Daily March 17th (posted in scratch comments before deadline <33)
Words: 403

She was the last doctor in the country. A coveted position in her dystopian town. With all the books that used to fill the town burned by the government and all education forbidden, it is up to Julia to save the people with her late father’s book reserve. She receives patients in her apartment, hiding from the police by feigning ignorance. She ran a difficult balance. They let her operate so long as she stayed small. They did not want all their citizens dying, but they could not risk the knowledge getting out. When a patient betrays her to the police and she is captured, all seems lost. She is interrogated and her patients, tools and books are at risk. She must decide if she is willing to give herself up to save the knowledge hidden in her apartment. Kept in a cold cell, she must convince an officer who also happens to be an old friend to help her escape. She persists through torture and interrogation and eventually succeeds: Officer Jake sneaks her out into the cold. From there, it is up to them to avoid the government’s clutches, and hopefully eventually take them down. Her old apartment is blocked off, patients dead and long gone. Smoke rises from a charred pile of books. It seems as though they have lost. But Julia and Jake find a way to continue, recruiting more people, especially officers and politicians to their side and taking down the dystopian government from the inside. They must get in the mind of the people making the rules by infiltrating and stealing information. Leaving their mark however they can. Educating themselves, against all odds, and leading an uprising. Graffiti littered the walls of the city, and now most people could read it. The exact thing the government wanted to prevent was happening, battles and protests and people who knew what was going on. The government is not going to go down without a fight, though. Their plans have all been leading up to an important holiday where they will unleash something onto their citizens unlike anything that had been seen before. Will Julia, Jake and their army overthrow the government and their book burnings, or will the leaders of the country prevail and cast Julia and Jake’s ideas out of their country for good? Find out in this new book that doesn’t yet have a title, written by Isa!

March 17th Daily- 692

The Trystcloak Fair is essentially a travelling carnival, the only difference being that the carnival, instead of moving city to city like most that come to mind, stays in more or less the same place and instead moves back and forth in time. The logic behind that being that it’s more environmentally conscious, of course. Gasoline is a nondurable consumer good, Carsynasi’s amulet is not, or at least, so goes Searliat’s logic. Siarliat’s wife, Myonne, is the owner of this fairground, an elderly harpy who spends a good deal of her time ignoring time travel regulations and escaping various authorities and the many enemies she’s made over the years. The most notable authorities include the Central Agency’s Time Travel Prohibition And Watch Sector (CATTPAWS), who is currently gravely unhappy with the pollution of the time continuum. Myonne, and by extension the fairground, has a tendency to flagrantly disregard many anti-contamination acts passed by the Central Agency, the most notable of which include allowing her employees, the Cloakhands, to keep memorabilia from various points in time. Thus far (or at least, what we presume has already happened, time travel tends to mess with things that way, which is another of CATTPAWS gripes), the gravest offences have been the accidental dropping of a nokia phone into 1445 Constantinople, the gifting of a large chest of confederate doubloons to an Australian farmer in 1987, and their feat of somehow robbing the Basilica of Saint-Denis of the Sceptre of Dragobert (Rumor has it the Sceptre is still hiding somewhere in the fair, and that Myonne’s waiting for the value to rise before selling it off).

Lorjia, a bovine elf Cloakhand specialising in mechanics at the fair, is an undercover historian and researcher for an entirely comprehensive history library, currently (at least she thinks it’s ‘current’, perhaps she’s been travelling with the fair a for little too long) in the process of compilation in a massive subterranean Iraqi cave. Researchers have been found hitchhiking on the Trystcloak before, and Myonne has not treated them kindly. Thankfully, Searlait, the banshee who’s always had a soft spot for the academically-minded elf, is happy to cover for her when things get tough.

Carsynasi, who is hell-bent on getting his amulet back, but unable to time travel on account of its absence, has been easy to avoid thus far. Unfortunately, he’s finally made his appeal to the Eldritch court, where a majority has ruled that he would be allowed to travel through time temporarily, to recover the stolen artifact. Myonne, who’s only managed to narrowly avoid him for the past few weeks, is growing irritable, and is hopping more frequently to less populated time periods. Meanwhile, Lorjia’s contract is coming to a close, and it’s only common practice to drop off Cloakhands whenever(wherever?) they happen to be when the contract ends, meaning Lorjia would not only lose decades of research compiled across millennia, she would also be stranded in time. Having spent almost 50 years of her career dreading this moment, she does as she had always planned. She steals the amulet and runs. It’ll be okay, right? She just needs it to get home, and then she’ll return it to Carys, and all will be well. As she stands with the amulet in her hand in Myonne’s office, angry screeching sounding from the other end of the barricaded door, she realizes she has a problem. In fact, she has much more than just one, but this particular issue takes precedence as it’s currently the most pressing matter. She just needs to use the amulet, if only she could figure out how.

With a great groaning of the wood, the door finally caves to Myonne’s sharp claws, and Lorjia’s eyes meet those of an enraged harpy, and a banshee with betrayal in her eyes. As Myonne lunges for Lorjia, she can hear the pounding of her heart and- it’s replaced by the sound of cicadas. Cicadas? Lots of them, she notices, and she’s no longer in the Trystcloak office, she’s curled up on an empty field, with a disproportionately large stack of journals next to her.

Oh. Oh no.

Author's Note: So, this whole premise is decently rooted in a lot of my favorite fandoms/media. Myonne was definitely inspired by Eda (The Owl House) and CATTPAWS was based off of both Blendin Blandan from Gravity falls (TPAES) and Slartibartfast from The Hitchhikers Guide (CamTim). The Trystcloak fair was based off of the Witchlight carnival (DnD), and a lot of the fantasy creatures here (Searliat as a banshee and Myonne being a harpy) were also from DnD. I originally wanted Lorjia to be more of a halfling-type creature, before I realized that my interpretation of the halfling is already so far from the source material I might as well just give it a new name and call it original. The underground Iraqi cave was also an allusion to the Baghdad house of wisdom but uhm- yeah if things keep going the way they're going, I recommend a pocket dimension perhaps?

Route back to main SWC post

– Letter to Surf (03/17/2026) –

Dear Surf,
Hi! Same, this was such a cool new activity idea. My session has been okay, although very unproductive. I honestly find fiction writing very hard for some reason, even though I have lots of ideas and I don’t have a problem with a particular part of it. It just feels too slow and sort of un-creative, even though it is literally fiction. I would like to try some more illu-fi prompts though (so I can get a cool pfp ) and yeah, I’m glad I’m in TCTWNW. How about you, how is your session going?

My week has also been okay, thank you for asking! I’m honestly just doing schoolwork and struggling to finish projects, since the quarter is ending soon and I’m a little behind. I have a big history research project to do and a lot of photos to take for an art class. AP tests seem really hard, good luck with them! I hope they’re not too bad and go well. Making a mural at school sounds awesome! How do you do it— are you painting, like, walls? Or something else? What does it show? Creative writing honors sounds fun, poetry is nice (although difficult to write). What sort of style of poetry is the project in? You day sounds nice (yay, sleeping in) and I hope the math quiz went well.

I haven’t been reading much lately, I need some new books to try. I did read a cool fantasy graphic novel semi-recently though! It was sort of about healing family issues and clearly communicating needs, along with really well drawn magical creatures! I liked the art style a lot. I haven’t heard of either of those books before, although they sound good. What are they about?

For the music question, I don’t listen to a lot </3 I’m not sure why, but I just never got into it before and I don’t have any kind of music streaming service thing. I have been listening to a little more lately though, and my taste is pretty similar! I like pop and electronic music, although I don’t know much about music genres and I’m really like “ooh sounds cool okay yay.” Who are your favorite music artists, if you have any?

I usually say autumn for my favorite season, and although that’s probably true, it is winter for me right now and I honestly really want it to be summer! So I would also have to say summer at the moment. I love the feeling of being able to do really anything and just chill everyday. Do you have any summer plans?

For hobbies, I like reading! Kind of obvious for a SWCer, but I definitely do. My favorite genres are usually fantasy, science-fiction, and realistic fiction, and I like YA as well as middle grade. I also like programming! I know some Python and JavaScript (although JavaScript definitely confuses me) and also some HTML & CSS. I have a micro:bit in real life also, so I do some very basic physical computing stuff with that. And at the moment I’ve been doing a lot of art! I typically do digital art in Procreate, and although I am DEFINITELY a beginner with very little understanding of lighting and shading, it’s fun.

