Main Cabin Daily 7/5
327 words

warning: arson and death :)
“If you play with fire, you’ll get burned.”
The woman on the rooftop wears black.
Her boots tap out a symphony on the withering bricks. The empty sky stretches and yawns above her; the tallest building in San Franhattan is what creaks and groans beneath her. The city itself may as well belong to her, whose swift silhouette is the only one that can be seen for miles. Cobweb-ridden lamps usually illuminate the streets. Tonight, they have gone dark. The world is silent as if all the sound has been sucked from it.
The woman on the rooftop reaches into her pocket. The withdrawal of her slender hand reveals a box. It’s small; small enough that her palm hides it from sight. She slides it open.
Matches. She takes one - no, two - and strikes them across her hand. They erupt. The tender flames are a beacon in the otherwise pitch-black city. They crackle. She holds them close to her. If anyone was nearby they could have caught a glimpse of dark eyes and red lips pulled into a smirk; then her veil is pulled down once again. She takes in the smoke.
With one lit match she lights a cigarette and brings it to her mouth. She starts toward the edge of the roof, dropping the second match behind her. It catches quickly. In a blink, the woman is gone.
But fire spreads.
For a while the flames only inhabit the rooftop. They only grow; she knows it’s just a matter of time before the citizens discover it. She also knows that it will be too late. She doesn’t realize that she’s standing on something extremely flammable.
A spark leaps to the ground and lights up the yellow grass. She looks backward at the roaring fire. It slithers toward her like lightning. There is not time to scream. The heat is excruciating and it surrounds her. She likes being close to fire. This is too close.
The woman from the rooftop wears black. Black ashes.

july 5 daily, 354 words
this is cringe, pls avoid reading

proverb: Actions speak louder than words
meaning: What you do matters, not what you say.

It was a lovely summer afternoon. Johnny was sitting on his bed, listening to music and daydreaming. His head swayed gently to the music. Suddenly, a loud voice cut through his moments of peace.
“Johnny, have you done the dishes?” his mother called.
Johnny took off his headphones.
“What?”
“I said, have you done the dishes?”
Johnny thought hard. Had he done it?
“Maybe?” he shouted back.
“Johnny! Tell me.”
“Well… no.”
“Make sure to do them soon! Our guests are coming over at 6 pm.”
“Fineeee,” he grumbled. He flopped onto his back on his bed and put his headphones back on. Something bothered him.
“Should I do it now? Or later?” he thought to himself.
“It'll be fine. It's only 3 pm. I have plenty of time. And I won't forget.” he muttered to himself. Of course, not long after that, he forgot and fell asleep.

A voice cut through his peaceful dreams of high skies and flying.
“Johnny! JOHNNY!”
“What?” he mumbled sleepily.
“The dishes!”
“What dishes?”
“You were supposed to do the dishes! Don't make me scold you like last time!”
“Wait- what? What's the time?” Johnny thought to himself. He flipped over in bed, crawled out and checked his clock. It was 5 pm. He had been out for two hours.
“I should do it now…” he thought. Just as he was getting up, his computer caught his eye.
“Wait, I'm supposed to be on a call with my friends!” Johnny frantically said, pulling himself into his chair. He shouted to his mother.
“Mother, I have a call with Zach and Jayden! I can't miss it, I promise I'll only be on the call for 30 minutes.”
“Ok, don't forget!”
Johnny forgot.
He had a blast with his friends, playing video games. At 6 o'clock sharp, the doorbell rang.
“Oh no,” Johnny realised with a pang of fear. “I forgot.”

The guests were not impressed, and neither was his mother. After dinner, she pulled Johnny aside and said to him, “Actions speak louder than words. Have some time to think about what that means. And don't forget next time.”

Day #5 - Proverbs
A ship is safest in the harbor, but that’s not what ships are for.

Captain Layla Crowe was not afraid of storms. Unless of course, the storm was a ship-killing, whirlwind that no sane person would go into.
She stood planted on the deck of her prized ship, seawater soaking into her worn boots as she stared into the horizon. Dark, dreary clouds were gathered at the point where the sky meets the sea, casting their aura of doom across the water. The froth-tipped waves sent the boat swaying, and Layla expertly shifted her weight to keep balance. The powerful wind ripped at the skull-and-crossbones flag on the mast.
“Raise the sails,” she commanded, “We head for the harbor.”
Most captains would have had to raise their voice and scream for attention, but Layla’s crew was already poised to attention, straining their ears to catch even her smallest whisper over the gale. They all knew what would happen if they didn’t follow her orders. They scrambled in an instant to carry out their duties, letting out a collective sigh of relief.
Layla gave the storm one last, regretful look as the ship wheeled around. She would have rather liked to engage. In there, everything was simple, focused, singular. You survived or you died, no complications. Everything was the creak and sway of the ship breaking apart, the lashing winds, drowning waves.
But the last two times Layla had chosen to battle a storm, she was the sole survivor. She hated it, but for once in her life Captain Crowe would have to play it safe.
She would not lose another crew.
“Cap’n!” a voice called out from above. Sandy Shole the lookout was one of the two people Layla liked, and now he was waving his hand back and forth, desperate for her attention. He would only be so insolent if it were an emergency.
“What see you, Shole?” Layla tightened a fist around her hat to keep it from being blown away.
“There’s somethin’ out there Cap’n!” Shole yelled, “A boat, methinks. Red sails, a-blowin’ straight into the storm.”
“Idiot,” someone muttered. Layla voiced neither agreement or dispute. After all, she had a reputation of sailing into ripping storms and leaving them unscathed. But after losing her last crew, she wasn’t willing to follow those reckless impulses anymore, not when there were more lives than hers at stake. But as far as she knew, no other sailor would choose to battle storms.
Red sails…
No. Oh no. Oh no no no…
“Out of my way!” Layla barked, slamming and elbowing her way to the bow of the ship. Colliding painfully with the railing, she fumbled for her spyglass. Her hands were shaking, stumbling as she jammed the lens to her eye. With her peripheral vision she could see the crew exchanging looks at their captain's strangely frantic behavior, she would have to knock some obedience into them later.
Taking a deep breath, Layla peered out into the water.
There it was. A ship with red sails. She could just make out the outline of a small figure. A braid flying out from their head.
No…
“Stop,” Layla gasped, “Stop! We need to turn around!” she shook her head, vigorously, thoughts are worries rattling around in her brain. “What is she doing? Why is she sailing into a storm?!”
“Um… Cap’n?” Layle jumped, having failed to realize that Shole had come down from the crow’s nest, “I thought we were headin’ to the harbor.”
If it was anyone else, they would have walked the plank, but Layla tolerated Shole’s insolence. He even occasionally made a good point.
Not this time.
“Didn’t you hear me? I said we’re going into the storm!”
Shole flinched, stumbling back. Captain Crowe was dangerous when she spoke softly and deadly when he screamed. He knew well enough not to get on her bad side.
“But-” A remarkably brave, or a remarkably stupid crewmate started.
“WE ARE-” Layla stopped, recognizing the expression in their eyes. Fear. Sadness. Helplessness. These things would normally call for punishment, but Layla felt them too. She didn’t want to sail into the storm, but this time she had too.
The last time she had done this, everyone had died.
She couldn’t just condemn them to this.
“Look,” she said, taking a deep breath, “that’s my-” her hand shook as she pointed to the ship with red sails, more weakness, “that’s my daughter.”
This brought on more shock and emotion than she had expected. Probably because no one expected Captain “Strom Killer” Crowe to be a tender mother.
She wasn’t. But she couldn’t let her only child die.
She couldn’t sail into another suicide mission either.
“Her name is Maya. I left her for the ocean when she was just a kid. And I think - I think… She's trying to prove something. That she doesn’t need me, or that she’s better than me, I don’t know,” Layla had never shared like this, never let anyone see so far into her heart, but they deserved it, “She won’t survive the storm. I have to try to stop her before she reaches it. But there’s a chance none of us survive. So I’m not going to force you.”
This seemed to surprise them even more.
“So I’m going to turn around and close my eyes. Anyone who wants to leave, take the dingy and live out your lives. You’ll be safe in the harbor.”
“What if we stay?” Shole asked.
“Then you stay-”
Layla took another regretful look, this time in the direction they would go to get to safety. But she had to do this. She set her jaw, her eyes grim as she turned to face the storm.
“- And we sail into a storm.”

Note- *when write more than triple of the required amount*

July 5th Daily
prompt: The pen is mightier than the sword. (303 words)
I gripped my pen. The shadows danced before me, but I wasn't afraid of them. Instead, they gave me a sense of confidence, like I knew I could defeat them. They brandished their swords, but I held something far more powerful.
My words.
I grabbed a piece of paper from my notepad and started writing.
The shadow before me now stands tall, but in a moment, he shall fall.
I held the paper in my hands and whispered, “Live.”
The paper glowed orange and burst into flames, but they didn't burn me. Instead, they travelled over to the shadow and swarmed him, like a moth flying to a flame.
The other shadows noticed, and they gripped their swords a bit tighter when they saw his ashes on the ground.
One of the shadows didn't wait for me to take out my pen, and drove right at me.
However, I easily dodged. Shadows aren't the most coordinated of creatures, and I still had plenty of time to write.
The shadow now may think he's smart, but shadows don't like poison darts.
I whispered again, slightly quicker this time, since the other shadows wanted to fight, but still with the same confidence as before:
“Live.”
This time, the paper dripped and glowed a toxic green, as it shaped itself into a watery air plane and stabbed the brave shadow.
The other shadows decided not to chance their lives with me, and slowly sunk and slithered back into the darkness, where they came from.
I laughed. They would never be enough to defeat someone as strong as me, so why did they keep trying? It was really hilarious at this point. Well, it didn't matter. I had more important things to do than to spar with shadows, so I walked away from the puddle of darkness.

Vi’s Daily - 5th July - Proverb: Better late than never - 408 words

Note: /…/ means what the character is thinking.. I wrote this in Notes on my iPad but when I copy and paste it the italicise dosent show and I’m too lazy to do it here, so yah :>

Better late than never: (I relate to this ALOT bc I’m always late for practically everything :’D)



/8:21 ALREADY??!/

Oh god, better hurry. But I’m not sure if I can hurry any faster-. 

Now, from your point of view, if you were watching all the socks from the laundry basket flying across the living room, you’d probably be thinking.. Actually, you probably wouldn’t be thinking. Look, I know it sounds bad, but I can’t go to my interview with MISMATCHED socks. Everyone knows that is against the law of common sense, right? However, from my point of view, this is, well, the normal routine. I just- can’t seem to- find the right..
a

/SOCK!/

Buried deep below in the basket of clothes was FINALLY the matching sock to what I had in my hand. I ran to my couch and thumped onto it, like a madman - which I was - and pulled one of my long black Wellington socks over my left foot. I fumbled with my other sock and pulled it up to my other knee. After that, I sprang up to my feet and sprinted to the shoe rack near the front door and hastily grabbed my freshly polished shoes.
/Wait- I wanna smell them first./
I took a minute to take in the strangely soothing pungent smell of the fresh polish, and then swiftly slipped them on my feet.


