WORD WAR

501 WORDS
against @surf


Today is the end of my story. Today is the beginning of the world.

I repeated this thought in my mind thinking that maybe if I believed it to be true that I would finally feel normla I owuld finally feel okay I wouldn't bother to cry every single night worrying aobtu silly things like if my life amtters or not. i wouldn't hurt myself and cry to my friends and family asking them if I was a paoerson with red in my eyes. I wouldn't sob and make up stories on end hallucianting visions for nobody to see. I wouldn't be such a lonely boy anymore.

I wanted something to change. So I started looking at it from the aspect of the world. What did the world do every day. No matter what I do, the sky stays blue. No matter what I do it still rains. The trees still whistle around and tossle themselves carelessy with their plentiful of fruit. No matter what I do or think or say. The world is not centered around me. Things still keep moving.

So sure, I'm not in charge of time. Despite being a demigod. I am Posiedon's son. I am the one and only that can pull through the metaphorical savior of the world. So yes I actually do start the world.
When I go out this world starts. So today ends me. Today starts the world. Now this world will be filled with pools of water that many can bask in and have fun in This is the start of new beginnings for all like my family for instance. They would be joyous to know that the world is now going ot start. My brother, Hi is gonna be so happy that he can now run around in water. I am the one that was stopping them all. I am the one that was the big change. I Yar am the one who is the demigod and I can end it all. I can start it all. Whatever I do. The world is in my hands afterall. I am the one that iwll make the pools vast.

But at the end of the dya, I need to take some inner deep self reflection. What is thep urpose of this big wide world? What is it all made for. If i am in charge of so much i need to know who I am trying to be. I can't use my power for the bad of this world. What is morals. What is good what is bad what is poems what is Socrates how do people behave. I need to know. I need to know badly. I want to know.I want to know what ends this world. I want to know what will happen.

I talked to my brother once again. His eyes batted at mine with the dimness of his autumn blue smile. He has a fcute face many girls find my brother attractive. He looks and says

The world isn't all about you Yar. Don't worry so much about me and others

ꜱᴘʟᴀꜱʜ ᴛʏᴘɪɴɢ . . .
↟ cabin ~ xeno-fi
ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛ ɪ
~ An excerpt from my novel, Sylvia
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
. . . ↟ prologue ★ . . .

Daily 10: Fairy Tales with a spin

The Nightingale and the Rose – Oscar Wilde Fairy Tales:
Tells the tale of a Student who fell in love with the Professor's daughter, and the Student was promised a dance with the Professor's daughter at the Prince's ball if she brought her a red rose, but there were no red roses in his garden. The Nightingale recognised true, empowering love in the heart of the Student who sobbed about his lack of a red rose every night, saddened at the thought of how out-of-reach his crush was. The Nightingale felt truly saddened at the thought of such pure love going to waste and so she decided to help him find a red rose. She went from bush to bush in pursuit of one until she found a withering red rose. The red rose bush told her that if she sacrificed her life by singing her song whilst pressing the thorn of the bush to her heart and letting her blood stain it then a red rose will grow from the bush. The Nightingale was saddened about the high cost of the red rose, but chose to sacrifice the life of one bird for the cause of a love that would outlast her. When the rose arrived and the Nightingale was dead, the Student felt lucky to have found the red rose and went to the professor and his daughter in excitement. When he addressed the daughter she mocked him, telling him that the Chamberlain's son had brough to her jewels which were worth much more than his flower, and that he were not as wealthy as him. The Student was heartbroken and decided to stick to logic and his studies that were worth much more than love. He threw the rose away and it was trampled, along with the hopes and sacrifice of the Nightingale.

notes: i was like rush typing this (as in like i wanted to get my ideas down as quickly as my mind was moving) and can only right now fix the obvious typos so it may contain a few flaws and underly wrote parts <3

I'm filled with adrenaline, my heart beating with fresh new anticipation as i grip the rose in my clammy hands. My hand hovers uncertainly above the door handle, a small, uncertain voice in the back of my mind whispers thoughts of doubt which are quickly swept away with the thought of her warm breaths and silky hair tickling my neck into its hairs standing up, the soft fabric of her elaborate, flowing gown sliding down my fingers as we waltz across the dancefloor.
I take a deep breath that quickly dissipates to giggles as i straighten my posture and press my hand against the posh door handle, a shiver and brief moment of strange irritation jolting through me at the feel of the cold greasy handle; nevertheless i turn and push it before taking a step into the room.
My breath hitches as my gaze settles upon the woman i have been admiring from a distance, pursuing from a distance for so long. I have to admit, she looks so much more flawed up closer, you notice the crinkles that separate her skin from her makeup, the knot in her eyebrows that gives her a smug look, and the gait of her jaw that hangs in a bratty unimpressed way. Suddenly i feel queasy, my stomach that was just leaping at the site of her now twists and turns and churns uncomfortably. My mind that was so transfixed on her just a couple of minutes ago is screaming at me that this is a bad idea; my heat however, is more drawn to her than ever before, its pull towards her almost physically shoving me in her face as it sprints ahead of me.
“the rose” i manage to gasp out of my magnetically shut lips, “ive brought a red rose as asked for”
my nerves heighten to a point of ridicule as a nervously stammer “we can now dance together at the ball, as promised”
time slows down, as if cruelly trying to point out to me all the details in her horrified face, the lips ive traced over so many times curling upwards in disgust, her eyebrows bunching together in a tangle of disbelief, eyes glinting with a raw look of disbelief that shoot a laser through my heart, leaving it crushed and spasming under humiliation. Her perfect pink lips open wide to accommodate the loud, mocking snort of laughter that leaves her mouth.
“you brought me flowers in exchange for a dance?” she exclaims incredulously, “the chamberlain son brought me jewels” she spits
I can feel my heart as it tears into tiny pieces, each rip rattling through my body. I feel i cannot breathe, like this cannot be happening, like my dream -or illusion rather- cannot be being shattered this very moment.
the shock turns to a sorrowful ache, which turns to hysteria then quickly into anger. An anger so searing hot you can feel its flames when i shout: “You ungrateful, spoilt brat”
i clench the rose in my knuckles, feeling the plants' life drain and its stem get thinner beneath my grip; the process not satisfying enough. i need to break something apart the way she broke me.
I thunder out the house and down the haul, time speeding up as i end up outside and on the edge of the pavement, holding out the rose with the intention of watching it be flattened, destroyed. Tears obscure my vision as my adrenaline drops all of a sudden, my hands falling limp to the side and a wave of sadness washing over and drowning my body. my mind is spiralling, grappling for something to grab hold of: something other than the thought of /her/
the world is slipping away, the sky becoming more and more distant. i almost collapse on the street, feeling so dizzy - everything seems to be blurring and blending into each other: becoming a black void im wandering around in. and even as my head lurches, there's only one clear image in my mind: her disgusted features, screaming over and over again, each time the sentence worse than the last until im on the side of the street sobbing, convulsing, thrashing about as though im possessed. Yet, through it all i hold the rose gently, cradling it close to my heart, carefully stroking its delicate petals, whispering to it words of consolation i wish were being told to me.
something about this rose feels magical, almost like it's communicating to me, its voice a soft song of chirps sweet enough to slowly glue the wandering pieces of my heart together.
I take deep breaths, inhaling in the glorious smell of the rose, repeating this pattern until i slowly become sane and in control. I push away all thoughts of her and her rejection, all feelings of sadness and heartbreak and focus on the mesmerising emotion that connects me and the rose, my eyes and mind currently only seeing one thing: the rose and its awe-inspiring beauty. Im filled with a sense of purpose as i decide this rose will be my new constant companion, my silent comfort, worth to me more than any spoilt lady ever could be. What she bemused a worthless next to jewels will become my diamond, and i'll do whatever it takes to protect it.

—

A comforting smile settles upon my lips as i observe Jude conversing with the red rose. /my/ red rose. Despite it not fulfilling its original purpose for wooing a girl, it brought to the world the love that i was willing to sacrifice my life for, the love which initially shook my heart, stole my mind and kissed my soul. My chest swells with pride and joy as did the red rose, and i know he feels its connection to me as a small smirk brings colour to his face.

