stop torturing me. You’re dead, I know, stop showing me! Stop filling me with terror every time your hands grow cold! Stop torturing me with the same terrible things, stop refilling the deep agony inside me, knowing I couldn’t have stopped it!
“Stop!” I scream.
A few golden rays illuminate the room.
I sluggishly pull on a T-shirt and shorts, stumbling out of the room to eat. Alone. Did you realise how horrible life can be? Do you regret leaving now that you see me alone? I glance up at the fridge I’m opening, take one look at the magnet you bought me, and slam the door. Bursting out of the front door with frosty fingers, I storm outside.
Every tree reminds me of the fruit you picked from it, every blade of grass looks like when you mowed it. I hate them. Every single centimetre is stained with your touch. Your mark is in every place I thought was private, in every moment I thought I was better alone. Now I am alone. Truly alone. I hate you for it.
I hate this.
Am I good anymore? Hate is the root of all evil, they told me, not money, not fame, not heartbreak or judgement. I want to destroy this street, destroy the garden, destroy everything you so meticulously kept just to see all of you come crashing down. How dare you leave me? You were the one pinprick of light in my darkness. You’ve taken me from darkness to hell, left me a slave to who you once were. I want to destroy you, to watch you burn. The hatred rises, seeping into me like a fire.
I walk down the stepping stones to the concrete pathway, the stones you laid. I run, taking nothing with me, feet racing down the street you ran on too, the street we raced down as kids. But I run further. I run right past the finish line with its gnarled branches and knots that look like eyes. I run past the last house with its white walls and perfect hedges, past the corner, onto the black asphalt road-
I step back, back off the road, something else controlling me. You’re controlling me.
A black car zooms by.
How are you controlling me? You’re supposed- colours shift around me, blue and ghostly, blurs of white and sea-blue, mist-grey and mossy green. It’s another world, just like this one. Someone walks up to me, with hair like dirt tinged blue, curls framing his face – your face – perfectly, deep blue eyes softening as you smile.
“How- how are you… how are you here, in front of me?” I whisper.
You smile. “Love is a powerful thing, hey?”
“What do you mean?”
“I saved you, Louise, even from here.” Your smile fades. “That shouldn’t be possible. Not from here.”
I grin nervously. “But… it happened. What does it matter if it shouldn’t have?”
“No, it’s great. But stuff like that has a cost. I have to do something I didn’t want to, because you didn’t.”
“Didn’t what?”
“Didn’t step back yourself.”
“Oh.” I hesitate. “So what do you have to do?”
You reach out and grab my hand.
She looks at everyone she sees with loathing, an awful withering look that shows only hollow hatred. Her golden curls seem to have an attitude of their own, unlike the air of energy and curiosity they used to have. She spends her days on revenge, anger, hatred that has tightened and grown from the pit in her stomach where she left it, stretching through her whole body until she almost seems to embody hatred itself. Where did it come from?
The same person shouts into air, moonlight cracking through the darkness.
Me.
“This is what you’re going to become if you keep going- this will be- this is…”
“What is it?” I say.
“This… this is who you already are. Stop being like that.”
The person in the vision was nothing like me. I can’t become her. “I will.”
You try to hold me again, but the colours unravel around me and I’m back on the street, standing on the pathway, moments from death. You’re gone. Gone, but still close. I can almost feel your touch, your gentle breath next to me. The colours of the grass, the road, the sky seem more vibrant than they did minutes ago. The pit of hatred in my stomach is gone. Everything seems… free.
Is this life? Is this what it’s like to be truly alive, not just surviving, not succumbing to the darkness but fighting it, heart shining like a star? Maybe I’m alone, but I’ll find new friends, friends like you. Family like you.
This is life.

Translated part- You won't get it right. I can't. Well, you said something. He can't see me from the other side of the screen. He is half man, half machine.: Steve was currently on video call, watching his incredibly akward cousin attempt to please an interviewer. His cousin wanted to be a translator, for the goverment, and he had gotton to the interviewing stage. Unfortunately, he was known to incredibly akward in their family, and this was no doubt where he would fail miserably. Steve was also worried that his cousin would mess up, translate something incorrectly. Finally, steve''s cousin was able to say something in another language. Steve's cousin chose spanish. He said something along the lines of; the cat ate the hamburger. Steve was dissapointed, the interviwer's were going to think he knew only very basic spanish. Steve's cousin didn't know he was watching him, since Steve had his camera off and was using the false name of Valarie Porkrind (My sister gave me that). When Steve's cousin was translating he seemed to sound different, not just since he was using a different language, but also because he changed his pitch and accent depending on what language he was speacking. Steve watched his cousin say a few other simple lines, and then the interviewer would ask him to change languages, repeat cycle a couple more times. Then, the inerviewer finally gave Steve's cousin a line to translate. “Could you please say; The car is on the east side of the military building, next to the shrubs? Asked the interview.
”Of course!“ Said Steve, a bit to excited sounding. Then, he translated it perfectly. There were a couple texting noises between the two interviewers.
”So, Steve's cousin.“ One said. ”We will call you once we are done with the other interviewers." They said.

Daily 27th March

You narrowed your eyes
The world is waiting for me.
He is called my husband.
The door is messy.
The place itself is gone
but I was at home.

I don’t think you’re stupid.
It has to be stopped.
I slept all night.
Your head is full of yellow flowers.
It concerns millions of people
It was like the world before my eyes.
He looked at the table.
Follow your dreams
We live in a world full of dreams.

We have a structure.
The interior was perfect.
For distance learning.
Something special.
Someone who can make you laugh.
It was a sad day.

I narrowed my eyes, staring out of the window as the world ran past me, buzzing with life. Locked up inside this cage, it was hell. The metal bars laughed at me as I punched them and hit them, my anger focused on my balled fists. I came back with my hands raw and throbbing.

I peered as far through the bars as possible onto the street. A shadow slipped through the bustling crowds. My husband.
“Dan!” I cried, my voice hoarse and tired. He didn’t look up.
He reached towards the handle and I smiled, relief shining on my pale thin face. He suddenly pulled his hand back.
“Ugh! This door is so messy! No way I’m opening that!” He exclaimed, disgusted.

My last link to the real world. Gone. My actual home was gone, but my heart was still there.
“I don't think you’re stupid!” I sobbed, my head buried in my hands.
What was I doing?
This was disturbing.
My husband.
He’s up to something.
“Stop him!” I screamed.
And yet I slept all night, and when I woke up, I didn’t remember a thing.

Then I saw him again. He tried the door, but pulled back. Again, I shouted and yelled at him to come back. Then, as he turned away, I saw clumps of yellow flowers stuck in his hair.
“You’ve got something in your hair, love.” I whispered to him.
People were glaring at his head as he walked past them. This now concerned millions of people. A tug of sorrow pulled at my heart as he was jeered at.

