7 Oct 2022, 17:19
Preptober Writing Prompts Week 1
Write your (or someone else’s) morning routine from your main character’s perspective/ as if narrated by your main character.
WC: 444 wordsMm....mmmmm...mm? I mumbled quietly in my sleep. What was happening? Why was the floor shaking? What is making that agonizing ringing sound? Of course....an alarm. I slowly sat up, rubbed my eyes, and sat contemplating on my bed for a couple of minutes. It's routine, really. As I slowly trudged out of bed, I remembered to make my bed--rare. Usually, if I forgot to make my bed, or put my socks from last night away, I would get a huge earful from my father. Not ideal. I slowly opened the door to my room, wincing as it made a sharp, squeaking sound. I had gotten used to that ear-piercing noise by now. It also helped wake me up a bit more--by now, I could open my eyes fully. Fully! The blurry world of ethereal dreams and deep sleep faded as I entered a reality, to be awake. Usually, I brush my teeth first, but father told me to eat breakfast first. Usually to save time. I spend way too long brushing and washing up, that I barely have any time to eat breakfast. Father wants me to load up on nutrients, so of course, I had to eat all my breakfast first. I'm way too short to lose any proteins.
"Daaad...what's for breakfast today??"
My breakfast schedule rotates in a pretty orderly pattern: Mondays are porridge, Tuesdays are bacon sandwiches, and Wednesdays are omelets. The rest of the days can be anything. I craned my neck to check the calendar that we had hung on the wall lining the stairs. A Monday. Today was porridge day--not my favorite, but better than what I had expected. The porridge is creamy today--and fishing for little pieces of pork is always satisfying. I always have my salt crackers as well---and a glass of milk for calcium. After I've finished my Monday meal, it is finally time to start washing up. My toothpaste is very minty today, probably because it feels weird to use extra-fluoride toothpaste in the morning. The crumbs I wash out of my mouth always disgust me---that's why I prefer to wash up first. After all is done, it is time to pick an outfit. Outfits are essential--they affect how others view me, and how I appear in public. Today, I've picked a comfortable sweater (with a little cat on it, very cute) and a grey skirt. I also wear long socks indoors, for the comfort. My hair is still a mess, so I rush to the sink to comb it. Once it's been combed down, father braids it for me---a nice bonding moment for the two of us.
My day is ready to begin.
"from dust we are born and from dust I will return the both of us, Sirin"
-Welt Yang, Honkai Impact second eruption
9 Oct 2022, 02:51
Preptober Writing Prompts Week 1
The Week 1 prompt is:
Write your (or someone else’s) morning routine from your main character’s perspective/ as if narrated by your main character.
Reducio
Lumen rose before dawn. He'd done this every day, morning after morning, for the last one hundred and fifty three years, ever since the day of his ascendance. He tried to sleep in once sixty years ago, just to see if he could, and had spent the rest of the day feeling worse than the time he'd snuck into the ceremonial wines in the Harvest Temple when he was in training. Back then, he woke before dawn for training and classes and service and everything expected of a priest of Light. Over the years since he ascended he had more severe ceremonial expectations, and was the one to wake the rest of the priests in his temple and send the messages of the day to all the others through his dedicated mages and their teleport spells drawn into their offices.
Now, he awoke before dawn for another reason. Light was hidden somewhere even Night couldn't find him, so the sun wasn't being directed like it normally was. It was Lumen's job, and he took it on with the respect and burden he must. His body knew its job, and felt the pull of ethereal magic through the walls, pulling him from a sleep with dreams he always thanked Night he couldn't remember clearly.
Lumen knew this part of the routine, as it hadn't changed since the Hiding. He got up, relieved himself, washed, dressed, lit candles, and made his bed. Then, the part that was different. He walked to the wall with the floor to ceiling mural of him and his companion, recently deceased, and with a shuddering breath walked through it. The stomach dropping sensation of illusion and movement made him shudder, and then he was in a blaringly light room.
This room wasn't anywhere that could be defined in the mortal world; he'd been shown it during his ascension. It was the place only Light himself, and those he chose to walk with him could go. The place to Speak and Listen. Now, it served as Light's prison. Lumen ignored the pleading noises coming from the side of the room, and instead walked to the center where a set of six wings, eternally dripping with golden blood were floating. He reached out a hand, and placed it in the center.
