She didn’t regret it. She hadn’t really thought it through, or really felt aware of doing it, but she didn’t regret it. She wasn’t getting out free because of her condition, not for doing this.
Though the worst part might be having to sit through Principal Shivit’s lecture on respect for school property. She knew having a record of vandalism could mean she might not be able to join the Nobility. She didn't want to join the Nobility. The idea of a Nobility was stupid and promoted social stratification.
The principal’s voice droned on in the background, but she easily tuned it out. She had long since discovered that it was easier when you didn’t listen. People could be ridiculously infuriating sometimes, the way they would go on and on while pretending to care for you.
“And you will no longer be able to eat outside.” Principal Shivit’s voice echoed through her reverie.
No. This was too much. He didn’t understand. No one did. They could carry on with their pretty little words and their false understanding, but that didn’t change the fact that they didn’t understand. They didn’t get a migraine by simply being in the company of other elves, not to mention the noise of the cafeteria.
It didn’t really matter, she would eat outside anyways, but it was a show of how little they cared. How little they truly understood.

◈◈◈

She meandered on the walk to her house. There was a chance the principal hadn’t notified her parents of this … disruption, but if he did, she was in no need to see them anytime soon.
‘Be nice.’ her mother said. ‘Follow the rules’ her father said. She had tried to explain. To tell them ‘no. I can't do that.’ It never worked. Eventually she stopped trying.
When at last she reached the estate, she stopped. Her subconscious searched for a reason to prolong her entry, but it couldn’t find anything. As her mom would say ‘some things can’t be stopped.’
With a sigh, she opened the doors.
Her mom and dad were waiting for her in the hall. Her mom’s arms were crossed, her lips pressed into a thin line. Her dad had an imparter in one hand, but it seemed like he had forgotten it was there.
“Isannah. Myla. Wild.”
She didn’t answer.
“Why. Did. You. Do. It.” It wasn’t phrased as a question.
“I thought we taught you better than this.” Her mother seemed almost close to tears, but Isannah knew her better than that. She knew she didn’t really care, or else they wouldn’t be having this conversation in the first place.
She continued her silence.

A migraine appears.

“Isannah! Answer us!” Her father was mad. She thought they were both overreacting, but they cared too much about appearances. It was why they were matched together in the first place.
“You can’t continue to be so disdainful.”

The migraine worsens.

“Respond!”
“We only want to help you!” Yeah. Like that was true.

Her vision is tinted red.

“We know this is hard.” Knowing isn’t the same as understanding. How many times had they said that, only to proceed to do something that proved they didn’t understand.
“Let us help you.” How? They had tried and failed.

Everything is red.

“Listen to us.”
“Hear us out.” She could tell they were getting impatient. They could do everything and it wouldn’t be enough.

Red.
Red
RED

“Isannah.” Her father’s voice sounded like a warning.
“Isannah!”
“STOP”
Her vision cleared. The anger flowed out of her like a river, pushing. Her migraine vanished as quick as it had come.
When she opened her eyes, her mom and dad were no longer standing in front of her. They had collapsed on the floor, their faces a mix of anger, fear, and disbelief.
Somehow, she knew they were dead.
A drop a blood dripped from the corner of her mom’s mouth

She licks her lips.

In 2006, nearly twenty years ago, an intern found the fossil of a penguin in Peru. They were found in Peru? Peru is a place up in northern South America that is way too far away and definitely way too hot for penguins to have ever lived there. And yet, we have this fossil of what is clearly a penguin and scientists have managed to deduce a little of what must have happened 36 million years ago, when Pedro was alive. It is an example of the evolutionary powers of life before humans were there to affect everything. This is what has been found.
We have the fossil of Pedro, showing that there were penguins in Peru a long time ago. But where did all of the other penguin fossils go? They evolved and migrated south. There are likely more fossils of ancient penguins that we have yet to discover that show these creatures's journey south and journey through evolution to create the smaller penguins we know today. The ocean that Peru used to be wouldn’t have created the right conditions for a lot of penguins to be fossilized, so we don’t have the remains of many penguins there. If we keep searching, we might find more fossils, maybe even ones that show evolution towards the many different species we know today.
Today, we have 18 different species of penguins. How did we go from one giant species, to the almost twenty different ones we have today? These penguins evolved. Along their journey south, they began to require different things to survive and began to evolve as a group into the smaller penguins we know today, with a variety of different features. They would spread out, adapting to the different habitats they settled down in.
Pedro is the remnant of an ancient creature, only a skeleton. So how do we know that he was not only related to modern penguins, but classifiable as a penguin himself? The key is in the fossil. Pedro is not just a pile of fossilized bones, but he was found with what is assumed to be feathers. This is lucky, given that feathers are soft body parts and far more likely to compose. Upon closer inspection, these feathers have special characteristics that can identify Pedro as a penguin. There was a wing of feathering found, and the organization of the feathers of the wing was these identically shaped feathers, similar to modern penguins. There were body feathers found that show flattening and a color gradient from light at the beginning to dark near the tips, which was a characteristic you would see in a living penguin.
These similarities show that Pedro was a penguin, which proves that current penguins must have evolved from Pedro. Pedro did have some differences, most notably the environment in which he lived. Pedro was found in the arid desert environment of Peru, clearly different from the icy and rocky environments of penguins today. This arid environment used to be an ocean, back when these penguins were alive, and formed the penguins original natural habitat, before something scared them away. Pedro has many different features from modern penguins, and these were likely characteristic of the ancient penguins. These could have helped penguins live almost entirely in the ocean and act similar to marine mammals today. Penguins now probably still have some vestigial structures from when they lived in all-oceanic environments. Penguins must have then migrated south to the arctic environments they live in today, likely from fear.
Some people believe that the early penguins were wiped out by a flood or other natural disaster. They claim this is why there are no other fossils of penguins, because they were all wiped out and likely brought to the bottom of the ocean. This is a fair claim, as it explains the reasons why no other penguin fossils have been found. What it doesn’t explain, however, is the existence of modern penguins. Pedro is clearly related to the penguins we know today. If all of his species was wiped out, how could they have reproduced and created modern penguin species? This claim is fair, but it simply doesn’t make sense. There are likely fossils we just haven’t found yet, and we can deduce that the environment they lived in wasn’t the ideal conditions for fossilization.
In conclusion, Pedro was part of an ancient penguin species. We know this because of preserved soft body parts found on his fossil. This penguin species had some different traits from modern penguins that would have helped them survive in the arid deserts of Peru. Eventually, something scared them off and they migrated down to Antarctica where they evolved into the different species we recognize today. This is an amazing model of evolution and all of the inspiring discoveries scientists have made when it comes to learning about the past.