I swung open the main door and quickly locked it behind me. The cold autumn wind blew harshly against my face as I ran to the nearest bus stop, with my small leather bag with important documents for my interview dangling in my hand. I saw the small, poorly sheltered bus stop in the distance, and ran faster.
Whew, I’d made it just in time. I skidded to a halt at the front of the bus that had just arrived and strolled casually into the bus, stopping briefly to wave a greeting to the bus driver who was starting at me like I’d just appeared out of thin air, much like almost everyone else on the bus, actually.

I walked down the path and collapsed at one seat at the back, I glanced at my watch. “8:37..” I yawned. “Ten minutes late. But you know what they say, better late than never.” I shrugged my few little doubts away and gazed out of the wide window next to me.



And you’ll NEVER believe what I saw…

#poetryftw B)) #wereasepicasmountepiclol

Haste Makes Waste

Main Cabin Daily, July 5th: Ah yes, proverbs. We all have in some way heard of these pieces of wisdom passed through short sentences. Today, we will be using them! For 400 points, write at least 300 words of a story that takes inspiration from a proverb (perhaps using it as the story's moral, perhaps incorporating it into the story somehow - it's up to you).

386 words

Sora frowned at the bowl. Was the mixture supposed to be this sludgy? She glanced at her phone and back again, prodding at the goop with the whisk in her other hand.
The instructions said to whisk it until it turns smooth. But she’d been whisking for like a minute straight, and her hand was starting to hurt. She set the whisk down, wincing as she flexed her fingers. It’s probably ready, she decided, putting down her phone so she could spoon the batter into the cookie sheet.
Five minutes and some intense scraping later, she opened the oven and slid the sheet inside. On her phone, it said to bake the cookies for 8-10 minutes. It also said that the oven should be pre-heated to 375 degrees. Sora glanced at the oven. Oops.
Sora checked the time on her phone. 3:15. Her friends were coming over in less than ten minutes! She didn’t have time to preheat it! Whatever. That was a dumb step anyway, and she could probably just increase the temperature. Real chefs didn’t need a bunch of stupid rules to create their masterpieces.
She set the timer for eight minutes, and then raced off to get ready.
Ten minutes later, she greeted her friends at the door. “Hey everyone! Come in! I made—”
Amber cut her off, scrunching up her nose. “What’s that smell? Is your house on fire?”
Sora froze in her tracks. “Oh no! The cookies!”
She ran to the kitchen and yanked the oven open. The “cookies” were blackened and crusted. Sora coughed at the acrid stench, and reached forward to pull the tray out.
“AAAAAAA!” she quickly yanked her fingers back from the scorching metal.
“You’re going to burn yourself,” Amber scolded from over her shoulder. She pulled her over to the sink and turned on the cold water, sticking Sora’s hand under the faucet. Meanwhile, Hal grabbed an oven mitt and pulled the cookie tray out, setting it on the counter.
“What happened?” Andy wondered, watching.
Sora’s eyes pricked with tears of pain and shame. “I… guess I went too fast.”
“Don’t worry, Sora.” Amber gripped her friend’s shoulder. “It was your first time.” She then turned to the others. “Let’s make some cookies, properly this time.”
Sora smiled slightly. “Don’t forget to pre-heat the oven!”

“For 400 points, write at least 300 words of a story that takes inspiration from a proverb (perhaps using it as the story's moral, perhaps incorporating it into the story somehow - it's up to you).”
“When live gives you lemons, make lemonade”
~ 846 words
~ July 5th daily
~ Genre: I'm not sure
~ This takes place when the characters are still children
~ I kinda did the plot literally, so hopefully this still counts

Charlie was sitting under a lemon tree in his backyard, drawing down the scenery of the neighborhood in his light red notebook. His three sisters: Petal, Mapel, and Laura were eating popsicles and eagerly chatting with each other not too far away from him.

It was a very fine day–the sun was shining above everyone, and there were almost no clouds to be seen. Laughter surrounded the place, bringing a cheerful atmosphere.

“Hey, wanna play tag?” Petal, the oldest of the three, asked the others.
“Tag? But we ALWAYS play it, I don’t wanna run right now!” Mapel complained.
“Come on Mapel! You’re too boorriiinngg.” Laura said, rolling her eyes, when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She looked around in surprise.

“You’re it!” Petal giggled, running away. Laura got up and quickly ran after her sister. Mapel stared at her siblings and sighed. She picked up her orange popsicle and continued to eat it.

The two sisters ran and ran around the backyard. It kept going back and forth–Petal as the “it,” then Laura, repeat. Eventually, they both got tired, and sat down under the nearest tree they could find.
“Hey Charlie!” Petal said as she sat down. “What are you drawing?”
“Something,” Charlie mumbled. Petal simply sighed, knowing she won’t get a better answer than this.

“I’m thirsty,” Laura said, sitting down too. “We’ve been running for so long!”
“Yeah, me too. But we didn’t bring any water. Actually, I want something else than water right now. Like juice or something.”
Charlie wanted a drink too, he admitted. His parents were sleeping, and they always locked the door when they’re tired, so he couldn’t ask them. There was no juice in the fridge either. He looked up, thinking for a moment, when an idea struck his mind.

“Why don’t we make some lemonade? Mom thaught us how do to it a few summers ago, right?” he asked the other two.

“Ooh, yes! That’s smart!” Laura replied, “But how are we going to get lemons?”
“We’re sitting under a lemon tree.”
“Oh. So do we just shake them down or something?”
“Seems like the best option, considering we don’t have a ladder.”
“Can’t we just use a chair or something?” Petal questioned.
“Maybe,” Charlie shrugged.
“Let’s do it then!” Petal said, clapping her hands. She stood up and called for Mapel to join them.
–
After a few minutes, Petal was carrying a chair and a small round table and placed them near the tree.
“Remember to be careful.” Mapel reminded.
“Yeah, I know.” Petal, being the tallest, said as the climbed the chair. She picked up all the nearest lemons she could reach and threw them to Charlie’s arms, counting them as she did. Once she was finally done, she went off the chair and hurried to put it back in it’s original place.

“Wow, 8 lemons.” Laura said. “That could make like-” she paused for a moment, “80 cups!”
“Yeah, but we’ll only need four since there’s only four of us. We can make a few more just in case though.”

Petal came outside again and walked back to where everyone else was. “Soo… what now?” she asked.
“Well, I’m pretty sure we’re supposed to make a syrup thing, but that requires a stove, and I’m not sure how to use those type of stuff.”
“Mom said it was optional but recommended, right? We also need sugar and water by the way.” Mapel reminded.
“Oh, right.” Charlie noted. “I’ll get it.”
“No, it’s alright, I will.” Petal said as she turned and ran to the house again.
Charlie stared at her sister running away and shrugged.

Petal came back once again, this time with a couple of cups in her hands. A few of them contained water, the others contained sugar, and the rest empty. “Okay, so what now?”
“Okay, so we’re supposed to squeeze the lemonade into the cups and then add sugar.” Charlie stated.
“It’s that easy? I thought I remembered there being more steps.” Laura said, surprised.
“Yup.”
“What are we waiting for? Let’s start!” Petal exclaimed.

The four then started squeezing the lemons into their respective cups. Some of them seemed to find it difficult, but they all managed to do it smoothly in the end. They then added a bit of sugar into them–Petal being overly excited and accidentally spilling some of the sugar onto the table.

After a while, all the eight cups were finally filled (they made four extra just in case), with still 3 lemons and 4 cups of sugar left. They all agreed they would put them back when they were going back inside.

“Whoo, we’re finally done!” Petal said happily as she clapped her hands as soon as Mapel put in the last bit of sugar.
“I’m still really thirsty. Can we drink it now?” Laura asked hopefully.
“Yup, it’s done. Drink up!” Charlie said, picking up his glass. The others followed. They all then proceeded to gulp down the lemonade that they made.

“When life gives you lemons,” Mapel started, “Make lemonade!”

Notes:
- I really love these characters, expect me to use them a LOT for upcoming stuff
- Once again, I was starting to get lazy towards the end ;v; Sorry!

Daily 7/5
——
Sarah slumped back in her chair, staring at the clock in the classroom. She just desperately wanted school to be over so she could go to her friend's house for the sleepover they'd been planning for a few weeks. According to her friend, Alexa, the sleepover was going to be really fun.
The clock was tick, tick, ticking, counting down to only a half-hour left of school.
“Sarah!” the teacher, Mr. Parker, snapped. “Shouldn't you be paying attention?
”I was just–“ Sarah started to say, but Mr. Parker once again cut her off.
”No excuses. Just please pay attention from here on out.“ he told her, and shot her a glare so fierce that it was deadly. Sarah glanced down at the table, her cheeks flushed.
”Well, well, well, class, looks like our new student arrived.“ Mr. Parker said, which made Sarah snap her head back up, only to reveal a medium-sized boy with light skin, short brown hair, and hazel eyes–not to mention he also had a huge fire symbol on his right arm.
Without knowing that she did it, Sarah wrinkled her nose. ”Ew.“ she mumbled, or at least, she thought she mumbled it. Suddenly, the whole class whipped to face her direction, some confused, some laughing, and some disgusted.
”How could you be so judgemental, Sarah?“ one girl–Ellie–asked, her hands on her hips.
”Sometimes, it's better to keep those kinds of rude comments to yourself.“ another boy added.
Sarah sucked in a breath. How could she explain to everyone that she didn't mean it in a rude way; he just…wasn't what she was expecting.
But before she could do that, the boy–the new student–cleared his throat. ”Well, I am disappointed to hear you're judging me, Sarah, after all we've been through.“
”What are you talking about?“ Sarah asked, standing up quickly.
The boy made a sound that sounded like half snort, half laugh. He swiftly took off his hood, and pointed to the triangle-shaped scar on his forehead. ”Surprise.“ he said.
Sarah couldn't believe it.
He was her long-lost brother.
”A little lesson to you, sis, never judge a book by its cover."

Main cabin daily 7/4
Words: 261 + 271 = 532
Back to main thread (#96)

June 5
Daily 5
Proverb:“A company of wolves, is better than a company of wolves in sheep's clothing.
”Mandy woke up to her dog barking at the stray cats. “Oh come on will you just stop making so much noise!”
She yelled the dog whimpered
“Sigh it's okay I would be late to school without you.”

She said getting out of bed.
“I'm so hungry are you hungry Bob, the dog bark in excitement of course you are.” She went down to the kitchen open the cabinet and got his dog her dogs food pouring into the bowl. She said
“Let's be quick I might be late for school and I'm sure you don't want to miss doggy daycare” the dog whimpered again.
“Come on Mandy said it's not that bad.” Bob gave her a how would you know look. Mandy ignored her dog and ate up her cereal she ran down to the bus stop to drop her dog off at doggy daycare.

“Time for another day at seaside school!”
she sighs. As she walked into her school she bumped into her best friend Ellie.
“Oops sorry Mandy you okay?” she asked.
“Couldn't be better I will I woke up to my barking dog.” she says happily.
“Mandy anything can make get you annoyed” she replied
“Ya think”

In the middle of the conversation the bell rung.
“Bye she said as she ran off to class.”
“I should go to class too.”
She thought in class while she was thinking about the math test someone came to a desk so I'm not rather pleasing Jess. She was the bully of the school. Everyone hated her.

“What do you want? ” Mandy said quietly.
“Someone stole the answer sheet to the math test did you know who it is…. you and I got all the proof here to show it.” She says with an evil grin.
“What I would never do that!” she stammered.
“Yet I have proof now listen here you have to do everything I say and I won't show the pictures to the principal.”
The teacher walked into the room everyone took their seats.
“Oh no what am I going to do I'm going to ask Ellie.”

