07.10.25 ⟢ Dandelions - 340/300 words

They've never known anyone just like her, and they've never known anyone as well as her. She's never known anyone just like them, and she's never known their true feelings, their true wishes. Sometimes, they think, she must know but every moment steals away and they're back to square one, and they're having that familiar falling feeling they first felt two years ago, when they were falling, but falling for her.

It's too bad, though, because all this admiring from a distance, and reading about soulmates, and praying and wishing, it doesn't get them anywhere. They've lost count of how much they've tried, tried to see what she thinks, tried to go out of their way to help her, tried to savour their talks together. Every falling star, every birthday cake, every 11:11, they wish and they wish and they wish but it gets them nowhere.

Superstitions are the only faith that they have, and they're growing restless. They can't get mad, they can't be angry, they are only sad. So they take a drive, take a walk, and find themselves in the middle of a field. A field of dandelions. They pick one up, close their eyes, and wish. The next day, they return, and wish once more. By the end of the month, a noticeable portion of the field has been picked bare.

But still, nothing has happened, and they have nothing else to believe in, no words will support them, and they can't help but wonder, wonder if days and weeks and months of searching for pennies, knocking on wood, peering at clovers, would finally pay off, let them feel and let them know and let them love.

Then, one sunny afternoon, they spot a daisy amongst the dandelions, and the petals fall with the truth.

Into the wind you go.
“Take your message with you,” they urge, “leave me with only false hope.”

Won't you let my darling know?

They leave the field, and don't look back, leaving shattered pieces of their heart in their wake.

Weekly 2 ⟢ Surroundings - 1609/1300 words

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1┆Practicing the Five Senses ⟢ 210/200 words

You step out of the light, and move backstage, where you rush silently in the dark, treading gently as you pass through a flurry of people, pausing only to pull open a door. All you can hear are the echoes of your footsteps as you climb up a flight of stairs, and the faint sound of singing in the background. Stepping into the dressing room, you inhale the sickly sweet smell of deodorant and hairspray, and pause to take in the piles of clothes, the spilled foundation, the hangers flung everywhere. But you don't have long, so you dash to your bag in the corner and start to rummage in your belongings for what you're looking for. Your fingers graze past something soft, yet prickly. You fling the makeup brush out and keep on searching. You grasp onto something hard and cold, and maybe what you're looking for, but when you pull it out you're staring at the shiny reflection of your phone screen, not what you're trying to find.

Finally, you pick it up, smooth and cylindrical, and you pull it out with a flourish. Taking a sip out of your water bottle, you rush out of the dressing room and head back to where you're supposed to be.

2┆Through Your Character’s Eyes ⟢ 349/300 words

I walk through the school entrance, shoulder hunched up, head down. I stare at my shoes crunching the leaves, and smell the rain pitter pattering on the ground. Passing by groups of students chatting and laughing and giggling, I hear snippets of conversation, and the silence that surrounds me only gets louder. As I step inside the bright, busy, building, my eyes still dart to look for Grace. It's been two days since I've talked to her, my alleged best friend, and it's been two days of wondering what on earth I did wrong. Slamming my locker shut, I make my way to my homeroom, and, again, I glance around in hope that she'll be there to talk to.

And, she is there, like she always is, but she's busy talking to her new friends. They're all laughing at some inside joke, and the sinking feeling in my stomach starts to set in. I dither in the doorway for a fleeting moment, not sure what to do, but when I hear Grace say “Sunday was really fun,” I decide to leave. Not because I'm a silly, selfish, friend who can't allow Grace to hang out with other people, but because Sunday is our day, and Grace lied to me, and I was too stupid to see it earlier, because how could I? Why would I think that after years and years I would still be Grace's first choice, because she's just so much more social than I am, and her life is perfect, while mine is confusing and hard and full of best friends deserting me for my former bully.

I'm leaning against the wall, staring at the floor, and all I can see are spirals and all I can hear is that sentence over and over again, all I can feel is the numbness of not knowing and not being enough, all I can taste is the bitterness of loneliness in my mouth and all I can smell is that silly expensive perfume that I bought earlier to try and keep up with Grace and her ever-changing interests.