This was fun to write! I’ll let you know if I think of any conversation topics, and same goes for you too. Hopefully I didn’t ask too many questions and wasn’t overwhelming?

- Coast

Word War
word count - 261 words

The air was dense and I could start to see rough clouds form in the area. Fog was covering the trees below and I could barely see the road ahead of me. A storm had just passed but this was far worse. I was on my way back from a camping trip since one of my patients needed emergent care, however, here I was, stuck. I yelled into a void but my desperate cries were met by total darkness. I felt as if some cold chill was running down my spine. I knew I was completely lost and I felt so hopeless. Without another choice I made me way to the egde of the highway. I could see some sort of light glowing in the distance and I knew at that moment what I had to do. I took a running start, just like my old track days and took a leap. I went flying through the air and for a moment, everything felt right. It felt as if I was living in a fantasy where nothing could go wrong. Suddenly, thud. I landed on the ground well not exactly. I landed on a tree, my pants torn. I was shocked. I had somehow survived the jump with little to no injuries. I proceeded to brush of the dirt on my hands and continued walking down the path. The lanterns started to glow and the forest was completely illuminated. I was in utter awe as I slowly but surely made my way

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Poetry vs. Fantasy *ೃ༄ ~ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴡᴀʀ #3 ᴡɪᴛʜ @cinammcnx ~ 5 ᴍɪɴᴜᴛᴇꜱ

✐ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛ: “ɪ ᴛᴏʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇ ɴᴇᴇᴅᴇᴅ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ɢʟɪᴛᴛᴇʀ!” ✏

: ̗̀➛ “The Birthday Surprise” ✧.*
“Hurry up ladies! Time is almost up!” cried Flora. "How come you're always the one who gets to be bossy? And last time I checked, I came up with this idea!“ shouted Merryweather in reply. The three fairies had been zooming around the cottage all day preparing for the most special day of the year. It was their beloved Aurora's birthday. ”Now, now, ladies. How will we ever finish in time if I must put up with your quarrel? Let us focus on our duties before we think to complain.“ said Fauna. She was always mediating between her sisters and did not want any setbacks to Aurora's special day. All of the animals had been helping set up outside, while the fairies took charge of the cottage itself. It was an exciting day! All the moors were hard at work in anticipation for their Aurora's birthday.
Back inside the cottage, the fairies were trying their best to bake a cake, decorate, and make the perfect surprise greeting. ”Fauna, the icing is going to slip off the side of the cake! Can we not make it look at least decent?“ said Merryweather. ”Oh sister, believe me, I am trying. You just need to be patient! Once I add the decorations, it will be beautiful!“ Fauna replied. Merryweather rolled her eyes at this. Fauna was always the one to nourish optimism. The hours passed, and the cottage was merely ready for the birthday. ”I've added the glitter to the flowers! When Aurora walks in, she will be sprinkled with flowers and pink glitter!“ said Flora. ”Ewww! Are you serious? It cannot be pink! I am going to make it blue glitter!“ Merryweather retorted. ”Sisters! She is coming now! It's best to leave out the glitter for today, you both will just continue to fuss about it!“ said Fauna. Merryweather and Flora had no time to react. The fairies lined up in preparation. The door opened and the flowers flew from the ceiling. ”Happy Birthday!“ cried the fairies. To their surprise, Maleficent walked in. ”I've come to celebrate.“ she said grimly. ”Oh.“ they answered. Merryweather and Flora turned around to their sister, ”I KNEW WE NEEDED THE GLITTER!“ they shouted it unison. ”Oh what a day it would have been to see a sparkly Maleficent." said Aurora sheepishly as she entered the cottage and greeted everyone.

✎ 3.5.2026 ~ word war ❀ ~ 395 words ౨ৎ
⌗ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴀꜰꜰʀᴏɴ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇʙᴏᴏᴋ ⋆˚࿔

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Poetry vs. Lyric *ೃ༄ ~ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴡᴀʀ #3 ᴡɪᴛʜ @-ɴɪɢʜᴛɢʟᴏᴡ- ~ 3 ᴍɪɴᴜᴛᴇꜱ

✐ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛ: “ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ᴊᴜᴍᴘɪɴɢ ᴏꜰꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʟɪꜰꜰ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴀ ʙᴀᴅ ɪᴅᴇᴀ…” ✏

: ̗̀➛ “Little Birdie's Fall” ✧.*
The little birdie looked off the edge of the cliff and groaned. All he could do was step back and feel himself beginning to well up. Over on the other side of the ledge, his mother was helping his siblings jump off. One by one, each tiny little bird would fall down. He'd watch them fall, and fall, and continue to fall. Until finally, those little wings they were born with, began to flutter. Through each flutter, his sibling would find the strength to get back up again. They flapped and fluttered until they could hold flight in the air. And so it came time for the little birdie to go. His mother pushed him off the ledge. He began to fall for what felt like an eternity. His wings were numb. He couldn't feel at all. Why, why did this have to be me, though the little birdie. He was hopeless, plummeting towards his death. In his mind, all he could regret and think of was, maybe jumping off the cliff was a bad idea… All of a sudden, he landed. He was not dead. The little birdie had been caught by a little girl hiking in the forest.


✎ 3.18.2026 ~ word war ❀ ~ 200 words ౨ৎ
⌗ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴀꜰꜰʀᴏɴ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇʙᴏᴏᴋ ⋆˚࿔

490 words
Gripping my bag, I walk slowly into the camp’s entrance. Almost immediately, I run into an Asian girl with a red shirt that says ‘CAMP FORTUNE’. Upon seeing me, she smiles.
“Hello, 你好, hola, and bonjour! Are you a new camper?” She glances down at my shirt. Oh! Greek! Γειά σου!”
I blink a few times before replying, “Hi, yes I’m a new camper. Is this where I am supposed to register.”
The girl nods. She pulls out a clipboard and hands it for me to fill out. I fill out details like my name, age, camp, etc. and pass it back to her. She returns it to wherever it came from and tells me, “Amazing! Now, follow me around for your room.” She begins to walk and I quickly jog up to follow her.
“My name is Stormy,” she explains, “and I’m from Camp Fortune. It’s such a pleasure to have Camp Half-Blood participating in this year’s Demigod Camp.”
I nod, not quite sure what to say. All around me, different groups of people are lounging around, chatting.
As we near some cabins, Stormy says, “These are your cabins! It’s separate boys from girls, but camps are mostly mixed in together. She walks up to one cabin marked 888.”
“Ooh, you’ve got a lucky cabin,” she explains and pushes the door. The inside is chaos. There are girls sleeping, girls talking, even some girls doing their homework.
Putting two fingers into her mouth, Stormy whistles loudly. Suddenly, it becomes dead quiet.
“Ay! 这是你们的新室友。 她的名字是,” she turns to me and asks for my name.
“Tammy,” I reply. Turning back to the rest of the girls, Stormy says my name. She says a bit more in Chinese, then a bit in Spanish before turning to me.
“The girls should be friendly, and if they aren’t, tell me. Good luck.” With that comforting statement, she walked off.
I gulp and turn towards my new roommates. One Hispanic looking girl wearing a yellow shirt that says ‘acampar sol’ comes up to me and offers her hand.
“Hola,” she tells me, “I’m Isa from Acampar Sol.”
I shake her hand saying, “I’m Tammy from Camp Half-Blood.” Isa nods and beckons for another girl to come over.
“This is Lola,” Isa tells me, “she’s Camp Jupiter. You stay by her, ok?” I nod and wave at Lola. She smiles lightly at me.
Isa gestures to the 3 other girls in the room.
I learn that Ally is from Camp Marigold in Mumbai, Josefine is from Camp Fairy in Iceland, and Maria is from Camp Anansi in Africa.
Many of the girls can speak multiple languages, which puts my Duolingo-level skills to shame.
“¿Tu comes pan?” Isa asks, passing me a loaf of bread.
I frown in confusion. “What?” I ask.
Isa sighs and says in English, “Do you eat bread?”
I nod and take the bread. This is going to be harder than I realized.