After the class she left into the cafeteria talk with her. “Ellie! I mean big trouble now help!”
“Okay okay what happened!” she told her everything
“Hmmm I have a plan” she told her the plan “Perfect!” Mandy said the sad face removed.

Later in the day Jess asked her to pick up her bags. “Well do it” she snarled.
“I won't just you can't do anything about it” she replied.
“Oh yeah she said now I'm going to tell the whole school how about how you cheated on the math test” she said.
“Sure go ahead you can race Ellie to him.
. It was too late the principal found out and he got so angry that Jess was put into detention for months.

”Revenge is sweet.“ Mandy said
”Your sure right it is Ellie laughed.“
”Did you see the look on the face!“ Mandy giggled
” Yes I did she said
“ Now the only thing to do is pick up Bob from doggy daycare.” Mandy said
______________
+522 words

Daily 07/05/2022 - Proverbs
423 words
“A picture is worth a thousand words.”

It was 9 in the morning on the third of July and Honey did not want to write. They had been putting off writing and telling themself that they would save it for July since mid-May, and now that they were faced with a reason to write, they were drained of motivation. But they didn’t want to let down their cabin either.
They stared at a blank document and wondered what to write. “Words words words,” they typed and then deleted. Honey slumped back in their chair — or they would have, if they had been sitting properly in the first place. They were lying with their lower back on the seat of their chair and their head and shoulders against the back. Their feet lay on the desk, but they had somehow managed not to knock over the piles of notebooks. People frequently asked them why they didn’t just write in bed, and they always answered, “Because then I might fall asleep.”
As they were about to close the document, they had an idea: “A picture is worth a thousand words!” they said aloud. They quickly looked around to see if anyone had heard, but the other Script campers all had their headphones in or were chatting loudly.
They put their computer on their desk and tiptoed back to their bed, careful not to wake anyone who was still sleeping. They had only brought lined paper, but it would have to do. They went back to the stairs a bit less carefully. Lio rolled over and looked at them.
“Sorry!” Honey whispered, and went back to tiptoeing.
They took the stairs as quickly as they could without it echoing throughout the whole building and sat back down, with their feet on the floor this time. They took a pencil from the cup on their desk, and realized they hadn’t planned what they were going to draw. They actually slumped down. Were they really going to just sit here looking at a blank page again? But when they threw their head back, they saw the ceiling of Script Cabin — an orange, pink, turquoise, and yellow circle made of stained glass. They picked up their notebook and pencil and lay down on the floor to draw.
When they were done, they rushed down the stairs to find Lio or Fae. Fae was just standing up out of bed.
“Good morning Fae!” they said with a grin. “Plus a thousand words from drawing a picture please!”
“Huh?” Fae looked at them. “That’s not how this works.”

Daily #5 for Fairy Tales! +400 points, +1524 words!
—
Proverb: “Tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all.
—
Emmalina knew it was over before the end even began.

She knew when she had to long for his warm touch, when she would have to wait for the days for him to dump compliments on her, then disappear without a trace.
She knew when he started hanging out with his friends more often than not, she knew when he called her clingy for asking him where he had been.
She knew when he started caring about his appearance more, because she knew her Noah and she knew he was not the type to dress up.
She knew from the beginning that they were going to crash and burn.

But she still played into the bittersweet game of love.

Now, Emmalina was foraging through a box of her and Noah’s memories, tears rolling down her splotchy face. She knew her heart would be broken, as always, but she thought she could handle it, like she had handled everyone else.

But she couldn’t handle losing Noah.

She grasped a faded Polaroid picture of Emmalina and Noah, standing together outside a movie theater, one hand around each other, other hand holding melting cones of ice cream. Their first date. Noah had gotten chocolate, while Emmalina had gotten strawberry. She remembered how he had held the door for her as she walked out, insisted to pay, and let her have the last popcorn.

Goodness, she missed that man.

“He was not a man, Ems. He was a worthless pig.” The words of Ross, Emmalina’s best friend rang through her head. She knew Ross was right, but,

Goodness, she missed that worthless pig.

With shaky hands, she slowly placed the picture back in the box. She rummaged through the box until she found something that really tore her heart. With a sharp yet shaky intake of breath, she gently pulled out the promise necklaces that she had bought for them when they had officially started dating. They were silver, with hearts on the bottom that could open and close. Emmalina had put pictures of them on both sides. The left picture was Emmalina making a half heart with her fingers. The right picture was Noah making a half heart with his fingers.
“Do you, Noah Alexander Finch, promise to always be loyal, to listen when needed, to appreciate me and be gentle with my heart, and to be the best boyfriend you can be?”
“Yes. I do.”
“Do you, Emmalina Smith Johnson, promise to always be yourself, accept the truth, be loyal, be nice to my family, and always love me without any reason?”
“Yes, I do.”
Then Emmalina had kissed him, as their first kiss in their official relationship, and everything had been happy for a year.
Emmalina gently placed the necklaces on her carpeted floor, stifling a sob as she remembered the moment that he had taken his off for good.
Emmalina was sobbing against her bedroom wall, as Noah was behind her, screaming in defense of himself.
“YOU KNOW ME AND EMILY ARE JUST FRIENDS!”
“I WASN’T IN MY RIGHT STATE OF MIND!”
“IN FACT, WHY ARE YOU SO CLINGY?”
Emmalina turned around slowly to face him, with a glare in her sharp eyes. He didn’t just say that.
“Why am I so clingy, you ask? Because recently, I’ve been getting no attention from you at all! You disappear for days at a time, you hang out with the boys every single day, you barely make time for me anymore, of course I’m going to be clingy! I have to hang onto you to see the next time you’ll be in the mood to spend time with your girlfriend!” Emmalina shouted, stepping closer.
“IT IS OKAY FOR ME TO HANG OUT WITH OTHER PEOPLE, EMILY!” Noah yelled in Emmalina’s face. She didn’t flinch.
There was silence for a moment.
“Emily, huh? My name’s Emily now? You say Emily was just a friend, and maybe at one point she was. But friends don’t look at friends that way. I saw the way you looked at her across the room at Angelica’s party-”
“That was nothing, Emmalina-”
“No, it was something. We went from strangers to friends, friends to lovers. But the way you started looking at Emily compared to the way you started looking at me, it was like we went to strangers again. I see you, you know. I know everything you do because you are my boyfriend Noah. You try to hide things, I find them. You try to tell lies, I know the truth. I know you started a secret relationship with her 2 months before this. I knew you would be snogging her in her dormitory today, so I paid you two a visit.”
“H-How would y-you-”
“Oh, Noah. Everytime you said you were going to hang out with the boys, you always came back drunk and with marks and sometimes with clothes missing. It was easy to decipher. I just happened to follow you to your secret lover’s residence today. What I don’t understand is why? Why couldn’t you just break up with me? Why did you feel the need to hurt me like this?”
“Emmalina, you know I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“BUT YOU STILL DID!”
“EMMALINA, LISTEN TO ME!” Noah grabbed Emmalina’s hands. “I WAS DRUNK. SHE PULLED ME INTO HER DORMITORY. SHE KISSED ME! WHY DON’T YOU BELIEVE ME?”
Emmalina yanked her hands away from Noah’s grip.
“Don’t touch me, Noah. How were you even in her building in the first place? You can’t just be dragged miles.”
“YOU NEVER TRUST ME! THIS IS WHY ME AND EMILY HAD SOMETHING. THIS IS WHY I DON’T TELL YOU ABOUT ANYTHING. THIS RELATIONSHIP LACKS TRUST!” He ripped his promise necklace from his neck.
“We’re over, always been over.” He dropped his necklace on the floor and stormed out.
After a few moments, Emmalina collapsed on the floor, and crawled to where he left his necklace.
“Wait, no, come back, you promised…”
“Dolcezza, have you had your breakfast yet?” Emmalina heard her mother call in her heavy Italian accent, which snapped her out of her trance.
“No, Mamma! But I’m not hungry!” Emmalina called, her voice shaking at the end. She knew her mother was concerned about her, but she didn’t want to to worry anyone.
Emmalina placed the necklaces into the box, and let her tears fall. Emily was everything she had ever wanted to be. Pretty hair, pretty eyes, cute face, and a nice personality.
As she continued searching through the memory box, she didn’t hear her bedroom door open, or someone walk towards her from behind.
“Dolcezza…” Emmalina whipped her head around, wiping her tears quickly to see her mother, with a mug of steaming tea in one hand and a tray of breakfast in the other.
“Hello, Mamma, are you okay?”
Her mother sighed, and sat next to her. She placed the tray of food and drink in front of Emmalina.
“You know, I once was like you. I was pretty, smart, and nice. I dated a lot of boys. Therefore, I got my heart broken a lot. But I had only been cheated on once. I was like you, trying to find memories of him so I could feel like I did when we were happy together.”
Emmalina’s mother glanced at the memory box and pulled it closer. She took out the Polaroid picture of Noah and her daughter’s first date.
“After a little bit, my mother came upstairs to me, and said something that changed how I felt about it forever. She said, ‘È meglio aver amato e perso che non aver mai amato affatto.’ Do you know what that means, my sweet Emmalina?”
Emmalina shook her head no, sipping her tea.
“It means ‘’Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.’”
Emmalina and her mother locked eyes for a moment. Her mother sighed.
“I did not understand it either. But then my mother explained that having, and experiencing the joy of real, true love, would be worth the pain of losing it. If it was real, true love, you would know that you would rather have it, then lose it, than never experience that joy at all. All of the relationships I had previously, I loved them, of course, but this one, was real, true love. And I wouldn’t trade the happy memories for anything.”
Emmalina knew, at that moment, that her mother had gone through the same thing that she had.
“B-But Mamma, he cheated. On me.”
“I know, Dolcezza. But think about the happy memories, when you two were truly in love. You would do anything to go back. You would rather relive those memories than not be able to, eh? Think of this photograph.” As she held up the photograph of their first ice cream date, Emmalina began to relive the happy memories. And as she hugged her mother with happy tears streaming down her face, she knew that she would do anything to get those happy memories with Noah back.

Daily 3

Francis lived nearby the woods, where there was plenty of all. Wood, food, water, wealth. All was well. Francis, the young girl, had many friends, who seemed to enjoy her presence. She was loyal and faithful, often giving them riches and goods. Though, she had never truly minded, but her dozens of friends never seemed to thank her, or give her gifts. That didn’t matter to Francis though. One day, mid summer, Francis was walking through the woods, but oddly enough, there was a coyote lurking nearby.
“Hello, little girl. What brings you into the woods, it is getting dark.” He
snarled, voice slick.
“Why, I am getting goods for my friends.” She replied simply, keeping
her eyes on the coyote. “Why, don’t coyotes eat children like me?”
“I’m vegan.”
“Oh. Nevermind then, sorry Mr. Coyote.” Francis shook her head. “Nice
meeting you.” She giggled, but soon the two were good friends. So Francis visited the vegan coyote’s den almost everyday, and they’d play or talk, but soon, Francis was out on a walk, then a huge mountain lion was in her path. Of course, this time, it was not vegan, nor nice. Soon, it had Francis on a run. She went to on friend in the village.
“Please help me! There is a mountain lion, and he is trying to eat me!”
Francis cried, surely her friend would care, but they simply screamed and ran. So Francis ran to another. The same happened with them. Soon, she had gone through all town, but no one cared, and by now, the lion had almost eaten her when she ran to the vegan coyote. She hammered on his door.
“Mr. Coyote! Help me, please!” The coyote opened his door and saw
the lion. The coyote lept at the lion, and the two fought. Miraculously, the coyote was able to scare it away, when Francis sighed, and realized.