Hey y’all! I’m Rose (she/her) and I am trying to make this intro up to 2k+. So bear with me here.
I LOVE READING!! I have loved reading for as long as I can remember, and I was never really imposed any content restrictions, so I had read the whole HP series by 8 or 9 and I was so confused why none of my friends were allowed to read past book three. I used to really enjoy reading fantasy books, such as Harry Potter, Wings of Fire, Keeper of the Lost Cities, Land of Stories, Percy Jackson, etc., but now I find those kind of boring. I am more interested in dystopia-fantasy, sci-fi, or just plain dystopian now. I passed through a phase in the summer where I got really interested in romance, but now I find it really boring, plotless, and I generally just don’t like romance as an idea. It is so hard to find a YA novel that doesn’t have some sort of romantic subplot, which is really annoying, especially when it's a straight romance. Though sometimes it’s okay when it actually contributes to the plot, yet the plot isn’t a romance, like in Like Other Girls. Currently, my favorite books probably include Six of Crows and Red, White & Royal Blue (I know this is kind of contradictory to my above point, but I really enjoyed the political side of it and I am kind of obsessed with Nora.) I also really like books about society, politics, and philosophy. A few examples would be Ishmael, Sophie’s World, and I just finished my mom’s college textbook on race, class, and gender in the US.
Second Point: Violin. Violin is the superior string instrument. I know this was a huge SWC thing over the in-between session, and I'm really happy that I got to contribute a bit to SWC culture, but y’all need to just admit that violin is better. Viola is a pointless instrument. Anyways, I have been playing violin for seven years and it is a huge part of my life. Music has always been central to my life, from a young age when I would go to music classes with my mom. Now, it represents itself through violin and musical theater. I play Suzuki violin, and I am currently learning Vivaldi A Minor, 3rd Movement, though I have already learned Bohm Perpetual Motion. Both my brother and my sister play the violin too, so it isn’t uncommon to hear the sound of someone practicing throughout my house.
I know those of you who are only children won’t be able to ever truly experience what it’s like to have siblings, but I will do my best. They are incredibly annoying sometimes. They bother you non-stop because you are always family with them, and so you can’t really disown them, and you bother them right back because you have to live in the same house as each other so you know nearly everything about them. But you also love them. You see how amazing they are and you play with them and make up games with them and entertain each other on long car rides. I love my brother so much, and I love my sister too, though in a different way, since she is so much younger than my brother and I. My entire family is very clever and creative and smart, so we can have discussions with each other debating philosophy and paradoxes and history and science, and we all know what’s going on and can understand each other. My brother also loves Wings of Fire, so we often talk about the logistics of animus magic together.
As I said above, my family is very creative and smart. I claim the title of smart proudly without hesitation, and I know y’all are thinking ‘wow, someone who doesn’t hate themself/who can see what they’re good at.’ WRONG! Just because I know I’m smart doesn’t mean I don’t hate on myself for not being smart enough. I generally give myself way lower grades on self grading rubrics (which I hate) than I end up getting on the project. Because I know I’m smart, I set impossible standards for myself, and beat myself up when I don’t meet them. Another thing is that I love learning. I genuinely enjoy school, even though people can get very annoying and far too loud to be reasonable and give me sensory overload/panic attacks. I really love math because it logics, I love science because … science :sparkles:, I love Social Studies because politics/government + history is amazing, and I love ELA because reading+writing (though I hate reading comprehension.) I’m really interested in neuroscience, computer science, and queer history right now.
Speaking of history, I am very politically active and vehement about my beliefs. I keep myself up to date on American politics and vent about whatever stupid thing Trump just did to my equally politically active friends. I am very Democratic, and one of my main issues is queer rights. You have no idea how much my friends and I have vented to each other about Trump removing all government recognition of genderqueerness, especially since most of us are queer. I wish the Red, White, & Royal Blue universe could be real. Ellen Claremont would be an amazing president, and then all of my friends would be legal and we wouldn’t have the presidential advisor doing a Hitler salute.
Let’s move on from that straight into musical theater! I love theater so much. I take classes and participate in a show once a year, through an amazing program full of amazing people. I don’t have a lot of experiences with shows, because my parents won’t buy me tickets when, but I listen to soundtracks like Hamilton, Mean Girls (the broadway musical, not the movie), Hadestown, Beetlejuice, Legally Blond, Wicked (again, the broadway musical, not the movie. I am an original fan!), and Six, but I am very open to more soundtrack recommendations. Sadly, explicit language is blocked on apple music for me, and Heathers doesn’t have a clean version of the soundtrack (I don’t think) so I can’t listen to that.
Another thing: I had a hyperfixation on the marauders fandom for the past two months, but now I’m kind of over that. Mainly because it’s only mlm plotless explicit romance at this point and a) reading about that makes me uncomfortable, b) I want sapphic ship-centric like pandalily and dorlene, and c) I want plot and angst and and character development and something to happen, that is not what these are about. If you want to talk to me about how amazing Lily Evans is, or want the chance to talk to someone who understands what you mean when you say your favorite Harry Potter character is one of Harry’s dead parents’ dead best friends, then I’m open. But I don’t interact with the rest of the fandom or read anything else on ao3. I did have a few ideas for fics though, and I may still carry through with them.
Music taste because I need more stuff to write about: My music taste is a bit tricky. As I said above, it contains lots of musical theater songs of varied genres. I also like Disney songs, such as Mother Knows Best, Speechless, and the Frozen soundtracks. The sort of pop music I like is a mix of artists like Taylor Swift/Olivia Rodrigo/Sabrina Carpenter/Dua Lipa, but I am not obsessed with them. I would not consider myself a Swiftie, or a Livy, especially since I do believe Taylor Swift is overrated. That doesn’t mean I don’t like her songs, but I believe she doesn’t deserve the amount of fanaticism that she gets. She is still a good artist, but not as good as people make her out to be.
Another thing about me: I have both ADHD and Autism. I know many of you have stereotypes of what this means, so please read through this so you can reach a better understanding of what life is like for me. ADHD is not about being hyperactive, or about not being able to focus. It is a doing disorder. We have a generally lower dopamine level than neurotypicals (people who have “normal” or “typical” brains, aka, no disorders), so we struggle a lot with getting the motivation to do things, because we don’t want to do things that might make it even lower. I am not lazy, my brain physically won’t let me do the thing. I am sitting on this couch yelling at my brain about how much I need and want to do the thing and beating myself up because I simply can’t do it. The hyperactivity that is often thought of as manifesting in an outward fidgety manner, is because we have to much energy in our brains, and so the only way to get that out so we can focus on work is by “stimming,” which is subconscious, repetitive, fidgeting. You can research more about executive dysfunctions if you want to learn more about it. I am also autistic. This does not mean I am nonverbal, require special teaching, or struggle to function normally. This, for me, means that I have sensory issues, and I can struggle to read social cues sometimes. It may be a perfectly normal sound level to you, and you can tune it out, but I can’t and if I am forced to continue overwhelming my brain with so much noise, I will have a mental breakdown.

You look at Maria, in her soft velvet dress. This girl was a goddess, you thought. Maria could do no wrong.
Maria caught your eye, “C’mon, we’re going to be late to the ball.”
You laugh. The idea that any of the parties Maria went to could be called a ball was ridiculous. And besides, the thought of getting there early had left both of your minds long ago.
“Are you sure that’s you talking?” you joked. “The Maria I remember couldn’t even tell the time.”
She laughed along with you at that, and you put it out of your mind.
On the way to the ball, the two of you chattered about the bet. A few of the other kids had started a bet on what Emmy Rainer was going as, after controversy about what she had told people she was going to be had arisen.
Once you get to the building, it doesn’t look as though there’s a Mardi Gras masquerade ball going on inside. You look at Maria, confused. “Are you sure this is the right place?”
Maria just nods and keeps on walking. “I’ve been here before. The kids hosting this party are experts on hiding this sort of thing.”
Once you open the doors, you can see her point. The windows were painted over with black paint, and once you step inside, the lights are blinding. The hosts must have done something to the walls, because what was a near silent night outside was loud and rowdy inside.
Maria guides you to the center of the dance floor and you watch her sway to the beat. “Girl, you have to dance too,” she tells you, yelling to be heard over the music. “No one knows you here, you have a mask on. You’re a great dancer, trust me.”
I have a mask on, you remind yourself. Dancing is normally something you’re very self-conscious about, but the beat and the lights and Maria standing there with her eyes closed and dancing is intoxicating, and you have a mask on. It couldn’t hurt, right?
You start to pay attention to the beat. It’s a song you vaguely recognize from hearing girls sing it in the hallways between classes, so you are already familiar with the tune.
Maria disappears with a yell that she’s getting drinks and you start to really dance. The first time you saw Maria at one of her dance competitions, you were shocked into silence. Which, as Maria said so often, was practically impossible for a chatterbot like you. Maria could dance, and you grew self-conscious about dancing around her ever since. But with her gone, you could dance without that pressure that you always felt around her.
Maria returned with two unidentifiable drinks and a plate full of king cake. “You’re a great dancer,” she said, her smile genuine. You felt a rush of pride well up in your chest at that statement. As much as Maria depended on you for validation, you also depended on her, and you were both great at making the other feel seen. Especially after Maria’s bout of depression last year when her mom died. She had struggled a lot with who she meant without her mom, and how deserving she was of her pain. Now, she was doing better, and she always credited you with her recovery.
The volume of the music increased as the two of you moved to the edge of the giant hall to eat your cake.
“I am going to go say hi to some of my friends,” Maria said, and you felt a spike of jealousy. Maria was always going off to say hi to some friend or other that you didn’t know, but you hadn’t racked up the courage to talk with Maria about it because you were worried she would think you were too possessive. So you didn’t say anything and let her go, before sinking into a sullen silence.
A few minutes later, another girl comes up to you. “Are you Maria’s girlfriend?”
“Yes,” you say venomously. Another person who is trying to use you to get closer to Maria.
She looks at you worriedly. “Well, I want to give you a warning that-”
You interrupt her. “I know Maria and I know that she is perfect in every way. So if you’re trying to get me to break up with her so you can date her, back off.”
The girl looks taken aback, for a second before snapping right back at you. “Why would I want to date Maria? What I’m trying to do is save you so you don’t get caught up in her toxicity. Surely you have felt pushed aside by her at some point. She’s going to whirl into your life and drag you into her messes, and then break up with you because you aren’t sparkly enough for her-”
“Sparkly enough? So you think I don’t deserve to date her? You’re just another one of her friends who doesn’t want me stealing her away from you.”
“No! What I’m trying to say is that she is a fire. She is toxic and addictive and she is going to burn through your life and for a few moments everything will be brighter. She will light up your life with meaning, and then keep moving and leave you behind because nothing will ever be enough for her. She is not a good person and she will burn you up and leave you like ashes.”
You just glare harder at her, trying to ignore the way her words resonate with you. “Marias loves me, and she will hate you once she finds out how you tried to ruin our relationship.”
The girl sighs, clearly giving up. “That may be true now, but we’ll see how long it lasts.”

Hello to the illustrious spider heroes of Illu-Fi and Action! RoseProductsTM sees how amazing you are, especially Action, and we decided to make a product specifically for you to use.
Introducing the SpincilTM, a tool for you to use on your Spiderventures to make communicating easier. It comes in the form of a small robotic spider that can shift into a pencil so you can write notes to your fellow spider heroes. This is needed because shouting instructions to each other across a battlefield is very ineffective and lets the enemy know what you are planning. Encoding words is too much of a hassle when you can just whisper to your SpincilTM and have them write your notes, and transport them.
The SpincilTM comes with voice recognition and advanced speech-to-text software. All you have to do is call for it with the name you have programmed for it, and then dictate your message. The SpincilTM will transform into a pencil and record your message on a sheet of paper, using a customizable handwriting font. And the SpincilTM will only respond when you call to it, thanks to advanced voice recognition software, so you don’t have to worry about villains impersonating you to send messages to your co-heroes.
The SpincilTM has the best technology for traveling and will attach to your spider-suit automatically, and comes with web-shooting mechanisms to travel across your battlefield. After writing your message, it will roll up the paper and bring it to the hero it is addressed to, using location tracking on spider-suits.
Ah, you ask, why paper? Wouldn’t it be much more effective and environmentally-friendly to record messages? Well, that is partially because recorded messages are easy to find because they have a digital footprint, and the goal of this is so that your enemy doesn’t understand what you are talking about. The other reason is private business of RoseProductsTM, and definitely has nothing to do with our budget. Paper is the all-around better option. Trust.
Even famous spider-heroes like spideris agree that this is a must have for all spider-heroes and will be giving these to their students.
On sale now for only $3M at your nearest RoseProductsTM store!

Ms. Ris yelled out to the group of busy students “It's time to figure out your Spidersonas. Take some time to think through what you want, and make sure to consider what your power is, and then conference with us so we can confirm it. When you’re done, you can go to the practice room and start experimenting with Ayla.”
I look around, trying to figure out what I’m supposed to do. Other students are just sitting down where they are and mumbling to themselves, so that’s what I do as well.
I should probably just make my name something like Spiderose. I don’t need something flashy and unique. My power is giving people visions and hallucinations, though, so maybe I could do something like Spider-Sight. Nah, that sounds like a power, not a name. Wait. What about Spideress? It doesn’t really relate to my power or name, but it sounds cool.
As for what I do in fights, I really don’t want to be one of those people who fight outright. I’m not strong or brave, so I would prefer to be hidden. Helping by messing up their minds, without ever having to do anything.
I walk up to the teachers, who are already talking to one of my classmates. There is another classmate waiting, so I line up behind them.
Right as Ms. Kenzie calls “next,” a crash sounds throughout the room. Ms. Kenzie and Ms. Ris both jump up, and it’s not long before Ms. Ayla comes running in. The three of them look at each other and then start searching the room and the rest of the building methodically.
A purple creature steps into the room, and I immediately throw a vision of dancing pineapples their way, until I hear Ms. Ris’ say “What the…” and I pull it back.
She takes off her mask and looks at me with a smile. “I’m glad you’re prepared, Rose. This is what I look like in my spider suit. Please don’t attack me with that again.”