Then he looked at a table. It was right beneath him. He dived under and lay there, shivering, his arms wrapped around him to protect himself from the mocking voices of the crowd. The people closed in and lifted the table up, revealing a trembling lump. Then he unfurled and stood tall upon the rickety table.

“I want to be a florist. I will follow my dream. The world is full of dreams, like flowers. So, my very first creation is here.”
He pointed to his head. Tear glistened in my eyes. I wish he didn’t have to suffer this. He was no w a dream to me as well. A faraway dream in a swirling churning mass of dreams.

Daily - 420 Words
“I know your worth, but I've got so many things in my hungry, hungry heart”

Eyes of a bright yellow stared at him through the dark. Eyes filled with emotions even he could not decipher. Slowly he reached out a hand towards the pair of eyes, crouching though as though trying to show he wasn’t dangerous to a dog.
“I am sorry.”
“You can’t take what you’ve said back.”
“I know. But I’m sorry anyways. I didn’t mean to hurt you”.
And slowly the eyes raised and emerged from the darkness, forming from a pool of inky black into a figure only a little shorter than himself. He placed his own hand on hers, rubbing his thumb across her calloused palms and tracing the scars winding around her fingers. Then she snatched it back, took it away with such a force that he stumbled backwards, staring up at her with fear in his eyes. What had happened? What had he done wrong? Why was everything falling apart?
“You are living in a world of lies. You stumble around blindly and call it intelligence but you know nothing, you know only what they have fed you. I know what you are.”
“I don’t know what you mean Sarah, I’m trying my hardest, I-”
“Your hardest is not enough.” She took a step towards him, her rough and touching his soft cheek as she traced his dimples. He looked down into her eyes. “I don’t know what you want from me.”
“I wanted you to see, Víctor. I wanted to love you. I wanted to be here with you, but you’re not here.”
“I don’t know what that means” he stared at her, a far-away look in his eyes.
“I know.” She took her hand away from his cheek, leaning her forehead against his chest.
“You called me a curse Víctor. You can’t take that back, no matter how hard you’re trying.”
“I didn’t mean it. I got caught up in the moment and I freaked out. They came for us, Sarah! They were going to take us away. You don’t act like everyone else, it’s dangerous.”
“You’re trying so hard to see but it’s like your eyelids are glued shut.”
He was silent, staring at her with a look of total bewilderment and longing evident on his face. He was never going to know what she meant. Sarah tilted her head up, putting one arm around his neck and a hand on his cheek. She leaned forward and kissed him softly.
“I can’t do this anymore, love.”
Those were the last words she said to him.

These were my lyrics: There is love in it/you are cursed/Your prices are too low, right?/open your eyes/I know your worth./But there is so much that my heart longs for. The original lyrics were from High Horse by The Crane Wives!

Critique

Overall, I really like the piece! It is very descriptive and flows quite nicely!

I think that in general, you need to add some more clarity to the piece. Because it is fan-fiction, you don’t need to do as much explaining, but it would be good if the reader could understand who the ‘Keymaster’ is or the ‘Crimson Wanderer.’ I think that if you made the first section a bit clearer, then it would elevate the whole piece. Also, if you maybe put some of the lines into one paragraph, instead of one line all by itself, it might just make it a bit easier to read. I would suggest keeping a couple lines by themselves though for suspense! However, your description is wonderful and you really create a sense of unease!

If you describe the scene a bit more as well, it would help the reader to understand your piece a bit more, because I only have a vague idea of what the Void looks like or the gate but that’s all from my imagination. This does give your reader lots of freedom in setting the scene for themselves though!

On the italics for ‘it’s the same and nothing will ever change this’ I think that you should only have one word in italics, like ‘same’ or ‘ever’ because the italics don’t have as much affect when they're in big phrases like that. I also find the last section where Kei’ says about him being the puppeteer, so if you could add in a tiny bit of explanation into that it might just clarify it a bit more. I think a few metaphors or similes might come of use!

This is an amazing piece full of dazzling adjectives and adverbs and really blew me away! Thank you so much for letting me critique your incredible writing!

Daily 22nd March

I twirled through the gnarled trees, sunlight dappling onto the lush mossy floor. Wild mushrooms peeped from behind bushes, vibrant and colourful. Birds chirped amongst the emerald leaves, their song drifting through the clear pure air. The sky was a stunning sapphire blue, dotted with fluffy white clouds.

I flopped onto the peaty ground and closed my eyes in elation. This was the dream I had always wished for. Peace. Peace in the midst of the bustling city. Peace in the midst of honking cars. Peace in the midst of furious people. Impossible. Yet here I was, the midst of the city, in a forest. A tingling sensation ran up my arm and my eyelids fluttered open to reveal a deep amber butterfly nestled inside my fluffy jacket. I grinned. Flowers blossomed, twining around my pale wrist, vibrant and pale pink.

I opened my eyes groggily, sirens wailing. Shouts echoed around me, anguished and heart-rending.
“I’m sorry…”
A blurred face leaned over me, wavering at the slightest breeze. As I came round, I saw a shiny badge on a radiant neon jacket.
Julie
Police Inspector
Happy to help!

“Em.”
I braced myself, ready for the worst.
“Your father… he was involved in an accident… I’m sorry… he died.”
I collapsed, the ground sodden with my salty tears. A hand stroked my back. Rain trickled down my face, mixing with a torrent of sadness. The flowers drooped and blackened and thunder screamed with me as I cried for my father to come. Come back.

Lightning struck through a gnarled tree, splitting and splitting it into two halves. A broken heart. Leaves spiralled to the wet ground, the last fragments of the tree leaving, deserting it as my heart shattered into a million pieces. Julie crept over and cradled me close. I wanted her to leave me alone. I wanted Dad to cradle me instead.

I toddled up to Dad, smiling stupidly, beaming from ear to ear like sunshine on a summer’s day. He grinned and took my pudgy hand. We splashed through puddles and I squeaked in excitement as the water cascaded into the air, crashing back to the earth.
“Happiness, Em, is the key to success.”

Sorrow washed over me. How could I be a success with this burden weighing me down? I gulped, swallowing back tears and stood up. The world spun around me and I fell back down. I shut my eyes tightly and sleep embraced me with open arms.