1022 words

Daily #10:
“Daily:
Have you ever listened to or read about fairytales or folklore? In most cases, many of these stories have wholesome endings, such as Cinderella ultimately finding happiness after escaping her evil stepmother. But what if we change that? Today, you'll be retelling a fairytale with a plot twist of your own - perhaps instead of finding a lover, Cinderella finds happiness in taking revenge on her stepmother! Write 500 words for 450 points, and earn an additional 250 points for sharing proof.

also… is everyone excited for cabin wars tomorrow ;D”


Little red riding hood was okay. but she felt bad for the wolf. then that was when she realized how blocky the world was. and that her basket was a sack, with bread in it. she gave the wolf a bone, and it became a dog. that was when little red riding hood and her grandma realized they were in Minecraft.
Her grandma pulled out an Anvil and a name tag and Named the dog Harry.
then, another wolf came!
they gave her many bones, because it wouldn’t be tamed. but then, she fell in love with Harry! they had a puppy. they named Harry’s wife Gabriella, And their Puppy Leo! The grandma and little red riding hood built a doghouse for Harry and the other dogs.
but then, a villager came in! then a cat spawned!
they tamed the calico cat and named her Coco.
But they weren’t so friendly with the villager.
Grandma threw a splash potion of poison at him. the villager was red for a second and made a grunting noise. Little red riding hood was amazed. also, her grandma renamed her Abigal so she could teleport to her when she was lost.
Then, the door broke down!
“Gee, grandma, we need an iron door so people stop getting in.” It was a zombie! Grandma hit it with an apple. ‘Abigal’ shut the zombie in the toilet. that killed it!
“Yay!!! we killed it, grandma!”
“Yep, we did.” then, they had a picnic and ate bread and carrots. Then they picked wheat.
“grandma, what game mode are we in?”
“Huh, i dunno. i think creative.”
“then why did we kill that zombie if it wasn’t gonna hurt us?”
“Because i like killing them.” Grandma told her.
“And why is your name floating over your head?”
“Because that’s how minecraft works.”
“okay.” Little red riding hood was bored, so she decided to grab a sword and kill some villagers.
so then she wrote a book. then, she changed the mode to survival. she found a cave!
but… the zombies tried to kill her. but she was prepared. she had her grandma there, and they both had slime blocks. ‘Abigal’ Got them out and jumped. her grandma got them, too, and then ‘Abigal’ jumped and landed safely, then changed the game mode back to creative. then, she was reunited with Harry, Leo, and Gabriella. then, she gave him a bone. but he was in love again. but she didn’t feed anyone else this time.
she read harry her book, and Coco slept on her feet at night.
“wait, do i have parents?” said little red riding hood.
“huh, never thought about that. maybe they’re not alive.”
“true.” Little red riding hood walked around town, killing villagers with a sword.
She hugged harry, and left him at home so he didn’t get hurt. Leo was all grown up by now! except her hug wasn’t really a hug, she just right-clicked him.
then, she went to sleep, and coco slept again.
and i guess that that’s the end now.

DAILY!!!! 07/10/26

“That wolf was really nice!” Little Red Riding Hood chirped, picking up a radiant wildflower from the grass. “Mother's silly. Talking to strangers really pays off! Ooh, this flower's really pretty…”
After a half an hour of picking flowers, Little Red Riding Hood stood up, stuffed her flowers in her picnic basket, and skipped deeper into the forest.

Tap tap tap tap. “Grammy! I'm here! I brought some treats for you!”
“Oh, c-come in, sweetie! The door's open! Don't mind my voice, I'm feeling rather sick today!” She hears from the other side.
Little Red Riding Hood swung open the door and ran to her grandma's room, revealing her grandma wrapped in her covers, looking rather hairy than usual for some reason.
“Oh, Grammy, I haven't seen you in so long!” She gushed, bouncing over to her grandma's bed. “It's been years!”
“Y-Yes, it really has!” her grandma agreed, shoving something that looked like a tail deeper in the sheets.
Little Red Riding Hood examined her grandma, noticing how her clothes didn't fit her properly and how her glasses were too small for her.
“What big eyes you have, Grammy,” she noticed, handing her grandma one of the treats she brought for her. “How do you need glasses?”
“O-Oh, you know, my honey bun, uh…. I'm farsighted, you know. I can barely see things close up for some reason. It's a shame.”
Little Red Riding Hood fidgeted with her little, red hood. “What big ears you have, Grammy. You must hear very well.”
“Yes, my dear! My hearing's almost perfect!” Her grandma beamed at her.
“Wow, Grammy! What big teeth you have!”
A wicked gleam formed in her grandma's eyes. “Yes, darling.” Her grandma's voice dropped to a deep, low rumble. “It's perfect to eat little girls with.”
Little Red Riding Hood's eyes widened as she saw her “grandma” slip out of bed and shed her disguise, exposing the wolf she talked to hours ago.
“I think it's time for you to join your grandma,” the wolf boomed, reaching out to grab Little Red Riding Hood.
She screamed and jumped out of the way of the wolf's paws, scrambling out of the room.
“You can run but you can't hide, little girl,” she heard the wolf growl, his footsteps echoing in her ears.
She rushed into the kitchen, immediately regretting coming in there out of all places.
“Oh, you naive, foolish girl,” the wolf hissed, slowly stomping into the kitchen. “You must know that you never should talk to strangers.”
Little Red Riding Hood mentally yelled at herself for calling her mother silly.
“At least you'll have your Grammy to keep you company in my stomach. Good night, young girl.” The wolf was inches away from Little Red Riding Hood, opening his mouth to prepare for eating her whole.
Just as Little Red Riding Hood was about to give up on life, she noticed the stove behind her and got an idea.
"You know you'll be super slow if you eat two people whole,“ she taunted. ”And then you'll be just a slow blob of fur.“
”Excuse me?!? Are you forgetting that I'm about to eat you alive?!?“
Little Red Riding Hood stuck her tongue out at the wolf.
Enraged, the wolf pounced on Little Red Riding Hood, opening his mouth impossibly wide.
At the last moment, Little Red Riding Hood turned on the stove on the highest setting and moved out of the way, making the wolf fall on the hot stove.
”Grammy! Get out of the wolf's stomach!“ she yelped, opening the wolf's mouth wide.
She saw her grandma's arm reaching out of the wolf's mouth and pulled her out just in time.
”Grammy!“ Little Red Riding Hood exclaimed while hugging her grandma, not caring that she was covered in spit. ”Can we have fried wolf for dinner?"

cough….this sucked but the end
word count: 640 !!

⪻ critiquitaire with @lovegoodlady ♪ 7/10/2026 ⪼

back to directory

ok, first to start, i’m going to give my general thoughts + overview about each poem <3

poem 1:
i think this poem talks about loving someone but being unsure of it (?) ajsdhkaj i’m not very sure so my interpretations are probably wrong </3 but on the bright side, i do enjoy this poem being very open to any interpretations! it makes the poem more interesting! ^^

for the spaces, i think it’ll be cool if “at my heels” and “on my feet” are the same length from the beginning (equal amount of “ “)! they rhyme and i think having them centered the same way to put emphasize on the “ee” sound.

“ another matter. How long does it take to learn”

perhaps this can be broken up into 2 lines to prevent clutter of words? i think it would be better if the poem only has 1 line made up of 3 phrases to draw emphasis on those, eg.,

“on my feet couldn't see had to watch”

having another line made of 3 phrases can dilute the importance of the line.

poem 2:
this one is probably my favorite ahsja <3 i presume its talking about throwing a corpse down a very very deep hole? i think it’ll be cool if the person throwing the dead actually murdered the person and is trying to cover up their crime perhaps? :0

if you want another way to format this, you could try doing something like a vertical lines that gradually become longer as you go down:
yap
yap
yapp
yappp
yapppppppp
so it mimics something falling into a hole!

poem 3:
ooo wait, what if the person that’s dying here is the one being dropped down a hole? perhaps the first poem could also be related to the whole story so each poem is a puzzle piece of a whole plotline! :0

. couldn't reach

one hand

i think it’ll be more interesting if you changed the spacing so the phrase “couldn’t reach” isn’t close to “one hand,” further emphasizing the helplessness of the person perhaps? :eyes: i don’t really have much to say on this one since i think it describes (really well) the agony and pain someone experiences while dying.

i think these poems could be entered for the writing competition, but i also believe that it’ll be better to revise it slightly before entering, such as connecting all the pieces together to form a story so it’ll be more immersive + perhaps even adding more to the poems such as describing why the person wanted to throw the dead down the hole? of course, i do also like the vague aspects of the pieces so this is all up to your discretion! ^^

449 words

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

◪ Noͦ 10
Wordcount: 507/500
Topic: Disney Ending Rewrite
Points: 450+250 for proof
Cabin: Dystopian-Xenofi love child

A Disney story retell, you say?