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

◪ Noͦ 18
Wordcount: 703/600
Topic: Different Language
Points earned: 700+50 for proof
Cabin: Cyberpunk

“입닥쳐!”
“Okay, grandpa, no need to be so violent,” Juhun patted his grandpa's back as Joy stared with confusion. She'd entered their house to give them cookies before his grandfather had crashed out and decided she was an enemy to lock onto.
“What did he say to me?” She asked, tilting her head.
“He said that he doesn't really like cookies-”
“입 다물라고 했잖아!”
“말 좀 그만해 주세요,” Juhoon pleaded with his grandpa. For a ninety-year-old retired man in a wheelchair, he seemed to be living up to the war veteran he was. Shouldn't he have dementia by now?
“I don't think that sounded like ‘I don’t like your cookies.'” Joy winced, wondering what she'd done so wrong that the grandpa hated her so much. Not much to go off on, really, since he hated everybody.
“그녀가 뭐라고 했어?”
“그녀가 네가 자기 쿠키를 좋아하는지 묻고 있어.”
“What did he just say?”
“I'm asking him whether he likes the cookies,” Juhun shushed her, handing a cookie carefully to his grandfather, trying not to get him uncontrollably angry again to the point he would figure out that they had just put him in a wheelchair so that he didn't go and start yelling at the birds that entered their backyard, not because he couldn't actually walk.
His grandfather took a bite of her cookie just to spite her before spitting it out. Juhun groaned, and Joy winced. Maybe she'd put too much salt.
“정말 끔찍해!”
“What did he say?” Joy seemed to be asking that a little too much.
“He said it's not really to his liking-”
“맛이 완전 개똥 같네!”
“I think I have a rough translation of what he's saying, don't break my ego further,” Joy held up a hand as Juhun tried to translate his grandfather's very strong feeling about her baking.
“Well, sir,” Joy asked him, picking up her cookie tray before he could knock it down. “What don't you like about my cookies exactly?”
“이건 너 같은 소녀가 만든 거야!”
“What did he say?” Wow, was that the fourth time?“
”He said that he doesn't like it because… uh…“
”You don't have to mellow it down for me.“
”He said that he doesn't like it because a girl like you made it.“
”Okay, when I said don't mellow it down, I didn't mean for you to crush my soul.“
It was at this moment that the grandfather threw his walking stick in her direction. Why did he even have a walking stick? He was crippled! (Not really, but please, nobody tell him, otherwise, another war will break out.) Also, where did he even spawn that from? Joy was a hundred percent sure she would have seen a deep brown three and a half foot walking stick if a maniacal person was holding it.
”You know what?“ Juhun gave her an apologetic look. ”Why don't you come back later?“

It was with this motivation that Joy decided that she would learn Korean. Even more so because she found a song that made her absolutely levitate because it was a beautiful masterpiece called ”Hello,“ by a singer named Joy as well. If that wasn't a sign from the universe, what was?
When she went back to Juhun's house a few months later (she had tried previously and had a shoe thrown at her multiple times), she was immediately bombarded by insults from the fearsome grandfather.
”이 달팽이는 왜 여기 뒤에 있는 거지?!!“
”할아버지, 방금 도착했어요!“
Juhun paused his words, looking at Joy, expectantly asking him to translate it for her.
”I don't need a translation,“ she said proudly, though she didn't want to start speaking in the language yet. Her accent was abominable.
”…I don't know why you're happy about that,“ Juhun muttered.
”뭐라고 했어?“
”그녀는 당신이 하는 말을 이해하고 있어요“
”내 말 이해해?“ His grandfather asked her.
Joy nodded, getting the basic gist of the sentence, hoping she didn't just agree to a concerning war crime of some sort.
”당신의 쿠키는 쓰레기야!"

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

◪ Weekly Noͦ 3
Points earned: 3000
Total Word Count: 1784
Cabin: Cyberpunk

Topic: Sci-Fi Element
Wordcount: 207/200

In this world, we have something called a neural network base. When you are born, you are given a special chip in your brain that allows you to see into a database that your level is allowed to see. The older you get and the more jobs you receive, the restricted areas will decrease, and you will unlock more data. You will be able to search through different data with this chip, so you are technically able to see information pop up right in front of your eyes, no external use needed. You are able to search through the files with your mind, as long as you think about it. Children are kept under safety braces to train them not to think insufficient or too vivid thoughts, thus triggering the chip when it is not needed. It is recommended to be inserted when you are a child because the procedure hurts less. The chip is very small and properly sanitized to the T. There have been a few cases where this chip was inserted carelessly, which resulted in brain inflammation and tumours. These doctors were immediately stripped of their licenses and terminated. It is the government's biggest priority to keep its citizens safe, of course.

Topic: Sci-Fi Worldbuilding
Wordcount: 307/300

Though this world is much advanced due to the neural network base, it is not all that it seems. In the higher grounds, there is a lot of futuristic tech, which includes anti-gravity tubes that work as tunnels, skates that allow you to fly in the sky, specially designed roads in the air that apply to vehicles that can glide or fly. There are many, and I mean many, robots that help with the day-to-day tasks that humans don't need to do anymore. Robots can take care of different chores and boring tasks, leaving the humans free to spend all their time on creativity or discovery. Because of the robots, humans have discovered how to create moon-powered objects, how to grow crops at night, and engineer plants that don't need sunlight to activate photosynthesis, and more.

Yet the reason that they are moon-powered is that the world does not receive sunlight anymore. The Earth has long strayed off its path around the sun, and the only reason humans survived is because of the massive heaters they built at the equator. It is still often freezing cold, and the lower grounds are near the poles, where people fight to survive for scraps. There are only a few heaters placed at the poles to prevent global warming, so regions closer to the poles are terrifyingly cold. Many people from the lower grounds try to sneak into the higher grounds not for the inventions, but just to battle the cold.

In the lower grounds, it does not really seem like a sci-fi world. Sure, there are a few odd discoveries, but not so much to make you believe this is two hundred years in the future. The higher grounds have more time and space to contribute to inventions, while the lower ground residents are really just focused on survival.

Topic: Cross-World Travel
Wordcount: 637/600

This is not what he had expected.

On their school trip, Gray's principal had so quite generously offered to take a few hand-picked students to the time-travelling machine. Unfortunately, Gray had once again been the only student who could actually afford the trip. He'd tried to convince his parents to pay for a few of his friends as well- they had so many drives that the currency's value truly depended on how much they spent it. But his parents, being the ever strict people they were, told him that either he could go alone, or he could not go at all. How amazing of them.

Now, he couldn't even marvel at this spectacle with somebody else. How was he supposed to take all of this in alone?

Instead of buildings made of lumestone, everything was made of this greyish, browning material. He touched it carefully. Was that concrete? Those only still existed in the lower grounds. He thought it would be brighter, maybe a light grey. He hadn't realised that when the Sages said it was grey, it was GREY grey. It looked so dreary and dry. How would anybody's spirits be lifted if they had to look at this every day? No wonder no major discoveries in this time era. Wasn't this, like, one year before that huge COVID pandemic thing? Wow, these people sure didn't know what was coming.

“Greetings, ma'am,” Gray bowed his head to a woman, who gave him a strange look and started walking faster in the direction she was headed. Huh, that was strange. He was pretty sure he'd been quite polite. Maybe some people didn't like being polite?

“Greetings, sir,” he tried again with another man crossing, who gave him an equally strange look, but had the courtesy of staying. “Yes?”

“Where can I find the, uh,” Gray tried to use the neural network to access his to-do list, but then quickly realised that it didn't work because it didn't even exist in this era. Thankfully for him, his mother worried over one hundred different backup scenarios, so he had it written on paper as well. It was settled in his pocket. Paper, could you believe that? Paper. He pulled open the scrunched-up ball. “Where can I find the supermarket?”

The supermarket was something that previous humans used to have, which represented a community gathering for food. Another strange thing about this place. Why do this when you could order it singularly? He was pretty sure online shopping existed in this age as well, though it was quite, how to put it, underdeveloped.

The man gave him another weird look. “Why, you're standing right in front of it, kid.”

He should have expected that.

Looking to his right, Gray saw a glass building with twentieth-century English Script on a big sign. He should have studied how to read the basic phrases; he could only make out a few letters. That should be S, right? And was that an R?