Daily 027: 460 words, Rickroll gone wrong

“And I won’t give it to you.”
Moonlight, starlight, late night. Perfect for romance.
She looks so perfect. But you’re holding back. Skirting the edges.
She’s like a fire to a moth, and she’ll hurt you if you get too close.
She’s trying so hard. She wants you, and it’s so tempting to give in, to revel in being wanted, to tell her yes, you’ll singe your wings and fall to the ground so you can live one glorious moment in her brilliance.
But the other part of you, the part that’s always telling you to do things you don’t like, that part is telling you that smile is dangerous. She’ll pull you down, and you’ll never be able to fly back up. Her light is false, fleeting, like a candle next to a bonfire.
“This will not go away.”
It’s so hard. She’s what you’ve wanted for forever, ever since you were in kindergarten and her honey curls caught the light and shone like gold. Ever since you ran in the playground, playing tag, always striving to tag her. You never could. She ran too fast.
Such a simple game. Such a complicated relationship. Yet both boiled down to one concept.
You’re chasing her. You’ve always chased her. She could outrun you if she wanted. But she’s slowing down. Letting you catch up.
You could keep running. You could ignore the fact that her fire is all on the outside, all in her face, and go for it. You could shove your doubts aside, tell yourself that if you didn’t take this chance, when would you get another one? This feeling isn’t going away.
“Never hurt yourself with lies.”
That’s what the voice inside says. The one you hate listening to, and the one that’s most often right in the end. The one telling you to look beyond a pretty face. You don’t want to look beyond the pretty face. You don’t want to believe you have to. You want to think that she’s just as beautiful on the inside.
The moth swoops in dangerously, fluttering closer to the heat.
“Please don’t make me cry.”
You’re fighting with yourself now. Pleading with yourself. Please, just give me a chance. Giver her a chance. It’ll all work out in the end, won’t it?
Closer…closer…closer…
“Never say goodbye.”
Yeah. That’s what you want to do. Never say goodbye to her.
But are you saying goodbye to your reason? Your conscience? Your morals?
Are you ruining yourself for a pair of blue eyes?
“Never hurt yourself with lies.”
You’re lying to yourself. You’ve been lying to yourself since kindergarten.
It’s time to walk away.
So you do.
The moth wheels away and vanishes into the night, wings singed but whole, flying free.

Daily #27
3/27/2024
716 words

Original: Scratch Writing Camp (Family Madrigal Parody)
Hey Birdi! // Writing! // Friends! // Competition! // Let's go!
This is a camp, runs in March, July, and November // So full of people, each unique in their way
We are a family, we support each other // 15 cabins, each one gets to shine
Oh! // But let's be clear, Birdi hosts this camp // Along with Bakie, Honey, and Kat
And every time it gets better again // There's just a lot you got to write down
Welcome to Scratch Writing Camp! // This is Scratch Writing Camp! // (You're gonna love it)
Where all the people are fantastical and magical
You can be part of Scratch Writing Camp!
OH MY GOSH SWC IS STARTING!!!!! // WHAT CABIN WILL I BE IN????? // WHO'S GONNA BE MY LEADER??? (WHAT ABOUT MY COS????)
Alright, alright, relax!
IT'S PHYSICALLY IMPOSSIBLE TO RELAX!!! // I CAN'T WAIT!!! // THERE'S TOO MUCH EXCITEMENT IN MY VEINS!!!
And that's why (diet) coke it's for grown-ups!
In SWC, we've got dailies and weeklies // They help earn points to, well, help your cabin prevail
And then cabin wars // We don't talk about cabin wars!!
They say you have to write until your fingers die // Oh!
There's the leaders and their amazing co's, whoa // The truth is, they help run this show, whoa
We're nothing without campers, though // Come and join us in this cool adventure, eee
Welcome to Scratch Writing Camp // This is the home of Scratch Writing Camp! // (Look, word wars!)
I know it sounds a bit fantastical and magical // But you can be part of Scratch Writing Camp
Several people fell in love with Scratch Writing Camp // And now they're all part of Scratch Writing Camp
So yeah, this is our fifteenth session // So many memories // Help us create more // (Let's go, let's go!)
We swear to always, help those around us // And earn the writing, that somehow found us // The camp keeps going, the chaos keeps growing
But passion and dedication will keep the spirit burning // And each new set of campers must keep the spirit burning

Google Translated
Hello animals! // They write! // Friends! // happy! // Come here!
This is a camp that takes place in March, July and November. // Full of people, each in his own way.
We are a family and support each other. // 15 houses, all crossed
Oh! // But let's be clear: This camp is owned by Birdie. // Bucky, Honey and Kate.
and always good // There are many things to write about.
Welcome to Scratch Writing Camp! // No Writing Camp! // (I loved you)
Everyone is beautiful and beautiful. // You can join the Scratch Writing Camp!
OMG SWC has started!!!!! // Who am I to be captain????? // who is my sister??? (Is that my leg???)
Please stay!
I can't calm down!!! // I have the power!!! // I have so many thoughts in my veins!!!
So Coca-Cola (Light) is for adults!
We provide daily and weekly SWC services. // It will help you earn points to improve your hero.
Then the room lit up // We are not talking about civil war!!
They say you have to write with your fingers tied. // Oh!
Good editors and one, good! // In fact, it helps make this vision more realistic.
But we are nothing without camp. // Join this amazing journey, won't you?
Welcome to Scratch Writing Camp // This is the home of Writing Camp Zero! // (See, it's a mistake!)
I find it magical and fun. // But you will enter Scratch writing camp.
A lot of people appreciated the Writing Camp. // And now they are all members of Free Writing Camp.
Yes, yes, this is our fifteenth meeting. // There are many things to remember
Help us build it // (Oh Oh Oh!)
We promise to help the people around us. // And the prizes will be won. // The camp continues and the violence continues.
But your hard work and dedication will help you progress. // Each new group of campers must do their own thing.

A/N: Before we start, I would like to say that this is an SWC fanfiction and any portrayals of actual people are just caricatures and I tried my best to minimize these appearances ^^ This is not made to make fun of everyone and I honed in on specific lyrics that I found funny. The argument here is also just all fun, so don't take any of this to heart. This also isn't my best handiwork, but hopefully it's enjoyable all the same. And without further ado, let's get started!

“Would you all please quiet down?” Script bellows, her hands slamming down onto the white table in front of her. The chatter subsides for a moment before new words take its place. She sighs, shaking her head at the other cabins in the room with her.