Well well well, Mulan is on the way for this one >

Imagine, instead of Shang coming to Mulans house, it is actually Mulan coming to court Shang because he is just such a big coward </3 We all know he is NOT a girl boss and seeing how he was extremely awkward during the award ceremony, I am surprised he even REALISED that he was supposed to go and ask for Mulan's hand in the first place.

But Mulan, though? I could have one hundred percent seen that coming. My queen doesn't let anybody stop her and she probably would have marched all the way up to his fancy general house and knocked on his door angrily, asking why he ghosted her texts </3

Shang sat sadly on his veranda, gazing at the helmet in his hands. If only he wasn't such a big idiot unsure of whether he was straight or not, maybe he would be able to see Ping in a normal light. BECAUSE HE STILL CALLS HER PING UNTIL THE SECOND MOVIE I SWEAR HE DOES </3 that closet was GLASS and I know the only reason he was so betrayed to find out that Mulan was a girl was because he finally realised he was falling in love with a man before realizing it was a WOMAN ALL ALONG NOOOO

Shang snapped his head up at the sound of angry banging at the door, opening the gates meekly to see the love of his life standing in front of him, steam fuming out of his ears. Wait, it was a her! Remember shang, he's a girl now

“How could you not reply to my letters?!”

“I swear they're unread-”

“DO NOT LIE TO ME I SAW THE BROKEN SEAL! WE'RE OVER!”

And THEN Shang goes to her house to apologize and ask for her hand, because he didn't even KNOW they were together, for a matter of fact </3 some times his cluelessness really does astound Pme, I fear.

But no, Mulan does not immediately accept him like in the movie! For this time, instead of her crying to her dad because she was asking for forgiveness, she was actually ranting to her dad about how Shang is and why she won't ever trust him again. Her dad does not know what to say as he clearly fits into the category of people she hates, but he keeps silent and lets his daughter do all the talking since she was the one who got the national award as well as the medal from the emperor's neck and saved the entire country from doom and despair so he didn't really have a say in what she wanted about as she was currently the man of the house <3

Only once Shang begs on his knees and holds his helmet up for a sacrifice does she narrow her eyes and decide whether or not to give him the peace he deserves. As she should, btw, glorious queen.

Daily 10:

Have you ever listened to or read about fairytales or folklore? In most cases, many of these stories have wholesome endings, such as Cinderella ultimately finding happiness after escaping her evil stepmother. But what if we change that? Today, you'll be retelling a fairytale with a plot twist of your own - perhaps instead of finding a lover, Cinderella finds happiness in taking revenge on her stepmother! Write 500 words for 450 points, and earn an additional 250 points for sharing proof.

“A new royal princess is born, big christening ceremony, with many fairies!” Read the newpaper’s headline.
“A royal christening ceremony?!?! And I wasn’t invited?! They all I’m a fairy too!” Mal screamed, crumpling the paper in her hands “They never invite me to anything. Who cares if I’ve cursed the entire kingdom three times over? Hayley and Rose have done that too! Well, they only cursed the kingdom once each… BUT STILL! I never get invited to anything! I bet the postmen always delivers they’re papers, and never trembles in fear.” She grumbled. “I have to do something to get that darn king and queen back. Hmm… I could curse them. Nah… I’ve already done that. I could curse their baby… Nah, I need something more creative… I’ve cursed people loads of times! I need to think of something good… Ah-hah! I know…”
Mal gathered ingredients. A few of the queens best pearls, some roses from the royal garden, Hayley’s toothbrush… She didn’t really need them to be from the royals, or Hayley, but she was rather mad at them, so she thought she might as well steal some of their things.
She got out her best cauldron, and boiled some water. She threw in the pearls, roses, and Hayley’s toothbrush. Then, Mal plucked a few strands of her hair, and added them to the potion. A pinch of rosemary, a dash of ginger, a hint of nutmeg, a touch of pepper, a sprinkle of sugar.
She muttered as she worked, stirring the cauldron. Finally, she was done. She cackled, this was such a great plan, and now, she had created what she needed.
A baby.
Mal picked up the baby, swaddled it, and put it in the crib she gotten. Then, she began to write up invitations. For her new child’s christening.
She couldn’t help but chuckle evilly as she wrote up invitations, and did not write one for the king and queen. Instead, she wrote the very opposite.
This is what she wrote for them:

Dear king and queen
You are humbly NOT invited to my brand new child’s christening. If you come, you won’t get anything at all. Because no one wants you here, because you stink.

Cordially (NOT!),
Maleficent

PS. My daughter is better than yours.

She smiled proudly at her work, and then, just as she was about grab envelopes for the invites (and not invites), she realized something.
Her new daughter needed a name!
She stared down at the tiny baby, who was now sleeping. “Hmm… I’ll name you… Jamie.” That’ll do. She thought, as she added that to the invites, and put them in the mail.

A few days later, the king and queen received the not-invite. They were not impressed. They also did not feel as annoyed as intended. They mostly just rolled their eyes.

Anyway, a week later, the party happened. The fairies arrived, and so did the postman (he’d been invited too). “Since when did you have a child?” Questioned Hayley. “Oh, I conjured her the other day. I used your toothbrush” Mal said, smugly. “Ugh! Ew!” Hayley made a disgusted face and flounced off. “You know, for it to be a christening party, you have a to, like, actually have a christening” Rose said.
“Oh, shut up Rose. You don’t even have a child” Mal said
“You’re just having a “Christening” party so you can not invite the royal family, ‘cause you’re annoyed they didn’t invite you.”
“Oh, what you know?” Mal said, feeling very very annoyed
“Oh whatever. Get over it” Rose said, walking off. Mal huffed angrily.
“Umm…” She heard someone behind her. “What is it?!” She snapped. “Ah! Sorry! I just wanted to say your baby is cute! Please don’t hurt me!” said the postman, cowering. “Oh. Thanks.” Mal smiled pleasantly as the postman ran off. Maybe I should invite him to parties more often. She thought.
So, it didn’t exactly work out as intended, as the king and queen didn’t really care about the invite. But Mal enjoyed her child, so it all turned out alright.
And, many many years later, Mal did get her revenge, and she got to be invited to a party.
She happily sat in the front row, watching as her daughter and the princess got married, deeply enjoying how annoyed the king and queen looked, several rows over, as their daughter married the daughter of the fairy they greatly disliked.


740 words

10.07.26 ★ twisted fairytale
931/500 words

it couldn't have been any later than 5am when cinderella woke to the piercing yells of lady tremaine, her wicked step-mother. although it was still the early morning, she had already found something to throw a fit about.

“cinderella! get up!”, the lady shouted, and, distantly, cinderella heard a harsh grating sound come from behind her. gosh. that couldn't be any good. the young woman sat up warily, rubbing her eyes, her back aching from being curled up on the cold, stone floor.

“yes, step-mother, what is it?” cinderella asked as she got up quickly and smoothed out her rags. there was no reply, though, because she quickly laid eyes on the dreadful scene cerise her.

cinderella gasped and covered her mouth instantly, at a feeble attempt to smother her laughter, because there, before her, was lady tremaine, rich noblewoman and mother of two girls, perching on top of a gigantic wooden armchair in the most unladylike manner, rubbing some sort of paste over her feet, face scrunched with concentration.

cinderella had never seen her step-mother do anything that required effort in her nearly two decades of living, and, luckily enough, lady tremaine didn’t care to stop her task and look up, for cinderella couldn’t help but giggle from her surprise.

“come rub this into my feet,” snapped the step-mother, "you’ve already made me wait long enough. this is far too tiring for a lady like me. did you know that i had to drag this chair here by myself? if i have to do something like that again, it’s no new clothes for you for a year.“

obediently, cinderella scurried to smooth out and rub the foot cream in, smirk dropping instantly. she wasn’t sure what was worse, the bumpy, sticky texture of the cream that left her hands itching, or the putrid smell of her step-mother’s knobbly feet, hideously covered in blisters and blemishes. what even was in this?