“Thank you,” he bowed graciously to the man, who was rubbing his eyes like he didn't know whether Gray was real.

Oh, now he realised why he got so many weird looks. He looked down at his attire, noticing that he still wore the same clothes that were needed to protect people from the cold. Now that he thought about it, it was feeling stifflingly hot. He crossed the road carefully (Because these roads didn't have the anti-gravity crosswalks yet) and hid behind one of the buildings, taking off three of his jackets and taking out a shirt from his backpack (Courtesy of his mother once more). Quickly putting it on so nobody could see the heating system he had engraved onto his skin, he walked into the supermarket as confidently as he could.

This would be a fun field trip.

Topic: Sci-Fi Story
Wordcount: 633/600

Surviving as a lower grounds resident was not harder than surviving as a lower grounds resident while hiding in higher ground areas.

Freska had to stop herself from marvelling at every single thing she saw on the roads, instead having to pretend like she'd lived here her entire life, like this was normal and not an entirely new experience. Her hair was neatly tucked into her cloak until she could find a proper brush to untangle all the knots from it. Untidy hair wasn't a mystery to the higher ground residents, but it was still quite an obvious sign of the lower grounds.

Would you look at that, were those elevators? Freska had heard her grandfather talking about how they had redesigned them not only to be ten times faster, but to make them anti-gravity inducing. She could see the children pressing the buttons over and over in the tube, giggling as they floated up and down. A pang of envy filled her heart before she snapped herself out of it. She was nineteen. What was she doing getting jealous of some seven-year-old kids? Not when she had to quickly find a place to stay.

She bumped into someone harshly, falling to the ground with him. He had grey hair paired with matching grey eyes, catching onto her face with surprising sharpness. She gulped nervously, hoping he didn't notice she was from the lower grounds.

“I'm so sorry!” She gasped out, standing up shakily and brushing off her skirt. She held up a hand for the grey man, pulling him up to his feet. “Are you alright?”

“I'm quite fine,” he grunted, brushing off the dust from his hair, though Freska couldn't really tell if there was any dust in it, considering how grey it already was. “Are you from here?”

Wow, that was fast. Freska masked her face as best as she could.

“Oh yes, I just came from the west side!” She smiled nervously. “Just going off now to look at my new hut- appartment. It should be around here somewhere.”

“Oh,” his eyebrows relaxed. “If you're lost, I could take you where you need to go?”

“No, no, don't worry yourself!” She said too quickly, laughing airily. “I'll be fine. Thank you for offering, though!”

As soon as she was a few streets away, she let out the breath she was holding, weighing the pouch she'd grabbed off the man. Wow, it was pretty heavy. How rich was this guy, exactly? They felt like gold drives, too. Maybe she should have accepted his proposal. She might have been able to snag a bit more. With these many drives, she could buy an apartment easily. A big one at that. Her eyes met a long, white building with long panels of glass.

Perfect.

—

Gray only realised his pouch was gone when he tried to pay for his bowl of soup and realised it wasn't there. He let out an outraged gasp, immediately realising it was that girl from earlier. He knew something was off with her. She must be from the lower grounds- he must tell his father immediately. As the chief of the enforcers, he should be able to track her down easily enough.

Reaching the elevator up to his building as quickly as he could, he gritted his teeth in frustration as the children were gathered in front of the tube. “Can you move, please?”

“Five more minutes!” They complained, so it was five more minutes before he was able to enter. He set the gravity setting to zero, shooting up like a rocket and fumbling with the keypad on his door before freezing. He turned his head, looking at the girl who was opening the door of the empty apartment on the right.

“You!”

“Listen, I can explain-”

Daily 18: Different Languages
word count - 1023 words

I handed her my boarding pass, confident and excited. I was finally leaving this place. I mean, I had called it home for the longest time and I couldn't even imagine myself ever leaving. But I needed a change. A change of scenery, a change of activities, a change of experiences. The scanner beeped, flashing a quick shade of green. It was time. I rolled my suitcase down the ramp as I strode down the terminal. Following the signs eagerly, I held my breath and took a few deep breaths in as I made a despereate to calm myself down. I wanted to yell into the void with tears of joy and excitment exploding from my voice. I quickly made my way to seat, stowed away my luggage and comfortably sat down right next to the window.

Mira had been my friend for as long as I could remember and I was so excited to meet her in person. During COVID, we both attended an online seminar class and let's just say that the rest is history. From that class, our friendship blossomed and we've stayed in touchs ever since. I was waiting until I finished this semester to take a year off abroad. My architectural history and arts class was offering a trip to Europe and I was thrilled and jumped right on the opportunity. I was headed to France - Paris to be exact, my dream city. The two of us had already planned out an entire itinerary. Or to be more exact, Mira planned out this huge list and sent it over to me. I mean, we did have a month there as part of the course. Truth be told though, I wasn't planning on leaving. This was set to be my escape, a hidden blessing that I had to take advantage of. I just knew it, deep down inside. Though, I didn't dare to tell a single person.

You see, my family and I had always been close but after my younger brother passed away from cancer a few years ago, we've never quite been the same. He'd always been the fragile one of the family. Being the middle child already meant that I was forgotten amongst everyone else, and so Ryan being sick didn't really help with any of that. Sure, we were close and I do miss him quite dearly, I can't help getting over the fact that no one was ever their for me. I was always left alone to fend in this world. I mean, my college fund went towards paying treatment for Ryan. Yes, I did get a scholarship but I worked for that. No one seems to care though.

Paris is my escape, my one “get out of jail free card” that life has given me. Soon after a few meals, we landed at the Charles de Gaulle airport. It was bustling with people from all around the world. I got off the plane, feeling refreshed yet tired from the long journey. My ears still hadn't recovered from the descent and I could feel them popping as I continued walking towards the gate. There, I saw a girl holding up the sign “Bienvenue a Paris, Emily!”.

It was Mira! I ran straight towards her, arms out ready for an embrace. I tossed my luggage off to the side and didn't let go. Her luscious locks of hair hung around me as I noticed the pink streaks near the top. “You dyed your hair!” I said in utter excitment.

“Oui, je l'ai fait! Oh mon dieu, je suis tellement contente que tu sois la, ma meilleure amie!”

“Girl you better start speaking in English because I don't understand a thing you're saying,” I cried out, with a hint of sarcasm in my voice.

“Ahh Emily, you need to learn. If you're planning to stay here that it”

“Wait, how did you know I was planning to stay?” I was clearly shocked. I hadn't told anybody that I was planning to stay. This was simply met to be a semester abroad, nothing more. I made sure that my bucket list was locked in my notes app. My dreamboard, well everybody knows those are fake and never actually end up happening. My parents are too distant from me now to notice anyways.

“It's not the first time I'm meeting you, silly. I know you, I know why you're here!” she chuckled, as if she was hiding one of my dirty little secrets or whatever. She clearly noticed the sheer shock in my face as I really wasn't convinced. And so, she continued, “well, why else would you come here? I know your situation, I know what you've been through. Paris is everybody's escape. I know it was mine.”

I had forgotten that Mira had lost both of her parents when she was young. They had died in a car accident when she was living in New York. From there, she was whisked away to live with her aunt in Paris. She didn't have any siblings so she was essentially alone. I know she often spent time with her cousins so maybe it wasn't as lonely as I had imagined. Anyways, if I had learned one thing from Ryan's death, it's that everyone grieves differently. I could never imagine what that would like for Mira. She always carried herself with a spark, a light. Her joy was almost contagious and it cheered me up whenever I didn't feel worthy of living.

“I should've known that you'd figure it out,” I giggled, somewhat shocked yet also this mutual understanding that she knew me better than anyone else in this world. She was my person, we went through life together. I could never imagine where I would've been and what I would've been doing if I had never met her all those years ago. She was the driving force that kept me pushing, and I deep down I always hoped that I was the same for her. We were one, a whole heart that could never be split apart. Copains comme cochons.

(yes i'm fully aware this daily is my 凤梨酥 supremacy agenda, deal with it)

It had been a few years since Luna had last found herself walking the streets of New Taipei City. There was something homely about walking the streets of the city, of the covered walkways and warm rain and smell of street food and bright city lights that didn’t quite feel the same back in Aurora Bay. She didn’t quite feel confident going out on her own, considering her mandarin skills were rusty, having been raised overseas for most of her life.