The pull of magic surged, and as he felt his own magic mix with the burning remnants of godly magic, he found the Sun in the sky. If left alone it could most likely function on its own with the ancient magic fueled into it since the beginning of time, but the patterns may change. The people may know what he had done. It wasn't time yet, and so, he gave into the pull of magic and directed the sun where it needed to go.
With a short glance spared to the figure on the ground, Lumen walked back through the mural to the world beyond. He checked his list, and getting a piece of parchment to write out his messages as he felt the sun rise in the east, he began the rest of his day.
Lumen rose before dawn. He'd done this every day, morning after morning, for the last one hundred and fifty three years, ever since the day of his ascendance. He tried to sleep in once sixty years ago, just to see if he could, and had spent the rest of the day feeling worse than the time he'd snuck into the ceremonial wines in the Harvest Temple when he was in training. Back then, he woke before dawn for training and classes and service and everything expected of a priest of Light. Over the years since he ascended he had more severe ceremonial expectations, and was the one to wake the rest of the priests in his temple and send the messages of the day to all the others through his dedicated mages and their teleport spells drawn into their offices.
Now, he awoke before dawn for another reason. Light was hidden somewhere even Night couldn't find him, so the sun wasn't being directed like it normally was. It was Lumen's job, and he took it on with the respect and burden he must. His body knew its job, and felt the pull of ethereal magic through the walls, pulling him from a sleep with dreams he always thanked Night he couldn't remember clearly.
Lumen knew this part of the routine, as it hadn't changed since the Hiding. He got up, relieved himself, washed, dressed, lit candles, and made his bed. Then, the part that was different. He walked to the wall with the floor to ceiling mural of him and his companion, recently deceased, and with a shuddering breath walked through it. The stomach dropping sensation of illusion and movement made him shudder, and then he was in a blaringly light room.
This room wasn't anywhere that could be defined in the mortal world; he'd been shown it during his ascension. It was the place only Light himself, and those he chose to walk with him could go. The place to Speak and Listen. Now, it served as Light's prison. Lumen ignored the pleading noises coming from the side of the room, and instead walked to the center where a set of six wings, eternally dripping with golden blood were floating. He reached out a hand, and placed it in the center.
The pull of magic surged, and as he felt his own magic mix with the burning remnants of godly magic, he found the Sun in the sky. If left alone it could most likely function on its own with the ancient magic fueled into it since the beginning of time, but the patterns may change. The people may know what he had done. It wasn't time yet, and so, he gave into the pull of magic and directed the sun where it needed to go.
With a short glance spared to the figure on the ground, Lumen walked back through the mural to the world beyond. He checked his list, and getting a piece of parchment to write out his messages as he felt the sun rise in the east, he began the rest of his day.
Words: 520
Tesla Stone⭑☾☀☽⭑ ⭑☾𖣂☽⭑Basil Blackwood
9 Oct 2022, 05:30
Preptober Writing Prompts Week 1
I woke up to the buzzing of my alarm clock. I groan, "One more minute". My alarm clock isn't magical or anything, so of course, it doesn't turn off. It just seemed to ring louder and louder the more I stayed in bed. So I groaned once again, and rubbed my eyes, getting used to the bright morning light, that was flooding my room through the bay window on the side of my room. I must've forgotten to close the curtains last night. I stretched out, and went to get out of bed, but instead when I was going to stand up, my sheet got tangled in my left leg. Making me trip then fall to the floor with a big THUD. "Well that's a way to wake up in the morning", I grumble to myself. I get to my feet, making sure to fix my sheet up, then brush my pajamas off. I'm wearing a comfy white tank top, with grey sweatpants, and mismatched silly socks. I go to the bathroom, then take a shower. The warmth of the water, relaxing me, and taking all the worries and stresses out of my mind. When I'm finished, I dry myself then put my pajamas back on. I blow dry my hair, then make sure it's all dry before brushing my long brown hair, and putting it into a messy low bun. I wash my face, then brush my teeth.Week 1 PromptWrite your morning routine from your main character’s perspective/ as if narrated by your main character.