”hurry, cinderella, for this cream is a special concoction that drizella bought down in the village. it eats away at your skin and removes it, so you must make sure that it doesn’t do so to your hands, as i have a long list of chores you need to do for me, because today is a big day."

as if on cue, drizella stomped down the stairs that instant, arms crossed. “mother! you said i would be able to use the foot cream first! i bought it, after all!“

lady tremaine scoffed. ”drizella, dearest, as if your feet need to be getting any smaller."

smaller? smaller for what? cinderella wondered, but she didn’t have enough time to voice her question when a sharp rapping came from the door.

“oh my,” lady tremaine exclaimed, “he’s here! cinderella, get in the cellar!”

cinderella barely had time to wash the cream off f her hands when drizella pushed her down the steps to the dark cellar. she was about to slam the trapdoor shut when anastasia ran downstairs in a normal fit, and cinderella gently closed it, making sure that it wouldn’t lock, for the guest that they had seemed very important, and she had no idea how long she’d be there.

soon, the mysterious guest was let into the house, and, somewhere above her, cinderella heard anastasia whisper to drizella, "oh, he looks so charming. just like his name."

just like his name? thought cinderella. no. it couldn’t be…. but it was. it definitely was. it was prince charming. her prince charming. she peeked through a gap in the trapdoor, and there he was, with her shoe. yes. that self-conceited man had taken her shoe. and now he was passing it around the village, and her step-mother was trying it on.

unable to hold it any longer, cinderella burst out of the cellar.

“that glass slipper belongs to me!” she exclaimed, “it’s me. i’m the one you’re looking for!”

lady tremaine glared at cinderella, and drizella turned to the prince, smiling nervously. “that’s just one of our, uh, maids,”, she explained, “she gets confused easily, you see. not very bright.”

the prince nodded in understanding, and turned to cinderella, smiling patronisingly. “in this kingdom, we treat everyone fairly. so go on,” he said, with a tone that you would use on a child, “you can try on the glass slipper.”

cinderella looked down at what once was the prettiest glass, now covered in that disgusting cream.

“oh, um.. maybe not. yes, i don’t think that i’m the girl you seek after all,” mumbled cinderella, wrinkling her nose. now that it was the day and she could see properly, prince charming wasn’t really the man she had thought he was.

the prince frowned, and seemed to be in despair. “i’ve searched the whole kingdom, and have gotten not one match. your family is the last one left.” his gaze strayed to lady tremaine and the two daughters. “though… i suppose… your feet fit the most.”

“yes, i find that the case too,” blurted cinderella, pushing the three women towards the prince. “they would love to go stay in the castle and help you forgive things out,” she added brightly, and the prince had barely even nodded before one more shove got them out the front door.

“i can take care of the house in the meanwhile,” said cinderella happily, and, with great satisfaction, she slammed the great oak door on them.

finally. after so, so long.

cinderella took the glass slipper that she had snuck into her pocket out and smiled. this was worth a fortune. together, the glass slipper and the house would be enough money to enable her to get out of this kingdom, and go do whatever the heck she wanted to.

Fairy Tale Retelling || Daily 10 || 927 words

Listen:
There was a woman and her daughter, and they lived in a little cottage. The woman spun and spun, but the daughter never did anything but lie around and look at the flowers, she was that useless.
“Ooh, she’s a pretty lass enough,” the woman would lament to her sympathetic neighbors. “But she won’t work and she won’t spin, and does a young farmer want a wife who wants nothing but to lie around in the flowers all day? No!”
Then all the women would cluck their tongue and shake their heads and spin their thread. Whir… whir… whir.
The truth was, the lass had seen her own face in the well one too many times, and she had seen the face of her mother every day. “And am I to waste my beauty, spinning and bearing children?” she asked herself. “Would that I were far away from here, and lived in a castle!” For it was her especial horror, that she would wake up one day to find her fair face as lined and worn as her mother’s, and her hands as red and raw. In her heart, she believed that fate was too cruel for one so beautiful as she, and so she lazed about and played with flowers — and did absolutely nothing to lighten the lines of care pressing deeper every day into her mother’s forehead.
One day the woman baked five pies, but when she took them out of the oven they were that hard and couldn’t be eaten. “Well, I’ll put them on the windowsill to come again,” she said, and that was what she did. Then she returned to her spinning.
“If they’ll come again, they may as well be eaten now,” her daughter said to herself once her mother had left. So she set to it, and ate them up first to last. (It may be noted from this incredible feat of appetite and endurance that the spinner’s daughter was quite fond of a good bite to eat, which was perhaps another motive for her mother trying to foist her off onto a nice husband who would feed her instead.)
Then she went and sat in the corner and played with her flowers, weaving them into crowns and imagining what a crown of real gold and silver would look like on her fair curls.
“Well, go and see if the pies have come again,” the woman said after a while, and the girl looked at the empty, crumb-strewn windowsill.
“Nooo, they ain’t come again,” she said, and went back to her flowers.
Whir, whir, whir went the spinning wheel, and eventually the woman spoke up again.
“Well, surely they’re come again by now. Go and see.”
“Nooo, they ain’t come again,” her daughter replied.
Another silence passed, filled only by the hum of the spinning wheel.
“Surely,” the woman said at last, “they are come again now?”
“Nooo, they ain’t come again,” the girl said, settling a flower wreath on her head.
“Well, come again or not come again, we’ll have to eat them up,” the woman said impatiently, rising and entering the room. And what should await her but all the pies gone!
She knew what had happened, and after a pained sigh, she went back to her spinning wheel. But as she spun she sang, and these were the charming lyrics to her little tune:
“My daughter ha’ ate five, five pies today… my daughter ha’ ate five, five pies today…”
Now, the woman liked to spin near the window, and this being medieval times there was not, of course, any glass in said window. It is also worth noting that their cottage was right next to the road, which the woman liked just fine. It meant she could keep tabs on everyone coming and going in the village without ever rising from her seat.
And who should conveniently happen to pass by on this fine afternoon than the young king? Why, exactly, he was travelling through this tiny and unimportant village in the middle of nowhere is a complete mystery, sometimes known as “because the plot said so.”
In any case, he rode down this road, and as he rode he heard the woman’s cracked and tuneless voice singing her little song.
“My daughter ha’ ate five, five pies today…”
“Excuse me, madam,” he said politely, slowing his horse. “But what are the words to that song you’re singing? I couldn’t quite catch them.”
The woman stopped, gasping. Oh, horrors! Of all the days for the king to pass by… To tell him the lyrics to her song would certainly bring shame on her daughter, for what well-bred maiden would sit down and gobble up five entire pies in one sitting?
Nonetheless, the woman had been brought up to be very truthful by her own mother, who used to tell her the bears in the woods would come and eat her if she ever told a falsehood (a tried and true parenting method, although side effects may include a lifelong fear of the deep dark forest).
“I was only saying, Sire, that my daughter ha’ ate five, five pies today…”
The king gave a hearty laugh. “What, without bursting? Your daughter must have a mighty stomach, indeed. Well, thank you kindly for bringing me this merriment, good woman.”
And then he was gone, trotting down the dusty road.
And somewhere in the deep dark woods, THAT’S tail drooped even as it spun, and THAT gave a disappointed sigh.
“Now I’ve got to go find another victim…”

daily 10

Gretel was used to living in the shadow.

Being the second child of her family—she was often pushed aside in favor of her older brother, Hansel. Her whole family was a line of seamstresses and shoemakers.

Her brother had quick hands—he was able to make shoes just as fast as an experienced carpenter like her father. Meanwhile, Gretel’s stitches were messy at best, and even a single piece of clothing took her ages to create.

It was no wonder her parents loved her brother more! That they scolded her and mocked her in comparison to Hansel, they’re twins and yet the two were drastically different!

Feelings of envy and a deep-rooted inferiority welled up inside the girl over the years—whether she realized it or not—those feelings became directed at her brother.

Why was he so perfect? Why was he better than her in every way that counted?

Gretel couldn’t let these feelings boil over—she loved her brother dearly despite the envy—as he was perfect as a brother, of course he was. She didn’t want to let this pent up anger lead to her hurting him.

A raging desire to prove herself burned in her chest.

“Big brother, let’s go to the forest…” Gretel murmured whilst their parents were out working. “It’ll be fun, we can wander and explore!”

Hansel stood up, “If you really want to, we can, but how will we get home? If we get lost, it would be bad…”

“Let’s use breadcrumbs from today’s supper! There will be plenty to go around and we certainly won’t run out!”

Hansel hesitated, “I don’t know…what if—“

“Please trust me dear brother! I swear, up and down, that we won’t get lost at all!”