The warm summer weather meant she could go out wearing her sandals and a lovely summer dress - a rare treat for her, being a doctor and needing to dress practical all the time. Also, cycling everywhere when she was in Aurora Bay also gave her little room for wearing dresses. Today, she was out on the streets for one thing, and one thing only: the highly delicious and sweet pineapple cake, one of her favourite snacks. Sure, there were lots of good snacks she could get whenever she went back to Taiwan or Japan, or even to the local Asian supermarket back in Aurora Bay, but nothing beat the freshly made pineapple cakes she could get whenever she was in Taiwan.

Luna found the shop she was looking for, and thankfully there wasn’t a queue today. She pushed open the small door, and heard the sound of a bell ringing. The store was fairly empty, but there were several patrons there, all looking at shelves filled with the yummy snack Luna had come for.

Luna looked at the shelves, carefully wondering which type she should pick. She loved both the ones with and without egg yolk, but deciding which to pick would be hard. She could buy both types, but she still had another few weeks left on holiday here, and it wasn’t like she couldn’t buy some more later if she wanted to. Today, she was satisfying an immediate need to eat one of her favourite snacks that she couldn’t get much of back home.

Deciding that she didn’t need a large box, Luna grabbed a small box of twelve of the delicious snacks with egg yolk, and took it up to the counter. She couldn’t wait to have some when she got home.

“您好!” The cashier at the till called as Luna walked up to the counter. She was taken by surprise by the Mandarin - she’d almost forgot she was in a different country for a minute.

“Ah, uh, 您好,” Luna replied awkwardly. For all the Saturday Chinese school lessons her mother had sent her to, she couldn’t, for the life of her, talk to a cashier without her mother translating. Or doing the talking for her. This was going to be a fun interaction.

She couldn’t quite process what the cashier was saying as they took the box and scanned it. They were saying something about bags, maybe? Or about how her day was going?

“225块,” the cashier said. “现金卡?”

“现金,” Luna replied, trying her best not to let her absolutely terrible Mandarin skills show. Okay, to be fair, she already had shown her absolutely terrible Mandarin skills with her inability to understand the somewhat rapid speech earlier. It seemed the cashier had noticed the longer amount of time it took for her to… process. Luna handed over the cash she’d been given by her parents when she’d said she was going out to buy her favourite snack. The note designs were pretty.

“你要收据吗?” the cashier asked, passing over the box of goodies.

“要，谢谢,” Luna replied, and oh. That was some terrible Mandarin from her, wasn’t it? Oh well.

The cashier printed the receipt and handed it over. Luna gave her best attempt at an un-awkward smile. “谢谢,” Luna said, trying to be polite. She was being polite, right?

The cashier waved her goodbye, and Luna did so in return. She stepped out of the shop and back onto the street, finally glad that awkward interaction was over. And she had a lovely box of delicious pineapple cakes to dive into when she got back home.

Daily 18

677 words

I sit myself on a bench, sweat beginning to bead on my forehead. I am sat in a park, the grass brown and dry, the sun baking the earth. People walk past, some happily eating their lunch, some being towed along by their dogs, some panting as they push buggies with wailing babies uphill.

For my eighteenth birthday in April, my brother bought me a single ticket to a week-long sleeper train journey. All by myself. I have always been intimidated by the idea of solo travel, and have always made sure to stick very close to home. I am going to study History in University this coming year, but I am going to make the most of my summer.

My watch vibrates, causing me to jump. I glance at it and audibly gasp. One o’clock. My train is at ten past.

I leap up from the bench and race up the path, slinging my rucksack onto my back. My breaths are already quickening, the sweat pouring down my face, my muscles weakening. I can’t miss this train that my brother spent so much money on.
I make a swift turn out of the park and pull my phone out of my pocket to check where I have to go. Phone in hand, I jog across the narrow streets lined with shuttered houses. I can’t take in the beauty right now. All I’m focusing on is getting to my train.

After what could have been hours, I find myself outside a grand marble building with a long colonnade and a towering set of oak doors. I walk into the air conditioned space and allow myself to take a breath. It’s only been five minutes. I scold myself for being so worried. My large luggage has already been checked in and all I need to do is show my ticket to an attendant and make my way onto the train.
I make my way to Platform 6B to find a series of smartly dressed attendants offering to take my luggage and ticket, already addressing me by my name in perfect English. I nod along to everything they say and allow myself to be ushered onto the train.

“Bonjour!”
I look up and see a woman standing behind me, dressed in a formal long skirt and a loose-fitting blouse. She smiles at me warmly and offers her hand.
“I am your train driver for this trip. Parlez-vous français?”
I take a deep breath. 3 years of GCSE French. 5 months of Duolingo. I can do this.
“Oui… j'apprends l-le français,” I stutter, cringing at my terrible accent.
“Oui, très bon, madame!” She replies. “All of our attendants will be happy to speak to you in English for this trip if you prefer.”
I nod silently. Was my accent really that bad?
“Quel est ton nom?” I attempt again, hoping for a simple answer.
“Je suis Marie!” She answers, flashing a smile at me. “This way to your room!”
I frown. Why is a train driver showing me to my room? I shrug. Oh well. I won’t attempt to ask because of my horrific accent.

She opens the door to a simple but beautiful room.
“I will leave you to get settled in.”
“Merci. Au revoir!” I thank her, sliding my bag onto the bed.
She closes the door and I take a look at my home for the next week. A double bed is situated in the centre of the room with fluffy towels neatly folded on its surface, alongside branded slippers and a dressing gown. On either side are charging points, small tables and a safe. There is a built-in wardrobe on the side closest to me and opposite that is a set-up of a table and two chairs. On the table is a bowl of fresh fruit, chocolate and champagne in a bucket of ice, as well as a card reading ‘Bienvenue!” There is a bathroom adjacent to the bed, featuring a surprisingly spacious shower complete with amenities.

Clearly I had underestimated my brother's gift.

Daily 18

Caspian's eyes mused on the rolling azure waves that sparkled in the sunlight and splashed against the ship's hull as he swirled a dark wooden cup in one hand absentmindedly. He sat in a rather precarious perch on the taffrail of the ship, letting the hum of activity on the deck behind him melt away. In the quietened halls of his mind, his father's conversation with Lord David began to echo.
“What of the merchant ship hostages you rescued, Captain?”
Once his mind ever latched onto a problem, Caspian could hardly tear it away, and this wasn't one that could be easily dismissed. In truth, he'd been thinking of them all day…the hostages.
Having to rescue hostages from the enemy merchant ship they were tasked to intercept was the last thing any of the crew expected, yet here they were with twenty new members aboard the Tide Wanderer. That wasn't even the biggest problem…they couldn't understand them.
The dialect they spoke was one Caspian vaguely recognised, but it did little to enlighten him on what messages the hostages seemed keen on delivering. His father, the captain, had simply assured Lord David that they'd figure out what to do when they reached land, but until then the mystery of this foreign crowd continued to frustrate him.
His eyes scanned the waves again, but his peace was disturbed, so he swung his legs back to the deck and jumped from his seat, holding his untouched drink carefully so it wouldn't spill.
The bustle on the ship had calmed somewhat, so Caspian lingered on the deck in resistance to his usual habit of going straight below to avoid unwanted company. He took up a gentle stroll, trying to distract his mind with more certain topics.
He turned round the mast and pulled up short just in time before he could collide with an oncoming passenger.
“Oh! I'm so sorry.”
“¡Lo siento!”
The unfamiliar words caught him off guard, but he held up a hand to try and apologise more understandably. “Sorry…”
The foreigner hesitated, tilting her head, and recognition flashed across Caspian's face. She was the first hostage he'd attempted to speak to, as the girl had been evidently distressed for a reason the crew initially struggled to decode. She was constantly crying, “¿Dónde está ella? ¿Dónde está mi hermana?”, but they couldn't understand what she was saying. It was only when she started calling a name, ‘Mireya’, that Caspian figured she was looking for someone, someone close to her. She had calmed now, but her eyes were sad.
“Lo siento,” she repeated, but Caspian struggled for a reply until he realised she raised her hand in the same way he had. Perhaps she meant the same thing?
He offered a nod, and the anxious crease in her brow relaxed. A good sign.
He cleared his throat. “You- you look for ‘Mireya’..?” Caspian tried to add motions to his words, pointing to her, then signing a motion of searching for something.
The name snatched her attention immediately. “Sí, Mireya. Mi hermana Mireya.”
“Mi hermana…” Caspian repeated faintly.
“Mi hermana, sí…”
He scratched his head. This was a challenge.
A new topic of conversation formed, and he turned back to the girl. “What is your name?”
He raised a hand in question, then pointed to her, then made a motion as if writing, but her brow only furrowed in confusion. He sighed and glanced around.
His cabinmate Robin passed. Caspian gently nudged the girl and pointed to the lad, “Robin.” He pointed to himself, “Caspian.” Then he pointed to her. “You?”
The girl's expression softened. “Ah…Carmen. Me llamo Carmen. Eres Caspian?”
“Carmen,” Caspian repeated, then smiled a little. “Yes, Caspian.”
He swapped his cup to his non-dominant hand and held his free hand up to shake hers. His smile broadened when she understood and took it. They were getting somewhere.
He remembered the drink, and decided to offer it to her. “Drink?”
He made a motion of drinking from the cup, and Carmen tilted her head. “¿Qué es esto?”
His eyebrow raised. “Uh…what?”
She pursed her lips as if trying not to laugh, then emphasized pointing at the cup. “¿Qué es esto?”
Caspian squinted, briefly wondering if she thought he was trying to po!son her. “…It's good, I promise.”
He poured some into his mouth and made sure she saw him drink it, before offering it again. “Try?”
She took the cup, but hesitated and took a sniff instead. Her eyes lit up.
“¿Agua de coco? ¡Me gusta eso!”
“Uh…yes, coco…coconut,” Caspian tried, then gave a thumbs up. “You like it?”
Carmen mirrored his thumbs up. “…Like. Sí, like.”