3┆When Setting Becomes an Obstacle ⟢ 495/300 words

Charlie walks onto the stage, smiling down at a rather straight-faced audience. He checks his watch. This is the correct show, right? These are the people that paid for comedy? He shrugs to himself, not really one to judge by a first impression, and starts up on his sketch. When it comes to the first joke, the room stays deathly silent. Charlie pauses for a second, trying to regain his dignity as he glances at the blank stares of the row in front of him.

Not to worry, perhaps the audience doesn't find public toilets and credit cards that amusing.

But by the time that three hard jokes have been cracked, Charlie swears that half of the audience has fallen asleep, and he's starting to panic. This skit was a great hit two hours ago, and yesterday, and the day before, so why is it flopping so badly now? Sometimes you get dry audiences, he supposes, and valiantly soldiers on.

After telling the fourth punchline, with a ‘ba dum tss’ to add comedic effect, a baby starts crying at the back, which leads another baby to cry, and extremely stressed out parents to worry. Is the topic of walking in the park really that terrifying?

Charlie wipes his hands on his jumper nervously, and tries to give a little time for the two to settle down. But that takes a lot longer than anticipated, and he starts seriously wondering if he should just leave. Or at least start speaking over the babies - anything would be better than having 100 people stare at you standing awkwardly.

So he starts up again, and the audience is still unresponsive. Well, there's nothing to worry about, right? Every comedian will have something like this happen to them at least a few times. It's part of the job, and probably something Charlie will laugh about with his mates a few weeks from now. So he tries to focus on finishing up, but as he searches the crowd for any sign of joy, or any sign of life, really, Charlie spots a familiar curled moustache at the far left, and he stomach drops.

Great! Just great. On the ONE day that the news decides to send a critic, the audience is like a classroom of students who are snoring through Spanish on a Monday morning. No, wait, Charlie's sure Spanish would be more interesting to them than this.

So Charlie does something a little… silly.
And starts speaking in Spanish.

He hasn't done this for a very long time, but he restarts, and tries his best with the accent. To his wonder, everyone starts laughing, and shouting something that he can't understand but sounds very happy. Charlie realises, now, why the venue is called Spanish Entertainment, and kicks himself a little for not realising earlier.

Nevertheless, it's a funny story, and funny stories are how Charlie makes a living, so he may as well pat himself on the back too.

4┆Put It All Together ⟢ 555/500 words

This is Adi's first job as a party planner, and she walks around the large, decorated room, unable to contain her excitement. Brightly coloured balloons drift up towards the high ceiling dome, and tables of refreshments and activities border the space. She pauses her restless pacing to take in the scene, smiling contently as a lady with leopard spectacles enters the space, the click clack of her heels echoing throughout the hall.

Adi recognises her as the head of communications for the event, and greets the lady as she is handed a rather heavy stack of paper. The lady nods at her in return, and says, “Five of the kids coming to the birthday party later have some rather unique requirements… Make sure these are met to, or a lot of paperwork would need to be done.“

Adi is pretty sure this is already a lot of paperwork, but doesn’t get a chance to respond before Ms Leopard Spectacles sweeps past her and heads towards the door. “Urgh… oh dear,” thinks Adi as she set the forms down on the table. This is going to take a long time.

Adi hesitantly picks up the first sheet of paper, and turns it over. Scanning through the form, she reads it aloud.
”Wednesday Addams. About 6-7 years old. Allergic to colour. Will feel discomfort is she sees any."

Hang on.
Allergic to colour?

Adi looks around the room, once more, with the exuberant decorations and the games and toys and carpets. Panicked, she starts mumbling to herself, “Okay. This isn't that bad. Right? It's not like. It's not like taking away everything colourful would just leave a plain room. No, the room would still have windows. That's interesting. Isn't it? 6-7 year olds love windows. It'll be fine. Entertaining. A lovely three hour long activity. ”

But who is she kidding? Adi looks at the paper, and decides to leave it for later (which probably isn't a very good work ethic).

Turning back to the files, Adi raises her eyebrows. What next?
“Stereotypical Hater. Allergic to listening to pop music, specifically Taylor Swift.”