Gretel knew Hansel’s one weakness—his caring nature. Gretel knew that if she pleaded and beckoned him enough, he would be willing to do anything for her.

“…Alright Gretel. Let’s go now before our parents come back.”


Gretel devised this trip for one reason—to try to find something, anything she could surpass Hansel at.

But it was impossibly difficult! Hansel could climb trees far better than she could to pick fruit, could spot the best flowers in a patch, and was even able to run the fastest. Gretel realized she was outclassed. But, stubbornly, she moved forward.

They went further.

Further.

And further.

Hansel worried, “Gretel, let’s go home now. It’s getting late, and our parents will get home soon…”

Gretel stubbornly wanted to continue forward, but she relented. She figured this was proof she had a greater amount of bravery compared to her brother. She turned around—but the breadcrumbs were gone.

Birds had come along and had eaten the trail.


Gretel cried and her brother consoled her, making her previous victory feel void. They attempted to retrace their steps to no avail. Hansel didn’t yell or blame Gretel, but Gretel couldn’t help but do that herself. The wallowing inferiority continued brewing in her stomach.

Suddenly, Hansel stopped. “Gretel, do you smell that?”

Gretel looked up and took a sniff, “It smells sweet…like when cookies come out of the oven.”

They followed the smell and were met with a large gingerbread house—creamy brown covered the walls with white frosting, and candy decorated the house. Gretel cried out, “Look Hansel! It’s a house made of candy!”

The two, having not eaten lunch, were now made painfully aware of their empty stomachs. Greedily, they began eating.


Just a few moments later, an old woman emerged from the house. She talked to the two kids, “Come in, won’t you? It’s nice and warm, and I can cook you a nice meal…”

The two were ecstatic at the offer and quickly accepted.


Gretel's hands shook as she placed the food in the oven.

The woman was no saint—but rather a wicked witch. The moment the kids let their guard down, she pushed Hansel into a cage and locked the door. Gretel cried out, but the witch demanded she cook meals for her brother. Terrified to say no, she did what she was told.

As time went on, the witch decided that Hansel was fit to be eaten now. She pushed the boy into the fire, and Gretel listened to the boy’s agonizing cries. Gretel stared at the furnace wide eyes, she couldn’t bear to look away.

Seeing the witch’s back was turned, Gretel turned away and ran out of the house. The image of her brother’s fiery demise was ingrained in her head.

She kept running and running, and prayed she’d find the end.

She couldn’t help but feel surging feelings of superiority for a brief moment—she was the one who survived, she lived longer than her brother—surely that meant she was finally superior? These feelings were accompanied by quiet guilt.

Her brother was the superior one here. It couldn’t be okay that she survived instead of him.

He was the one who deserved to live.

And her parents—they’d be enraged if they found out their wonder boy passed away instead of their disappointment of a daughter.

Gretel found a sharp rock and cut her hair to be as short as Hansel’s.

No one would be able to tell the difference, they were twins after all.


When she emerged from the forest, she told everyone she was the one who died that day.

882 words

7/10 - 1,022 words

Little Red Riding Hood had always made a habit of walking through the woods to visit her grandmother. Pastry-filled basket in hand she would take her time, strolling beside the tall trees and lush bushes, grinning as she made her way across ground covered in mottled sun. The pure, unadulterated feeling of rightness that filled her when she padded through the undergrowth compared to nothing else in her life. Even her happiness upon seeing her grandmother never matched the feeling she got in the forest. The woods felt like home, more than any human-made house ever could.
Today was one of those days. Red had gotten up as the sun rose, donning her signature cloak and running downstairs to collect the basket filled with pastries her mother had prepared the day before. Mum had wanted her to go to her grandmother's house yesterday, but Red had developed a plan. If she left early enough, before either of her parents woke, she could leave the house without her shoes and finally feel the grass between her toes. It was something she'd been forbidden from all her life. She grabbed a piece of paper and penned a note for her parents so the wouldn't worry and put it on the table where the basket had been.
“I went to Grandmother's early so I could spend all day with her. – Little Red”
Eagerly, Red walked past her small shoes and out the door, past the patio and the cobblestone path, into the woods. The feeling she got when her toes met the soft grass and dirt was unmistakably right. How could she have spent all her life keeping her feet trapped in shiny black boxes? How could anyone else? It was unbeatable, the feeling of grass tickling your toes and dirt dusting the soles of your feet. She pranced through the forest, grinning at her wildness. She was just like the animals in the woods, paws connecting with the forest floor, with the floor of the world.
Red's mood maintained its joyous stride as her journey continued throughout her happy place. She was more connected with the woods than she had ever been. She could feel the ground under her feet! She could feel the plants and pebbles she so adored! The grin she held was grin all her own, the corners of her eyes crinkled and her teeth bared.
The walk was made all the faster by her happiness and soon she could see where the trees parted to give way to her grandmother's home. Sadness filled her as it always did when her walk through the woods came to a close. She knew that she would come back later, she always did, but a small part of her wanted to stay among the trees forever. It was a foolish hope, one she always kept tight to her chest. Humans lived in houses so she had to live in a house. Wrapped up in her outrageous dream and the sadness of its unachievably, Red didn't notice the wolf until it huffed. Startled by the sudden noise, she looked up. The wolf was large, larger than any she had ever seen, and had shaggy gray fur and sharp teeth. She looked at it. It looked at her. Red waved. Wait, had it wagged it's tail back? Curiously, she took a tiny step closer and waved again. She was right! She watched as its tail mimicked the wag she'd made with her hand. She bared her teeth at it. It did the same. Slowly, she approached the wolf, crouching down so she was its same height. She put her hands on the ground to steady herself. It cocked its head at her and she mimicked. Just as slow as she, the wolf approached her and opened its mouth, gnawing at her nose softly. Red knew instinctually that the bite was a gesture of affection. She grinned and the wolf bared its teeth again, she giggled a little at the gesture. The wolf barked at her quietly and her smile grew, she was sure that it liked her. It wandered over to her basket, sniffing at it, and all of a sudden her world came crashing down.
“I have to go. I need to deliver those to my grandmother.”
The wolf looked at her then looked at the house in the distance.
“Yes, she lives there.”
The wolf gave a huff of disgust.
“I know. Human houses are awful. I wish I could stay here with you.”
The wolf gave a yip of affirmation and plopped down into a sit, seemingly upset by this situation as well. Then, after a moment what what Red thought was contemplation, it stood, grabbed her basket, and began to trot away.
"Hey, wait! I need that!' she exclaimed.
The wolf continued, unperturbed by her yelping and walked up to her grandmother's house. Red watched as it padded towards the front door, placed the basket down, and trotted back towards her, its teeth bared. It wagged its tail and trotted towards the woods, came back to her, then repeated the sequence. It wanted her to follow it, to join her in a life in the wild. Somewhere in her gut she could tell from its body language that they were a pack now, or, it wanted her and it to be a pack. And, god, how she wanted that too. But she was a human, she had to be. It huffed at her, trying to encourage her to make a decision. She knew that just as she'd known all its other intentions, she felt as certain of it as she did of the rightness of her bare feet in the dirt and her belongingness in these woods.
Her mother had always told her wolves were dangerous, that they hated humans. But this one didn't hate her. She stood up and took a step forward, and it felt even more right than her walks in the woods. And so she kept walking, into the wilderness where she knew she'd spend the rest of her days. Little Red the wolf.

Due to a lack of motivation as well as general indecisiveness, I’m just gonna summarize a few ideas I brainstormed for this daily (some of them built on ideas I’ve had in the past) instead of actually trying to do a narrative story—

“The Three Little Pigs”
In this version, the surviving pig and the wolf get into a technological arms race, with one trying to invent ever-stronger building materials and the other, even more powerful methods of destruction. They continue on like this until they’ve basically created an unstoppable-force-meets-immovable-object scenario and begin to wonder about their life choices.

“The Ugly Duckling”
Rather than turning out to be a swan, the “duckling” is actually a goose and they go on to be the protagonist of the Untitled Goose Game. Does anything else really need to be said? I didn’t think so.

“The Boy Who Cried Wolf”
Instead of calling “wolf” in order to summon the people of his village, the boy is calling out to the wolf, who’s actually very friendly and protects the boy from the people who are mean to him. Considering this story takes place in a time when talking to animals is probably seen as witchcraft, I’m not sure this one has a happy ending. Unless… we do the reverse of “Beauty and the Beast,” wherein upon finding out that his true love is the wolf, the boy turns into an awesome creature and goes to live in the woods for the rest of his life.