“Come on, guys!” Utopian says cheerily, “We've got to figure out the answer to this together!”
“No one cares, Uto; not everyone gets a happily ever after,” Thriller remarks.
“Relax, she's new,” Fairy Tales rolls her eyes, leaning towards Utopian. “Don't mind Thriller, he just think he's all high and mighty whenever a new cabin comes around because he's been around for a while.”
Thriller scoffs. “I'll have you know that Birdi, unlike the rest of you, knew that Thriller was the superior cabin. It's a shame that she's now a gHost.”
“You do know that I was one of the first cabins?” Script asks, glaring at Thriller, “Though no one seems to remember that around here!”
Poetry pipes up, “Me too! Though I did get a name change since then.” She lets out a laugh.
“So what, you're bragging that you're old?” Thriller mocks, twirling a metal stick in their hands.
Script opens her mouth to speak, but is cut off by Sci-Fi. "Is that my leg?“
”What, this old thing?“ Thriller smirks, holding up Sci-Fi's metal limb.
Sci-Fi looks down at their feet–sorry, foot. ”Give it back!“

”Well, back to the matter at hand,“ Fairy Tales butts in, grabbing Sci-Fi's leg and tossing it back to them. ”I for one, think that the animals should be allowed to join camp. There are plenty of talking animals and they should be given the same rights!“
”Uh huh…“ Sci-Fi drawls, attaching their limb back on. ”Yeah, no. Humans are far superior and–quiet Poetry, cyborg, human, same thing–and if we can defeat AI, we are most certainly above animals. Talking animals or not, they cannot be let in to SWC.“
”I agree,“ Fanfiction speaks up for the first time, ”Look at the past of SWC canon. It's always been humans. We can't just go and change the laws of SWC to now include animals, just because now they've learned to write!“

”Is everyone forgetting what I am?“ Thriller asks, flitting his wings.
Sci-Fi rolls their eyes. ”Like I said, cyborg, human… insect-humanoid, whatever, we're fine. Just the animal-animals. They're pets. Or wild animals. They shouldn't be allowed to learn how to write, because who knows what they could do!“
”Finally, someone understands!“ Dystopian perks up. ”The world is already in so much ruin; if we give animals that kind of power, they could take over us all, and then the world will be in an even worse state!“
Utopian sinks into her seat, her flowing dress falling to the floor as her face pales.
”Dysto, you should stop, you're freaking your sister out…“ Thriller says, glancing at Utopian's fragile state.
”Who's my sister? Oh yeah, Utopian~“ Dystopian sing-songs. ”It's kind of confusing because she's been kept away from me for too long.“ He flashes a grin towards Utopian, who manages a weak smile.

”If we can't come to a decision on our own, let's get the gHosts on the line to help us,“ Script recommends, wanting this conversation to end.
A few looks are shared with the rest of the other cabins and they reluctantly nod.
”Utopian, get the gHosts on the line,“ Dystopian says, motioning towards the console.
Utopian nods and scrambles over the the console, tapping away at the controls that she has learned, with her brother looking over her shoulder.

The first sounds of a ringtone echo through the hollow room.
”Uh, hello?“ a blurred image of Birdi comes into focus on the projector.
”Uh, hi! I'm Utopian, and the cabins are having a bit of a predicament and we were just hoping that, you know, you, Bucky, Honey, and Kate could help us, because you guys are gHosts and all and-“ Utopian rambles.
”Geez, I think you've got the wrong number or something,“ a voice says from offscreen, the image shifting from Birdi to an umbrella and sand, ”There aren't any Kates around here.“
”Oh my gosh," Dystopian mutters under his breath, and he quickly hangs up the call.

Utopian's pale face turns beet red.

-lxve-bug- wrote:

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


AYYYY IM 100TH LMAO

daily for poetry !! 305 words NOT including the song snippet. the song is goddess, by laufey !!

You sleep with the stars
But let me warn you.
You may feel deceived.
You are here?
World
I think he loves me
But I'm not your friend.

When you go to bed tonight, I hope you’re comfortable. You sleep with the stars, after all. One of those stars was me. Before you go, let me just warn you of something. I was never who you thought I was. I was just pretending, acting. I wanted to be someone you’d like. Now I know who YOU really are, and I wish I’d never gotten to know you. I know you might feel deceived, but I’m not sorry for that. You hurt me more than you can ever know; more than I can describe. All I ever did was be exactly who you wanted to be and that still wasn’t enough. You are here, in my mind, in the world. I can’t get you out, can’t get rid of you. I remember thinking to myself when we first met: “I think he loves me.” And I think you did, for a while at least. I sure as heck loved you. I suppose it could almost be my fault. After all, maybe you would have loved the real me. I don’t think so, though. The real me is callous, cruel, unkind. I had to hide who I was so you’d think I was the one. I suspect you did the same. There’s no way you’re who I thought you were, because you wouldn’t have treated me like that if you were. When I stood up for myself, let the real me shine though, you ignored me and pushed me to the side just the same. No matter who I am or who I was, you'd hate me. I didn’t know what to do. “I think he loves me…” bah. You didn’t then and you surely don’t now. I don’t love you either. I might miss you, but I’m not your friend. I never will be.

google translate daily


No Light (aka fever pitch)
Thank you for the answer. The Iron King sings about love. Young people, hate, etc.
Love is still a child If I'm happy in St. Louis. Street. Petersburg But I think it's cold
O Lord, he comes in my name. like rain in the mountains Although I'm burning alive
A young flame burns slowly like fire. It shines in our hearts. alone in the dark
I spent the summer outside in the mountains. Struggle His head was thrown behind the bush
Being a missionary was something he always dreamed of. I found the divine formula
I found the divine formula I'm cold Kill you Shoot me Perfect but close He can't stand the cold
I look forward to my class every day. I have a shop I collected the fruit and bought it
I'm waiting for you, but not where I'm going. My nose is before God Not from the cold
I do not know My soul perished in the seventh heaven. Leaving at sunset at eleven o'clock
It’s called the drought. Age Leaves blow in the wind.
When I was a kid I wanted to be a monk. I hope everything is OK. I want to sing a good song.
It’s a dream come true Yes, I know you won't run. like a shadow in the dark
lose it Continue the conversation I want to get to know you I do not know.
But I immediately agreed. I think I'll see you in a minute or two. Well, if you have time.
Change is a 4th or 5th. I think you can do it. I laughed after dinner.
Finally he collapsed under the table. I think that's me. That's why I think I'm here.
What do you have our brothers and sisters our brothers and sisters Cook over high heat.
i learned one thing i learned one thing I think this is a good thing.
Be with people who love you (thank the Lord) I have a fever now. Because of the cold.
Not really, but close. i am a strong person