Better have one loyal friend, then a hundred loyaless.

7/5 - Ah yes, proverbs. We all have in some way heard of these pieces of wisdom passed through short sentences. Today, we will be using them! For 400 points, write at least 300 words of a story that takes inspiration from a proverb (perhaps using it as the story's moral, perhaps incorporating it into the story somehow - it's up to you).
“Cats are liquid, right?” - a beautiful Luna proverb
(or “Two heads are better than one” if you’d like a more serious proverb xD)

(360 words) I look up to the sky, only to see a thick cloud of smoke obscuring the stars, as if humanity no longer deserved to see their beauty. Irritating as it was, I couldn’t help but agree. Perhaps the havoc humanity had wrecked upon its neighbors, the occupants that shared this world, was finally to be paid back in turn, so the world’s natural ecosystem might rise from the ashes of this broken world. Of course, it was highly unlikely that that truly was what went through an arsonist's mind, but one could always dream.

As I stepped back inside, making sure to shut the door quickly to keep the air clean, or as clean as it could while the forest burned around the city, I sighed, wondering where Echo, my cat, had wandered off to. Cats are cunning creatures, sly as a fox, and mischievous at that, and perhaps intelligent in such a way that Echo might be sympathetic to my struggle with the arsonist’s mind. Understanding as Echo could perhaps be, he was often oblivious to where was and was not an appropriate place to lay down and engage in a short slumber. The couch, for example, was an excellent place to curl up into a ball and rest his eyes, provided he was kind enough to avoid the dead center of it. Which he often was not. So where was he now?

I began pacing around the house, with the sort of restlessness only impatience could bring. Several laps later, I glanced at the couch for what had to be the tenth time before taking a seat to rest my feet, just as a paw reached up out of the bin now at my feet. I reached down and picked the bin up, setting it down on my lap, and couldn’t help but laugh. Echo had somehow rearranged his limbs to fit the shape of the rectangular box, as if he were a liquid, filling every ounce of volume possible. Echo reached for my outstretched and pushed himself up, out of the box, taking up the position of lying lazily on my lap, the perfect place for listening.

First weekly of the month:.))

Character factfile {1a} (329 words)
Character chosen! c!Wilbur (from the Dream SMP) /dsmp /rp
Series continuing or ended? Continuing

Pronouns: He/Him
Sexuality: Straight?
Species: Human? I think?

Strengths: strategic, headstrong, defiant
(former) strengths: honourable, neglected, the saving grace
Weaknesses: impulsive, selfless, vulnerable
(former) weaknesses: suicidal, bitter, self-depricating

General view of Life: If his family or lineage aren’t protected, safe, or even care about him, living is futile, Wilbur would take his life trying to protect those he loves. He strives to be accepted.

Relationships:
Romantic interest: none, past relationships include Wilbur + Sally the Salmon.
Friends: c!Tommy (brother figure + best friend), c!Tubbo (adoptive brother), c!Ranboo, c!Niki, c!Jack
Other Friends: Potentially c!Quackity (?)
Family: c!Philza (father), c!Fundy (son), Mumza Goddess of Death (mother), Sally the Salmon (past wife)

Tendencies:
- When Wilbur loses control of his life, he tends to spiral into self-destructive thoughts, and will pull anyone close to him along with him.
Improvement: After his revival, he’s been talking to Phil a lot more, and has been trying to never snap back from these thoughts through communication.
- Suffers from anxiety, heated stress, and the feeling of never being good enough for anything.
Improvement: None, unfortunately.
- Wilbur hasn’t a fear of death, who says he wanted to live anyways? He knows he was brought back to torment Tommy by Dream.
Improvement: Has since redeemed the discs and saved Tommy from Dream, hopefully, with the threat he will end himself if he didn’t.

Situations:
c!Fundy second life lost
- Wholly upset, remorseful he hadn’t noticed Fundy’s state before
- Spends time with Tommy to console himself
- Embeds himself in his memories to erase the fact Fundy never wanted to see him again.
- Self-guilt, points every fault at himself and none at Fundy.

Romantic Struggles: n/a, although, he did hit on Quackity those couple of times (even though they aren’t in a relationship).

Helping others: L’manberg happened? Ah well, see, general view of life sums this one up.

Character Consistency, trope, “your character is running late but they can't find matching socks/shoes” (I wasn’t sure how to write the first one !) {1b} (573 words)

“TOMMY!” Wilbur pummels, “WHERE HAVE I LEFT MY SHOES?”
“You wear shoes?” Tommy retorts, cheerfully, “Well, I would have them, if, and only if I had taken them, which is obviously not true,” he jeers.
“Tommy just- quit flipping around and help me /find/ my shoes! Like- I’m meeting Niki today! I’m going to apologise to her,”
“And-?” Tommy croons, leaning over to Wilbur’s side, laughing, bashing his eyelids in a playful manner, “You want to look, presentable? Ho ho ho- presentable you say?”
“Tommy we live in the Tundra,”
“I can walk outside without shoes!” Tommy exclaims, “All I need are my socks!”

/Socks./

Wilbur’s heart races as he swarms around Phil’s home, darting back and forth between chests, one, two, three, foraging and hunting down the matching clothes to his attire, God, taking a shower after 14 years was a hideous expedition, and something he would never even aspire for in the coming future, never again, never taking another shower.

“You need socks on shoes?” Wilbur pleads.

“I thought it was obvious, big man,” Tommy implores, lost, and also not bothered in the slightest to correct Wilbur’s impeding error, no, its shoes on socks, but that’s going to be hilarious.

“Oh- oh thank you Tommy,” Wilbur smiled, uneasily, irises diminishing in colour and eyes fluttering back and forth between different locations as he tried to coarctate his tapestry into one location, which, has daintily faded from his memory, impressive.

Tommy, engaged into the scenario now wholeheartedly, began to quiz Wilbur from a new perspective, in an attempt to fool his brother into thinking he’s being helpful.

“So-oo!” Tommy calls out, “What type of shoes, did you say?”
“The really expensive nice ones, with the leather around the sides, and the strings- sorry- laces Tommy, and they were like, brown- something,” Wilbur hurried, slightly warmed by the information that Tommy was /finally/ putting himself to good use.

“Care to elaborate?” Tommy inspects.

Not in the slightest. Tommy was just annoying. Just- bothersome.

Wilbur lashes out, seizing tommy’s discrete, infallibly red and white shirt, and simply bellows, “TOMMY I NEED TO APOLOGISE TO NIKI CAN YOU PLEASE FIND MY CLODHOPPERS,”

“Ok Wilbur-” Tommy whines, “I’ll find your shoes,” he mutters.

Wilbur cracked a smile, looking down over his brother and whispering, right upto his ear, “Go look in the cabinets on the left, I’ll look around here,”
“But Wilbah-”
“What did I say, Tommy, about being a child?” Wilbur smirks, keeping his head high.
“For me to shut up,” Tommy dawdles, letting Wilbur continue his heavy tangent, starting with, “Good,”

Except, except- oh- oh my God!

“Oh my God!” Tommy squeals, rather, interrupts, “Wilbur! Look at this!”

Wilbur let out a loud grunt, and whined, “Tommy-yy, can you just find the-”

“I found it!” Tommy beams, making Wilbur’s eyes light up, his heart slowing down, his legs briskily edging towards Tommy’s location, elated.
“OH MY GOD LET ME SEE THAT RIGHT FLIPPING NOW,” Wilbur races, lightheartedly.
“Here!” Tommy explains, holding out a chest right before Wilbur’s gaze.

Wilbur reached in, excited, cheerful, God, he was so happy. To find, the crate smeared with blue, his turquoise reflection pattered over the smeared dye.

“For your tears, Wilba,” Tommy jeers, “You seemed upset, have some blue!”

Wilbur wanted to scream.

—

Character Voice: (decided to turn away from Wilbur, and write c!Fundy and c!Ranboo :D) {2} (938 words)

Fundy is, traumatised; with a deep, retrospective, and unparalleled longing, to be loved, to be respected, to have a dad who cares about him. Fundy was young, when his mother left him, and has learned to be stronger, to be more generous, to accept others when they don’t accept him. He chases for admiration, and is content when that is lost, but when he finally opens about all the disgust and agony he’s been through- he can’t cope, he loses his mind, spirals, and just wants to end. This is proven to be true when Fundy finds himself amidst his own fate, face his turmoil, his longing for reunition, or convulse into the heaven he created for himself, seclusion, and self-deprivation- but this is what he loved. Fundy ends himself.

Ranboo is always so conciencious of his own life, and he wants to learn, he wants to care and learn to understand the people who he shouldn’t and should fall for, to find someone for him to love, he craves longing, and he craves escapism. Ranboo has always struggled with remembering who he was, what even was his purpose to be alive, who he cares about and who he wants to avoid, yet one hurtful memory can erase his whole image, perfect or not, of such a person who he learned to care for. Except Tubbo, or Michael, he can never forget his family. When it comes to the protection of his son, he is willing to sacrifice himself.

Scene from Fundy’s perspective:
I just wanted my mother! I just wanted to see her smile again (even if I never even knew her)- when I found myself crying into my bed, with no-one around to help me, just- nobody! Nobody cares! Nobody cares when I wake up, and I’m screaming into walls, begging for Phil to come over and wrap me close and tell me he still cares, because what can I do? Wilbur’s alive- he’s, real, and he probably doesn’t want to see me, and I fully understand that he might not want to but the agitating feeling is always still there. Wilbur- I want to see him, I want to hug him- I want him to be my dad. I want my father so I can tell him how much I have been, flipping hallucinating him because I can’t see him anymore, and I don’t want to spiral, I don’t want to end up like him, wrap the home and burn it down and never see it again, fine! But Wilbur is going to come back, can you understand? Wilbur is going to be angry- that I betrayed him during Pogtopia, and you know what we need to do? We need to strategise, baby! I can’t cry here, can I? If only- If only I could’ve learned to trust, to care, to love, all the vital, pivotal character development that anyone should know, anyone and even me! I want to be like everyone- but what if I am- what if this is normal? What if wasting away in a decrepit bunker would (actually) be dynamite? I want to find myself, chat, and look, look at those walls, I scale them with the care I wish people had for me, instead of- disregard; can I ever be accepted? If I were to- see them again, the smp, the people I was raised with; if they saw me again, there’s no way in hell they would remember me.