Okay, this was starting to get personal. Firstly, who calls their kid Stereotypical, and secondly, how can you be allergic to a type of music? Adi would like to have a word with whoever diagnoses these things. And a word with whoever gave that kid their name. Adi whips out her phone, and reluctantly takes all the Taylor Swift songs off of the playlist. So, that's done. One out of two problems completed.

Well, probably not just two problems. There's still the matter of Wednesday Addams. Adi bursts out of the door, and rushes to the store, where she buys the cheapest dark sunglasses she can find. There's no colour if you can't really see anything, is there?

Heading back to the party venue, Adi checks her watch. 20 minutes until the birthday boy arrives, and 30 until guests start arriving. So, what's next? Adi reads aloud, "Jeremiah Fisher. Allergic to any kind of cake unless it is a dark chocolate raspberry cake with a mirror glaze. With cacao, obviously, because CACAO IS THE BEAN!!"

Adi glances apprehensively at the rainbow sprinkle cake in the box that was brought in earlier, and sighs.
All of this was definitely not part of the job description…

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1609 words

Weekly 4 ⟢ Killing Characters - 1328/1250 words

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1┆Create Your Characters ⟢ 281/250 words

We have a fairy and a tooth monster. The fairy is stepping up as a temporary tooth fairy while her sister takes a vacation, and stumbles upon a tooth monster stealing teeth on the way. Fairy, the fairy's name, teaches the monster and helps them realise that stealing teeth is a wrong thing to do. However, teeth have a magical ingredient (h-teet) that allow tooth monsters to live, and without having the teeth, the tooth monster passes away, happy that they did the right thing. Fairy, however, feels extremely guilty.

Fairy is driven by the belief that she can change more than just the lives of children who have lost their teeth, and that Monster really is a good, well, monster. Monster is driven by the belief that she is becoming better, and she doesn't have to hurt children in this way (teeth monsters can cause decays and cavities to speed up the loss of teeth).

Fairy treats Monster how she would treat a child at first, and Monster has a sort of innocent quality that makes it hard to remember Monster is older. This creates a dynamic of Fairy teaching Monster moral values while Monster teaches Fairy life lessons (like always make sure to not bump your head on windows).

Fairy is an endearing, mother hen sort of being, and Monster is good-hearted and has a lot of integrity. They have a powerful friendship, and it ends with the stereotype of good fairies and bad monsters flipped to bad fairies (though, Fairy obviously didn't mean to do this to Monster, so I guess that statement contradicts itself) and the bad monster dies good.

Why is this kind of giving Wicked-

2┆Decide Why the Character Has to Die ⟢ 221/200 words

Monster must die to show how difficult it is to go against stereotypes. They are both trying to do good, but at the end of the day, Monster will still have connotations of negative things, and it shows how black and white isn't always the case. Monster could still be kind and spoil children's teeth. Fairy could be the sweetest but kill her best friend.

After the death occurs, Fairy is going to try and lift the ban on monsters in the fairy palace, and protest against incorrect assumptions made about their types. It marks how a death could be both good and bad, and how Fairy has to learn about the bigger picture, taking both the children and the monsters into consideration, because maybe she can change the world, but she can't change the monsters' place in it. It shows how storytelling has shaped us!

The death is supposed to come as a shock, and Fairy will be devastated. However, she knows that she helped Monster be happier. She tries to donate teeth to other tooth monsters instead of keeping them all, and makes sure to never forget Monster. This probably doesn't make much sense, but I hope that sums up why I decided that Monster should die! It creates quite a sad ending to such a child-friendly story, ahah.

3┆Build the Connection ⟢ 316/300 words

Fairy slips through the window, and flits into the bedroom, hovering in the darkness as glitter sprinkles from her wings. This is the last fallen tooth of her first day as the temporary Tooth Fairy, and she smiles to herself in accomplishment as she grabs it from underneath the pillow, shrinking it at putting it in her pocket. Fairy forms a coin out of the glitter and turns to leave, when she hears a strange noise.

She had checked the house first, like she was supposed to, and she knows that none of the members in the house are awake, so what could that be? Fairy flies a little closer, and can hear a shuffling a few doors down the landing. She sees light spilling out from underneath one of the doors, and goes up to it. The sound has stopped. Quietly, she peeks through the keyhole.