Culture 350+ words:
The avallines are a community of tiny, colorful, western-style dragon-like creatures who live under your floorboards. They communicate with a series of tiny squeaks and chirps, but their vocabulary isn’t very large and a lot more emphasis is placed on gestures, tone, and expressions when communicating. This leads to a very open and communicative society that considers lies to be the highest form of treason, and tends against holding things back.
The avallines are a society that places a huge emphasis on community. They are very inclusive and democratic, and age is never a deciding factor. However, this can lead to identity erasure with people being forced to become a part of a community that expects high moral standards and kindness from everyone.
The community is directed by a series of organizations that operate to organize one part of the community for everyone. There is an organization for education, one for events, one for missing avallines, and many more.
At first glance, this community seems ideal. Everyone is compassionate and accepting, silly and full of whimsy, and organized and effective. But on later glance, you can see that not all of them are happy with this lifestyle. Not all avallines can spend their whole lives like this, but are often forced to become this or otherwise face estrangement from the rest of the avallines. Individual identities are erased by the strong sense of community.
Their main power source harnesses the residue of extra electricity flying around the house, especially static electricity, and since the avallines are so tiny, what they consider a humongous amount of power is merely the amount of 9 volt battery, but it will last them for hundreds more years. The main use for this power is lighting, powering hundreds of tiny fairy lights across the ceiling. Other uses include storing things on their online archive and distracting humans when they go on missions to scavenge for interesting things.
Avallines get their nutrition from sunlight, so they don’t stay under the floorboards all the time, sometimes venturing outside. There are a few known avalline communities that enjoy staying in ruins, where there are no humans, though this can lead to a few problems. First off, then they have to create mechanisms to produce their own power, since they don’t have any humans to do it for them. And second, avallines are cold-blooded creatures, so it is easier to just live inside a human’s home rather than live outside and risk freezing to death.
Avavllines tend to enjoy warm, dry climates. Though human homes have climate regulators, they didn’t always, and so most avallines are concentrated in areas where there is high temperatures and low humidity.
Avallines are very colorful, encompassing a wide rang of colors, some even beyond the human range of sight. They are also very vibrant, but the colors are based off of the parents’ genes, so sometimes there are mutations that lead to dull colors. These “dullards” experience a form of racism among them, vibrant avallines often assuming that the avallines with dull colors are less cheerful/enthusiaistic, and often rude. This, as you can imagine, leads to self-fulfilling stereotypes, academic decline, and often self-imposed exile. Never full exile, no avalline is aware of other communities, let alone knows how to find them. And they are all incredibly co-dependent and couldn’t survive on their own. More of a hermitage, with myths spreading throughout the community about what happened to them.
The avallines worship a sort of goddess they call “The Mist,” translated to English, naturally. The Mist isn’t some sort of omnipotent god in the sky that created the earth, but rather is the earth and everything living. Avallines use language like “more of The Mist in you,” to describe avallines with a lot of good qualities. This is because of the idea that The Mist came into our universe and found a large rock. She thought that the rock was very unhappy, and so she combined herself with the rockto create the land (that is a direct translation, the word they use for land is the same as the word they use to describe earth.) Combining herself with the rock led to the creation of animals and plants, herself mixed with the rock, and avallines, the physical form of herself. The avallines survive off of sunlight, but they were curious about what the plants and animals tasted like. She warned them not to, for then she would no longer be able to communicate with for they would be tainted by the rock. But one avalline did, and so the great separation of avallines and The Mist began. The Mist’s tears created the oceans and lakes and rivers, while the avalline that ate the plants/animals passed down that bit of rock through their genes. Most avallines are thought to have a bit of rock in them, but the more uncompliant you are with the community values, the more ‘rock’ is though to be in your composition. This is part of the reason for their racism, it is believed that the dull colors mean an excees of rock, which often makes people unhappy at the parents, because if the parents created a child with a lot of rock, the parents must have a lot of rock. While avallines who are shining examples of community values are said to be ‘untainted’ or ‘pure Mist.’
Avallines don’t have the social construction of gender, so they only have one pronoun that refers to ‘avalline, or conscious being,’ and one for a group of avallines or conscious beings, and one to refer to ‘its.’

Technology Conflict, 500+ words
*This story was originally told in avallinian, which doesn’t have a wide range of vocabulary and is incredibly reliant on gestures, facial expressions, and tone. Written on paper, I had to change a few words to better fit the story based on the tone with which they were told.
**Another tricky part of this is the pronoun deal, all avallines use they/them pronouns because they don’t have the social construct of gender, but this can also sound weird sometimes becasue they have a different pronoun for multiple avallines, and we don’t. Make sure to infer from context whether the ‘they’ is referring to a singular avalline, or a group
If you wanted, you could blame it all on Treeden. But they had a point, too many people were using up the power for reaons that were frivolous and may reveal them to the humans. So you could blame it on Misa, but they had a point as well. The power was too important a resource to be handled by someone as reckless as Treeden. And Treeden couldn’t handle that, and just had to change Misa’s words to slander Misa. And as if that wasn’t enough, Treeden had to try to takeover the DOAAC (Department for the Organization of the Academic Advancement of our Children.) So I suppose you could blame it all on Treeden, but you can’t have a conflict with only one person.
Let me start from the beginning.
Carlen had just come back from sneaking some new bits of fabric to decorate their sleep-spot, when there were loud noises heard from above. No one understood the communication of the savage, divisive, and uncivilized humans, but they weren’t moving, so it was very possible they had seen Carlen. Carlen later proved this theory by saying they had had to run to avoid getting caught by the humans, but was altogether very relaxed by the whole thing.
This naturally angered Treeden, for while they may be reckless and impulsive, they have a strong sense of justice and worth. The fact that avallines were using the power to sneak upstairs for frivolous reasons such as decorations for their sleep-spot was incredibly angering for them. Treeden might have been fine if that was the only thing. But after Carlen had almost risked their survival – no one knew what would happen if the rockish humans found them – and then just acted like it was nothing, Treeden practically blew up. With some of their friends, who were all passionate about the survival of the community and the values that were held in it, but none as much as Treeden.
The first idea was no more going upstairs. Recycling fabrics seemed like a perfectly reasonable idea, but many of the avallines were a fan of the pompous and grand, so this, as you can imagine, was shot down immediately. They must have the newest fabrics and patterns, how dare Treeden and their friends suggest to use old fabrics.
Many more ideas were suggested and then scrapped, until eventually Treeden and their friends managed to convince the avallines of their original idea, which had been brough back in between every new idea. The space that led upstairs was closed off for good.
—
Too many avallines were unsafe. No matter how important it was to stay as a united front, dullards would never understand the importance of rules and order. They were using unadvisable amounts of lights, that could easily be noticed by humans, no matter how savage they were. One dullard had even been found sneaking back upstairs.
Treeden was furious. They had petitioned several parents and organizations to exercise stronger control over dullards, but no avalline would agree to restrict the rights of another, even if it was a dullard.
So Treeden and their friends had to come up with another solution, and that was regulate usage of the power. To do that, they had to start an organization, and get most people to agree. This wasn’t hard, even the dullards agreed, which made Treeden second guess their plan for little bit, thinking that the duallards must be planning something nefarious, but eventually decided to carry on with the plan.
All would have gone perfectly fine if Misa hadn’t decide that regulating the power was blatant abuse of the organization system and violated the rights of all avallines.
Misa was the head of the DOAAC, one of the first organizations in this community, and they had fought hard for dullard rights, which made Treeden incredibly angry. Misa knew Treeden and had spoken out against their original proposal to ban going upstairs, not because they though that they couldn’t use old fabrics, but because they thought that banning upstairs was basically putting the avallines in prison and restricting basic rights.
Now, their arguement was that all avallines should have a right to use the power without it being controlled by someone such as Treeden who would unfairly watch dullards while ignoring power abuses by normal vibrant avallines.
Treeden despised that. They thought of themself as a very fair avalline, and the idea that they would abuse there power infuriated them. So, they twisted Misa’s words.
Within a few days, rumors were flying that Misa had said that everyone should use as much power as they want without worrying about putting everyone else in danger from rockish humans.
Misa, to their credit, was handling it incredibly well and insisted that Treeden wa far to reckless and biased for anyone to trust what they said, let alone trust them enough to control all power.
This was the last straw for Treeden, and they felt as though they had to do more than talk to get back at Misa. So they organized their friends and ran a campaign for head of the DOAAC. They were incredibly persuasive, Misa was getting old, they had always been involved with the rights of avallines, and they deserved a to head it. There were many of Misa’s close friends who were in positions of power at the DOAAC because of nepotism and felt cheated on that they had been waiting for this for so long and now Treeden was just going to steal it from them.
Liberal avallines who often argued for the rights of everyone in the face of proposals that were barely hindering rallied behind Misa, while avallines who preferred to keep everyone safe and often used proposals to manage that rallied behind Treeden. The turning point was that a lot of younger avallines, no matter their beliefs, argued for a younger head of the DOAAC and though it should be Treeden.
Treeden won the vote, and quickly started implacing new policies on dullards, while continuing to argue for power regulation. Misa and their friends continued to fight until Misa’s death, three years after the vote, when the tensions started to die down. Treeden gave some of them positions, and later won the proposal for a power regulation organization, after which another vote was held and a pretty neutral candidate was elelcted to head the DOAAC.