782 words
(I actually got so stuck, but I did it asdfghjkl- stopping here though)

Daily 18th March || 782 words
The GPS died exactly as the bus did.
Not metaphorically. The bus gave a heroic shudder, coughed like it had inhaled a sandwich, and stopped in the middle of a narrow road lined with rice fields and absolutely no signs in English.
Inside, two travelers sat in stunned silence.
“Tell me,” said Arlo, gripping the seat in front of him, “that this is part of the tour.”
Mina slowly lowered her phone. “The tour ended three hours ago.”
Outside, the driver hopped out and opened the hood with the confidence of a man who had no idea what he was doing.
Arlo stood. “Great. Perfect. Love this for us.”
Mina stood too. “Relax. We’ll just ask someone for help.”
“Who?” Arlo gestured broadly at the landscape. “The rice?”
As if summoned, a man on a tiny scooter buzzed toward them, wearing a helmet that looked slightly too small for his head. He stopped, stared at the bus, then at them.
Mina brightened. “Okay. I’ve been practicing.”
Arlo’s expression immediately soured. “Practicing what?”
“Japanese.”
“Oh no.”
She stepped forward confidently. “こんにちは！” (Konnichiwa! / Hello!)
The man blinked, then nodded. “こんにちは。”
Mina continued, full of misplaced courage. “ええと… バスが… 死にました。”
(Eeto… basu ga… *. / Um… the bus… died.)
The man’s eyes widened slightly.
Arlo leaned in. “Did you just tell him we murdered the bus?”
“I said it died!”
“You used the dramatic verb, didn’t you?”
The man glanced at the bus, then back at them. “ああ… そうですか。”
(Aa… sō desu ka. / Oh… I see.)
Mina nodded enthusiastically. “はい！”
Arlo whispered, “He doesn’t see. No one sees.”
The man pointed at the engine and said something rapid: “エンジンが問題ですね。でも、この辺は何もないですよ。”
Mina froze like a buffering video.
Arlo whispered urgently, “Translate!”
“I got ‘engine’ and then… despair.”
The man frowned slightly, then tried again, slower. “何もない。”
(Nani mo nai. / There is nothing.)
Arlo’s face fell. “Oh, I understood that one. That’s never good.”
Mina nodded like she absolutely understood everything. “はい、はい、何もない。”
Arlo stared at her. “Why are you agreeing with ‘there is nothing’?”
“I panicked!”
The man looked between them, then pointed down the road and said, “五キロぐらい、町があります。”
Mina lit up. “Oh! I know numbers! Five… something… town!”
Arlo squinted. “So… five towns?”
“No, no—five kilometers!”
Arlo looked down the empty road stretching into the horizon. “That’s… worse.”
The man mimed walking with two fingers.
Mina nodded eagerly. “はい！歩きます！” (Arukimasu! / We will walk!)
Arlo whipped around. “WE will??”
“You have legs!”
“I use them selectively!”
The man suddenly smiled and said, “ちょっと待ってください。” (Chotto matte kudasai / Please wait a moment.)
He zipped off on his scooter.
Arlo crossed his arms. “He’s not coming back.”
“He seemed nice!”
“He seemed alarmed.”
They stood in silence for a moment. A breeze passed. The bus made a sad ticking noise.
Arlo sighed. “Alright. Five kilometers. That’s like… what, an hour?”
“More like an hour and a half,” Mina said.
“I regret everything.”
Just then, the distant buzz returned. The scooter man reappeared—this time with a second scooter.
He stopped in front of them, triumphant. “どうぞ！”
Mina gasped. “Oh! He brought help!”
Arlo blinked. “He brought… a second tiny death machine.”
The man pointed at the scooters, then at them.
Mina grinned. “I think he wants us to ride.”
Arlo stared at the scooter. Then at his suitcase. Then back at the scooter. “That thing cannot legally support my emotional baggage, let alone the physical kind.”
The man patted the seat encouragingly. “大丈夫、大丈夫。” (Daijōbu, daijōbu / It’s okay, it’s okay.)
“That’s what people say before things are not okay,” Arlo said.
Mina was already climbing on. “Come on! Adventure!”
Arlo hesitated. “This is how I die. Not dramatically. Just… on a borrowed scooter in a rice field.”
The man handed him a helmet that definitely did not fit.
Arlo put it on anyway. It sat on top of his head like a decorative bowl.
“…I look like a boiled egg,” he said.
Mina laughed. “You always did.”
Arlo sighed and climbed on.
The man gave a thumbs up. “行きましょう！” (Ikimashō! / Let’s go!)
The scooters sputtered to life.
As they wobbled forward down the narrow road, Arlo clung to the handlebars and shouted, “If we survive this, I’m learning the language properly!”
Mina called back, “You said that in Spain!”
“That was different! I only learned how to order cheese!”
The man, leading the way, shouted something cheerful they couldn’t understand.
Mina laughed into the wind. “I think he said this will be fun!”
Arlo squinted ahead. “I think he said ‘hold on for your life!’”
They sped off anyway—two wobbling disasters following a stranger into the unknown.
Somewhere behind them, the bus sat quietly.
Probably relieved.