She gasps inaudibly, and stares in wonder at the purple furry creature- just a little bit bigger than her- opens a brightly coloured tube of toothpaste and pours something into it. She leans closer. The creature is pouring in… sugar? Sugar! Fairy pushes through the door and covers the toothpaste tube protectively, wings beating rapidly. “What do you think you're doing!?” she hisses, “You're going to spoil the kid's teeth!”

The shaggy lilac creature pauses, and slowly puts down the jar of sugar. “I know…”
Fairy pauses. “You know? Then… why would you want do such a thing?”
The other swallows, and Fairy finally puts two and two together.

Stumbling backwards, Fairy nearly falls into the sink as her mouth falls open in shock. Regaining her footing, she flutters back up into the air.
"You're a monster, aren't you?“ Fairy's voice is disgusted, but for some reason, she doesn't leave.

”I'm sorry.“ says Monster, because she truly is. She adds, ”It's who I am. Is that bad?"

Fairy hesitates.

4┆Kill Your Characters ⟢ 510/500 words

Monster pads softly on the carpet as Fairy flies ahead, gently pushing open the door to the child's room, where his tooth lays underneath his pillow. “Wait,” whispers Monster as she starts an unusual coughing noise. “Fairy.” Fairy turns, and hurries towards Monster, concerned.

“Monster… your fur. It's-” Fairy trails off, as she watches Monster's magnificent velvety coat fade and fall.
“What's happening? Are you alright? Monster?”

Slowly, Monster shakes her head, and tears slip out of her large, violet eyes.
“I'm sorry.” She says.
“I'm sorry.” Once more.

She repeats it and repeats it as her voice cracks, and Fairy waits, wings drooping, until she's ready to explain.

“The Teeth. They're not.. things I steal for fun. They're things I steal to live.”

Fairy's stomach drops as she watches in despair. She begins to piece it together, and watches as the purple turns to grey and falls, watches as her best friend takes her last breath.

“Why didn't you tell me?” Fairy is crying, now, too, mad at Monster for not telling her, mad at herself for not realising.
“All that time, I thought I was doing the right thing for you- and it was killing you?”

“How could it kill me when I barely had a life before, Fairy? You made living enjoyable.”

“But- that’s not- Monster-”

“It’s okay. Fairy. Don’t feel bad.”

“But I do. Of course I do. How- how- Monster- this can’t happen.” Tears were falling fast now, and Fairy was choking and Monster was crying, until suddenly, Fairy stopped. Smiled, bitterly.

“You know what?” she laughed, “this should have happened to me instead.”

And as she watched her dearest friend slip away, the thought kept on circulating her mind. Why Monster? Fairy was the one at fault here, the one that took away all of Monster’s teeth, the one who was blinded by the fact that she was doing good for her and her job, and she really, really, regretted not realising that there was world of Monsters out there.

Who matter, too, and Monsters and Fairies and the ones that fit in and the ones that don’t, because, as Fairy looked down at her shimmering dress and Monster’s tatty clothes, she felt never ending guilt for being so narrow-minded to think that she could break the fourth wall because the author didn’t know what to write?

—

It has been one month since Monster’s death, and Fairy looks up at the big, looming building in fear. And maybe pride. Fairy had got so far, and if Monster had been there with her, Fairy knew that she would be incredibly proud.

Carefully, Fairy climbs the steps and walks onto the stage, looking out at the crowd that stands before her. She climbs up to the podium, and smiles down at them.

“Welcome everyone,” she starts, wiping her hands on her jacket nervously, “I’m really happy to be giving the first ever talk on introducing Monster Fairies to the Tooth Fairy system.”

As the groups of fairies and monsters combined cheer and clap, Fairy smiles.

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1300 points

WUC Oct '25 ⟡ Word War #1 - 191 words

Duration: 3 minutes
Against: Sunny - Action
Prompt: N/A
Outcome: N/A

Jo walks down the path, humming to herself. Little does Jo know, but she's soon going to be the victim of a word warrer named Elly, who needs motivation/inspiration/words and a character to have unfortunate things happen to. Elly looks at the clock and decides to hurry, it's nearly been one minute out of three, and she's barely written anything. That's okay, because she could literally just ramble on about the Jo and well not the Jo but you know she was a loss I mean at loss of words and she keeps on breaking the fourth wall. So she's going to let it build itself up again and go back to Jo. Sorry, Jo. AGH! She just did it again! Anyway.