Incorporation 800+ words
Marlean smiled, bright and sunny, at Ivorly, their golden scales shifting and shimmering in the lights.
“Wow,” Ivorly said, glancing around at the colorful decorations. Marlean’s sleep-spot was markedly different from their own, covered in bright lights and shiny fabrics. Though, to be fair, the vibe was nice, and it definitely fit Marlean.
Marlean looked at them, clearly happy that Ivorly was impressed. “Thanks, the aesthetic is really important to me.”
Ivory looks at Marlean, hoping that they will be able to tell how impressed they are with what Marlean has been able to scrap together, especially with the increasing regulations on access to human scraps. “How did you get all of this? I doubt even avallines with the highest level of clearance are able to go up there and get stuff this often and this much?” Their own sleep-spot was far sparser with a thick purple scrap on the bottom layer and another thinner pink one on top, barely any lights. Definitely the disco-glitter vibe Marlean had going on, with a clear sign that they lived there in every corner.
“I didn’t, that’s the trick,” Marlean said, leaning closer as if they were about to tell Ivorly a closely guarded secret. “So many of the avallines who were alive before the extra safety precautions had a lot of great styles and their fabrics have just been piled up and gathering dust in some darker corner. I don’t know why avallines continue to insist on focusing on rising up to higher clearance levels to get a tiny bit of weird and un-aesthetic fabric when you can just grab some of the amazing fabrics dead avallines had.” Ivorly thought that was a bit morbid, but they couldn’t deny it worked.
Marlean leaned their head onto Ivorly’s shoulder with a soft smile on their face. They were clearly happy to finally be able to show Ivorly their sleep spot, this part of them that they valued so deeply. Ivory wasn’t always good about showing their love, but she was trying to get better about communicating, and in turn making sure Marlean felt able to communicate their needs with them, which was something Ivorly knew Marlean struggled with.
“Are you tired?” Ivorly asked Marlean, trying to be considerate of what they were feeling. Ivory wasn’t tired, but they would sit here and watch Marlean sleep for hours if that was an option. They looked so pretty when they slept, and it would probably be even prettier in the shimmery gold atmosphere of their sleep-spot.
Marlean looked up at Ivorly from their shoulder. “Are you okay with that? I don’t want to take you here and then just have you have to watch me sleep the whole time.”
Ivorly nodded. Marlean was the most considerate avalline they had ever met, part of the reason Ivorly was so drawn to them in the first place. They were always putting others before themselves, and considering what others were feeling.
Marlean smiled up at them happily and curled up with their head resting on Ivorly. Within a few minutes, soft snoring filled the sleep-spot.
Ivorly looked around, wondering if there was anything in here that would help them learn more about Marlean. The lights were almost blinding, hiding some corners from view, but Ivorly didn’t know how to dim them without moving and waking up Marlean.
Behind them was a cut of fabric that was very clearly in the middle of being painted. It was hard to tell what it was, only that it was something Marlean was passionate about.
Craning their neck to see better, Ivorly tried to find a clue as to what it was Marlean did when they weren’t at school. Most of the decorations were pretty much what they had expected, but in one corner they hit gold.
Ivorly swiped their tail, trying to lightly knock the thing off a small shelf. It was a little to far away for that, but they continued trying to figure out what it was without waking up Marlean.
The thing fell, but thanks to the weird angles that Ivorly had to twist to get it down, it fell straight down on to Marlean.
“Ouch,” Marlean said, sitting up quickly. “What was that?”
Ivorly blushed, embarssed that Marlean had caught them, and pointed towards what was now discernible as a picture frame lying on Marlean’s tail.
Marlean picked it up and quickly joined Ivorly in blushing. The picture was of Ivorly laughing with their face up to the sky and Marlean looking at them with something like complete adoration on their face.
Oh.
Oh. That was why it was hidden.
Marlean turned away and hid their face. They never really were good at communicating what they needed.
“I never was very good at showing you how I felt. And I don’t have any tangible proof like this, but don’t hide away from me now. This doesn’t change anything, Marlean.”
“Anything?”
Ivorly nodded, one hundred percent sure. “Anything.”

Carla looked out at the city, trying to figure out if the fire had made her happy. It was a tricky feeling and she hadn’t felt it in so long that it was hard to pinpoint exactly what she was feeling.
A car came driving down the road at a steady, slow, pace, and she immediately ducked, unsure of who’s car it was. Seconds passed slowly and she tried to to keep her breathing as quiet as possible, listening to the beeps of the car parking, the door slamming, the car locking. No matter how many times Leon told her that the fires were impossible to trace, she would never not be paranoid.
The stairs creaked, now she was really stressing out. If it was Leon, why did he have to be so slow? The door opened and a second passed before Leon stepped out and walked to the edge of the roof, gazing wistfully at the ruined city.
Carla stepped out from behind the crates and walked over to join him. Before she even opened her mouth, he started talking.
“Stop thinking about whether or not you’re happy,” he said, nearly making her laugh. Leon could almost read her mind sometime, though he always told her that it had nothing to do with mind reading. “Your happiness is not what this is about. Your goal was to get revenge and you did that. Amazingly, I might add.” She smiled at the rare praise.
“You can’t base your success on how happy you feel. Otherwise, you won’t survive in the world of crime. I’ve seen people spiral into looking for happiness in making other’s lives worse. Please don’t become one of them. Dance in the ashes of your success not because your happy, but to taunt the people you hurt.”
Carla looked at him now, his word ringing in her head. If she wanted to survive, this was the philosophy she would have to live by. Already, it was quite easy. Burning down the city didn’t make her happy, she doubted hurting someone else would ever truly make her feel happy, but it had given people a taste of the medicine they had forced on her, and that was good. Necessary, even.
The stars twinkled above and turned back to the city. She could dance in the ashes of this dead city, not to celebrate her success, burning down a city and killing millions of people shouldn’t be celebrated, but to show people that she was never going to let them take advantage of her.
Leon looked at her for the first time that night. “Just one request. Don’t ever leave me for some ‘just’ cause like using crime to help people. I’ve lost to many prodigies to that trap.”
“Help people?” Carla asked, confused. She could say for certain that she would never use all of the gifts Leon had taught her to get people entrapped in the corporate nightmare of Falland. “Never.”
Leon smiled at her, pride overtaking his features, combined with the slightest hint of gratitude.

“Sakura,” the hoarse yet sweet voice called from behind, “make sure you return before nightfall. You must know by now how dark it gets at night. The girl’s brown hair flashed past the door as she sprinted away up the valley. Alongside her was a tiny red panda, some might even say that he was her sidekick. Before running down to the stream nearby, she shouted back a reply, hoping that the winds would carry her words.

Petting back Popo’s red and white fur, a feeling of silk, she began to write.

“Dear Okaa-san and Otoa-san,

“I hope you’re doing well up above. It’s been a while since I last talked to you.. Please don’t be too mad. It’s been quite hard trying to navigate life by myself, but I assure you that I can hang in there. Sobo takes care of me with all of her heart every day, but deep down inside I know that she still weeps your death. At times it feels as if I’m responsible - if I hadn’t pushed and been so needy… you may have been still alive to see me not having to write this.

“With every word I write, I can feel a tear trickling down my cheek. It’s as if I’ve kept them in for so long that they’re just waiting to burst. My heart feels stiff, as I’m gasping for air. Despite the beauty that thrives around me, I feel so hopeless and lonely.”

There’s the update on my life- I hope you’re doing better up above.
Sobo says that the night sky is a dangerous place for a girl, but I’d like to believe that there’s more to it than that.

Breaking Common Rules

Kiara and and Matt were cautious, trying to figure out if they should interrupt their parents.
“You said you didn’t care what they did over the weekend!” their mama yelled.
“I didn’t mean you could take them to Disney!” their mom shot back, as though not caring somehow traslated to ‘don’t do anything crazy.’
Matt was close to a mental breakdown, as shown by the hyperventilating neither of the parents seemed to notice.
Kiara whispered in his ear in a calming tone of voice, “Do you want to leave?”
Matt’s nodded, glancing back at the still yelling parents.
“They won’t notice your gone until they calm down, and by then they won’t be mad. They know how you get.”
“You said anything! You expect to read that into ‘but only things that I would do with them?’ It’s their weekend with me, let them enjoy it!” their mama railed.
Their mom rubbed her hands on her face, not noticing Matt slipping out of the room. “Of course I meant that, what did you think I meant? Take them out to the sort of place you go in the weekends?
Kiara backed away after that, not sure she wanted to see where this argument was going. Matt would probably need comforting, right?
The yells of bothe parents could be heard in the bedroom she and Matt shared, but she stopped hearing them as soon as she laid eyes on Matt’s hands covering his ears and the tears dripping down his face..
“Oh, Mattie,” she cried, running over to snuggle with him.

Alicia looked around the room, trying to calm herself down, but noticing that both of the kids had ran away. Katie looked at her worriedly, probably thinking the same thing she was. We can’t have messed it up for good this time. Not yet.
“Do you think the children are okay?” Katie asked, biting her lip.
Alicia felt a surge of guilt. She hadn’t even considered how the children would feel, preoccupied with how her relationship with Katie could survive another fight like this. It wasn’t even completely resolved, but neither of them could handle yelling for another few seconds and would live with icy communication for a few days.
“Wait,” she said as a retaliation hit her. “You don’t think Mattie’s having a panic attack?” Katie looked surprised by this, and then quickly followed Alicia out of the room.
The kids’ room was quiet, but neither of them could think of another place for the kids to be, so Katie softly knocked on the door. A few minutes of whispering ensued, followed by: “come in!”
Mattie was snuggled into Kiara’s shoulder, probably purposefully hiding his face. Kiara was expressionless, the mask she always wore after a fight or conflict. Both coping strategies that were probably unhealthy, but Alicia and Katie didn’t have any better ones, so they didn’t know how to help.
“Do you need us right now?” Katie asked, kindly. Alicia always admired her compassion and tact when dealing with things like this.
Mattie nodded slowly, sniffling, but didn’t get up from his position.
Alicia felt like she needed to help, unable to just stand there and watch the unerring compassion of her family members. “We don’t have to talk,” she said. “We can just make a snuggle pile.”