“Alezeo, I can’t see.,” whined his little sister Miranda, but Alezeo didn’t care, he had climbed up on a box so that he could see out the window. The Iron King was out there, in their own little town of Petersburg. Still he was excited and he wanted her to see to so he picked her up and showed her out the window. “Do you see him with his big crown and the mask?” “Why does he wear a mask? I don’t like it.” He set her down. “Well, you don’t have to like it. I’m going to go down and see him.”
Miranda crossed her arms. “Mama said we have to stay inside. And you have to watch me.”
“Don’t play with fire and don’t play with sharp stuff and don’t put anything in your mouth until mama says it’s time for supper.” Alezeo grinned. “There see, you’re taken care of.” Alezeo had been waiting all his life to see the iron king, wise and noble, hero and ruler, a man who guided his people even in the worst of storms.
“I’m going to play with your toys!” she shouted as he peeked out of their home’s door to make sure the coast was clear. “Shush,” he hissed. “And you better not,” he added as he slipped out.
He’d thought the crowds had been loud even when he was inside but now it was insane, hundreds of voices layering over each other with drums beating and people cheering and shouting, trumpets played triumphant music. But that wasn’t right… “why isn’t the Iron King singing?” Alezeo asked a man he knew named Isaac. Isaac did not answer and so Alezeo had to tug on his sleeve and ask twice more before he finally got an answer. “They say he got a little sick and lost his voice, but he’ll be singing soon.” Alezeo was a little skeptical, but clearly they wanted to make sure there was no chaos. Still…why come to Petersburg for a procession with the iron king unable to sing, which Alezeo had always thought of as impossible. He nodded his thanks and then started pushing his way through the crowd, once having to hide behind a large old woman so his mother didn’t see him. At last he was at the front, staring mesmerized at the iron king in his chariot. The king ordered his charioteer to halt and looked down at Alezo. Alezeo couldn’t see the king’s face under his mask, but he hoped it was a good expression.
“Hello there, it’s nice to see the bright future of Petersburg.”
“Your majesty are you okay?”
The iron king laughed, booming and… like rocks were spilling out of him. That was odd. “What a sweet kid. I’m fine really.”
Alezeo nodded, suddenly tense. He’d heard the iron king on the radio, his laugh didn’t sound like that. But maybe that was just a trick of radios. Kiki’s dad had tried telling him about it once. And besides, how could somebody impersonate the iron king. He let his smile return. The king started to go past him, but then alezeo remembered he was losing his chance, his one chance to get out of this town where nobody had a flame in their hearts and everything was as slow moving and lacking energy and magic as ice. He pushed through the crowd. “You’re majesty! Your majesty! Wait…” he panted. “can…I….become one of your monks?”

(if I continued this alezeo would probably grow up and become a monk but like in DnD and he would go into a realm called the seventh heaven to try to save the real iron king and he'll get some found family i guess idrk and he'll fight the false king, but probably not realize he's a fake so quickly lmao. they will also learn the art of cooking

Translated lyrics: You are only 16 years old / When people are naughty / So it makes us dislike each other. / Now they're gone. country cemetery

If there was anything Louise hated, it was the sound of Brandon’s voice.

“Louise, get out of my way!” Brandon yelled as he came plummeting down the dusty road. Louise rolled her eyes and stepped off to the side, just as Brandon barely missed her ankle. He swerved sharply and crashed to the ground, falling face first into the dirt. He groaned.

Louise sighed in annoyance and bent down to offer him a hand.

“What the hell were you doing?” she said as he took her hand and gingerly pulled himself up.

“Uh, riding my bike?”

“You could have been a lot more careful. You almost got me.”

Brandon glared. “Well, you could have gotten out of my way. Geez.” He dusted himself off, picked up his fallen bike, and, getting back on it, rode away down the road without a backward glance.

Louise watched him go, irritated. It wasn’t the first time Brandon had done something stupid. The other day at school, he and his friends had caught a lizard and hidden it in the teacher’s desk as a joke. They thought it was hilarious when she’d opened her desk and screamed to find the lizard sitting right in the middle of her papers.

To Louise, it was immature. They were sixteen, for God’s sake. They were supposed to be past that childish nonsense. Why couldn’t Brandon grow up a bit? He was always fooling around and never knew when to be serious. Louise had known him for three years and the sight of him still him got on her nerves. Everyone at school had long ago given up any hope of making them get along.

Louise sighed and continued walking home.

The next few weeks, Louise noticed that Brandon stopped coming to school. At first, it was so peaceful. No disruptions, no chaos, no noise. Louise thanked her lucky stars and thought nothing of it.

After ten days had gone by with no Brandon, though, Louise was curious. Why wasn’t he coming to school?

“Hey,” she asked Ryan, one of Brandon’s friends. “Do you know why Brandon hasn’t been here lately?”

Ryan looked at her in surprise. “His mom just died a few days ago. He’s gone to her funeral in the country. Why do you care? I thought you guys hated each other.” He turned away.

Louise stared after him, not knowing what to say. Guilt flooded her, and she tried to shake the feeling off. Why should she feel guilty? But it was like a giant stone had settled at the bottom of her stomach. She imagined Brandon standing at the foot of his mother’s gravestone, crying, and felt like crying herself.

I’m sorry, Brandon, thought Louise.

457 words

March 27 Daily
302 words

google translated lyrics of Humming by Branches

Extend the handle and hold it with your fingers.
There is no faith.
Fill in the page with your own words.
This room is like an escape from the office.
he shouted, throwing up his hands.
The blue sky is full of laughter
My ears started talking and I lost everything
Now all the rain is in front of me.
I grabbed her lips and started kissing her.
Your breath is a beautiful song
He stepped in and took a deep breath
Payment is fast and cheap
We started breathing clouds through our mouths.
Make peace with the king! Make peace with the king!
The rain cleared our doubts
Make peace with the king! Make peace with the king!
Simple, simple, simple
The song “I'm afraid of the rain”.
Make peace with the king! Make peace with the king!
Yoon-deo learns to sing
Make peace with the king! Make peace with the king!
Simple, simple, simple

(gah this turned out more romantic than i usually write)

She turned her head to look at me and whispered, “I’m afraid of the rain.”
Laughing, I squeezed her hand and asked, “Why?”
She looked back out to the roof filled horizon. “I don’t want to get wet.”
We sat in silence as the storm clouds drew closer.
“Bad day to be sitting on the roof then,” I finally remarked.
She raised her eyebrows at me as thunder rumbled in the distance.
“Really bad day,” I corrected.
She huddled closer to me as we tried to swing our legs in sync, beat-up sneakers occasionally thumping on the siding of the house.
“What if we get wet?” she whispered.
A drop of rain hit my nose, and I grinned at her. “Then we better go inside.”
“Hmm.”
We watched the rain hit the roofs of the houses, little dark spots speckling the shingles and growing more frequent.
She turned to me. “I don’t want to go inside.”
It began to rain harder, and she squeezed my hand.
“If we go, then you have to leave.” She looked up at me with her big full moon eyes. “I don’t want you to leave.”
Well, how about that?
I grinned and tugged off my jacket. “Then I’ll keep you dry.”
And as we huddled under the faded denim, she kissed me, shy and fast.
The percussion of thunder and raindrops filled my mind, and for a moment I couldn’t think. Finally, I whispered to her, grinning as the rain plastered her bangs to her forehead, “Are you afraid of getting wet now?”
She tilted her head, watching the rain touch the earth, the houses, the cars. “Not so much anymore.”
I smiled, and we sat there on the roof, sopping wet and roosted between the gable windows, content to watch the storm in its element.

daily for poetry - 331 words

original lyrics:
I'm really gonna miss you picking fights
And me falling for it, screaming that I'm right
And you would hide away and find your peace of mind
With some indie record that's much cooler than mine

translated:
I'll really miss you when you're fighting
I picked it up and shouted, sure.
and you seek inner peace in hiding
There are many people who are more independent than me.