“The Little Mermaid”
She knew exactly what she intended to do when she became a human, and it had nothing to do with being in love. She tricked the prince into marrying her as part of her plan to infiltrate the royal family and take down the nation from the inside. Humans tend to treat the ocean pretty badly, and it was about time that the oceans started fighting back. From the mermaid’s perspective, giving up her tail and her life in the seas was a noble sacrifice, and she was happy to die once her work had been completed. Also, the witch who transformed her is actually more of an eldritch horror in this version of the story.

“Sleeping Beauty”
What if she wasn’t just sleeping, but actually dead? When the prince kissed her, he thought he saved her and lived happily ever after, but maybe he actually just got a taste of the poison as well, and the rest of the story is merely a hallucination he experienced as he was dying. In reality, the evil queen is instead killed when the magic mirror purposefully gives her bad advice so that it can be freed from its curse and pursue its true calling as a statistician. (Note: I really want to write this entire story from the mirror's POV now~)

“Red Riding Hood”
This one's simply realism. The wolf doesn't talk or disguise itself with the grandma's clothing in order to trick the girl, it just hunts and eats both of them because it's an apex predator and can do that if it wants to. Later, when the woodsman catches and cuts open the wolf, it's just a mess of blood and guts. You can't save people who have already been eaten by a wolf. Life doesn't work like that.

❥・10
Wordcount・410/500
Topic・Twisted fairytale
Points・450 (+250 for proof)
Cabin・Bi-fi

It had been about 10 years since Ariel had lost her father to Ursula. She hadn't able to get his staff back, and Ursula had ruled over the seas and nearby land ever since. Ariel and Eric her both imprisoned and tortured, Ariel having just enough water to keep her physically alive, with Eric being stuck in water that couldn't actually drown him, even though he felt like he was drowning for eternity without dying. They were tortured in public, as well. Ariel was placed directly in front of the palace with her father planted in the ground directly next to her. Eric's suffering was shown in the town square. Both were there to show that their previously leaders were long gone, and that Ursula would reign for eternity similarly to how they'd be in pain for eternity. It seemed like they'd lost all hope of escaping the torture at this point, until one day a small girl showed up at each of their cages. The act of a small child didn't last very long, though. The girl immediately shifted into a mysterious cloaked woman who shattered the impossible to break glass cages into a million shards. Crying, Ariel had shaken the woman's hand with eternal thankfulness. Eric did the same after coughing up the water that's filled his lungs for an entire ten whole years for a few seconds. The woman then nodded and disappeared out of thin air. The townsfolk of their areas quickly rushed to the heirs of their kingdoms, making sure they were all right and asking them how that even happened. Eric and Ariel were even more confused at the fact nobody else had seen the cloaked figure and thought it was just a miracle. They both ran to the shore to see if the other had been released. The two locked eyes once in sight of each other. Eric cupped his soaking wet hands around his mouth, tears running down his cheeks as he ran to give her a hug. “Did the creepy old lady come save you too?” they said simultaneously. They laughed it off for a few seconds, then went back to being serious. “I didn't think we'd ever escape, y'know,” Ariel choked. “Ugh, this is embarrassing,” she laughed as she wiped a tear from her eye. “No, no,” Eric reassured her as her hugged her again. “What now?” Ariel asked hesitantly. Eric paused. “We defeat Ursula and take back our kingdom.”

Writing Dare: Write 300 words of dialogue but the characters can only ask questions (from Clev)
Combined with xeno-fi prompt: write about a search for something that you don't quite know the specifics of - a person, a place, a thing, or even something else entirely! it's up to you!

waiting for godot fanfic ehehe

Estragon: Where is it?
Vladimir: How the hell would I know?
Estragon: You seem to know everything — don’t you?
Vladimir: How the hell would I know everything?
Estragon: Well, how would I know that?
Vladimir: (groans, rolls his eyes) What are you even looking for?
Estragon: My— well, now that you mention it, I’m not quite sure… I told you what I was looking for, didn’t I?
Vladimir: Did you?
Estragon: Weren’t you helping me look?
Vladimir: Was I?
Estragon: The candle— it was the candle, wasn’t it?
Vladimir: What candle?
Estragon: Don’t you remember the candle?
Vladimir: (searches his memory, fingers pressed to his temples. Gives up.) What would you do with a candle, anyway?
Estragon: I was thinking we’d make a fire. With a fire we wouldn’t be this cold all the time. My feet wouldn’t hurt so if I could put them by a fire. It’d be nice, for a change. Wouldn’t it?
Vladimir: What would we light on fire?
Estragon: Would the tree catch alight?
Vladimir: Isn’t the tree dead already?
Estragon: Can’t dead trees still burn?
Vladimir: Forget it. How are you going to light the candle with no matches?
Estragon: Matches! That’s what I was looking for. (pause) Won’t you help me look?
Vladimir: (turns out his pockets) Do you even know how to light a match?
Estragon: (takes off his hat, peers inside) Would you teach me?
Vladimir: (rips off the bark of the tree, looks underneath) What’s there to teach?
Estragon: (lifts up a large rock, buckles under the weight of it as he attempts to check underneath, drops it on his foot with a yelp) It’s not hard?
Vladimir: (scoffs) Why are you looking at all?
Estragon: (stops searching, taken aback) What do you mean?
Vladimir: There’s nothing here, isn’t there?
Estragon: Nothing at all?
Vladimir: Well, do you see anything real?
Estragon: How am I supposed to know what’s real?
Vladimir: Don’t you have eyes?
Estragon: But if there was nothing, we wouldn’t be here, would we?
Vladimir: Are we here?
Estragon: What I mean to say is we’re not nothing… are we?
Vladimir: Are you certain?
Estragon: Can’t you feel the cold? The pain? Doesn’t that mean we exist?
Vladimir: (pauses, shakes his head in bewilderment. Turns out his pockets again. Gives up.) Was there even a candle in the first place?
Estragon: What candle?
Vladimir: Weren’t you just talking about a candle?
Estragon: Was I?
Vladimir: Am I losing my mind, or are you losing yours?
Estragon: Can’t it be both?
Vladimir: You were talking about a candle, don’t you remember?
Estragon: A candle. Did I lose it?
Vladimir: You must have. You were looking for it. How can’t you remember?
Estragon: Are you insinuating that I’m lying to you?
Vladimir: Aren’t you always lying to me?
Estragon: What would I lie about?
Vladimir: The matches. Were you lying about the matches?
Estragon: What matches?
Vladimir: Have you forgotten again?
Estragon: How should I know what I’ve forgotten?
Vladimir: We’ve been here before, haven’t we?
Estragon: What was it that I was looking for, again?
Vladimir: You’ve lost your candle before, haven’t you?
Estragon: Didn’t you say I’d lost the matches?
Vladimir: But you never had matches, did you?
Estragon: How should I know? (long pause) Won’t you hurry up and help me look?
Vladimir: Look for what?
Estragon: I’ve lost my lighter, haven’t I?

contribution to cabin wars collab story + 50 headed hydra

“Give that back,” guinetre screamed as the bird flew off with her face in its beak. However, she couldn’t really scream because she had no face to scream with and this meant she had no mouth. So instead a gurgling screech emitted from her lungs. G fell even faster and soon the bird was out of sight. She sobbed for the lack of her face even though she had no eyes and therefore no tears because now she was compely ugly and no onw would love her anymore. However that was something she could live with because there soeeemed to be no one else in this strange new world other than face eating birds and she wasn’t sure she would appreciate being loved by one of those. She began to thrash her limbs and managed to swim through the4 air rather than fall. Once she had gained control of her descent she sewam over to one of the walls of the pit she’d fallen into. It was made of a strange magical glittery substance, and when she poked it it burned her like a hot poker. Sehe tried to scream but once again remembered she had no face. It was rather inconveaint to have no face, so she decided now that sh ecould move properly in this strange place that seemed to lack gravity, she would chase down that bird and demand it give her face back. She set off on her search for the bird and her face but there appeared to be nothing and no one around, not even someone she could ask for directions. It took an hour for her to float around looking for someone, when she realised that actually there had been creatures here all along, she just hadn’t known where to look for them. Floating in front of her head that no longer had a face was a tiny speck of dust, which she couldn’t see because she had no eyes. Luckily she still had ears and she could hear the speck of dust speaking to her in a tiny little voice. She realised she needed to shrink down to its size to figure out what it was saying and ask it for directions or information for how to grow back a face. She looked around for something to help her shrink down to a smaller size.