language daily || 612 words

“Madainn mhath,” Sionna mumbled sleepily, rubbing her eyes. Sparrow smiled at her, setting the kettle over the fire. “Good morning to you too,” he replied. “Tì?”
“Tha,” she said, sitting up. Dark hair tangled around her face, and she yawned, pulling the blanket around her shoulders. Sparrow quietly began preparing breakfast as she finished waking, slicing delicate wedges of bellfruit. It was a deep, rich golden color, and the crisp, tangy smell filled the little cottage.
On the frying pan, small fish were sizzling away, and he paused, about to sprinkle some salt over them. Sionna perked up, wrestling herself out of her blankets and padding over to stand next to him, bare feet hush-soft on the floorboards. “Can I, Sparrow? I like to do the… the salann.” Her brow furrowed. On good days, she was fluent in both languages they spoke. On bad ones, she had difficulty remembering even her name. On middling days, some words and phrases came to her easily, while others slipped out of her grasp. She tended to switch languages frequently on those occasions, replacing words she’d forgotten with ones she still grasped. Those days were the ones that seemed to frustrate her the most. Sparrow had tried to tell her she just had to be patient with herself while she recovered, but then, Sionna wasn’t the patient type. She liked to run, run ahead with no thought for what lay behind, no consideration for what path she should take. Given what he understood of her origin, Sparrow could understand that. But sometimes it felt a little like trying to manage an unruly child.
Sparrow handed her the salt, and she gleefully sprinkled it over the fish. He never could figure out why she liked to do it so much, only that helping in the kitchen was one of her special joys. She found pleasure in unexpected things — things that still baffled him sometimes. But then, he hadn’t spent most of his life in the woods. Novelty was charm.
“Taing,” he said, taking the salt from her when she was done and putting it back in the cupboard.
When he turned around again, she’d snagged a slice of bellfruit and was biting into it, amber eyes twinkling at him merrily. “Good. Math,” she added, sounding pleased that she’d remembered both words this time.
He shook his head at her, amused, and went to get the kettle off the fire as its high, clear whistle began to sound.
Sionna flitted to the table, setting out cups and sighing as steam rose from the water as he poured. She loved to play with it, waggling her fingers through the pale cloud until it dissipated.
“Don’t burn your tongue this time,” Sparrow warned her, taking the fish out of the pan. “Wait until it’s only warm.”
She shook her head, sending the dark mass of hair flying. “Different words,” she said, lips tightening. “Wait…until it is…?”
“Blàth,” he supplied, and her face relaxed.
“Mm. Too long to wait,” she grumbled, folding her arms on the table and slumping forwards to nestle her chin into the hollow they made. “Tha mi sgìth de bhith a’ feitheamh.”
Sparrow laughed, handing her a plate of fish and bellfruit. “Ith d’ iasg fhad ’s a tha thu a’ feitheamh, ma-thà.”
Sionna brightened, moving to grab a fish with her fingers. He intercepted her with a fork, waggling it in the air. “Forca, remember?”
“Tha iasg blasta — chan eil forca blasta,” she retorted, but she took it from him. “Why put both in your mouth? Silly.”
Sparrow shrugged and sat himself, biting into a wedge of bellfruit.
Yes, this was nice. Just another quiet morning.

March 18 : Language Daily!

Language : French
Words : 781


“Ah- yes, I have an ice cream and a… a french fries?” Jade asked, feeling her face burn. She hated being here without Clement. He could speak English so much better. The young woman behind the cash register gave a smile, but Jade could see the tightness in it.
“Yes, I can get that for you. Anything else?” She asked not looking up at Jade.
It took her a moment to process the words. “I- uh, No, thank you.” Her sleeves felt tight and her cheeks felt like they were on fire. Jade closed her eyes, trying to ignore all the people and conversations going on around her. It all felt like too much. America was too much. Jade took a shaky breath, folding her arms around her.
“Alright then, that will just be three dollars and forty cents!” She swiveled around the POS system. Jade pulled out her card, tapping it swiftly. She ducked out, finding a seat in the corner next to the front window. The chair was tall, made out of wood that felt like it was scraping against her skin.
Traitorously, she felt tears start to well behind her eyes. She hated it here. Communication was just… was just so difficult. It made her feel like an ogre or something. Usually she was so graceful- so poised, so in control- but here, she couldn’t say a sentence correctly.
Soon, a waiter came with her order. Jade didn't speak, merely smiling and accepting the cold ice cream. She sat there for a while, eating the soft vanilla, letting her mind wander. Her guide had told her it would help her English to listen to others,so she tried to eavesdrop on the conversation next to her.
“…And so now she needs a lawyer to plead her case. It’s crazy! The whole story is hilariously, but it does kind of make you feel bad fo-”
Jade felt like she wanted to cry. She hadn’t understood a word of that. They spoke so fast! How could anyone keep up?
“….Jade?” Someone behind her said. Jade turned around, hastily wiping her eyes on her sleeve. She relaxed as she saw Clement. Finally, she could speak freely again.
“Ah, Clement, Salut!” Jade said, trying to smile. “Tu es en avance!”
Clement looked concerned. “Es-tu… Ca va?”
Jade just nodded, her throat constricting. “S’il te plait, s'asseoir.” Jade said, trying to smile. Clement nodded back, sitting down softly, the lace bow at his neck swaying.
“Alors, comment s’est passé l’entretien?” Jade asked, folding her hands on the table.
“Oh, j'espère qu’il s'est bien passé! Mais oui, je pense qui l'intervieweuse a été impressionnée” He responded, laughing. “Le future au être un Scientifique des Données est vraiment possible!”
Jade found herself laughing too. Clement was very good natured. That was why Jade liked him…
“Mais, vraiment Jade, est-ce qu'il s'est passé quelque chose?” Clement asked, gently. Jade bit her lip. She didn't want to tell him- it made her feel like a child. But… he really did look concerned.
“J’ai… C’est juste… La communication est tellement difficile! Je ne comprends personne, et souvent je ne trouve pas les mots correct! Juste essayer d’acheter une glace prend beaucoup de temps parce que je ne peux pas parler!” Jade felt tears running down her cheeks. Clement reached up, brushing them off with his fingers gently. She blushed, trying to wipe them away herself. She didn’t want to look like this in front of Clement.
“Jade…” He started, but nothing else came out.
“C’est comme si je suis un babe qui ne peut rien dire! C’est tellement gênant…”
Clement stood up as I buried my head in my arms. He walked over, putting his arms around me. “Jade, c’est d'accord. Je sais que parler anglais est difficile. Ça m'a pris beaucoup de temps aussi. C’est normal. Et tu t'en sors très bien! combien de temps est-ce que tu fais l’Anglais?”
Jade sniffled. “…Juste trois mois.”
“Voix? Il y a seulement trois mois que tu le fais et déjà tu peux commander au restaurant! C’est magnifique!” He squeezed Jade’s shoulders. “Tu fais très bien, d’accord?”
Jade nodded. She did feel a bit better. She still felt like a child though. She was twenty two- why was she crying? She took a deep breath, sitting straight and wiping off her eyes. “Pardon. Pardon.” Jade said, trying to calm her breathing.
“Non, non, tu ne dois pas être désolée.” Clement smiled, retreating back to his chair. “Would you want to practice your English with me?” He said in accented English. Jade smiled.
“Y-yes I want to.” She responded, cringing slightly but smiling. Maybe being in America wouldn’t be so bad.

Sheer had never learned how to swim. Living in Briny Pack, she'd had every opportunity to. It's just… there was this dream. The water would close over her head, and no matter how much she tried to paddle upward, she'd sink downward as if her pelt was made of stone. She'd scream out, the sound muffled by the cold, dark liquid that poured into her mouth, her nose, her mind. A last glimpse of the shore, skewed by the ripples and bubbles, would reveal familiar shapes—her friends, family—calling out to her, though whether shouting in alarm or cheering in celebration, Sheer could never quite tell.
She'd been having the dream ever since she was young. As a pup, she was sure it was a vision, perhaps a warning, and so she always did her best to avoid large bodies of water. Not the easiest task when you live near an ocean, but she'd made it this far.
She had only told a few others about it. Courage, her closest friend—though never more than a friend—had been worried. He'd always believed in stories himself, and if she thought it was a premonition, then so did he. But her cousin, Scatter, professed that it likely didn't have a literal meaning, but rather reflected a deeper fear that was buried somewhere in her subconscious. As Sheer grew older, she didn't know what to believe anymore. The dream didn't go away, but she stopped bringing it up. Partially because she was tired of hearing Scatter ramble endlessly about theories of the mind, and partially because it didn't really scare her anymore.
After being afraid of death for long enough, Sheer supposed she had gotten tired of it. And so she stopped. It didn't seem to matter anymore what happened—everyone died in the end anyway. Courage said she shouldn't think like that, but at least it was true. He still believed in so many stories that weren't.
However, as Sheer found herself tumbling through a river, with no one else around except for the prey she had failed to catch, her mind flashed back to him, and to Scatter, and to the dream itself. Maybe visions were real, after all. Her eyes caught the flash of sunlight on the river's surface as the current pulled her under, around and around, deeper and deeper.
It was then that her prey—a strange, small, feathered beast—pulled her from the water. Sheer coughed, thankful for the air returning to her lungs. Heart pounding, she glanced at the animal that saved her. Barely a third of the size that she was, Sheer had no idea how it had the strength to grab her. Or how it had the strength to wrestle her into the river in the first place.
Just a few minutes ago, she had been trying to hunt it. She wasn't sure what kind of animal it was, but food was food. Now, though, she saw something else. A savior. Maybe even a friend?
It chirped at her, the sound unlike anything Sheer had ever heard before. “Um, hello?” she tried to answer it.
More chirps.
“Thank you for saving me,” Sheer said, suddenly awkward. “Uh—sorry about trying to eat you earlier? I didn't know you were…” What? Conscious? Scatter was always talking about consciousness. Sheer couldn't quite remember what the word meant. But what did it matter? The animal didn't seem to speak the same language.
Sheer shook her head, sending water droplets flying. Of course it didn't. Talking animals only happened in stories.
The animal shook its own head, as if mimicking her. Well… maybe it could understand some things? Though feeling a bit foolish, Sheer was too grateful to be alive to be held back by awkwardness at the moment. “My… name… is… Sheer,” she said slowly. “Can… you… understand… me?”
“Und…erstand. Me,” the animal repeated back to her. Its voice was high-pitched, but the syllables were clear. The effect was almost uncanny, but Sheer wasn't afraid. She wagged her tail.
She got the sense she wouldn't be getting that dream anymore.