“Why did you enroll in the military?” I shouted, picking up the acceptance letter. I didn’t expect an answer. I know it wasn’t going to be good enough anyways. Was there something wrong with me? Did he want to break up? But most importantly, why didn’t he tell me about it? We should’ve talked about it together.
“I… I didn’t.” Sounds like a lie to me.
“Look at this table. There’s a letter from the army. Do you want me to read it to you? Yeah, sure, no problem! Okay, let’s start with the beginning. “The motive of this letter is to inform the recipient, James Riley Welsh, of acceptance into the United States Armed Forces…” Do you even want me to continue?” I continued reading silently, scanning for answers.
“Hey. Listen to me. I can tell you everything-”
“No. I don’t want you to. I already know what you’re gonna say. “It was my parents! I was forced to!”” I exclaimed exasperatedly. “I don’t care though. You know why?”
That was the loudest silence I’d ever heard. He kept staring into nothing, or better said, into anything but me. Wishing he could hide, to find peace. Because that’s what I’m like. I’m dependent, clingy. I scare everyone off, I make them hide. And also, leave.

But still, I had no remorse. No regrets. “He deserves this,” I said to myself.
I took a deep breath to pronounce the words I knew he dreaded. The words even I dreaded. Only one sentence, but it was still the hardest thing to say.

“We’re done.” There, I said it. There was no turning back, no way to fix this now. Once again we stayed in an awkward silence.

James bit his lip. He gulped. Then looked deeply into my eyes, and in his gaze, I saw the look I saw when I fell in love with him.

“No matter what, I want you to know something. I’ll really miss you when I’m fighting.”

Daily 3/27 || 387 words
Google Translated Burn the House Down by AJR

“What in the world are they doing??”
Gypsy shrugged at Crystal’s question, the sea dragon using a small spray bottle to cool herself off. “Well, they certainly are persistent.”
They looked at the row of old, rundown, now burning houses that had been occupying the area for quite some time. About thirty minutes ago, the group who had been here beforehand had left with all of the salvaged materials, and now Pacific, Flame, and Flamestarr were having the time of their lives setting the buildings on fire.
Flurry flew right past the pair of confused dragons, blasting frostbreath and yelling angrily at the arsonists. Flamestarr and Flurry started arguing over…whatever the heck they were doing, and eventually Pacific jotted down something on his animus scroll, the two dragon’s voices flickering out, which immediately ended their argument.
“Hah,” Crystal laughed, “hopefully this doesn’t turn into another ‘war’.” Gypsy nodded in agreement, remembering what had happened last time Pacific had prematurely ended an argument.
Crystal looked over her shoulder as Radiore bounded over, his best friend TJ right beside him, the two calling out for her attention. “Yes?” she asked, turning to face them, listening to a wild story about how while the two were waiting in a line for ice cream or something like that, TJ had had an out of body experience.
“Yeah right,” Gypsy said, rolling her eyes, getting a mildly rough nudge from Crystal, even though she didn’t particularly believe them either.
“Are you /sure/-?” she asked TJ, who looked a bit embarrassed, before Radiore stepped in front of him, standing up for his friend. “Awww,” Gypsy giggled, Radiore blushing and yelling “This is what friends normally do-!” before running off with TJ.
“They’re definitely hiding something,” Gypsy giggled, Crystal sighing as she turned to see Flame coming over. “Good news?” she asked, her mate huffing and gesturing to the burning houses behind them. “Well, we burned all the houses? And I’m ready to go lie in bed joyfully and gracefully.”
Gypsy couldn’t help but giggle as the other dragons returned, having been de-spelled. “I need a break while someone trains these two,” Flamestarr scoffed, gesturing a wing to Pacific and Flurry, Flurry looking sad and a bit scared about the burning houses.
Gypsy and Crystal shrugged, listening to their friends begin to bicker again.

(I used the song “Lovefool,” by The Cardigans.)

ORIGINAL:
Love me love me
Say that you love me
Fool me fool me
Go on and fool me
Love me love me
Pretend that you love me
Leave me leave me
Just say that you need me

TRANSLATED:
fell in love with me
tell me you love me
debt
debt
fell in love with me
do you love me
let me go let me go
Say what you want to say

She fell in love with me on a moonlit night, when the two of us were all alone in the world. Somehow, we had both found our way to that isolated shore, together against the night sky. We supposed it must have been fate.
“Tell me you love me,” she begged, her shining eyes staring deep into my own.
“I love you,” I responded, hoping I meant it.
I owed her a debt now, for saying those words. I tried to be what she wanted me to be, tried to pretend that I felt what she wanted me to feel. I knew it was what I was supposed to do. The debt was my burden to carry.
She fell in love with me even more with every passing day. Yet my own actions felt ever more mechanical, passionless. It was difficult to be convincing, and eventually, she noticed. “Do you love me?” she questioned, worry creasing her forehead.
“Of course,” I answered, the lie slipping out as easily as it had at the beginning.
She fell silent, though I could see the conflict brewing behind her eyes. “Okay,” she said at long last, faking a smile and shrugging it off.
I smiled back, even though a part of me wished she would argue, would fight back. “Let me go, let me go,” the voice inside me chanted. I pushed it down. I had committed to this; I had to see it through.
I kept up the mirage for as long as I could, even though the cracks started to be clearer and cleaer. We didn’t get along. We never agreed. There was no passion in the way we looked at each other, only unspoken regrets.
I wish it could have been different.
“Just say what you want to say!” she pleaded.
But I had lived the lie for so long, I had forgotten how to say the truth.