Jo was walking down the path, like one does, and it was a … pavement. And it was sunny. And warm. A jingling music noise alerted Jo of an ice cream van nearby. Lovely! That sounded extremely sarcastic, but I can assure it was not. Ice cream really is lovely. There are all kinds of flavours, as I'm sure you know, and Jo was excited. For the ice cream.

WUC Oct '25 ⟡ Three Headed Hydra #1 - 70 words

i a-m n-o-t s-u-r-e h-o-w t-o- d-o t-h-i-s m-r o-n-i-o-n s-t-y-l-e y-k-n-o-w- t-h-e- t-h-i-n-g-y- w-h-e-r-e- -y-o-u- h-a-v-e t-o- w-r-i-t-e- d-a-s-h-e-s- b-e-tw-e-e-n- e-a-c-h- -l-e-t-t-e-r- -l-i-k-e- -i-'-m- c-o-n-f-u-s-e-d a-n-d a-l-s-o- f-r-a-n-k-l-y- a- l-i-t-t-l-e- w-o-r-r-i-e-d- b-e-c-a-u-s-e h-e-y -i-'-m- g-e-t-t-i-n-g -a- -h-a-n-g -o- f -i-t- a-n-d -o-h-d-e-a-r- w-h-a-t o-k-a-y -i-d-k- -u-h- s-o- -i- d-o-n-'-t- t-h-i-n-k -i-'-l- b-e- a- o-k-a-y- w-h-a-t-e-v-e-r a-n-d- -i- -p-r-b-o-b-a-b-l-y- -w-i-l-l- n-e-e-d- t-o- -h-a-l-v-e- m-y- w-a-r- -a-n-d -o-h- t-h-e- s-t-o-p-w-a-t-c-h- c-a-h-b-e

–

note: things i wrote in here were just regarding the writing style of d-a-s-h-e-s and how i wasn't sure if i would be able to write enough words to win the word war because of this sort of s-t-y-l-e lol xD

Place in the Dirt ☆ Interstellar Fanfiction
TW: Mention of Death

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Dad,

When are you coming back?
I don’t think I can hold on any longer.
Where are you, Dad? Where did you go?

We’re slowly being choked, and the human race is waiting as the finish line is approaching. I shouldn’t be mad at you, but I am. I really am. You left us here, on this dying planet, and I hope it eats away at you on the inside.

We’ve watched each other die while you’ve watched the cosmos, and while we’re stuck here on land, you’ve been… free.

You left us in the dirt so you could wander the stars.

Does it feel good to know that?

Today was my 35th birthday. By now, this was all meant to be over. We were meant to be saved. So why aren’t you here with us, Dad? Why aren’t we saved?

Was I so wrong for thinking things would go back to normal? That if I dedicated my life to studying, everything would be alright? I thought maybe this would mean I’d get a chance… A chance to see you again. Something I’ve dreamt about for years.

You always said whatever can happen will happen.

So I watched you leave.

And I tried to tell you to stay, tried to scream it at the sky. But the dust has muffled my shouts and your presence is just a distant memory, faded; but timeless.

Your first grandson died before you got the chance to hold him in your arms, died before you got the chance to say goodbye. Or have I already heard your final farewell?

You missed everything.

But despite all that, I miss you.

Love, Murphy

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277 words

uninspired
392 words :)

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impatiently, the text cursor blinks at you, waiting.

it seems to be asking you what you’ll write next,
but the tick of a clock somewhere muddles your thoughts,
and you realise you forgot the answer.

you look away from the blank screen before it can hypnotise you,
then turn to stare out of the window.

the sun warms the street below, and you think to yourself:
i really should be outside on a day like this.

quietly, you watch a bird tiptoe across a rooftop.
a leaf drifts close to him,
and he tries to reach for it.

but it lands just a little bit too far.
he steps in its direction, and nearly topples off the side.
“use your wings,” you murmur.

