#dotflowweek23

@dotflowweek Day 5: Restlessness

// day 4 : school - uniform effect

Hello, all! As you know, .flow week has always been held in a weird kind of place in February. And because I've procrastinated this year, that's less than a month away. So, this year, .flow week will be held from February 19th to February 25th! This might change next year, we'll see.

Additionally, because the participation on Twitter wasn't really happening last year, this year, I'll just be running the Tumblr. However, please feel free to post them on Twitter! If I recall correctly, Lolrust seems to like fanart of .flow, and I'm sure he'll be happy to see them.

Now, for the prompts!

As usual, you don't have to use all the prompts! You can pick one and skip the rest. Since we're running out of sleep-related words, I'm choosing the various symptoms of depression as the word prompts this year. How you choose to implement them, if at all, is up to you!

Also, I can't find the previous year's prompts, so please forgive me if we have some repeats.

The tag for this year is #dotflowweek23, though I'll also be tracking it with spaces, just to make sure I catch everything.

Day 1, Feb 19th: Viscera effect, Parade ward, agitation

Day 4, Feb 22nd: School uniform effect, school, repeatedly going over thoughts

Day 2, Feb 20th: Watering can effect, plant world, lack of concentration

Day 3, Feb 21st: Daruma effect, Hell, apathy

Day 5, Feb 23rd: Machine effect, Machine Nation, restlessness

Day 6, Feb 24th: Slime effect, sewers, guilt

Day 7, Feb 25th: No effect, Sabitsuki's room, social isolation OR Rust, rooftop, mood swings, OR free space!

Rules

- You can submit any art, writing, or thing you created, just use proper CWs, and @ me so I see it.

- Feel free to drop in or out as needed! Take care of yourself.

The sound of scratching fills the dense, humid air. Out of habit, she tenses up, her gaze flitting from left to right warily. Sabitsuki isn’t certain what it is she’s so afraid of; her tormentor doesn’t have a face, nor a name, nor any body to speak of other than her own. Even so, the fear of this fragile peace being disturbed is enough for her to still the movement of her hand, returning silence to the void around her.

For a few moments, she eyes the door. It stands, imposing in its solitude, among a small group of scattered flowers to her left. It’s not going to suddenly open or anything— there’s nothing in the Flow that can roam freely around like she can. But the thought lingers in her decaying mind nonetheless.

Sabitsuki picks her worn pencil up again and presses the tip to the old, yellowed page of her diary. It seems she only drew a couple of meagre lines before her nerves got the better of her. After taking a moment to steady her hand, she completes the letter, and moves on the next.

She would have preferred to do this somewhere else; the air here is too oppressive, the scenery too bleak and colourless. If possible, she’d be taking comfort in the neon lights and calming melody in the area east of the Flow's entrance. But she needs silence for this.

It’s been a few days since Sabitsuki began keeping her journal. Her first entry was a few pages; a long, scrawled ramble about herself and her situation. The second was just a page. The third, a few paragraphs. She doesn’t mind, though— she doesn’t care much for the consistency of what she writes. In truth, Sabitsuki mainly does it to distract herself. The sound of pencil scratching against paper is soothing for her; it eases her mind, helps her forget about the constant feeling of being watched, of being hunted.

She pulls her attention back to the diary. Her hand has stalled again after a few sentences, but it can’t be helped. The only thing to do is keep writing.

She wonders if, someday, this old book will be found. Perhaps, long after she has rusted away, an explorer too curious for their own good will find their way into Sabitsuki’s apartment, and investigate against their better judgment. She doesn’t know whether they’d even be able to access the Flow— is it different for everyone? Or does this world have a special link to her, unbreakable even through death? She has so many questions, but knows not to expect answers.

Sabitsuki’s arm brushes against the lone white flower on her left, and she glances at it. A while ago, she investigated the plants here— the poignant smell was crystal clear to her back then, but now it feels… muted, harder to discern. The Rust is taking its toll, it seems, but she wonders whether it’s degrading the flowers themselves or her own senses. Perhaps both.

She returns her focus to the journal. About a paragraph, if that. It’ll have to do.

Sabitsuki shuts the book and slowly, carefully gets up from her sitting position. The decay of her body has left her much weaker and frailer, even more so than she already had been.

@dotflowweek Day 4:  Repeatedly Going Over Thoughts

@dotflowweek Day 2:  Lack of Concentration

@dotflowweek Day 1: Agitation 

@dotflowweek Day 6: Guilt