Amethyst's Untested Stew - 1857 words

The gale howled through the bleak streets of Abiford. Ikaria wrapped her black cloak around her, only the tip of her nose being exposed to the biting cold. She briefly longed for the times where Eden had not been so cold – before the War had begun.
Warm weather wasn’t the only thing that Ikaria had lost from the War.
A sputtering neon sign quickly snatched Ikaria’s thoughts, declaring that she had reached her location.
Crimson Bar.
Quietly, she slipped through the dark doors. If anyone sees me…
As she walked through the red-lighted bar, she hoped the (albeit terrible) music would be enough to cover the conversation she was about to have. She had almost reached the bartender, attending people in the middle of the room, when she was stopped with iron-grip hands.
“Slow down, miss,” barked the security guards. “Show your ID.”
Ikaria sighed, switching on the Memory Shard. The diamond-shaped device split open, projecting a wall of text. The guard scanned it, and when he could find no fault, gave a grunt and released her.
The part of her arm where she had been grabbed still stinging, Ikaria casually sauntered over to the bartender. “Angar?” she murmured.
“Don’t call me that name,” hissed the difficult man, glancing around to make sure no one had heard her speak. She doubted it – the music was so loud her ears were starting to literally throb. “No one else can know where I’ve come from.”
“My bad. Radyn, was it? I’m here for my… business.”
Angar raised his eyebrow, but led Ikaria through the slowly crowding bar. With no particular gentleness, he shoved Ikaria inside the back room, slammed a “staff only” sign on the door, and left without a farewell. Immediately the music quietened, and Ikaria sighed with relief.
A cough interrupted her.
“Oh, Elders, you guys are early,” Ikaria chuckled as she took a seat.
“Well, we have a lot to discuss,” Rowara replied curtly.
Remembering where she was, Ikaria quietened and straightened her back politely. “Now that… most of us are here,” Rowara announced. “We can start with our chat.”
A man – Jupus, Ikaria thought he was called – cleared his throat. “Not too much going on in my sector,” he said. “We have a few new recruits.”
Rowara frowned. “Tell me you haven’t said much to them–”
“Yes,” Jupus snapped. “I’m following protocol.” To the rest of them, he added: “I’m wearing my fox mask around them, and I haven’t allowed them to meet any other rebels, nor go to our headquarters. I’ll monitor them for now, but none of them show any sign of being a defect.”
Settling back in relief, Rowara gave an approving nod. “Anyone else?”
The general consensus was that nothing notable was happening. Almost concerning, really – typically, at least one sector had something strange to note.
The quiet was worrying.
Finally, it was Ikaria’s turn. “My borough is as uneventful as all of yours,” she said regretfully. “I took some of my rebels and we did some graffiti.” She rubbed her temples. “Speaking of which, I’ve been watching that area. The effects aren’t going as well as we hoped. A few Eden citizens pause and read the graffiti, but they’re too afraid of the soldiers catching them, so they quickly move on. I guess the best benefit of doing it is watching the Eden soldiers get furious, but even so…”
A smile graced Ikaria’s face as she recalled the events of the night before. Her loyal rebels had snuck out with her, under the cover of darkness, and written over a wall covered in Eden propaganda posters.
There is more than what Eden is telling you.
The other realms are free, warm and wonderful.
The war is not going well for Eden, because the might of Orbit is not on their side.
Oh, the last one was satisfying to write. Before the Eden King had taken over, Orbit had been the icon of the realm. Being the closest realm to the endless sky, they often had witnessed the Megabird soaring across the skies, along with their ascended ancestors flying alongside her. But since the war had begun, the Megabird had disappeared from the skies, as had the stars that were the spirits of their ancestors.
And so Eden had forgotten Orbit.
Rowana narrowed her eyes, snatching her from her memories. “Are you suggesting we abandon the graffiti strategy?”
Before Ikaria could reply with her proposal, the door was flung open yet again. Rowana sighed. “For heaven’s sake, Quintan, you need to be more punct–”
Whatever berating that was bubbling at Rowana’s throat quickly died away as they saw Quintan’s state. His hair was wild, and his face was bloodied, as though he had just been in a battle. In his other hand, he clutched a long spear.
“Compromised,” whispered Quintan.
The chaos that erupted was instantaneous, but Rowana quickly showcased why she had been selected as the leader of the rebels. Within a heartbeat, she commanded the room to be quiet, and addressed Quintan directly. “What happened?”
“Matheo was a traitor,” he said. “He led a battalion of Eden soldiers to our district’s headquarters and–” Quintan’s lip trembled. “I was lucky to get away.”
With barely a tremor in her voice, she replied: “Matheo? Your second-in-command?”
Quintan looked away as he nodded.
Rowana sighed. “I suppose he knows all of our identities.”
“Yes, and the locations of our headquarters.”
After hissed curses, Rowana called everyone to stand. “We have to run. Eden will be after us.”
“Where to?” someone called.
“Anywhere far away.” Her eyes slitted. “Go to a realm against Eden. There… try to survive. Now, run!”
Ikaria could barely think from the panic rising in her chest. She locked eyes with Rowana, nodded in her gratitude, and fled from the bar. Her breath came in ragged, short bursts as she sprinted as hard as she could through the streets, heading for the secret stables.
“Larka! It’s me!” she shouted as she approached the small, underground room.
The stablehand recognised Ikaria’s voice immediately and threw open the door. “What’s wrong?!”
“Matheo betrayed us,” Ikario said without hesitation. “The leaders of the rebels have to run. We have to go quickly, before…" The words were painful, but she forced herself to speak. “Before the Eden soldiers come knocking at our door.”
“What? What about the rest of the rebels?”
Ikaria locked eyes with Larka. “You must figure it out yourself. But there’s nothing we can do for now – Eden monitors everything, everywhere, all the time. I don’t think Matheo has his hands on the list of rebels, but he knows everyone at the top – which is why we need to go, Orbit *!”
Larka’s eyes widened, but she quickly slammed open the grate that led to the world outside. She untied a rope holding one of the mantas, and led it to Ikaria. “Rahu’s quick, and fast. Just… move quickly.”
“A few others might be coming,” Ikaria told her as she cautiously sat on the saddle strapped on the manta – Rahu. “Be ready.”
Larka swallowed, but nodded. “Good luck,” she told Ikaria.
“You too. Thank you,” Ikaria murmured.
The stablehand wasn’t exaggerating when she said the manta was fast. Although Ikaria kept her hands firmly on the reins of the Light creature, it seemed to be able to move and twist swiftly with just the lightest touch. She urged it up, up, up, winding around the skyscrapers that loomed over the city.
They burst across the very height of the city. Rahu’s wings pumped furiously as it gained a little more height, then spread out. A roar echoed through the city. Dread thundered in Ikaria’s heart, and she tried not to turn around – knowing she’d be frozen in fear forever if she did, but she couldn’t help herself. The red eye of a dark dragon bore down at her, its gaze reflected through the ray. Her flesh glowed red against the light, and she spotted an Eden soldier driving the dragon.
“Faster, faster,” she begged the manta. It angled into a dove, and the roar of the wind drowned out Ikaria’s startled shriek.
A frustration growl from the dark dragon heightened Ikaria’s fear, and she turned Rahu’s reins. Exclamations from the bystanders watching below mingled with the furious panting of the dragon.
“Come on…”
They slipped between skyscraper and skyscraper, diving through alleys and roads, desperately trying to shake the dark dragon and the Eden soldier behind them off. At last, Ikaria’s eyes snagged on a tiny, backroad, and she turned the manta towards it.
A cold command rang out from the Eden soldier, and Ikaria’s blood turned frigid. She recognised the words he spoke – an order to attack.
“Quickly,” she said through gritted teeth.
The krill shrieked as it sped towards them, lunging towards Rahu and Ikaria. But as it did so, the manta slipped into the narrow road.
A breath of relief escaped Ikaria. They had escaped.