Late march 18th daily- Chinglish : D

“哎呀 ～” Liana exclaimed as she pat her apron dry, “眯眯, the humidifier 又出问题了!”
“什么鬼, ” Mia put her book down on the sofa and came to take a closer look, “ I swear to you, this morning 他是完全没问题的, I could have sworn- 李尔, what’d you do?”
“Nothing! I did not touch ANYTHING in that thing- I just tried to empty the 水桶, and it- like exploded on me.”
“You tried to empty the- 他妈的, 李安.”
“What.”
“It’s a humidifier, Liana.”
“所以呢…?”
“A humidifier, 加湿器. It 加s the 湿 to the 气. Not the other way ‘round.”
“…oh，okay, that’s, uhm. That’s on me, then.”
“Yes, Yes It is.”
——————————————————————————————————————————-
“喂?“ Liana said down the phone, “姑婆！好 就 不 见！你 最 精 怎 么 样？爷 爷 还 好 吗 ？” She nodded down the other end as her great aunt talked to her “嗯，新年快乐，福气多多- 对，我今年不能回家庆祝了，嗯，我上大学就忙了嘛！我也很想你，身体健康！你最近身体怎么样 ，有没有出去散步 ？嗯，这样就好，那么，我现在要出去了！快要上课了 ，嗯，新年快乐 ，万事如意 ！”
She sighed as she placed her phone down, “眯眯, you ever feel guilty?”
“About what?” she responded from the dining table,
“That we’re here in the US, college and all, and we’re so far from home that- I don’t know, I couldn’t even make it back for 年 夜 饭, or for the 春 节 festival celebrations, or like- I haven’t learnt more than a few phrases in Hakka or Cantonese and I can barely understand what’s happening around the table!”
“你姥姥是客家人 ?”
“That’s what I’m saying! I’ve never even been up north or seen the 土楼 in the south, I’ve barely left the cities at all! China has one of the world’s greatest high-speed railways and I haven't even been west of like 四川，and even then I’ve only gone twice.” Liana brought her hands up to her head and started running her hands through her hair, “Not to mention that-”
“李安，give yourself a break.” a hand settled on her shoulder.
“How can I-”
Mia put her hand on Liana’s shoulder. “李安，你得好好听我说的- Culture isn’t something you lose just because you've moved to the US, and it’s always been a living, breathing thing. Globalisation is scary, and it’s probably the first time in history there’s been so many chinese 住海外, but 传统会随着科技的发展改变, and maybe it doesn’t feel the same. Maybe it loses 些仪式感, but it doesn’t mean that any of it rests on you.”
“Besides, we can always visit 福建, or even visit your family back in 赣州 with the travel money we’ve saved.”
“In time for 中秋节?”
“In time for 中秋节.”
——————————————————————————————————————————-
“冰淇凌还有吗 ? in the freezer?” Mia called from the sofa, “I just bought some, 星期三买的, so we should still have some?”
Lia pulled open the freezer drawer, “uhh- 有… 但是还挺少的，I could run down and get some?”
Mia dismissed this with a wave, “oh nevermind, 春晚快要开始了, heard there’s something really controversial that they’ve been planning. I mean- you’ve seen the rumors?”
“No, not really, 我不太会跟着网络谣言, why, what’d they say?”
“Apparently they’re putting AI films and dancing robots onto the 春晚舞台.”
To this, Liana made a face, “oh ew.”
“Right? That’s what I said, anyways, 爆米花有吗 ?”
“没有, I’d have to get it out, dirty the pot, wash it- 等等.”
“Eugh, 说的对, nevermind then, 春晚 is starting, come on,” Mia pat the spot on the sofa next to her.

A/N: Me putting a bunch of things I do into this convo, and definitely the shanghainese phone answering i picked up lol.

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Dearly Detested Dystopian Cabin,

Although your cabin theme was borne of the incessant ramblings of a madwoman (Hi snowy!!!! :3) I do admit, despite its… humble beginnings, it’s managed to flourish into a cabin that doesn’t cast a feeling of sadness upon me when the notion of it’s consideration crosses my mind. The QOTD was certainly- an idea that contains some merit. The cabin aesthetic might be pleasing for some people to look at, the yellows and blues aren’t exact carbon copies of the media it was inspired by, so some creative credit must be given there. The projects that combine to form a title banner when favorited in succession was a neat addition. Allowing your campers to be easily spotted. Consistent font usage provides a sense of recognisability, and I can see the silly floral trellises from the roof of our (far superior) Paranormal cabin. The idea was certainly very considerate, they act like warning lights, or hazard tape.

Your cabin includes some people, of some note, some of which I know, some of which I enjoy spending an unspecified amount of time with to an unspecified degree.

Your cabin activities are.. Unique. And they appear to garner engagement from your various cabin members. Considering that they perform a narrative arc resembling that of your source media without the benefit of similar hardware, it is certainly admirable that you’ve come up with them. It was creative and resided within the boundaries you had set for yourself, and it seems… fascinating from afar. The idea of completing individual activities to collect clues, while not novel, is definitely entertaining and engaging.

The Dystopian campers show a certain amount of determination- and have written an unspecified amount of work residing in the ‘above-average’ quality bracket. An unspecified number of aforementioned campers are friendly and most have not been overly or unnecessarily cruel for the duration of our rivalry, displaying a certain cognizance of sportsmanship.

I am certainly intrigued by the character creation project you’ve set up, and your expedition leaders’ commitment to the cabin is admirable, as evidenced by the piano music played in the background, and the (mostly) consistently updated QOTD.

Begrudgingly,
Tell, a member of the Paranormal cabin.

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365 words

mutual detestation letter- i mean peace and love letter to adventure :side eyes:

Hello adventure… I think we all know we both want points, so let's just get this over with and write some nice things. To be honest, I probably should've written this to any of our other enemies, they're all substantially nicer, but you were the first I thought of when they told us to write letters to our mortal enemies. <333 Isn't it nice to know we'll always think of you first? Either way, it's too late now, and we have to play nice. That being said, I think we can figure out a peace treaty for today, can't we? We all can say nice things about each other instead of attacking each other to earn points! (Oh wait, it's almost like that's the entire daily! I feel like I'm working myself into a sort of paradox with this one though, so I'll digress and get off this tangent. You second place people probably never go on tangents…) Despite the fact that chocolate continuously tried to war us with the most difficult wars possible, I suppose you have some redeeming members. You have a pretty peak leader team, for example. And very nice pfps! I should really step up my pfp game it would seem. Also, you're in second. Sooo clearly you're doing something right. Maybe not that much. But something. Unfortunately that's pretty much all I could think of, so I'm going to write some random stuff to increase my word count, giving me more points and qualifying this for the daily. I mean, maaaaybe there are a couple more things, like your cool concept, aesthetics, and the fact that you have the superior golden lyric, (the AH) but I'm saving you from your ego being too inflated. We wouldn't want that! You don't get to the top without being humble, I'm really just helping you out! Anyway, I look forward to next cabin wars where we will bombard you with all the most difficult wars like you did to us last time - only to increase your word count and get you more points, of course.

Much peace and love,
Fantasy