Once I'm all done with that, I go downstairs to see what's for breakfast. Once I enter the kitchen, the waft of bacon fills my senses. My feet carry me to the table unknowingly, where I see piles of bacon, toast and scrambled eggs. I sit next to my brother older brother Sam, who is already digging into his breakfast, his head stuffed into the plate. My face turns to a look of disgust when he finishes, he has food around his mouth, and he knows so he wipes it off with his hand. I swallow down the need to barf. He sees my expression and looks at me, "What are you looking at Sofie?" I roll my eyes and ignore him, grabbing the plate in front of me, then placing one of each thing of food on it. When I'm done, I place the plate now full of food, back in front of me. That's when I realize I have no cutlery, so I stand up then go to a draw in the kitchen to grab a fork and knife. When I get back, I see my bacon is gone. I look to where Sam was sitting but see that he's gone. I hear footsteps, then someone running up the staircase. I assume that it's Sam. I curse him under my breath, then I yell, "SAM!!!!" That's when my Dad comes running in. "Honey, what's wrong?" he asks, he has a look of concern on his face, but I know that he truly knows it's about something stupid. I sigh, "It's nothing," I start, "It was just Sam, he stole my bacon. And thanks by the way, for making breakfast for us."
It's been hard for Dad, since Mum left. They would fight a lot, and then one day she just packed her stuff up and left. She had left Dad with us, and not a lot of money. But Dad, he managed. It took a while for him to get back on his feet, but eventually, he got the hang of taking care three kids, and being able to work. My younger brother Charlie took it the worst, he was only seven when all this happened, but we were there for him, and of course Dad.
"Oh ok, no problem sweetie. Do you want me to talk to him?" my Dad said. He's always been to kind, that's what I love and hate about him. "No Dad, it's fine. I can just get another one," I go back to the table and sit down, grabbing another piece off bacon and putting it on my plate, "You wanna eat with me Dad?" I ask. I can see him contemplate whether he should or not, but he then nods and goes to sit on the seat across from me on the table. He fills his plate up with food to, and we both eat and chat together. It's been a while since I've been able to get some alone time with Dad, and it's good to see him and me laugh. I wish everyday was like this one.
Word Count: 757
Emma Lew
9 Oct 2022, 06:07
Preptober Writing Prompts Week 1
My day started as usual, with those retched birds squawking their lungs out. Don't get me wrong, I love all animals! But these birds, decide to wake up at the crack at dawn, flap those big black wings of theirs, land outside my window and chirp till I'm up. Today, I ended up waking up a few minutes before they came, and scared them, to get a little payback. Once they flew away, I made my way to my trunk, and changed out of my nightclothes and into my daytime wear. The weather has been all over the place the last few weeks, so I made sure to open my window to feel the temperature. This particular day had pleasant weather, though since it's early October, I wore a cream colored cardigan over my pleated skirt and white top.Write your (or someone else’s) morning routine from your main character’s perspective/ as if narrated by your main character.
Rubbing the dust out of my eyes, I realized I had a bit of time before heading to the Great Hall to catch some breakfast. I freshened up in the bathroom, took a quick walk around the Grounds and made my way to the Great Hall. As usual, the feast was extravagant, with pancakes and syrup, waffles, sausages, bacon, eggs in all sorts of form, and freshly squeezed orange juice. Of course there was about a hundred other things, but I wasn't that hungry, and chose a bowl of fruit salad, (to stay healthy!) and a couple slices of toast and butter. Sitting down at the Gryffindor table, my fellow classmates were already having a rowdy conversation about their favorite respective Quidditch teams. I didn't say much, since even though I did like Quidditch, I didn't follow the big leagues. However, I made a mental note to do so.
After my delicious breakfast, I realized I had forgotten to take my bag, which had my wand, class schedule and other important miscellaneous things. I sprinted back to my dorm, trying not to trip on the moving staircases. Bursting into my dorm, I snatched the schedule out of my bag, and let out a sigh of relief when I realized I had Charms, one of my favorite classes next. I had a decent amount of time before it started, so I collapsed onto my bed for a minute, panting from my panicked run to the dorm. After about ten minutes, I got up and chatted with a Gryffindor friend, before heading to my class.
Word Count: 402
Don't dream your life, live your dream
9 Oct 2022, 08:40
Preptober Writing Prompts Week 1
Write your (or someone else’s) morning routine from your main character’s perspective/ as if narrated by your main character.[/center]Week 1 Prompt
The morning sun is never up when I wake. It's 4:30am, but I don't need an alarm. My parents always said once I reached double digits I'd need to sleep more but my schedule is still the same.