Purposefully Incorrect Grammar

“And then all the peoples went to the castle on the big, big hill,” Maisie told Kiara. She smiled graciously at the three year old, before checking the door again. Maisie’s parents were usually early, picking her up out front during the carpool, but today something about an older sibling’s soccer practice and a long meeting had gotten in the way, so it was just Kiara and Maisie. Mama had been okay with her staying the extra half hour, with only a warining to make sure they paid her for it.
“Did they live happily ever after?” she asked.
Maisie’s smile widened. “Yes yes sabolutley.” Kiara laughed at the mispronounciation.
The doorbell rang, loud and clear, and Maisie jumped up happily. “Is my daddy?”
Kiara checked the peephole before saying yes and opening the door.
“Daddy daddy! Look at my teacher, Keera!” Maisie said excitedly. The dad was an intimidating man in a business suit who seemed irritable already, before catching sight of Kiara holding open the door.
“This is your teacher?” The dad yelled, his face flushing scarlet red. “This – this illegal Mexican?”
Kiara felt her anger spike sky high, first at the blatant racism, and second at the assumtion that all Latin/Hispanic people must be Mexican. No matter how mad it made her, she still knew that she wasn’t in a position to argue right now, simply saying a quick bye and shutting the door.
She sank to the ground. How many of those - those racist rich men were out there? Making other people in much worse socio-economic postions than her feel like this every day. It was horrible thought, she hadn’t faced anything this outright before, but she had heard mama’s whispers to mom late at night about what happened at work.

Asyntedon

Matt looked across the lunchroom at the popular boys, the jocks. The ones that had nothing to worry about in their small close-knit community. They didn’t have to worry about racism or assumptions about race becasue they were all white, they didn’t have to worry about misgendering becasue they were all so clearly boy. He often wondered what it would be like to born inside that body instead of the one he was given.
The bell rang, and the cafeteria quieted down, before people started shuffling out. Matt followed the group of rowdy boys until he had to split if he wanted to get to honors English on time.
—
Every day the pattern continued. The boys would yell and laugh and do whatever they wanted because they didn’t have to second guess everything they did is this masculine enough is this showing who I am without playing into stereotypes am I doing everything a cuban biracial trans guy is supposed to be doing? Matt hoped for wished for wanted needed that freedom like air, but not everyone has equal rights and chances in this country. One of the things his moms often repeated and ranted about.
—
“What?” he couldn’t believe that someone had the guts to say that outright to Kiara. Scary, amazing Kiara. Her eyes were red, and that was the worst part. He had almost never seen Kiara cry. She had seen him cry plenty of times, she was one of the only reasons he made it through his worse panic attacks, but seeing her cry was maybe a once every five years experience.
He spun around and punched the wall angry angry angry at the entire US for being so horrible to him and his sister and his moms and why couldn’t they just be respectful kind compassionate instead of hateful angry fearful biased ignorant terrible terrible terrible terrible terrible.
His hand hurt but he didn’t notice couldn’t notice because the entire world was stupid and were never going to give him the time of day because of a hurt hand.

Non Sequitur

Kiara slammed her car door shut, thinking about Maisie. She was such a sweet little girl, so compassionate. But she would have to grow up in that household with those beliefs. So many amazing people are corrupted by their parents beliefs, she thinks. Or by societies pressure, especially for males.
Her thoughts drifted to the transphobic boys at Matt’s school as she opened the door and saw him doing work on the table. They probably had perfectly good families, but were pressured into fitting into societies idea of masculinity, which included transphobia and homophobia. It was ridiculous.
Matt looked up when he saw her. “Mama and Mom wanted to ask us something.” His face was incredibly worried, not knowing what was going to be talked about had triggered his anxiety, she could tell. Mama and Mom tried so hard to help him, but they just didn’t read his cues as well as she did.
Walking over, she squeezed his hand comfortingly. He leaned into her, only to shoot upright when Mom and Mama entered the room. They laughed in unison before quickly stopping.
“We had an idea…” Mom said slowly. “But we wanted to check with you before starting on it.”
Matt fidgeted nervously and gripped her hand tighter. Sometimes, she could get incredibly mad at her moms for not noticing his cues, but she was still semi-preoccupied with Maisie and thoughts of environments shaping people.
“We thought…” Mama said nervously, and then all in a rush, “that we would foster a child.”
—
“That’s it?” Matt said, before he could stop himself, and then immediately worried if they would think he was stupid and unreasonably afraid. Fostering a child was easy, simple. It might have been the precursor to a bigger conversation about how he–not Kiara, she was doing perfect and amazing, as always–would need to work on setting a better example. Maybe they would tell him that he couldn’t constantly be having panic attacks, he knew that would be incredibly annoying to them while they were trying to take care of a new child.
Kiara smiled down on him, compassionate as always. “That’s it. Nothing bad, you’re doing nothing wrong.”
He shook her off and looked at his moms for reassurance, Kiara might be lying to make him feel calmer. Maybe it was practice so that they could lie to him when he was going to have panic attacks, they would be able to circumvent them
Mama bit her lip. “That’s all. We actually just wanted to ask you if that would be okay with you. Do you think you would be able to handle another kid?”
Matt relaxed, clinging tightly to Kiara’s hand. He didn’t know yet, there were so many things that could go wrong. “Is it okay if I say … I don’t know?”
Mama and Mom nodded in unison. “Of course. We won’t do anything unless you’re one hundred percent okay with it.”

Mia looked at the soft silk dress lying out on the bed. The organizer's words floated back to her.
“Why do you have two wedding dresses, I thought you said you were only married once? Did you have two weddings?

“I don’t know what to do with it, you can handle it. Maybe you want to grab a plastic thingy to help keep it less dusty. It looks like it needs to go to the laundromat.

‘This is one of the most exquisite dresses I’ve ever seen, who made it?”
The same word echoed in Mia’s head after every question, putting her in a sort of trance. Ellie. Ellie. Ellie. A different steam of words followed each repetition of her name, adjectives this time.
Beautiful. Compassionate. Temperate. Commanding, passionate, glowing, fiery delicate strong ethereal creative determined stubborn…
So many words, so many Ellie’s, so many times that one moment was replayed in Mia’s mind.
She picked up the dress and shoved it in the back of the closet. Maybe she could hide again from the memories that were ingrained in every thread of the dress.
“Today is our day. We can do whatever we want!”
Mia spun herself around, Ellie’s ghost dancing right along with her, and then–
She dipped herself into Ellie’s arms and fell straight onto the bed, the air leaving her lungs in a rush.
No. She wouldn’t let herself get lost in happiness again, not after she had seen how much it hurt to have it yanked away. She had to push all of the memories down down down into her mind so she would keep control.
Shoving it into the closet wouldn’t work. Burning might. She had to get rid of every single trace of Ellie, no matter how exquisite it was, the thoughts hurt to much.
She had to forget Ellie, to keep herself.

You look at Maria, in her soft velvet dress. This girl is a goddess, you thought. Maria could do no wrong.
Maria caught your eye, “C’mon, we’re going to be late to the ball.”
You laugh. The idea that this party could be a ball was ridiculous. Besides, the thought of getting there early had left your mind long ago.
“Are you sure that’s you talking?” you joked. “The Maria I remember couldn’t even tell the time.”
She laughed along with you at that, and you forget about it.
On the way to the ball, the you and her chattered about Maria most recent dance competition and the very clearly biased judges that she had vented about for the past week. You were kind of tired of it, you hadn’t seen anything particularly biased about their judging, but Maria was the expert on things and you had to let her get the anger out now or it would turn in to a grudge. Maria’s grudges–especially involving dance–would be held for years.
Once you get to the building, it doesn’t look as though there’s a Mardi Gras masquerade ball going on inside. You look at Maria, confused. “Are you sure this is the right place?”
Maria just nods and keeps on walking. “I’ve been here before. The kids hosting this party are experts on hiding this sort of thing.”
Once you open the doors, you can see her point. The windows were painted over with black paint, and once you step inside, the lights are blinding. The hosts must have done something to the walls, because what was a near silent night outside was loud and rowdy inside.
Maria guides you to the center of the dance floor and you watch her sway to the beat. “Girl, you have to dance too,” she yells over the music. “No one knows you here, you have a mask on. You’re a great dancer, trust me.”
I have a mask on, you remind yourself. Dancing is normally something you’re very self-conscious about, but the beat and the lights and Maria standing there with her eyes closed and dancing is intoxicating, and you have a mask on. It couldn’t hurt, right?
You start to pay attention to the beat. It’s a song you vaguely recognize from hearing girls sing it in the hallways between classes, so you are already familiar with the tune.
Maria disappears with a yell that she’s getting drinks and you start to really dance. The first time you saw Maria at one of her dance competitions, you were shocked into silence. Which, as Maria said so often, was practically impossible for a chatterbot like you. Maria could dance, and you grew self-conscious about dancing around her ever since, she might decide you weren’t good enough for her. But with her gone, you could dance without that pressure that you always felt around her to measure up to some unknown standard.
Maria returned with two unidentifiable drinks and a plate full of king cake. “You’re a great dancer,” she said, her smile genuine. You felt a rush of pride well up in your chest at that statement. As much as Maria depended on you for validation, you also depended on her, and you were both great at making the other feel seen.
The volume of the music increased as the you and her moved to the edge of the giant hall to eat your cake.
“I am going to go say hi to some of my friends,” Maria said, and your happiness was wiped away by a spike of jealousy. Maria was always going off to say hi to one of her toxic friends that you didn’t know, but you hadn’t racked up the courage to talk with Maria about it because you were worried she would think you were too possessive. So you didn’t say anything and let her go, before sinking into a sullen silence.
A few minutes later, another girl came up to you, biting her nails nervously. “Are you Maria’s girlfriend?”
“Yes,” you say venomously, standing up. Another person who is trying to use you to get closer to Maria. People would always come up to you asking if you were Maria’s girlfriend, a sign that they only wanted to talk to you to get her.
She looks at you worriedly. “Well, I want to give you a warning that–”
You interrupt her. “I know Maria and I know that she is perfect in every way. So if you’re trying to get me to break up with her so you can date her, back off.” It felt good, standing up for yourself.
The girl looks taken aback, for a second before snapping right back at you. “Why would I want to date Maria? What I’m trying to do is save you so you don’t get caught up in her toxicity. Surely you have felt pushed aside by her at some point. She’s going to whirl into your life and drag you into her messes, and then break up with you because you aren’t sparkly enough for her-”
“Sparkly enough? So you think I don’t deserve to date her? You’re just another one of her friends who doesn’t want me stealing her away from you.” Always pulling Maria aside to talk, this proved they were trying to convince her to break up with you. It seemed they’d decided to try a more direct approach.
“No! What I’m trying to say is that she is a fire. She is toxic and addictive and she is going to burn through your life and for a few moments everything will be brighter. She will light up your life with meaning, and then keep moving and leave you behind because nothing will ever be enough for her. She is not a good person and she will burn you up and leave you in the ashes.”
You just glare harder at her, trying to push down memories of Maria complaining about how you were such a prude and why couldn’t you ever have more fun. It was perfectly fine for her to complain about you, how else were you supposed to improve? “Maria loves me, and she will hate you once she finds out how you tried to ruin our relationship.” You and look away, as if ignoring the girl will help you ignore the these new thoughts about Maria.
Toxic. Addictive. Sparkly.
You aren’t enough for her.
The girl sighs, clearly giving up. “That may be true now, but we’ll see how long it lasts.”
Forever, you lie to yourself.