Scene from Ranboo’s perspective:
Ah, Michael. Look at the sweet boy, he was- playing! He was playing, wi-ith his toys! Tubbo brought in a couple, apparently Tommy made them! Little flowers that Tommy gave to Tubbo, to give to Michael, man, what a circle we are, or were. Oh! It’s raining outside, and that’s great! I think. I’m not sure. Rain does have quite considerably, terrible connotations, every now and again. I’d find myself in a rut, honestly, staring at the rain, watching the little patter on the ground, I mean, I enjoyed watching rain dry onto that cobblestone, but that would also be quite unfortunate if the circumstances were lifted and I could run in the rain, God, Tubbo would make a fool of me, sitting about and watching as everyone has fun without me, but that’s ok. I- ah, Benson is clucking around my legs, but thank God for this height, I’m just gonna leg it from here, up and around the door, up where I can’t even think straight, I’m going to the Nuke facility. Any sane person would reply, sorry? Why the Nuke facility? Well, I NEED A BOMB; the reason being is to let out my frustration but also clear happiness. Technoblade has just went to prison, and although that may be exciting! It’s a period (of time) where I have no peer pressure; I miss Technoblade. I wonder if you guys miss Technoblade, hey? The particles are- /swarming/ me right now, who knew I would be so popular. They’re so crooning, Michael would love this, well love that I’m getting right now, but he’s not having it, all the love is for you, chat, and it always was. Imagine what it would be like in the prison for Techno and Dream, they must like it, it gets extremely cold in there sometimes, but the lava is always ready to keep you hot and warm. Honestly, if that was me, hiding around with Dream, ah, you know what? I’d rather die, than spend 3 whole months with that strange green child.

—

Fanfic tropes: (used the sleepyboisinc dynamic) {3} (1063 words)

“Phi-iiiil” Tommy whined.
“Oh for goodness’s sake, Tommy!” Phil hissed, irises poised at Tommy’s own, hesitation uplifting his gaze, conveying anger and interest in a single confrontation.
“Wilbur’s being annoying-gg,” Tommy complained, “He won’t leave his home- work-kk,” he sighed, gazing at Philza with an angered, yet perturbed look in his eyes.
“He can’t be doing anything too boisterous!” Phil replies, with confidence, concern, and ignorance, he has better things to think towards.

Tommy treaded carefully along Philza’s glance, taking miniscule, lightweight steps in the direction of confidement, he wanted to discuss this, carefully, and he wanted to uplift his masculinity and be heard, be spoken and strong. Yes, Tommy wants Wilbur to be punished for his absolutely criminal behaviour, but he also wanted to visit Ranboo, to work on a project with him, so he must maintain this, he must maintain his strength. Act normal, be absorbed into the tempestuous circumstances of real life, and impress your father, striding in his own tapestry, Tommy was.

“But its art! It’s taking him ages; what’s the point of it all!” Tommy chorused, one, two, three, all three points stated, now for the blow.
“Wil is just being meticulous! He doesn’t want to mess it all up, can you not understand?” Phil replied, satire lingering from his concepts.

Tommy could, but this wasn’t his issue, he was breezing through this conversation.

“Phil!” Tommy beckoned, a grin seeping onto his face, “If Wil can’t finish his homework, and will just /lie there/ for the rest of the day-” Tommy began, carefully, “Then can I go visit Ranboo? He’s just down the road!”
“TOMMY!” Phil tackled, “YOU- you have work too?”
“I might,” Tommy responded, wearily.
“Then you must finish that and then go to Ranboo’s, what’s the point if you don’t do that first mate; Wil is your example, just follow that!”
“But I have a better plan!” Tommy retaliated, “I will go help Techno in the kitchen!”
“Techno’s got that covered, you have work to do, Tommy,” Phil hastily responded, overwhelmed with emotions, concious thinking, because goodness’s sake Techno has been waiting for him for half an hour, why didn’t Technoblade say- anything!
“Oh-hh, so someone’s left someone on read?” Tommy crooned, “What- in real life this time? Oh my God Phil-”
“Perhaps,” Phil replied, “You wouldn’t know, Tommy,” he smiled.

“That’s cool, that’s cool,” Tommy stated, straying the conversation smoothly, Techno doesn’t have a need in any way to get involved. Surely not, Technoblade doesn’t need to be involved! My goodness, Techno has been doing completely fine, actually.

“Why don’t you hang out with Techno, then?”

He was being sarcastic. Distracting, one could say.

“Go on, Tommy, Techno probably needs your help over there!” Phil continued, “He’s making mashed potatoes for dinner, go make some yourself, is that a deal?”
“T-Techno?” Tommy hesistated, “I- I’m busy, dad,”
“And so is Technoblade,” Philza countered, sharply, “Go help him out, will you?”

Tommy grunted, reaching for his bag, and strode towards the door, angry at Phil, angry at Techno. But Tommy was Tommy, things weren’t going to go so smoothly.

Techno had already anticipated this, watching Tommy with awe as he struck through the door, flinging his bag on the table, followed by an even deeper sigh dissipating from his mouth.

“Yo-oo- Tommy what’s up?” Techno replied, leaning over Tommy’s face with a quickpaced sigh of cheerful laughter as a response. Tommy looked over to Techno’s face, weary, considerate, calm, but still jovial, but still so hurt.
“Go away,” Tommy replied, hurt, angered.

Techno stepped back, before adjusting his posture, and raising an arm towards Tommy in response, “What even-” he began, paused, and then rephrased, “Look, I hope I’m not bothersome,”

“Wilbur is busy,” Tommy began, admittedly, exhaustedly, “And Phil won’t let me go to Ranboo’s; Techno, please don’t make it worse, please don’t bore me, I’m done, Techno, I’m done with all these chores, I just want to sleep,”
“I could just let you sleep?” Techno offered, “Ah, Tommy I’m handling this all just fine, you know,”
“But you’re gonna want my help,” Tommy began, drearily, “Even though I don’t want you to,”

Techno remained silent, pondering on Tommy with reflection, then smiled.

“You can just sit and watch me; we don’t have to talk if you really don’t want to-”

Tommy halted. He froze, looking towards Techno with newfound agitation. He said, ‘you can just sit and watch me’, he didn’t hug back, he didn’t say that Tommy was doing his best, he didn’t say this was all for the future, and as aforementioned, Techno had just left him, Techno left him to lie and to rot in his disgust and subconscious happiness. The sudden flourish of longing seeped into Tommy’s mind, as Tommy became prey to the idea that Techno would love him despite everything, even when he needed to be left alone. Tommy knew Techno would always love him, always care, always look out for him, so what now?

“Techno?” Tommy spluttered, to a Techno who wouldn’t turn back, “I- I missed you, despite everything,” he admitted.

Techno said nothing, continuing to chop his potatoes and fry them as crisps, baked potatoes, what a range.

“Techno?” Tommy repeated, “I’m talking to you! TECHNO? LISTEN TO ME- TECHNO!” more hurried, more panicked.

The guilt hit him like a crashing wave, how could he be so ignorant, Techno never even listened. Techno didn’t- act like himself, talk like himself, all the conjectures of personality built upon his very name.

“Techno, are you there?” Tommy whispered.

“No, let’s say I wasn’t, but what if you were?” Technoblade laughed.

“So long, Tommy,” Technoblade finished, dazed out of his words.

The darkness held out her hands, reaching them over to close upon Tommy’s eyes.

Tommy wrapped his arms around himself, and he couldn’t breathe. Technoblade dissipated to the ashes, he dived into the vortex of the blackening screen, darker, darker.

“Tommy?” One final time.

Tommy looked up, and Wilbur looked upon him with the same kind eyes he had always remembered, “It’s ok to cry,” Wilbur pushed, as he lifted his palm to rest on Tommy’s cheek. Tommy’s mind throbbed with uncertainty, but he prevailed.

“Where’s Techno?” Tommy whimpered, tears falling from his cheeks as he uttered words beyond description.

“Techno’s dead, Tommy,” Wilbur sighed, “And you just woke up,”

—

SWC Fanfic :D Just a oneshot of me and one of sci-fi’s co leaders {4} (331 words)

Fari slides through the railings in euphoria as she trails out the gate of the contemporary cafeteria, convulsed with glee, enthrallment, and the newfound hope to make memories.

“Wait- wh- Mech! Wait up!” Fari yells, signalling for a boy just older than her, but still there, he didn’t leave yet! And that’s all she needed to be happy to be happy up here, the only person she really knew. Fari shuffled through her notes, swarmed with revision, and hurriedly collected them one by one.
“Fari? Fari, I said I would go with Alyelle, why are you still following me?” he joked, looking back at her with curiosity.
“But you promised?” she asks, hastily, “You promised we would be together, like, you’re the only reason I’m doing SWC right now,”

“But you’re in that cabin in the woods, over there now-” Mech announced, pointing at a distant grove, shrouded with evergreens and weeping willows and moss on the tattered floorboards, lanterns adorned within the sky, as the crowd poured towards the auditorium, ballads yet to be sung, Lio themselves obtaining into their unearthly glory. “Emerson trials!” Lio bellowed, struggling at attracting the highest chords, but loud enough for the crowd to hear and see.

“What about you?” Fari replied, concerned.
“Oh- just the Sci-Fi hacking ring, just down the road!” A wide smile on his face, his hands pleasuring him greatly as he unconsciously fiddled with them.
“Goodness’s sake-” Fari began, “A whole ring? All that equipment, Alyelle must be rich!”

Mech stiffened, gazing back upon Fari, and stating, “Alyelle is very busy, she’s so hardworking, like, I wouldn’t say she’s /that/ rich-” he entailed, “But we’re hiding a murder, so don’t worry about that,”

“Noted,” Fari replied, confidently, “See you around, perhaps? The ring isn’t that far from the café,”
“Sure, sure!” Mech exclaimed, the grin once again seeping to his face, “Bye!”
“Bye, man,” Fari replied.

(can i just say, i was refraining, quivering almost, like literally after every mech sentence i just wanted to write LOL XD ITS FUNNY IM WITH ALYELLE :.D :.D please help)

Daily 5

Lillie sits stubbornly on the floor, her head shaking back and forth, back and forth. I know full well she did it, but I don't know how to get her to admit it. I saw her shovelling handful after handful of chocolate chips into her mouth, and Mama did too. So Lillie should know it's in her best interest to fess up. But that little head of hers keeps shaking back and forth, golden ringlets flying.
“Come on, Lillie,” Mama says. “Honesty is the best policy. We saw you doing it.”
“I didn't I didn't I didn't!” she protests.
“Lillie love,” I say gently to my baby sister, “Lying will get you in more trouble than sneaking.”
She scrunches her nose at me. “Not lying!” But I can tell by the smirk that fights its way into control of her face and the way she won't meet Mama's eyes or mine that she is lying, and knows full well she's doing it, too.
Mama crouches down on the floor beside her youngest daughter. “Show me your hands, sweetheart.”
More head-shaking. Lillie suddenly stuffs her hands deep into the pockets of her new yellow dress.
“Come on, show me.” Mama is still speaking kindly, but I can tell she's getting frustrated.
Evidently Lillie can tell too. Her hands, covered in rich brown melted chocolate, slowly climb out of her pockets and she holds them guiltily on either side of her adorable four-year-old face.
“I did it, Mama, Rosa. I'm sorry.”
Mama smiles lovingly. It's hard to stay angry at Lillie for long. She's so little, and is still learning how life works. It isn't really her fault.
“Come with me,” I say to her, “Let's get your hands washed up. We can decide what to do about the chocolate chips afterward.” (300)

Weekly #1

Part One

Character reference for Jess Brightwell from the Great Library series
Pronouns: he/him
Sexuality: straight
Species: human

Strengths: Intelligent, observative, flexible, witty, hardworking
Weaknesses: Blames himself, overly emotional, impulsive, overcommitted