Cabin wars writing dare
Words: 378

Inside the classroom, students huddled together at benches, each crowded around their group’s cauldron.
“Stir in two sprigs of mulberry,” the professor said, striding through the centre aisle and checking in with each group.
Caspian plopped the two sprigs into the green, bubbling solution and mixed it together with his spoon.
Just then, the potion exploded, leaving Caspian and his groupmates sopping wet and minorly burned. As they brushed green slop from their eyelashes, the professor rushed over.
“Stir, Caspain. I said stir! Not mix! Mixing is much too violent for a volatile plant such as mulberry.”
Caspian scratched the back of his head, glancing towards his groupmates as they glared back at him.
“Sorry guys,” he said.
“All over my new cardigan!” Stella screeched.
“And on the pages of my books,” Nico complained.
“I’ll buy you new ones,” Caspian said, wincing.
“Not yet, you won’t. You all need to go to the infirmary, and after that, to the principal’s office with you, Caspian!” the professor said.
“It wasn’t my fault the mulberry is volatile!” Caspian said.
“But you didn’t listen to my directions. Something that has become quite a theme this semester, young man.”
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“Infirmary. Go. These burns aren’t going to heal themselves.”
As Caspian and his groupmates retreated out the door, their teacher dropped his face to his palm and shook his head.
They arrived quickly at the stark white walls and beds of the infirmary and checked in with dirty looks to Caspian.
“Again?” the exasperated nurse asked.
“It’s never been mulberry before! This is a first,” Caspian interjected.
“Whatever. Each of you can take a seat on the bed and we’ll prepare the salve.”
“If only they had a salve to clean my clothes,” Stella said, sitting gingerly on the closest white bed.
Soon enough, the goop was wiped from their skin and the salve dissipated the burn immediately.
“You’re good to return to class, but I’d change into another uniform if I were you,” the doctor informed them, stepping back.
“Thank you sir,” Caspian said, already walking the opposite way of his class. “Best if I just don’t go back at all if you ask me.”
“Just stay out of trouble,” the doctor said, shooing them out of the infirmary.

Cabin Wars Writing Dare
7/10/2026
256 words

Charlie wrote:

Write a scene where each paragraph is written from a different character’s perspective than the last

The air was dry and salt tinged the ocean breeze as Stella weaved flowers into her braid. Rich purples seeped into the darkening sky, the last golden strands of the sun rippling on the waves. For once, she wasn't the one late to the sunset meetup: both Charlie and Winston were late. The faint smattering of a constellation in the sky told her that she should start getting worried soon. She fidgeted with the rubber band on her wrist and fastened the braid off. Her teeth worried at her bottom lip; it's not usual for Charlie to be late, especially on her birthday.

⠀⠀──── ∘◦ ✦ ◦∘ ────

Charlie checked her watch for–she lost count–the millionth time? Probably. The minute hand seemed to be defying the laws of time and moving to the beat of her heart instead. She groaned, switching the stuffed caddy she'd been carrying to her left arm to her right. With her free hand, she motioned forward frantically to a equally groaning Winston behind her. “Come on, Win! We're super duper late!”

⠀⠀──── ∘◦ ✦ ◦∘ ────

They're late. They're never late. And on Stella's birthday of all days. She's going to end both of them. Winston tried not to think too much about Stella's preferred torture methods. Radio silence from one of his closest friends? No thank you- He tried his best to keep the cake level while he trekked through the sand with Charlie spouting potential penances they'd have to pay. Surely the cake (and plentiful gifts!) would be enough to distract her from their 38 minute delay…

Hello again, Hopesband!

I daresay you are the speedy one of us two—as expected of my charming husband, always going above and beyond.
I will have you know that those three months are formative months, critical to building generational wisdom and experiencing the vicissitudes of life as a certain Captain might. I am, after all, 90-odd days your elder.
I’m doing my best to enjoy it! It’s a little hard when you’re taking the equivalent workload of 28 quarter credits in a five week session. But the show must go on, and I don’t back down from a challenge (much to my detriment, I must admit, but it’s alright. I got this.)
May to September break?? That’s like a semester system college’s break here. Definitely enjoy your time off!
Two years honestly isn’t that long of a time. Make them count! It’s perfectly alright that you don’t know what you want to study yet—that’s the whole point of the first year or so of college! Just sample around courses and see what sticks. Or you could be like me and pick a path on the first day (I would not recommend doing this. I would actually strongly advise against this.) Wait, the Brits decide before college? Is that for the purpose of your applications? Very interesting.
It’s honestly really cool that you’re a Chinese heritage speaker! My dad’s Chinese as well, but he never talks to us in Mandarin. Neither do my grandparents. I think they kind of gave up on us after we failed to absorb seven years of Chinese school… oops! I believe in your lock-in this summer! Perhaps you could teach me some Chinese, I’d love to learn the language!
That’s so odd! I guess verb conjugation is more of an Indo-European language thing. That sounds super cool, though. Very auraful.
I started studying Latin in 7th grade (Year 8 for you, my lovely husband) because the middle school (for nerds) that I went to had mandatory language courses starting from, like, 3rd grade for Mandarin and Spanish but 5th grade for Latin. It was pretty much because I had less content to catch up on, lol. Now that I’ve been taking it, though, I really enjoy it! It’s definitely affected how I look at English so that’s cool I think.
Unlike Chinese or most other languages, I think, Latin has no fixed word order! It’s very free with it. I might sprinkle in some Latin grammar with each letter. For now, I’ll talk about nouns! Every noun has a gender & a declension—this determines the ending of the noun, impacting its meaning in the sentence—genders are masculine, feminine, and neuter, while the declensions are numbered 1-5. Declensions 1 & 5 are predominantly feminine nouns, 2 is masculine and neuter, 3 can be any, and 4 is typically masculine and neuter (though it can be feminine sometimes, I think!). Genders are typically not that important except the neuter gender which changes some endings. Common nonbinary W.
For hyperpop, I like Clover! a lot, particularly his older songs. I’ll send a hyperpop playlist in Tarot sometime. Vylet’s album Love & Ponystep also constitutes hyperpop, I think, though it might be predominantly dubstep. For sapphic pop, I mostly listen to isobel & girli! I really like isobel’s Dear April and Laundry.
I’ve just finished listening to Alienation and In Rainbows! Alienation was a solid album that I quite enjoyed. My favorites were Apologies & Kill Me Fast from Alienation and All I Need & Videotape from In Rainbows. In Rainbows was a very trippy album, to say the least, in a good way! It was an exciting listen.
Definitely send me some of your favorite albums! Acquired taste albums are great <3
I’ll be sure to make a path down to the city! It’s honestly really easy to get lost in caves, even with Xaero’s, so I can’t blame you at all. I’ve had my fair share of mine-up-to-the-surface trips (more than I’d care to admit) so it’s totally understandable
I’ll work on Mending! I honestly might just resort to making a fishing pond in our little valley—solve the famine & enchanted book crisis in one fell swoop! Plus I just really like fishing.
For the City of Silver (and our little steampunk city in general) I think I’d need wood, predominantly spruce & dark oak. Deepslate, too, but we can like mine out a chunk together or something. No need to make you do that alone.
I’ll definitely check out Our Wives Under the Sea! Nothing beats a good mix of yuri and ocean creatures and horror.
You want GL? I have GL! A whole lot of it. For manga, my absolute favourites are The Summer You Were There, Can’t Defy the Lonely Girl, Soulmate, Tamen de Gushi, and Long-Awaited Feelings. If you’re looking for novels, I really liked She Gets the Girl and Legends & Lattes! They’re both pretty cozy books.
I am writing (trying to write) some yuri! I have three main ideas right now that are kind of just living in the back of my head. I’m not entirely sure when I’ll get them out. Someday, for sure, but not right now. 28 credits are like a wrecking ball to my leisure time. Unfortunate.
I’m very sorry about the interview questions. I’m beginning to think that I ask very personal and serious questions. Oops.
I do like poetry! I used to not be a huge fan of it, but Latin poetry and that poem I wrote about changed my view on it. I think it’s really impressive how much meaning poets can pack into such small passages—they’re like dense little meaning bombs. Like onions, or ogres! So many layers to analyze. They can also evoke really strong emotions by playing around with structure and syntax, which is really cool in my opinion.
My favorite season would have to be winter! I like the cold and I like snow. Snow sports, too, are really fun! I’m into snowboarding, though I haven’t had many opportunities to do so as of late, being separated from my parents and all. Also not having to deal with bugs is nice. It’s a bit of a shame that winter literally does not exist where I come from. It’s like the holy domain of the Eternal Blazing Sun.
Not really, to be honest! I think I prefer playing games with others, so I mostly play Blood on the Clocktower, Minecraft, and Mahjong Soul.
I think the thing that made me really like girls’ love was scrolling MangaDex and seeing how utterly mid hetslop is compared to yuri. The average piece of straight media is just so. Awful. I don’t know how to describe it. It’s just not good. In comparison, yuri is kind of just gem after gem. Also I am a lesbian. So there is that.
I like to spend my weekends going to farmers markets, cooking, going to yarn shops, and generally just unwinding after a long week of toiling in the schoolwork mines. I think I’d like to go thrifting as well so that I get a more diverse wardrobe than hoodies and jeans.
Question time for you!
What’s your favorite condiment? Why? What do you like to put it on?
What does a perfect day look like for you?
What’s your favorite Pokemon? Do you have a story as to why it’s your favorite?
How do you decorate your room?
What’s your favorite natural environment and why?
Now for the serious & sinister question…
What kind of systemic injustices do you perceive in your everyday life? What do you think their root causes are? How would you, if given the power to do so, address such issues?
As always, there’s no need to answer that! I’d be happy just knowing that I might have sparked an interesting train of thought.
Good morning and good night!