I slide out of bed and head to my desk to catch up on some homework for Defence Against the Dark Arts. At 5:30 on the dot, I'm packed up and ready to watch the sunrise. Although I wasn't working the whole time, I manage to pass the hour without a hiccup. The sill is just wide enough for me to sit on with my legs crossed. I've long since put a pillow on it to make it more comfortable. My head is pressed against the cold window, extracting any dregs of sunlight that have managed to rise so far- not many. I long to do one of those time lapses that Muggles do of the sun, they look pretty cool, although I don't know if I could handle a Muggle phone. As the sun rises I watch the dark blue turn to oranges, yellows, pinks, purples even, and back to light blue. I watch Quidditch teams and broom racers for about an hour until 6:30. Then the rest of my dorm starts to stir and as usual, they groan with just the thought of waking up at 4:30. I laugh and ignore them. We stumble down to breakfast together (well they stumble still half asleep and I guide them). We enter the hall and split up. I make a beeline for the part of the table closest to the front which always has the most food since no one sits there. On my way there I pass familiar faces and give a simple 'hi'. I eat by myself in silence since I don't have any really close friends yet, but I watch for Lazarus. He's usually already down here, eating the same breakfast (which I have memorised in case you were wondering). After breakfast I head back up to my room and dress in either my Ravenclaw robes (or on weekends a tanktop/cropped tee and loose pants). I do my hair in a fishtail and the nape of my neck and then brush my teeth. I gather my wand, homework and other things for my first few lessons of the day. I wave bye to the other girls who are left in the dorm and head downstairs to my first class (hoping to bump into Lazarus).
Words : 415
insert something cool
9 Oct 2022, 09:05
Preptober Writing Prompts Week 1
Week 1: Write your morning routine from your main character’s perspective/ as if narrated by your main character.
Lizzie leaned in for the kiss. This was it. It was going to happen. She breathed in the floral scent and braced for their lips to touch.
But she began to shake. No, the ground was shaking. It sounded as if a large truck were driving right toward them, splitting them apart.
As Lizzie drifted away, she realized she was drifting awake. Her phone was buzzing on the side table, emitting a soft blue glow that mingled with the sun peeking through the blinds. The night's dream dissipated from her mind as she swiped her alarm off. She had a vague notion that the dream had been tantalizing but couldn't grasp it in her mind. She wondered what or who would make her feel so bubbly at six in the morning, but the line of questioning evaporated as she noticed a text from Emily.
E: i had a dream about avery
L: avery?
E: avery. the new boy in band. in the dream he asked me out
L: lol
E: lol maybe dreams come true
L: i'm rooting for you
E: u ready for today?
L: yup all memorized
E: auditioning for jo?
L: o course
E: me too, break a leg!!! see ya at school
L: break a leg!!! see ya
Lizzie's body felt like cement when she contemplated getting up. She opened Facebook instead and searched for an "Avery." Oh yeah, that kid. She now remembered the tall new junior from band. He was also in her Honors English class. Yeah, he was cute. Emily's type. He didn't have much to speak of on his timeline, only pictures he was tagged in from family members. Some of them were downright embarrassing. Lizzie tapped the friend request button and closed her phone.
She peeled herself off her bed and started the shuffle down the stairs. Her mom was making breakfast. "Morning, honey!"
Her father was at the table with his coffee, "Morning, darling!"
Lizzie managed a "mornin'" in return.
As her mother spooned hashbrowns and eggs onto three plates, she looked at her husband expectantly. He was staring at his coffee. When she placed the three plates on the table, she said, "Dear, don't you have something to tell Lizzie."
By this point, Lizzie had her phone out again, scrolling through her news feed. She looked up. Her parents were smiling a little too energetically. "What?"
"Well, darling. I got a promotion. A big one. We're going to be able to get a new car, probably one for you, too, and a bigger house!"
Going back to her phone, Lizzie inwardly sighed in relief, "Oh congrats, dad."
"Yes, yes, thanks. I've agreed to take it. And, well, the new job is in Ohio. We move in January! Isn't that exciting?"
Lizzie stared at the screen, her finger still scrolling aimlessly. The words out of her father's mouth hadn't made sense. "This January? Like the upcoming one? Like January 2013?"
"Yes, that's the one!"
Lizzie was sure that if she made eye contact with either of them, she would burst into tears or throw her phone at her father's head, or both. So instead, she mumbled, "oh okay. I have to get ready for school now." She left her full plate of food and her smiling parents at the table as she retreated back to her room.
WC: 557/400
sta 8 - eva 16 - str 5 - wis 11 - arc 5 - accuracy 13 |||| Parselmouth - Evasive Maneuvers - Beast Master
also Ruckus Weems | Quentin Gagné