General view on life: Curious, optimistic (later becomes more pessimistic), not hateful

Relationships:
- Romantic interest: Morgan Hault
- Friends: Dario Santiago, Thomas Schreiber, Glain Wathen, Khalila Seif, Anit Ibrahim
- Family: Callum Brightwell (father), (mother), Brendan Brightwell (brother), Liam Brightwell (brother, deceased)

Tendencies:
- Constantly tends to believe that something is wrong
Improving slowly
- Tends to blame himself
Improving slowly
- Tends to take situations overly personally
Improving quickly
87 words

Scenario
your character has been hired for a cause they no longer believe in, and they want to defect

Jess had no idea how he would explain to his Da that he had no interest in continuing or taking over the family business. Ever since his run in with the ink-licker he understood that he wasn't like the rest of his family, like his brother Brendan said, ink ran in his blood. He wanted to be a scholar, not a spy for his father's book smuggling business. Yet today he agreed to steal a book from someone and deliver it to a buyer right here in Alexandria. Who would've thought that even in the Great Library's capital there would still be people willing to go through the risk of keeping, selling and stealing originals? Plus this time there was more on the line if he got caught. He wouldn't just be some nameless criminal on the streets of London anymore, he could be identified along with the rest of his family and after what happened to Abdul Nejem who knew what the Great Library would do to the Brightwells. No; he couldn't let that happen. His concern for his family and his love for books were all too much to do this. How would he explain that to Da though? Callum Brightwell was definetly not the sentimental sort; he was all business. Also, his father was technically enemies with the Great Library. What would he think if his older son ditched the family's generational business to serve their lifelong enemy. He looked again at the scribble of a letter that his Da left him in his Codex. It was some kind of code. He didn't know why he was surprised at this point, they couldn't afford to have the Great Library have access to their secrets. It wasn't that he couldn't crack the code but the fact that there was a part of him saying You don't have to do this. And why wasn't his brother able to do this? Sure, he wasn't enrolled in Great Library training but with his connections his father could do practically anything. Should he write back that he would do it? That he wouldn't? Or was nothing at all good enough for Da?
“Also messages from family?” asked Thomas who Jess didn't even realize was there.
“Yeah. Just some family business,” Jess replied quickly closing his codex.
Well after all that wasn't an outright lie, no one asked for what kind of family business.
402 words

489 words for part 1

Part 2

Character voices
(Characters from Six of Crows)

- Kaz Brekker
Kaz Brekker is a cold-hearted criminal willing to do any job for the right price which earned him the nickname “Dirtyhands”. He is manipulative and makes sure that he's always in control of the situation. He also plans out a lot and always has a trick up his sleeve. However despite being a criminal he isn't entirely without morals as it's evident that he cares about his friends and is against harming a child, saying he never would. On the outside, Kaz always appears calm, collected and serious; hiding his true emotions and specifically his desire for revenge against his enemies.
101 words

- Inej Ghafa
Inej Ghafa is mainly reserved but isn't afraid to voice her opinion on things she feels strongly about. When Inej is giving her opinion she is very direct and sure about it without sugarcoating. She is skeptical about most people but never outright harsh and instead is kind to those who prove themselves to be good people. Inej follows the Saints and is religiously traditional often reciting old Suli proverbs as advice. Inej is capable and strong, going for her goals and aspirations. Unlike most of her acquittances Inej has clear morals set and refuses k1ll due to her religion.
100 words

Kaz's point of view
Sure, this was risky; but money, especially 30 million kruge isn't something anyone in this part of Ketterdam could decline to. That included me.
But don't get me wrong here, I understood the risk to be taken but Jan Van Eck had brought up a deal I simply could not resist. And neither could any other member of the Dregs. Money was something everyone needed but no one (except for Van Eck at the time) seemed to have enough of it; like Jesper, Inej, Per Haskell and finally, myself. This would have to be one of the most difficult jobs we've been offered. Yet no one also paid as much.
Everyone gets blinded by greed at times and I've been proud to fall victim to it. I admit I didn't notice what I should have and went on a wild goose chase all the way to * Fjerda. I refused to believe Van Eck had played us all but when our target, Bo Yul-Bayur turned out dead, just that came true. And realizing that was like a stab in the gut. Not just for me but for the whole Crow Club. I should've listened to Inej, in fact I can't think of one time I shouldn't have. This was far too crazy to be true without some kind of breaking catch. But like I already said, all we looked for was money and no one seemed to care that Van Eck looked for anything but the Shu scientist or his young son who we managed to find despite all the struggles we faced previously. Of course for everything except Van Eck's deceit, I'd been spectacularly prepared for. That evening which now seems so far in the past we all agreed that this was too much to turn down and perhaps even if I'd known what would happen, I'd still go, I'm not a coward. Maybe just change my plans to keep all my investments secure.
325 words

Inej's point of view
That day I should've known something was up, apart from the usual going ons of the Dregs, of course.
It all started with Kaz mysteriously disappearing and leaving Pib in charge. I had nothing against Pib personally and Kaz did know that I had no plans to stay with the Dregs after I pay my debts to Per Haskell for rescuing me from the Menagerie. Still I couldn't help but feel jealous of something I couldn't quite grasp.
That was until Kaz showed up as mysteriously as he disappeared. I wanted to know what happened so I came up to the supply closet which also happened to be the perfect place to catch onto any conversation happening in the Crow Club's office. But instead of the expected meeting happening came a silence and a feeling like Kaz knew that I was there. In fact it seemed like he was only waiting for me.
Then it turned out he was; he needed me for some new job that a mysterious figure has assigned to the Dregs. Yet this wasn't like any other assignment I'd been given before, this was a real job that was offering 4 million kruge my way. However, like most things this had a catch, Kaz did his best to clarify that this job was near impossible to complete and that he would explain more once the rest of the ones he hired would get together.
On a normal day that would be enough to make me turn my back on this job but the thought of 4 million kruge was too much to resist. I'd be able to pay off my debts to Haskell and finally get out of dreaded Ketterdam. All that took my mind off the fact that Kaz Brekker was not someone anyone should trust, plus there was always some sort of catch.
309 words

835 words for part 2

Part 3

tropes I chose: Friends to Lovers, Modern AU, Songfic (Something to Talk About by Bonnie Raitt)

I hear them whisper, you won't believe it
They think we're lovers kept under covers
I just ignore it, but they keep saying

As Glain made her way down to lunch, exhausted from Professor Wolfe's ruthless history class, she could not stop thinking about the joke Dario made on her and Khalila dating. Did that prick know about her crush? Plus, if he did, how in the world? It's not like she told anyone. Even accidentally blurted it out, not a single chance in the world. Or maybe Khalila did like Glain back and they were both just too afraid to tell eachother.

We laugh just a little too loud
We stand just a little too close
We stare just a little too long

They were just friends though. Maybe they did occasionally act a little too close but that was just in a friendly way. Count on everyone here to make a romance out of anything if they get bored.
In the cafeteria their friend group was sitting at their usual place. Everyone except for Morgan was already there. Then Glain remembered that Morgan does some kind of secret extra credit work at the library on Tuesdays.

Maybe they're seeing something we don't, darlin'

Khalila came to lunch early since Professor Prakesh ended her classes early. Even despite the earliness it seemed that Dario couldn't take mathematics at all and came down to “go to the bathroom”. At least it wasn't Professor Wolfe who regularly tormented his classes with a plethora of obscure history questions. After a few minutes everyone, and then finally Glain (her best friend), arrived.

Let's give them something to talk about
How about love?

Glain sat down between Jess and Khalila blushing a bit.
“So, what's new?” she asked.
“Not much here,” answered Khalila, “what's new for you?”
“Is Wolfe torturing your class with history again?” Jess asked before Glain could answer.
Glain laughed. “Yeah, on my side there's also not much except Wolfe's daily history routine.”
“And Dario. For the last time, me and Khalila are not dating if that's somehow not clear to you,” she added

I feel so foolish, I never noticed
You'd act so nervous

And where did that come from? Of course Khalila and Glain have not been dating. However Khalila would admit deep inside that she would've liked it if they were.
Then she remembered. It was a joke Dario made something like a week ago to the whole school. It seemed that everyone was still talking about it. Maybe there was something more than a joke to it though. Khalila did notice that Glain was acting weird around her in the past few days.


It took a rumor to make me wonder
Now I'm convinced I'm going under

Why did it take this whole rumor for Khalila to even notice this? Sure, she had the highest scores on tests but the same could not be said about understanding feelings, that was harder than beating Jess at a game of Go! Was she over thinking this? Overthinking was something she was often prone to and that she definitely knew.


Thinking ‘bout you every day
Dreaming ’bout you every night

Glain knew that after all this * that her crush on Khalila would be a lot harder to forget about, especially when she was with her friends. Luckily the period after lunch she had gym which was her favourite subject and most importantly freedom from Wolfe or Dario's constant torment whether that was history questions or insults and she couldn't tell which one was worse. She should take her mind off of this.

Hoping that you feel the same way
Now that we know it, let's really show it, darlin'

But boy, Glain hoped Khalila would feel the same way about her if she ever confessed her feelings. Also, what would Khalila think if Glain went along with all the rumors and said that they were dating? Would she be angry with her? Glain knew that Khalila could easily tell things about people and it seemed quite possible that she already knew but was waiting to confess her feelings. Glain did really wish for that.

Let's give them something to talk about
A little mystery to figure out

A certain thought crossed Khalila's mind; what if she did go along with the rumors? Would people believe her? Well they usually tended to consider Khalila trustworthy. But no, she needed to focus more on her studies than high school dramas or romances. She convinced herself that her only love was getting into Harvard University and like that it would stay for as long as she had any control over her life.

Let's give them something to talk about
How about love, love, love, love?