Rust, oil, coal, gas,
The scents that fill my nose down here.
Wires burn, lights flash,
Another day, another year.

I call out to raise a glass,
The only way to survive the fear.
Pickaxes clang with a loud crash!
Are you even human, my dear?

Is this hell? Or hell on earth?
For as my mama always said:
You’ll be livin’ a lucky life,
As long as you ain’t dead.

And I raise my glass up to the sky.
I raise it high, and drink it dry.
To the gift of life, no matter where it’s spent;
In the meadows up above,
Or in this endless torment.

So every year I take the train,
Down to the land of death and pain.
And I celebrate this life I got.
‘Cause it’s far better than being shot.

Fairy Tales - 200 words
Maggie looked at her list. She was going to get all of it done today, she had to. It would be easy, she could do the laundry while finishing up that spreadsheet for work in the morning. Then, she had to make lunch for Corinne when they came over, and while that was cooking she could clean the house so she would feel good about going out with them.
She just had to get out of bed first. It was only 7:30, and she knew how much she could get done when she wanted to. She could stay in a little longer, right? Besides, it took so much energy, so she should wait a bit so that she was more awake. And her bed was so soft…
What?!? It was already 8:15, she must have drifted off a little. She jumped out of bed and started getting ready for the day. Hair in a messy bun, she raced down the stairs, skipping the last few steps.
What to have for breakfast? There was eggs in the fridge, but she wasn’t feeling like eggs today. What she needed was a salad, she felt like something fresh and light. But there wasn’t any greens in the fridge. She could wait until she found something else to eat, and make use of this time by starting on laundry.
Once the clothes were in the dryer, she opened up the spreadsheet and the database. It would be easy, she had gotten a bunch of the form entered last night and only had a few left. And yet, she couldn’t do more than just stare at the screen. It was easy, she continued to tell herself. Just do it. No matter what, it was impossible to click over.
At some point, the laundry timer rang, and she went to move it to the dryer. When she came back she saw it was already 9:30. Corinne would be here in an hour and a half, given how productive her morning had been so far, shd doubted she would have time to clean the house. Maybe she should just tell Corinne to go out without her?
Adventure - 200
At 10:30, her stomach growled. She had forgotten to eat breakfast, but she couldn’t let herself move until she got at least one form filled out. Unless, it was to be productive. Maybe she could clean and then she would feel at least partially accomplished.
Sweeping the kitchen was a great way to do that, so she stood up and did that. Great. Now back to staring at her computer screen. Executive dysfunction was a horrible curse from some long-ago villain who hated humans.
At 10:50, there was a knock at the door, but before she could open it, Corinne waltzed in looking incredibly strange. Instead of her usual ripped jeans and neon tube top, she was wearing a pair of mom jeans and a t-shirt, her normal afro straightened, and no makeup.
“Corinne?” Maggie asked, unsure if this was some sort of prank.
Corinne slouched onto a stool, but quickly sat up straight. This was incredibly concerning behavior. “I am trying to be a better job candidate.”
“What? Don’t you have a job?”
Corinne bit her lip, it’s normal piercing notably absent. “I got fired a few days ago. I didn’t want to worry-”
“Corinne! You’ve been without a job for the past few days and you didn’t think maybe that was something your best friend should know?”
“I didn’t want to worry you! I have a doctorate, it should have been easy for me to get a new job”
“Then why haven’t you?”
“That’s what I was going to tell you!” Corinne said.
Fantasy - 150 words
“When I had my first interview with a lab, the lady seemed really excited at first, but as soon as she saw me, she became super formal, cut off the interview early, and rejected my on the grounds that I was “reckless, informal, and probably faked her way through her doctorate.”
“WHAT!?!?!” Maggie couldn’t believe the audacity.
“So I decided that if I wanted a job I would have to act as white as possible. Hence,” she gestured to her body, “this. But I still have my earrings.” She took out the two diamonds in her ear.
Maggie was confused. “Your gold hoops?”
“Oh, you don’t know. I thought I told you.” With a tap, the earrings glowed and transformed into Corinne’s familiar sparkly gold hoop earrings.
Maggie gasped, unsure of what exactly she was seeing.
“I used to change them every day, but now I generally keep them as hoops. I changed them to match my new style, so they are there to make me feel comfortable while wearing this torture.”
Fan-fi - 150
Maggie nodded, trying to comprehend this level of magic when the earrings started … singing?
“Do they sing too?”
Corinne looked at them. “No? Not as long as I’ve had them.”
It was a familiar song that Maggie had heard many times before.

hit it like rom-pom-pom-pom
(Get it hot) get it hot like Papa John
(Make a beat) make a beat go on and on
(It's a fem) it's a femininomenon