Praising the Lady of Crimson, the Mother of Concealment, the Evernight Goddess standing above the cosmos,
Pyrite
1330 words

1688 words

omg i am actually going to crash out because I have to write like over three thousand words seemingly by myself right now because we have to finish a 4.5k war and nobody else seems to be up. I am at camp and packing right now and I'm in a different place and I fear it is just not the time for it. But instead of completely crashing out, we are going to crash out by writing instead! This is because it is actively working as an outlet for many pent up emotions while also working towards the war and being part of the solution! I fear I am a really loud typer, but hopefully this is okay because my roommate does wear headphones with loud music to sleep. ugh i literally just want to like go play video games or something but instead i am ranting to myself. I also need to write five hundred words for an action war, which hopefully the other person (or someone else) will hold up because I am dying here. and that's one that I can't fully control if we finish it or not. omg wait i am saved?? this person finished their part of the action war and is now working on the 4.5k with me! this means i won't have to write three thousand words, more like two and some more thousand! I need to stop eating popcorn and start locking in on writing but it's just so good. i also have to wash my hands. ok maybe i will finish that first and then come back to this. i have an hour and a half after all. for the five hundred (or at least some towards it) I should write the cabin activity. which i def have plans and graphics for… ok look i have concepts of a plan ok. also i know you might think I'm crazy for trying to write so many words in an hour and a half but don't worry! I have proven to be pretty darn good at the fifty headed hydras, which means I can write at a hundred (give or take) words per minute, and can write really quickly! That being said my nails are super long right now and are making it super hard to type so i don't know about that. also excuse the bad punctuation. it is unfortunately a habit i have picked up but honestly it is really great and is less tiring for me so i will continue to do it. it start as something I did to fit in but now it is almost as normal to me as the instinct of capitalizing letters. also i just realized i said bad punctuation when i guess i really ment capitalization. whatever. it's so interesting there are so many things I've thought of to talk about in the process of writing about but just haven't yet because my hands can't keep up with my thoughts. I think so fast and do type fast but it's never fast enough. ok so next i will be talking about tomorrow. i have to get up early rather than sleeping in because i have to un-make my bed, pack the sheets, and figure out what to do with all of the other stuff i have. I also have to get ready. oh and pack the clothes i'm wearing right now. oh look how productive writing this is, i'm going through my todo list for tomorrow! anyway for tomorrow i will finish the mango juice smoothie thing that i have and also go to breakfast, then i have dress rehearsal at like nine forty in the morning. then at eleven thirty we get kicked out, but i am rehearsing some harmonies on one of my songs for like fifteen minutes. then i have a long lunch, and then i have my show. after that i will be leaving. oh i have to remember to put my bags in the common room by ten in the morning. ugh. i will do that before breakfast. also have to remember to get my breakfast meds and then take the meds with me as i leave. i need to pack my backpack too. eh i won't do that right now it's like mostly packed but i don't want to and i have writing to do. then i will probably leave. oh i don't want to forget about the one thing i have in the fridge besides the mango smoothie. anyway. do i want a last day concert treat drink thing? eh no. probably not from here. ugh i am going to miss it here i really am. speaking of i need to draft out my thank you because otherwise i won't get what i want to say across. hopefully i can find them sometime tomorrow to say it to them without a bunch of people around. but basically it's like i came here not super optimistic because i was feeling really discouraged, and had had some bad experiences before with teachers who weren't encouraging and made me feel like i was, quite simply put, bad. hmm i need a better way to word that that isn't as negative. CHATGP- just kidding. i'll figure it out once i've had some sleep. but basically i will thank them for being so welcoming and mention how they did wonders for not only my songwriting skills and knowledge, but also helping me have way more confidence as an artist and be more comfortable with others. OOH how about that i had other teachers that weren't encouraging and made me “doubt my abilities”. okay how about: Hi, I've really been meaning to thank you guys because I have just had the best time here. I came here feeling discouraged and not super optimistic, because of my lack of faith in my songwriting and lots of people who made me doubt my abilities. You guys were super welcoming and not only really built my songwriting knowledge and skills, but also helped me become way more confident as an artist and putting myself and my ideas out there, and you really are some of the best teachers I've ever had. Ok so the grammar is a bit off but it's okay because I'll make it better and I'll be saying it rather than them reading it so it'll come off okay. ALKDJFLKDJF ok it's good but now i'm almost crying which i never do helppp can't bring up the trauma ahahaha. ok sorry i will continue writing and switch topics probably except for the fact that i don't really know what to talk about. maybe this is a good checkpoint for me to do a word count. it's been like almost minutes, maybe fifteen, and I am expecting like eight hundred words? WHOA im the goat i have over a thousand ehehe i am the best. OHH wait yeah that does make sense five headed hydra is in five minutes not ten. okay so I'm pretty on track! that's great. now what do i write about. Lol i really hope nobody actually reads this that wouldn't be the greatest. I could talk about some songs. Ooh wait i'm actually going to talk about the camp store because when I walked in for the first time i was like awestruck. WHy? You ask? Well because it's literally a whole convenience store in there, they genuinely have like everything! They obviously have snacks, but they also have drinks, all sorts. They have merch, but lots of different unique types. They have lots of interesting snacks, and lots of microwaveable things like buldak and other ramen/instnat noodles of the sort. They also have freezer food? Including a mini pizza you can microwave though i don't recommend it because that probably isn't good. They literally have BOOKS i kid you not they have one section that's just a tall bookshelf? They also have like fidgets and toys. Not to mention different toiletries and lotions and many things of that sort. and coffee i think. speaking of there's like a little coffee shop in the cafeteria and they sell so many things too! And i think the drinks are pretty good. Not that I've had many, I've only had a berry smoothie and strawberry lemonade. Both were good, but unfortunately they have been out of acai every time I've tried to get one of the smoothies with it, so i just get the berry instead. sad. Okay i'm going to write for a couple more lines to hopefully get to one and a half thousand, and then i'll add it to the pool for the 4.5k war. ugh i don't think that activity is getting shared tonight though it really has to. maybe it'll be something that i wake up early and do, even though i have so much to do in the morning. I kind of do want to save this post for the morning with the to dos and the draft of my thank you “speech” because it will be helpful, but i already know it will be a nightmare to read because i just write stream of consciousness, and I'll look back on it being like yeah i was def sleep deprived and crazy trying to write all those words so late and just rambling. that is what i do every cabin wars, and i usually just never look back at the writing. okay i should have more than enough words for my goal now, I was just rambling on again and didn't want to stop the flow. I was going to say i was in a flow but then (just then) I started to make a bunch of spelling mistakes so I was like never mind i'm not. but then it did give me material for this and I am still writings so I guess I am? It's like something you jinx, when you're in the flow but then you realize you are, you get thrown out of it. like right now. so i'm going to stop. (its like falling asleep! or dreaming!)