Khalila would go for it right that moment but she believed that if Glain felt that way as well then she would confess first. She was always the certain one, Khalila seemed certain but that was only because she said just the things she was certain in which obviously made it incredibly difficult to navigate feelings or emotions for her. If Glain wouldn't admit by tomorrow than she herself would; Khalila promised herself.
727 words
727 words from part 3

Part 4

SWC fanfic
As I wake up, I realize two things. One of them being that I'm not at home anymore and the other being that it's still night. With another person snoring somewhere in the room, it looked like I was not falling back asleep. Maybe that was for the better; what is this place anyway? I looked around. It seemed like a hotel room but there were more beds. Then it hit me! It was a cabin, like at camp!
I remembered now. A month ago I applied for a summer camp (and never got a response). Wait- would this be considered kidnapping? Or was I just way too sleepy to remember anything?
Then, a small memory came back, my mom waking me up at one in the morning and me getting on some kind of school bus. So at least it most likely wasn't kidnapping. I unzipped my belt bag to grab my phone and check the time (thankfully it was still there).
I almost screamed as a message showed up on the screen and the podcast I listened to before sleeping began playing again at full volume. I quickly searched for the volume down button with my fingers; that was a close one.
The message read: “Welcome to SWC (Summer Writing Camp), Lincoln. We are proud to inform you that you have been sorted into the Horror Cabin for this session. If you have any further questions you may ask the leader or co-leaders of your cabin: Luna, Sophie, Leopard or Seltzer. We hope you have the best experience possible at SWC.”
I was quite stunned. At least it did provide an explanation for some things but it created more questions than it answered.
After I clicked the “ok” button at the bottom of the screen, my phone was back to Spotify with that Multi-Level Mondays episode still playing. I turned it off not wanting to accidentally put some nonsense about wicker basket scams on full blast as a first impression of me.
I checked the time in small letters at the top of the screen, it was 5:34 am. I definitely didn't get enough sleep today. Hopefully it's going to be one of those “introduce yourself and make friends” days.
However incase it wasn't I fell back onto my bed, trying to get at least a few more minutes of sleep and surprisingly with all the excitement I still drifted off.
Until the sound of some kind of bell broke the silence. If that is, you could call it a bell. It sounded more like the demon Furby under my bed at home coming back to life for once in a year and asking me to feed it.
Most of the others awoke with the same kind of confusion I had when I woke up in the middle of the night. The door to the room opened and the person in the doorway looked around at us.
“Sorry about the late pick up times. It's what we could arrange. Bus drivers are very- very busy at this time of year.” they began, “if you checked your phone this morning you would've received a message about what's going on but since I assume most of you just woke up, let me clarify some things.”
They continued, basically just re-wording the message I've already read, “You're here because you were sorted into the Horror Cabin for this session of Summer Writing Camp or more commonly known as SWC. I'm your leader for this session and my name is Luna. I'm leading along with my amazing co-leaders Sophie, Leopard and Seltzer so if you have any questions further in the session you'd be asking us. Today is your first day so me and the other leaders will go easy on you but tomorrow expect to be writing like your life depends on it.”
This was going to be fun.
649 words
649 words for part 4

Total word count: 2700 words

Weekly 7/3-7/9
——
Part 1: Character Consistency

Character reference sheet for: Keefe Sencen (from Keeper of the Lost Cities)
Series continuing or ended: Continuing

Pronouns: he/him
Species: elf

Strengths: Is good at outsmarting people, pranking/cracking jokes, has a very kind heart, and can think in times of need or pressure
Weaknesses: Often hides behind his mask of jokes and doesn't let anyone in; pushes people away when he's upset

General view of life: Cracking one joke after another in hopes that his life is this picture-perfect facade he wants

Relationships:
Romantic interest: Sophie Foster
Friends: Fitz Vacker, Biana Vacker, Dex Dizznee, Linh Song, Tam Song (frenemies)
Family: Lady Gisela (mother), and Lord Cassius (father)

Tendencies:
Always make jokes to act like he is the tough guy, in order to hide his rough past
Tries to act overly confident, like he knows exactly what he's doing
Happens to call Sophie “Foster” every single time he talks to her

Situations:
Loss of a friend
-spends all his time researching and thoroughly planning
-jokes around to hide his worry and fear
-will do anything to calm his friends (especially Sophie) down

Scenario: (your character is pulling a prank on their friends and something goes terribly wrong)
640 words
“Whoa Foster, those are some seriously strong emotions you're hitting me with.” Keefe remarked, fanning the air swiftly. For some reason, Sophie's emotions were always stronger to detect than anyone else's, but ever since she enhanced his ability a few months back, the feeling has gotten even stronger.
Sophie sighed. “I know. I'm just a bit worried why the Black Swan would call an emergency meeting as they did. Normally if Mr. Forkle wanted to talk to me about something, he'd just hail me, or tell me in private. But in the note they left, he said that the Collective had to be there, and so did all of you guys.” she confessed, tugging out a loose eyelash–her nervous habit.
Keefe didn't know what to say to that. The truth was, he actually was the one who wrote that note, pretending to be the Black Swan. The real Black Swan had been suspiciously quiet, too quiet for Keefe, so he decided to at least try to organize something.
“What's wrong?” Sophie asked.
Keefe debated telling her the truth–he was done lying–but he couldn't make himself do it. Somehow, in some way, he was the key to it all, and so was his “legacy”.
So he just gave Sophie his trademark smirk. “Aw, is Foster worried about me?” he asked, hoping his voice sounded convincing enough for her. Luckily, her mood seemed to shift from worried to annoyed, with a hint of relief.
“Uh, that's a no.” Sophie told him.
“Hate to break it to you, but your emotions say otherwise.” Keefe pointed out, and Sophie blushed in response.
Before either of them could say another word, the rest of their crew–Fitz, Biana, Dex, Tam, and Linh–appeared, leaving a trail of bright light behind them.
“Oh, are we interrupting something?” Fitz asked. His voice sounded teasing, but his face was the exact opposite. And from what Keefe could feel, his emotions were tied between jealousy and anger.
At that moment, Sophie cleared her throat. “We should probably get going. The note the Black Swan left me this morning was pretty vague, but it did make it very clear that we have to be there by noon.”
Everyone nodded. Within minutes, the seven of them were following the note to the meeting spot that Keefe had chosen- Sophie's old house.
Once they leaped there, Biana frowned. “Okay, I'm not the Collective, but why would they choose this spot? The Neverseen knows about Sophie's old house here, and they also know that Mr. Forkle used to live next door.” she said.
Keefe froze. Shoot. He forgot about that not-so-tiny detail when he was planning all this.
“By that look on your face, I can tell you know something we don't. So spill.” Tam snapped, looking him up and down.
Keefe kept silent- if he learned anything from his time with the Neverseen, was just don't answer any questions. Keep quiet. That way you're technically not really lying.
“Just tell us, Keefe. Please. We don't have time for this; the Black Swan could be here any minute.” Sophie begged, her brown eyes so bright and wide. That's what convinced him to finally cave in.
“Fine. The Black Swan really isn't coming at all. I was the one who actually wrote that note, in hopes of getting us a free meeting with them. Finally get some answers.” Keefe admitted, cringing when he heard his own words come out of his mouth. Then he turned to Sophie. “Foster, I know you're very upset at me–your emotions say as much. But please, there was some reasoning to this, because when–” but he was interrupted by a tall, skinny figure in a black cloak.
The Neverseen had found them.
Before Keefe could even react, or pull his friends out of the way, the Neverseen member had grabbed Sophie.


Part 2: Character Voice
1,169 words all together (This is from ‘From the Desk of Zoe Washington’ by Janae Marks)

Zoe Washington is an adventurous girl, always feeling up to trying something brand new. She also doesn't like to argue or fight with you, she'd much rather keep all her emotions and feelings–good or bad–bottled up inside of her. She hates when people keep secrets from her, though, and if someone doesn't give her the answers she wants, she'll do whatever she can to search for them, even if it means taking risks. She is nice and friendly to pretty much every person she meets, but she can hold on to a grudge if you really upset or hurt her.

While Zoe is adventurous, her best friend, Trevor, is the opposite. He leans more toward the safe side, his own comfort zone, and always likes to follow the rules at all times. He is very gentle toward other people he meets, and other people tend to take advantage of that whenever they can. Trevor is still kind and will try to do whatever he can to help you, but he tries to avoid confrontation. His cleverness can come into play when he wants it to, and he can sometimes be the more logical person, always thinking every little thing through.

Scene from Zoe's Perspective:
I remember that night so clearly–it was the night Trevor and I snuck out to find Professor Thomas, hoping to find more out about Marcus. We were on the subway train, a tiny hole in the window creating a chilly breeze rushing past us. I shivered.
“Are you cold?” Trevor asked, glancing over at me.
I blushed. I was unsure whether or not it was from him, or the cold. “A little,” I admitted.
“Here, take my coat.” he said, taking off his jacket and handing it to me.
“Thanks.” I replied, slipping the coat on. I hated sneaking out of the house and lying to my parents, but what I hated even more was having to get Trevor involved. I wasn't planning to involve him in the beginning–he is the biggest rule-follower I've ever met–but I didn't have a choice. Trevor was my best friend, and despite us getting into a fight last year, he's proved that he won't do that again, so I forgave him. He also begged that I take him along, to make it up to him.
So here we are.
“You sure you want to do this?” I asked. “Because you know if our parents find out, we'll both be in huge trouble.”
Trevor nodded. “I know. I mean, of course I don't want to get in trouble, but it's worth it to find the truth for you.”
I didn't know what to say to that. Marcus was still my dad- whether or not he is innocent, that'll never change. But it's like Mom told me a few days back, “Sometimes, the truth is more dangerous than lies.”
Now I knew exactly what Mom had meant.
And if I was being completely honest, I was so glad to have Trevor with me that day; I don't know how I would've made it without him.
My thoughts were interrupted by the subway train screeching to a stop, right outside of the Harvard campus.
“We're here.” I whispered. Oh gosh, it looked a lot bigger in person, and we only had an hour to find Professor Thomas. Or less. My phone happened to be dead, so I couldn't check the time. Great.
“Hey Zoe, relax. It'll be fine, trust me.” Trevor whispered back, his minty breath hot on my cheek.
“I do trust you.” I said softly and squeezed his hand. The woman seated across from us looked at us suspiciously, but I was feeling too amazing at that moment to even care.
No matter what happened with Professor Thomas and Marcus, I was positive of one thing: Trevor would always be by my side, and I'd always be by his.

Scene from Trevor's Perspective:
From the moment I found out about Zoe's kind-of-smart, kind-of-crazy idea to sneak out at night to go to Harvard and find Professor Thomas to ask her about Marcus, I begged to come along. Not because I just wanted a free adventure, but because I knew firsthand how hard the truth was, and I didn't think Zoe was ready to handle whatever truth Professor Thomas gave her in there.
Plus, ever since we had our huge fight a while back, I kind of thought she was being more distanced from me–which I can't exactly blame her, because the whole thing was my fault–but I figured this would be the perfect bonding moment for us. To reconnect, I should say.
“So,” I said, desperate to fill the everlasting silence. “You know who to look for, right?”
Zoe nodded. “Yep. We're looking for Professor Thomas, who teaches math, and she is tall, skinny, and has shoulder-length light brown hair. Then, we go up to her and introduce ourselves, I pull out the picture I have of Marcus, and we politely ask her if she recognizes him.”
“Exactly.” I said, giving her a warm smile. That was one of the things I loved about Zoe; she never waited around for anyone to tell her what to do- she just did what she felt was truly right.
For me, I just tend to follow all the rules, plain and simple. I don't really see a need to rebel or break rules, because at the end of the day, it's really not accomplishing that much more than following them.
I glanced over at Zoe and saw that her hand seemed to be shaking, so I reached over and grabbed her hand, squeezing it a little. “I promise, it'll all be fine, Zoe. We can do this.” I told her.
“Thank you, Trevor.” Zoe replied, her eyes twinkling. I couldn't tell if that was from the bright sun, or her excitement. Or both.
With that, we walked around the huge–and I mean huge–Harvard campus, in hopes of finding Professor Thomas. Since it was almost lunch, everyone was inside their classrooms, and the actual campus was pretty much empty, which was definitely better for us. If there were a bunch of students out, they'd probably be asking a million questions about why two twelve-year-olds were roaming around a college campus in the middle of the afternoon, and our situation was way too complicated to explain.
After about fifteen minutes of walking–and even making a pit stop so we could eat–we finally rounded a corner and saw a sign that said, Professor Thomas's Office.
“We finally found it!” I cried, feeling ready to burst with excitement. I was still holding onto Zoe's hand, and she squeezed it even harder.
“Are you sure you're ready for this?” Zoe asked me, right before I pushed open the door.
“I'm ready as I'll ever be.” I said, half to myself and half to her.
All I cared about at that moment was that Zoe was with me, and I was with her–and nothing, absolutely nothing could stop us.