Eventually, they landed on the first, snowy lands of the Valley of Triumph. Ikaria gave Rahu a quick, grateful pat, taking in the mountains of ice with a sweeping glance. Mantas swooped through the rolling hills, the sun sparkling off the reflection of the snow. Despite the Valley being the realm of snow, the light of day warmed every inch of Ikaria’s flesh. She had to shade her eyes – brightness seemed to emit from everywhere.
And the border patrol guards came from nowhere.
“Lalicaz, is that–”
“Hush, let’s not startle her.”
Footsteps crunched against ice. Ikaria pivoted, coming face-to-face with two people dressed in armour.
“Ecedo, I–”
“Who are you?” Ikaria asked fiercely.
The armoured people flinched. “That accent… you’re from Eden, aren’t you?”
Gone was the warm demeanor of the guards. The one called Lalicaz snatched a spear from her belt. Her gaze scoured Ikaria, taking in all of her clothes, her looks, her hairstyle. “She has to be. Well, Eden person, we’re the border guards, and we’re asking you to–”
“Leave,” Ecedo barked.
“I’m a friend– I’m a Rebel,” Ikaria said hurriedly.
Ecedo raised one of his eyebrows. “Prove it.”
“Prove it– I, uh…” she had a sudden flash of inspiration. “Do you know a man called Emeryn?”
“Of course. He has contact with the Rebels in Eden– oh.”
“If you bring him here, he’ll know me,” Ikaria smiled confidently.
Ecedo and Lalicaz exchanged a long, unspoken glance. Then, Ecedo sighed. “I’ll go look for him.”
Ikaria was surprised at how little time it took for Ecedo to find Emeryn. But when he did, Emeryn’s eyes went wide. “Ikaria?”
“Emeryn?”
An excited laugh spilled out of Emeryn’s mouth, and they ran to each other. “You’re real! You’re not a recording!”
“Well, that would be awkward,” Ikaria chuckled.
They quickly excused themselves from the border guard. Hand in hand, Emeryn led Ikaria through the land. It quickly changed from nature to civilisation. Copper and bricks flashed from all the buildings. The tiles on the roofs were blue, but they were lined with gold. Emeryn and Ikaria chatted excitedly as they pranced through the snow-covered roads, and a smile graced Ikaria’s face.

fairy tale daily
The Miller’s daughter, Isolde, who was now the queen was sitting in her room nursing her daughter Abigail when she heard a blood curdling scream. She quickly set Abigail in her cradle and ran to the door, having to pick up her skirts to run. Why royalty had to wear so many layers and petticoats she would never understand. “What’s going on?” she shouted down the hall but nobody answered. Abigail started crying and fussing. When Isolde went to the crib to comfort her she couldn’t help but notice a strange creaking sound or like a crackling of dead leaves but amplified a hundred-fold. Abigail was screaming and Isolde saw what she was screaming about. The beautiful gold that decorated the cabinet in which Abigail’s baby items were in seemed to be crawling off the cabinet and tearing it apart. Isolde heard more of that sound above her and saw the gold leaf sun that decorated the nursery’s ceiling was slowly starting to peel away from the ceiling. Isolde did not have to think twice, she picked up Abigail and ran. The palace was in chaos, nearly everything that was gold seemed to be attacking people or destroying bits of the palace. The leader of the guards was commanding his troops as they hurried to try to dispose of the gold, but the gold would not let itself be destroyed.
“This has to be that strange little man’s doing,” her husband king Grigori growled. It was jarring to see him without all the gold rings he normally wore. “What was his name again?”
Isolde shifted in discomfort. “Rumplestiltskin…and please don’t ever make me think about it again.” She agreed though, this had to be his doing, he had been enraged when she had guessed his name correctly and therefore not had to give him Abigail. Just the thought of it made her hold her daughter closer.
“Do you know how much debt our kingdom will go into if we lose this gold?”
“Yes Grigori, I know that, but you’ve seen what it’s been doing. It would be worse for us to keep it. We can get gold another way. The way normal people do.”
The king shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “No my dear, I am going to find this rumplestiltskin and I’m going to make him lift this curse.”
“Over my dead body!”
“It is a king’s duty.”
“When have you ever cared about a king’s duty? And if you do care, then your duty is to stay here. Our kingdom is going to be going through a crisis with all this gold lost, you know this.” She handed Abigail to him. “I know Rumplestiltskin better, let me go find him.”
“You sold our child to him, what if he’s able to trick you like that again?” he demanded.
Isolde shook her head. “I was young and weak then, only looking out for myself and wanting to be royalty, but now I have a kingdom and a family to look after. Rumplestiltskin won’t trick me again.”

(Alright, just gonnna say it, if you want the wolf to act to character don't read this. Go on, get!) The wolf wanted revenge. Apparently, some versions of the wolf's story had been… misinformed, and now people were thinking the wolf had been shot by a hunter! Terrrible, terrible, the wolf couldn't believe it. The big bad wold had worked so incredibly hard to clevery figure out how to lure the girl to her grandmas house and eat both of them, and now all that hard work was going to waste! He couldn't stand for that any longer, he was going to find the hunter who shot him in some other world and unalive him to enact revenge for himself in some other universe. Ever since he ate little red and her grandma the wolf had been living in the grandmas house (Which was quite cozy and large, this made the wolf wonder what the grandma had done for work, as it must have made quite a lot of money), and so he knew which way led to the path to town, since he looked out at the path through his window every morning. He grabbed a basket, no not little riding hoods, that would forever hang on his wall, but a larger one, which would also fit more stuff. In it he put a few packets of beef jerky to eat, some water, etc. He also put on his old lady disguise, since looking like a wolf would be a terrible idea. Now, it was time to go. The wolf's shoes (wow, that was weird to say) Padded along the ground, as the wolf gritted his teeth every time he acted like a nice little grandma. After a chilly, fifteenish minute walk, the wolf arrived at the small village little red was from. Now, he just had to find the hunter.
“Excuse me dear?” Asked the wolf in his best I'm-just-a-little-old-lady-not-a-wolf voice.
“Oh, yes?” Said a young woman, turning towards the wolf and away from the apples that she had been looking at.
“Do you happen to know any hunters in this town? Who would you say is the best?” Asked the wolf with a small smile.
“Oh, of course! He's probably just over there,” said the girl, gesturing toward a tallish guy with brown hair, before immediantly once more investing herself back ito her quest to find the best apple. The wolf turned away, his old lady's shawl flowed in the wind when the wolf made a sharp turn.
Ah, hello there young sir.“ Said the wolf in aa sickly sweet voice. ”I hear you're the best hunter in town. Is this true? Mayhaps you could do something for me?“
”Oh, sure.“ Sad the hunter, who seemed to stand a little taller at the praise. ”What do you need?“
”I was wondering if you could kill a wolf living around my house.“ Asked the wolf, planning to bring the hunter into the woods to eat him.
”Yeah, I can come by now if you want.“ He said with a shrug. Perfect.
”Great! Then you can just follow me dearie." Said the wolf. The wolf guided him into the woods, and then ate him.
The End.