She smiled at it. “It seems to know what we need.”
Corinne shook her head. “I can’t be influenced by Chappell Roan and decide to just completely scrap societal norms if I ever want to get a job.”
Maggie shook her head. “You can’t listen to that interviewer. There are plenty of people out there who want someone like you in their company. Don’t make this,” she gestured at Corinne, “your new normal.”
“I can’t risk it. It will just be so much easier if I do it this way. Play for the stereotypes so that you can change them.” No, Maggie wanted to yell. Don’t do this. But Corinne was clearly dead set on this.
“Okay.”
Thriller - 200 words
As soon as the words left Maggie’s mouth, the earrings caught on fire.
Corinne dropped them onto the tile counter and backed away.
“I’m assuming they normally don’t do this either?” Maggie was sure she would start freaking out at some point, but right now the adrenaline was delaying the onset of hysteria.
Corinne shook her head. “They have been acting a bit strangely since I changed them into diamonds. Maybe they just haven’t been used for so long and they got rusty, so now they’re malfunctioning?”
A much more logical explanation was coming to Maggie. “You don’t think they’re mad at you for changing your style?”
“I doubt they realize it. It’s not as though they have a consciousness.” A lick of flame jumped off of the still burning earrings towards Corinne, and she quickly jumped back.
Maggie smiled wryly. “Are you so sure?” It seems pretty clear to her that the earrings were mad at Corinne, and in almost all of the fantasy books she used to consume magical objects had a consciousness.
Corinne looked at her. “Just shut up. It’s a pair of earrings. Just because they shapeshift sometimes doesn’t mean they can think and control whatever is happening. It’s just a machine glitch.”
The fire roared up towards her, and she jumped back and put her burnt hand under the sink and turned on cold water.
Mystery - 150 words
As soon as Corinne turned away, the fire extinguished and a crackly voice came from the earrings.
“Corinne, you have the right idea. Playing to the stereotypes. Umm, that will help you with whatever it is you need.”
Maggie eyed the earrings. “Are you the earrings? I told you they had consciousness.”
“Earrings? Is that what this is? Ummm, yeah. Sure.” As the voice responded the earrings metamorphosed once again into two letters “O” and “N.”
Maggie looked at them. On? Were the earrings trying to tell them something but didn’t they have the voice. Though that ‘sure’ had sounded kind’ve suspicious. She turned her head sideways and then she saw it.
No. What could that mean? Wait! It is the answer to her question. So then who was the voice?
She looked up at Corinne, who was staring at the earrings with utter disbelief. “They’re cursed!”
“Corinne?”
“I have to get rid of them,” Corinne said, with a pained expression. “Look! They’re going to sabotage my life if they keep acting up.”
Bi-Fi - 200 words
The person must be infiltrating her mind, Maggie thought. The earrings were Corinne’s most prized possession. There was no way in the world Corinne would suggest getting rid of them.
Corinne continued staring at the earrings, but didn’t pick them up. “I have to get rid of them, I can’t keep living like this.” She sounded like she was trying to convince herself. Keep living like this? Has things like this happened before?
Maggie voiced her question, to which Corinne responded: “Sometimes they fall out of my ears, and they’ve caught on fire once before.” Okay. That was not good. But if it was such an easy decision, why did Corinne look so pained?
Corinne carefully picked up the earrings, and then dropped them when they relit themself. “Can you help me?”
Maggie came over there. “You’re sure you have to get rid of them?”
Corinne nodded. “It’s caused too much trouble. I have come close to this before, but it’s never been this bad. What if they start talking in the middle of one of my interviews?”
Maggie nodded. “Do you have any ideas?”
“I was hoping you would. Do you happen to have a pair of fireproof gloves?”
Dystopian - 100 words
It was weird for Maggie to be seeing Corinne like this. Corinne was a sort of an idol for her, they had met when Maggie was working on her masters and Corinne was working on her doctorate, so she was already super cool, and as the years went by, she just became more awesome. Never caring what people thought, standing up for causes she believed in, being the absolute epitome of cool in Maggie’s mind. Now, she was nervous, smaller, scared. The interview, and now whatever was going with the earrings must have really rattled her.
Corinne looked at her expectantly. “I’m serious, what should I do?”
Illu-Fi - 200 words
Maybe if Maggie grabbed it and moved it out onto the street, not to throw it away, definitely not, but to make it less likely for her house to catch on fire.
As soon as she picked it up, she felt a sharp tug up and the house dissolved. When her surroundings were clear again, she saw she was in some sort of magical space-place with a bunch of cool colors in an ombre. Her and Corinne were floating with the earrings out in front of them. Well, were they earrings? They seemed to be sort of glitching, like they were earrings but they were also a young girl at the same time. And occasionally they seemed to be a plant.
Corinne screamed. “What on earth is happening? I tried to be okay when it caught on fire but now…” she trailed off and burst into tears.
Maggie looked at her best friend, the strongest person she knew, sobbing in a weird-brain-space they’d been teleported to by a pair of magical shape shifting earrings that like to catch on fire. It was an awkward situation.
The glitching … thing? In front of them started to look a bit more stable as a human girl. She still occasionally seemed kind of plantish sometimes, but was definitely calmer. They knelt down and rubbed Corinne’s back. “Hey, I’m sorry. I’m not very good at communicating in the flat world, but everything was trying to help you.”
Myth - 150
Corinne looked up. “You look familiar. Do I know you?” She rubbed the tears out of her eyes.
Maggie watched, trying to look comforting. She was never good when people started crying.
The girl continued. “You have so much potential, and I was trying to help you bring that out when you were folding yourself in to fitr to the whims of the world. You are the bravest person to ever wear me.”
Corinne smiled. “I tried. I tried so hard, but I just couldn’t figure it out. You were scary, because everything I knew about this sort of thing ended up with my ancestors dying. It’s not a great incentive to listen to you and go against the grain.
Maggie interrupted. “I’ll help you. I need you to be the person you can be, because that is the most effective way to change the world. You are going to make the world a better place, and by doing it in the way that makes you the most comfortable, so that the people that follow your example do it in the healthiest way.”
Corinne smiled at her. “Thanks. But if I’m going to change the world, I’ll need you to help me. We’ll do it together.”
Sci-Fi - 150 words
The girl clapped her hands together, as she started to glitch again. “Yay, you got my message. Thank you, Maggie, for helping me. Now, I have a gift for you both, since clearly earrings won’t help me guide you, here is a way for you to talk to me.”
A compass glowed in Maggie’s hand that seemed to have always been there, and yet also have just appeared, and also not entirely there. It was a weird feeling, like everything in that space.
“That will point you in the direction you need to go.” The girl said in a cryptic tone.
The dreamspace collapsed into itself, twisting into the girl with a thousand different graphic effects.
The house was suddenly right back there around them, in a confusing transition that was hopefully the end of that weird dreamspace-time.
The compass spun around at a dizzying speed before suddenly stopping at “individualism.” The compass had the same feeling as the dreamscape, where there was a glitching feel that there was clearly only four words on the compass, and yet there seemed to be thousands of adjectives there.
Journalism - 100 words
Corinne smiled at Maggie, and then jumped when her phone buzzed in her back pocket.
Corinne frowned. “It’s from one of the companies that interviewed me before I changed my appearance.”
Maggie leaned over her shoulder. “Click it!”
Corinne slowly pressed her finger down and typed in her password.
She screamed. “They said yes!!!”
Maggie screamed along with her. “Will that convince you to go back to normal?”
Corinne looked at her phone screen. “I don’t know. It’s hard. I don’t want to challenge the normal in a new place with I don’t know if anyone will stand up for me. It’s scary living life the way I did, and I am just starting to realize the genuine consequences of it. Real lif isn’t university, where everyone is unique and brave and outspoken.” Maggie personally disagreed with that, but there was definitely more openness and diversity in the university environment.
Action - 200 words
Corinne stepped into the lab and smiled at the young receptionist. “Hi, I’m here for a further discussion on the open position in data science for the marine biology lab.”
The receptionist smiled right back at her. “Are you Corinne Storill?” Corinne nodded. “Mr. Blake will be waiting for you in room 1205, right down that hall way.”
Corinne said thank you and then rushed down the hallway.
She stopped to take a breath. She could do this. Maggie had bought her a new pair of gold hoops, and she was back in her favoite jeans - ripped with huge holes across the knees - and a neon pink tube top.
She knocked.
“Come in!”
She opened the door and sat down at Mr. Blake’s desk. He was a man that looked to be in his mid-forties and was already graying, “Do you have any particular questions you’d like to start us out with?”
Corinne thought about the issue she had found, that Maggie had convinced her to bring up. You can complain and change things, she reminded herself.
“I was looking at your average salary, and that is completely unreasonable for a position like this. I was wondering if that was open for negotiation.”
Mr Blake smiled kindly. “Of course.”

Rose here! Hey y’all, I’m so excited to spend this session with you. This is my 1k intro, maybe this time I’ll be able to make it to 2k. I’ve been thinking of a lot more stuff to ramble about, so that should help. Last time I only made it to 1.6k, so I’ll need 400 more words of stuff to get to 2k, which I think I have. Also, a lot more willingness to ramble, which I’m working on.
First up, a basic intro. I’m Rose, as y’all know from the above paragraph, my pronouns are she/her, and I’m in apocalyptic. My username (@bookhuggers2022) was from Land of Stories + the year I joined because I needed a number. I think this is my fourth year on scratch? Let me check. Yep, three years and five months. I first joined to code, later found the bookworm community, and through that, found SWC. I hail from the lovely and superior realm of (b)EST. This is my fourth session. I think that’s it for basic info. Oh wait, and I’m thirteen.
My SWC history: As stated above, this is my fourth session. My first session was Bi-Fi July ‘24 with Alana, Pepper, and Summer leading (this Summer was @freely, not @SimplyWatermelon). I had a lot of fun that session and signed up again for November. In Novemeber I was in Bangsian (best cabin ever fr), led by Em, Bookie, and Recca. That was when I really started to get active. In March (well, I suppose it wasn’t really March yet) I applied for co-leader. While I did not get an offer, I was very proud of how my app turned out (it wasn’t very good, but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t be proud), and I had a lot of fun that session in Action, led by Ris, Ayla, and Kenzie. I feel like, while Novemeber was when I started to get really involved, March was when I began to make my mark. During the second cabin wars, I sent twenty one wars (21!!) and though we haven’t gotten the memory book yet, I might’ve sent the most wars total. I don’t know why, but after March, combined with all of in-between session chaos, I just began to really feel like a part of swc, instead of just a newbie. Anyways, this session I’m in Apocalyptic and I’m really excited to make some new memories and maybe start to make some close friends.
What to ramble about next? I guess I might as well do books and reading, copy my structure from last year. I’ve loved reading for as long as I can remember. My parents always relied more on books than screens to keep me busy, so that’s what I grew up with an addiction to. A few years ago, my favorite books were Harry Potter, Keeper of the Lost Cities, Wings of Fire, and Land of Stories. I’ve moved past those books and onto YA now, because of how much more critical I am for writing quality. Now, my favorite books are Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo, The Raven Cycle by Maggie Stiefvater, and Babel by R.F. Kuang. No matter how much I love reading, recently I’ve been having such a struggle to consume new content. Thanks to this, I have been spending so much more of my time reading fanfic instead of published, original, books. While I do love it, it makes me so mad that my neurodivergence and declining mental health (more on that later) keeps me from reading anything else unless I have a truly strong inclination. Rereading is always available, but that’s never the same. Even with the supplement of fanfic, there are these moods I get into where I can’t read anything, and I hate that so much, but I don’t know how to help it just yet.
Continuing the whole reading thing, I’m going to go over each of my fandoms, starting with the marauders. My thoughts on the marauders are complicated. I love and hate the fandom. I love and hate the marauders. I’m going to try to explain it, but it’s hard, so if you feel attacked, or would like some clarification, please contact me.
I sort of covered the marauders in my last 1k intro, but back then I thought of it as a hyperfixation that had come on for a month or two, and then faded out. It changed me a little, but I felt like I had moved past it. Now, I know I was wrong. I still like it (‘like,’ maybe obsess over it while not liking it always would be a better description?), but my consuming of content ebbs and flows. The more I experience of the fandom in general, the more I understand what I want in my involvement with the fandom. My personal belief is that fanon and canon are completely separate things. JKR wrote a horrible story with horrible characters, excusing so many behaviors. That is canon. We took those names and the idea of a personality, and then turned it into the most diverse, incredible, characters ever. However, since we completely ran away from the source material and each person has a varying level of canon compliance with their personal characterizations. And that has led to an incredibly toxic fanspace where characterizations in general are agreed upon, but if you make a headcanon for a character that one person deems slightly out of character, they will attack you for it. Currently, I mostly just try to interact with the fic side of it (we need more wlw in the marauders fandom) and the more positive and fluffy side of tumblr. If y’all want to chat about it, or hear some more of my opinions, please ask, but I’m going to close up this section for now.
As for my other favorite book series, I don’t have as much to say. Except for: I need more sarchengsey fluffy already-established oneshots, and if y’all have any good texting fic recs for fandoms I’m in, I would love them. This includes Star Wars (all media types), though that’s not a book, so it wasn’t mentioned above.
Next topic: art forms! We are going to start with music, and then move through the other ones I like. I have played violin for … eight years? I think. I play Suzuki violin, though I have also started to play fiddle tunes lately. Recently I have hit a block, though I’m not going to ramble about that because I want to keep this positive. I do love violin with all of my heart <33. I do play a little bit of piano that I have a taught myself (I can do singing exercises and stuff like that where I only have to use one hand to play chords in every key), and I’m starting to teach myself guitar. I also love to sing, which I grow through musical theater.
My second art form is musical theater. My local theater does summer camps, which I have been going to as long as I can remember, and recently I’ve started taking classes there as well. Each year, they do an incredible program where I get to participate in putting on a professional-level show in five weeks as one of the actors in a cast of 4th-12th graders. I love it so much and it is such a gift to be able to participate. In past years I have performed in Macbeth and Guys and Dolls jr, and next year I might get the chance to perform in Legally Blonde, one of my favorite musicals ever. The other one is Hadestown, which is just so incredible.
Next art form: Visual Arts. I don’t consider myself as good at this, but a lot of other people seem to think so as I was nominated for a camp as a visual arts major, where I have received recognition out of all of the visual arts majors for my art. The camp gives the opportunity to do some creative writing as well, which I will ramble about next.
I love writing, even though I have this chronic condition which only lets me write about depressed lesbians. Most of the time at least, I wrote a story that had some fluff last session (though it still featured lesbians.) My genres are wide, though they mostly include real-fi and fantasy. Recently I have gotten into writing fanfic, which is fun #bethefluffyouwishtoseeintheworld and will hopefully get me more words this session. I don’t know what else to ramble about, so we are going to move on.
I’m a proud neurodivergent kid who also hates my brain! My mom has, even though she’s not a professional (though I trust her more because she’s neurodivergent), diagnosed me with ADHD and Autism since, as she says, I was nine months old. Recently, it has been showing up a lot more and making it so much harder for me. Executive dysfunction, chronic indecision, and task paralysis are all fun and games until you have to go to public school that has grades. I have decided to seek out an official diagnosis, and so my mom and I talked to my doctor on our last visit, and I may even be able to get medicated before school starts, so that’s nice. Recently I have also been struggling a lot with my mental health in general. I can’t exactly put words to what I’m feeling yet, but I’m trying to get better (without therapy ofc, therapy is for people who are valid)
My mental health has probably also been taking a nosedive because of US politics, which I stay updated on. As I am a vehement democrat and queer, it is very not happy to stay updated. Comedians like Seth Meyers help make it better, but it’s still hard.
Let’s see if I can make it to 2k on time!
What else can I talk about? Music taste, I guess. I like a lot of different singers. My music taste is half Taylor Swift/Olivia Rodrigo/Sabrina Carpenter/Gracie Abrams, half queer music (the one, the only CHAPPELL ROAN!!!), and half musical soundtracks (I know that’s three halves, what about it?)
I really love all sorts of food, my dad makes a bunch of different cuisines, and I’ve grown up with an appreciation for good food. I would say that my favorite cuisine is literally any type of asian food. Thai, Japanese, Indian, Vietnamese, Middle Eastern, Chinese (there goes the chronic indecision again, I know it’s physically impossible for me to choose favorites, sue me). I love cooking as well, that is something I get to share with my dad and I have so many positive memories from it.
200 more words, let’s go!
Anyways, that’s me. Please come and talk to me anytime, I would love to make new friends in SWC. Doesn’t matter age or experience, I feel like when we’re online that sort of thing fades aways. We joke about age differences and people being so old, but I feel like SWC is some sort of liminal space where everyone is the same age and same timezone.
I am so lucky to have this community of incredible talented people (truly, y’all are some of the most talented people I’ve ever met, online or in person) who will stand behind me no matter what. The thing before was sort of a joke, but SWC truly is such a magical place and to everyone new: y’all areso lucky to have found this. To all of my oldies: y’all are part of what makes this such a joy to return to every year, each one of you addd a little bit of yourself into this amazing community and that’s what makes it what it is. Never forget that, y’all are all amazing in your own way. We do have issues and problems, each of us, but that’s what makes us human. They are not moral failings, they are character flaws that make you an interesting person.
This is Rose, once again. I’m so excited for this session!!!