Part 3: Tropes
795 words (I used AU, Enemies to Lovers, and Songfic)
Griffin walked up and down the hallway of Shellbend Middle School, located in the heart of Atlantis. He was looking for his next class, but the way the building was designed, there was one class on every floor–so he had to walk a lot just to get to every single class.
His class happened to be on the thirty-first floor…wonderful.
When Griffin reached the fifteen floor, he stopped to catch his breath. Right at that moment, a girl approached him, her dark brown hair swinging loosely behind her back. “What's up, loser?” she asked.
He gritted his teeth. “Who are you?”
“I'm Harper, duh. I'm in one of your classes, so I thought you'd know me,” Harper remarked. “And you're Griff.”
“Actually, you're wrong, Harper. I'm Griffin,” he said, leaning against the wall that was right beside the stairs, so he could make a quick getaway if needed.
Harper's frown turned into a smirk. “Ah, you're the boy whose family runs that haunted hotel.”
“It's not haunted!” Griffin argued. He'd already told about a million people that, but no one seemed to listen. Sure, that place did have some interesting history to it back in the day, although it's not even like that now.
“Sure, sure, whatever you say.” Harper replied, rolling her eyes.
Before Griffin could think of a snarky comeback–though he didn't know why he felt the need to compete with Harper–the principal of the underwater school, Ms. Rivera, seemed to just appear out of thin air. Or maybe she'd just been there the whole entire time.
“Enough of the bickering! Shouldn't you kids be heading to class right now?” she told them. Her voice had an edge to it, almost warning them not to argue.
“Exactly.” Griffin muttered. After all, Harper had started it, not him. He took one last look at her, and then continued up the stairs to his next class, with Harper's words weighing heavily on his shoulders.
——
That night, Griffin was back at his house, reading a horror book. Normally, he'd tend to stay far away from anything in the horror genre, but given recent events at the hotel…well, he thought it might be a good idea to do some research.
Just then, his dad called, “Griffin, someone's here for you!”
So he put his book down on his bed and quickly rushed downstairs, wondering who it might possibly be. But as soon as he reached the last step, his bubble seemed to burst.
It was Harper.
The last person he wanted to see in Atlantis.
“What are you doing here? I thought you said you hated this place.” Griffin asked, noticing the way his dad shot him a confused look, but now wasn't the right time to explain everything.
“I never said the word hated, I just…wanted to check out this place for myself.” Harper said.
“You can totally come in, you know. In fact, Griffin, you could show her your room.” Griffin's dad suggested, sounding way too excited for his liking.
Griffin, on the other hand, didn't really like the sound of that idea, but what choice did he have? “Follow me.”
Once Harper was in Griffin's room, he decided to shut the door, just so his parents–or his annoying younger siblings–weren't eavesdropping.
Harper seemed to be fidgeting. Like, a lot.
“So what was the real reason you came over here, Harper? Because I'm positive it wasn't what you told my dad back there.” Griffin said.
Harper sighed. “Look, I…actually…I'm sorry, Griffin. For, like, just about everything I said this morning. You just caught me at a bad time, and I know that's not an excuse, but I wanted to say I'm really sorry.” she said.
Griffin was silent. Part of him really wanted to forgive her, but the other part of him was saying, don't trust her!
“I can tell you're skeptical about forgiving me, and I can't say I blame you. So..I'm going to just sing this.” Harper took a deep breath, stood in front of Griffin's bedroom, and started singing.
What if we rewrite the stars?
Say you were made to be mine
Nothing could keep us apart
You'd be the one I was meant to find
It's up to you, and it's up to me
No one can say what we get to be
So why don't we rewrite the stars?
Maybe the world could be ours
Tonight
By the time Harper finished singing, she was so close to Griffin that he could feel the warmth between them. “I like you.” she said softly.
Griffin's whole head was filled with emotion–too much emotion. But he decided to go with his heart on this one. “I really do like you too, Harper.”
And then, they did the most magical thing of all:
Kiss.

Part 4: SWC Fanfic
570 words (Huge thank you to everyone who volunteered to be in this fanfic! <3)

I walked into the Main Cabin room, which was buzzing with noise. Campers were everywhere–some were at the cafeteria area, eating mango pancakes and drinking mango juice, while others were talking about which cabin was in first place on the leaderboard.
“This cannot be happening right now, please tell us you're kidding!” a girl cried, and I spun to the left. There were a group of campers seated at a long, wooden table, all talking with one another. Well, some look like they were arguing, but it was hard for me to tell.
As I approached their table, they all seemed to quiet down. “Sorry to eavesdrop, but what's going on?” I asked.
The girl that I'd just heard turned to face me. She had tan skin, black hair, and blue eyes–I think her name was Ayid. “Birdi just made an announcement that all the points that every cabin has made this past week have been erased.” she told me.
“Apparently, the data system that the hosts and leaders use to add points got hacked, and now all our points are just…gone.” another camper–Qui–chimed in.
“What?!?” I yelped. How was that even possible? I thought that the database they used was the safest system out there–or at least, that's what Birdi told me.
I took a sip of mango juice in hopes of calming me down, but it tasted sour in my mouth.
“You can sit down if you'd like.” Twi, a camper in Fantasy, said. Her bright blue eyes shone extra brightly, and I gave her a warm smile.
“Thank you!” I said and sat down next to her.
All of the happiness twisted into nervousness when I spotted four of the (co)leaders stepping into the Main Cabin, looking as worried as I felt. Moonlit–co-leader of Thriller–cleared her throat, trying to quiet everyone down. It worked. The room became dead silent, and I could just feel the tension.
Next to her, Dawn–co-leader of Adventure–shifted uncomfortably. “So, we know you all probably heard about what happened with the points…” she said, playing with her long brown hair. Then, she looked to Vi–leader of Fairy Tales–for some extra help.
“Right. We know everyone is really upset, but we–” Vi was cut off by a tall camper from Sci-Fi in the back of the room.
“We want our points back!” he shouted, and everyone started chanting that, causing Gee–co-leader of Real-Fi–to whistle, which got all the campers' attention again.
“We are working on it, I promise. This is a first in SWC history, so we're trying everything we can to work it all out.” Gee promised everyone.
Moonlit fiddled with the long strings on her hoodie as she scanned the entire room. “Meanwhile, we've decided that to make up for the time we're losing trying to fix the system, you can all stay in your cabins, or socialize here, and SWC will last an extra two weeks going into August.” she said.
That started a whole new debate, because some people were extremely busy in August, and couldn't stay. Others were trying to throw mangos everywhere, which just started a food fight.

I gasped, sitting straight-up like a jack-in-the-box. It was just a nightmare. It wasn't real. I glanced around the Thriller cabin, smiling when I saw everyone sleeping soundly, and the faint music playing in the background.
Everything was back to normal.
Or, almost, but that was good enough for me.

daily - july 5
words: 370 (including disclaimer, 453)

Disclaimer: Doctors are in no way, shape, or form responsible for causing problems such as zombie apocalypses. Doctors are not all bad people who want the world to end and are vanquished by apples. The events in the following 370 words are entirely fictional and have no basis in reality, other than the existence of the items featured within (excluding zombies, which are entirely fake). This work does not endorse throwing apples at doctors in real life who are trying to help you.
the above disclaimer was 83 words. just had to add that for fun. i don't think anyone would actually do that based on this
“The doctors are so annoying!” Mirage said with a roll of their eyes as they watched the horde below the treehouse from a window. “They’re building a bridge with medical supplies and furniture over the moat. Again. Zombies could never.”
“Yeah, I get that,” Isabella replied. “I mean, we survived 23 zombie apocalypses caused by the doctors, but now the doctors themselves are attacking- and they’re doing it better than the zombies ever could.”
“Ugh! And don’t get me started on the apples,” Fallen added. “Nearly all of the markets have closed because of them. Only the ones with apples are still there- it’s been so long since I’ve had chocolate.”
“Thankfully, they have enough so we have a nutritious diet,” Isabella sighed. “An apple a day keeps the doctors away, huh? I’ve never been so indebted to fruit.”
“Agreed,” the other two echoed.
“Oh, and speaking of apples,” Isabella began, “Did you hear? Apparently Apple is the only tech brand left standing. It would seem the doctors were scared off by the brand name.”
Fallen chuckled. “Really?”
“According to the new ads, I saw when I went out to restock, yes.”
Mirage pulled over a woven basket filled with apple chunks and stuck a knife into one of them. “Guys, get ready. They’re going for the ladders.”
Isabella loaded her slingshot with another chunk. and aimed it warily at the door to the treehouse. “Not for long, I hope… I don’t have that good of an aim.”
“What about the windows?” Fallen asked. “Are they in danger this time?”
“Mmm… I’d say no,” Mirage began, but didn’t finish her sentence as she was interrupted by the door flying open as a doctor pushed it open.
Before any of the others could react, Fallen took an apple and brandished it in the doctor’s face. The doctor, realizing what it was, started running, but Fallen was faster. He threw the apple, and it soared through the air and hit the doctor on the head.
The doctor and apple vanished in a burst of dust and apple juice, and the rest of the doctors under the treehouse scattered, panicking.
“Oh, good, we’re safe for another day,” Isabella said with a relieved smile.

Daily 5:491 words ='0

I sat down by the bench at the back of the playground, watching all the other kids have fun with one another. I glared at each and one of them, biting back my jealousy. When it came to friendship, things were horrid. Everyone chose their friends at the start of the year, leaving the odd one out, who was always me. I tried to squeeze into friendship groups, but then the kids would turn to me, wide-eyed and slightly scared. When people did that to me, When I looked at people in the eyes when they were talking, they would stop mid-sentence and look like they'd seen a ghost. Even adults did it, but they would draw in a breath, suck teeth, and try to not look awkward. Which, most of the time, didn't work. And mind you, it's still there now six years later.

I didn't know why it was like that. I was a normal five-year-old boy back then who was outwardly obsessed with pizza. I didn't even know about most things back then. I was lost in the dark and I was starting to, think if this was how it was going to be for the rest of my life. I remember how I felt like crying.

Of course, that was then my luck changed within a second. And probably changed the direction of the main road for me.
A boy with thick, short dark red hair and bright green eyes came over to the bench where I was sitting trying not t be jealous of the other kids. I knew this boy, he was Eddie, the boy who always happened to show up at random times (which was most of the time) but he never really approached me, Mind you, I didn't feel like talking to him. Instead, he plopped himself down and chirped. “You look very gloomy and lonely!”
I suddenly perked up and looked straight at him. Eddie did not even flinch.

“Can we be
friends?” he asked. “Look, my mummy told me that there is this African proverb that was like Friendship doubles joy and halves sorrow. Dunno what friendship is, I think it's got to do with friends.”
One of the first things I found out about Eddie is that this kid knew more things than I did back then. And I now know a lot of things about him.
“I heard they're chopping too many pretty trees down,” Eddie kept rambling. "And the turtles started eating plastic bottles, even though it's not good for them. When I grow up, I'm gonna save the turtles and the pretty trees!“
Wow, didn't know that.
”I like food,“ I said modestly. ”Especially pizza.“
”Cool! Can we be friends now?“ replied Eddie. I thought about it for a moment.
”Okay," I said.

And, six years later, I think back on that African proverb my best friend has: Friendship doubles joy and halves sorrow.
Eddie is very, very helpful.