but the bird has forgotten he has them,
or perhaps thinks that there is no use.
the leaf is just a small thing, after all.

the breeze picks it up, and the bird has lost his chance.

disinterested, you move your attention back to your laptop.

you wonder if the cursor flashes have drained the battery.

one hour later,

and the blankness of the document is still too much for you,
so you pick up your notebook and flick through the endless scrapped plans.

you try your hardest to concentrate, yet pages and lines seem to blur together.

outside, the bird starts to sing.
it’s the type of melody that worms its way into your head,
that takes up far too much space.

so you put your earplugs in. there isn’t much time to waste.

but it’s too hard to focus, especially when the sun is shining in your eyes like this.
especially when the house is so stuffy and empty you just want to get out.

even with the curtains drawn, the rays still reach you,
so you eventually decide that your word count can wait.

it just feels so nice to step outside,
where the text cursor no longer flashes.

the crisp air refreshes you,
gradually clearing your mind.

the bird carries leaves back to his nest,
taking every opportunity.

and as for you,

you lay down on the grass,
watching the clouds doing their slow dance.
the wind flutters your eyelids closed,
and when you inhale you feel a sense of peace.

then -
somewhere, slowly, in the back of your mind,
ideas begin to form.

Heart of Gold - The Outsiders Fanfic
617 words

“C'mon… I would never, ever date Dallas Winston,” I told Marcia the moment we shut the door to Randy's car. She hadn’t said anything about it, but from the way she kept wagging her eyebrows at me, it couldn’t be more obvious.

We watched the car swerve away through the cool night air. It was a blue Mustang, and a real classy one too. Randy had gotten it about four months ago, and we've been cruising around ever since.

Marcia sighed contentedly, and gave me a long look. “I know that, Cherry.” She smirked. “You don't like Coca Cola, anyway.”

I half-smiled at that. Marcia was a real good friend, and she was right. I wouldn't have taken the drink even if I had wanted to. I still felt a bit bad, though. Other than Dally, the other boys were alright.

I mean, I knew it wasn't my fault that the Greasers and the Socs hated each other - I just didn't get why. That kid I talked to,
Ponyboy, we weren't much different. And Bob and Dally were just two sides of the same coin!

At my side, Marcia was staring off into the distance, hands in her pockets. She had given her number to Two Bit earlier, and I could tell she was thinking of him. It was just a matter of waiting, though I didn't see much changing anytime soon. I mean, as if a Greaser would go for a girl like us- I’m not trying to be cruel. I’m just stating the truth.

The same thing was on my mind a week later, although the situation was really very different. Whatever turn of events that had led me to being a “spy” for the Greasers would be too much to go through, but, somehow, I found myself spending my Saturday night driving to the hospital.

Now, I know what you're thinking. What was I doing at the hospital when I had just told Ponyboy that I wasn't gonna go visit Johnny? Thing is, I hadn't forgotten that Dally was injured too. And I guess that when I read the local paper, some part of me realised that just because someone's mostly dangerous doesn't mean that they're fully bad. So yes, Dally was a criminal, but he sure had a heart of gold.

I felt like a bit of an outsider, walking into his room. Not a full Greaser, but not a full Soc either. Just a person, really. A person visiting a friend.

I was greeted with the glint of a blade as Dally shot up in his bed.

“Goodness! Dally, where on earth did you get that knife from?”

“Uh… Two Bit?” came the cautious reply, and, irritatingly enough, he grinned. “Why, you scared?”

I was a little, but shook my head. “No! Of course not… I just wanted to see how you're doing, being burnt and all.”

“Jesus, I'm doing fine. No need to come visit, Soc.”

I knew he was joking by then because of the way that he spoke, and we went into an easy conversation from there. It was slightly guarded, slightly offensive, but still nice enough. It seemed almost too soon when he sprang out of bed and started to head for the door.

“Hey, where you going?” I asked, hoping he wasn't off to that dreadful fight.

“You seriously don't know that there's a rumble going on today?” Then, just like that, he was gone.

I didn't see Dally again after that, though I definitely still thought of him. And it's been rough, but things are rough all over, and at least I now know one thing for sure:

I will never, ever date Dallas Winston.