Hi Rush! You said your goals are to finish a story, reach 40k, draw something from someone’s daily, and check up on cabin comments.
I don’t know how long your story is or how much you have left, but I am quite sure you will be able to finish it. We have all month, in which you likely won’t be very busy, plus SWC is always such a big motivation hit. Everyone here is also so kind and amazing about motivation! Your writing is great, and you’ll be able to ask for a critiquitaire as soon as you finish to edit it a little.
I looked over your past word counts (just some light stalking) and you reached 36k back in November. That alone is a huge number, I’m sure you’ll be able to get 4k more this session. To help you stay on track and not forget, make more friends! Chat with the people in your cabin, they are amazing (especially me /j) and they will happily motivate you. Adding on to that, if you want to interact more with your cabin, make sure you bookmark it and you can just try to remember to check it every time you open the main cabin.
The last one should be pretty easy, it’s literally just one thing. Read through people’s dailies when they post them, and keep in mind what you can draw based on that.
All of these goals seemed very achievable, I’m sure you’ll be able to complete them this session.
-Rose

—
This is office of the delegate of Marillya, Rose Corvarrus. We are so excited to hear you would like to help is ensure peaceful relations with the rest of the IPU and make sure Marillya has a say.
Thank you for applying as a temporary aide, your application has been processed and you will receive an answer in a few days.

Mafisi Algora
He/Him
Chief of Staff for the Marillyan IPU Delegate
—
The Office of Rose Corvarrus has decided to accept you application, you will begin work on Monday by coming to her office.
Read through the rest of this email to understand a little more about Marillya, your job, and Rose’s job.
Rose is a native Marillyan, which are a humanoid species with horns similar to that of an Earthean ram and neon skin. She has bright blue skin and incredibly curly and long horns, a sign of her age. It is important that yo be able to recognize her at first sight.
Marillya is covered in oceans and each ‘city’ is a collection of tall buildings on a single island. Many of the architecture is made of colorful glass, which you will see replicated on the office at the Federation Headquarters. The office number is room 712, in the seventh floor.
Since Marillyans live for approximately 900 earth years on average, they split up their life into stages of 150 earth years, which is about fifty Marillyan years.
While you are working, you will need to show character and individuality as an aide. Marillyans value uniqueness in everyone, so Rose will be very offended if you try to blend in with the other aides instead of showing your unique skills. To pepare, we would suggest thinking through your character traits and coming up with one to stand out. Bring your own clothes, Marillyans despise uniforms over all else.
Marillya hosts a democratic election once a year (marillyan year) where the sanctity of someone’s vote is held to the highest standard. The Prime Minister is then in charge of selecting a new delegate, which can only be changed through a long process with the parliament involving lots of paperwork and valid reasons.
As Marillya is basically a giant ocean, with the cities being small islands, our main industry is actually glass. The sandy islands provide plenty of material and we have major exports off-planet in decorative glasswork (and we are currently working out a deal with Wonderwhat on glass exports to provide for ITVs). On-planet, there is a major fishing industry, but that doesn’t get exported off. During your time with us, you may have to deal with several files and documents relating to Marillya’s fishing industry and interplanetary permits for it, as well as Rose’s long calls with the Prime Minister about it.
The major glassworking industry has created an incredibly creative society where most Marillyans go to university for architecture, glassworking, or some form of design. If you aren’t able to go to university, then you would likely go into the fishing industry and work hard to make your own mark.
The main species is Marillyan, as described above, but there are many off-world travelers who have created families here (often marrying Marillyans, which leads to an interesting mix of children who get to celebrate their unique diversity of traits).
Your main job for this semester is to help Rose look presentable before each session of the IPU, take notes during the sessions, and help her parse through the documents given. While you may be assigned menial tasks sometimes, partly as a result of Rose’s spite, your general job is to be a secretary and assistant. There will be another aide to help you out, and she is getting this same briefing email.
Rose’s main job is to represent Marillya’s interests in the IPU and keep the Marillyan Prime Minister updated on interplanetary legislation and dynamics.
Once again, thank you for applying! You seemed like a stellar candidate who would do well in the position of temporary aide and would respect Rose Corvarrus’ right to privacy and autonomy with her choices. We may specifically ask for you again next semester, if you are as good as your application claimed.
Rose was very unhappy to have to abandon her personal aides for this semester, so don’t be surprised if she is snappy or hypercritical.

Mafisi Algora
He/Him
Chief of Staff for the Marillyan IPU Delegate

“NO! NO! NO! DO NOT SET IT ON FIRE!” Mali said, waving her hands in front of Kelse.
“Why not?” Kelse asked, very clearly unsure. Maybe she had forgotten their coversation last night, maybe she didn’t care, maybe she was too drunk to know what she was agreeing to when she signed that contract.
Whatever the reason was, Kelse was now about to set the rope on fire and drop a giant boulder onto the floor of the senate, ruining the capital building and inciting incarceration for everyone involved. Including Mali
It was a dire situation, but her didn’t know what she could do to convince Kelse to not burn the rope

Chatter - A Document Outlining The Future Of Magic and The Conditions of Violence
8281. Cardinal Fast’s family is killed by tuberculosis in Quanzhou, and he is shipped to Boston. Cardinal then prepares for several sun cycles in Mandarin, Ancient English, and French, all a part of his training to get into Harvard’s National Academy of Translating—also known as Chatter. The underground complex and its scholars are the solar system’s most prestigious area for translating and, even better, sorcery. Goldsmithing, the work of summoning the translation lost in between languages using magical gold bricks, has turned the Americans into the strongest superpower in the world, as the use of it helps the country in the annexation of the rest of the world.
In Cardinal’s eyes, Harvard is the pinnacle of society, a place where intelligence is most important and the only end goal. But intelligence follows those in charge, and as a Chinese boy brought up in America, he soon come to the conclusion that helping Chatter means becoming a traitor to his home country. As he learns more and more, Cardinal finds himself choosing between Chatter and the secretive Pluto Organization, a group of people doing whatever they can to stop the growth of America.
When America attempts to orchestrate a war with China over gold and drugs, Cardinal is forced to make a choice.

“Rose has once again produced a masterpiece, this speculative fiction proposes a horrifying and intriguing future. You will fall in love with Cardinal and Rose’s spectacular writing.”
—New York Times

“This magical novel is filled to the brim with everything needed to make a fantastic story, plus so much more that creates an experience unlike any other. The pure talent Rose has is unparalleled by anything seen before.”
—The Washington Post

“Speculative fanstasy, complex characters, a heartbreaking ending, and a healthy dose of queercoding. What more do you need in a book?”
—Bea Candlelight, bestselling author of Archer Trainee