Compliment: Your energy is effervescent!

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————
Jade slashed her battle axes through the dummy, effectively slicing it into pieces without breaking a sweat. She took a step back, nodding with approval at her handiwork. The bronze weapons in her hands shown with a dull light, giving off enough light for her to see in front of her. Not that she needed it, being daughter of the Asteria, Titan goddess of shooting stars and nocturnal divination, which essentially meant astronomy. The powers it gave her were decent, but not too helpful in combat, which was why she needed to train, even if the cleaning harpies might catch her.
She moved on to other dummies, cleaving them in half quickly with her trained hands. She kept going, losing track of time, until she looked up and realized she had destroyed every dummy in the training arena. She blinked, shocked at her endurance and strength. Her arms shook from holding the somewhat heavy axes. She gave a growl of frustration and spun the battle axes in a circle. When she had finished, there was only two bracelets, with the sign of the Olympian gods on a a charm to show they were anything special.
“You’re good with those axes.”
Jade spun around, her gaze already searching the arena. There. She thought, noticing a short, blonde girl sitting in the stone steps that served as stands when people fought. The girl gave a smile.
“Your Jade Aries, right?” She asked with the same happy, bubbly voice. Jade noticed her giving off a tiny golden glow, like her axes, if they were imperial gold. Oh. She realized. She’s a child of Apollo. Ugh, out of anyone, it HAD to be a child of Apollo. “Yes.” She answered curtly. “Who are you? What are you doing here?” Jade asked, staring coldly at the girl.
“Oh, I haven’t introduced myself? I’m sorry, I just got here, and I’m in a bit of shock. I’m Kennedy. Kennedy Jones.” The petite girl said with a wave. “I’m not sure who my godly parent is, but most people tell me it’s probably Apollo.”
Jade blinked. She talked a lot.
“How do you know my name? And shouldn’t you be at your cabin?” She asked, studying Kennedy. She looked to be the same age as her, twelve turning thirteen. “The stars didn’t give a sign of new arrival tonight.”
“Wow, you can tell stuff like that? That’s so cool!” Kennedy squealed. “I know who you are because I’ve had dreams of you before. Also, I think we have similar powers maybe! I was told Apollo is god of a lot of things, like prophecy. Isn’t that cool? Maybe we’ll have prophecy classes together! Oh, but that’s only if I actually am a daughter of Apollo.” She said, rattling on.
Jade just nodded. Her energy is so effervescent.
“Also…” Kennedy added hesitantly. “I’m told it’s really dangerous to be a half-blood.” She looked nervous now.
“It is. But don’t worry, we learn to defend ourselves.” Jade said, not using a question this time.
“Right. So, I was wondering… You seem pretty skilled. Could you… give me some tutoring? Or at least help me find a weapon?”
Jade allowed herself a grin. Now this was something she was good at.
“C’mon, Kens. We should get moving. You’ve got a lot to learn.”
———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————
Eeeee, that was so much fun! I haven’t done free-writing for a while, and I can’t believe how much I’ve missed writing about Camp Half-Blood! I made a pretty effervescent character of Kennedy, I think. Kennedy is actually the name of my best friend, and she’s a child of Apollo, so it seemed perfect! I hope you enjoyed, and I hope this isn’t too long.
-Jade/Scrollreader/Scrolls

Word count: 555 (just the story, that is)

Kat’s Writing Stack: SWC March 24’

Daily #4
Words; 349

I leaned against my house, standing on the wooden porch. It was a boring afternoon, and the sun was boasting its shine high up in the sky. I flipped open the creaky mailbox. It was empty, except for one curious envelope. I picked it up. It was addressed to me. I ripped off the seal and slid out the letter. Suddenly, my mother bustled out with the laundry. I quickly stuffed the letter into my pocket. “Would you help, Ava?” Mum called out. “Sure,” I replied, traipsing down the steps. I walked over the soft, warm grass to my mother. She laid the laundry basket down on the lawn, and I took a while helping her. Afterwards, I clambered up to my room to read the letter.

'Dear Ava
I sincerely hope you are alrigt. I do hope you recognize me. Nothing very intresting has been happening here. It's been a while, hasn't it? I woud visit, but I live too far away. Life has been everything but misrable! I just can't wait for autumn! I really hope to see you soon!
Regards,
Your Friend'

“Strange,” I muttered. Being a grammar wizard, I frowned over the misspelled words. Also, what a peculiar choice of words. And I had no idea who it was actually being from. Wait- the misspelled words all had letters missing. It seemed too much of a stretch- but something nagged at my mind. “Alright” had H missing. I went in order, noting down the missing letters. After I had written it down, the realization hit me. I bounded out my chair. Helen? She had been an old friend, hazy in my memory. We had been childhood friends. But one day, she had just vanished. Soon enough, her memory had faded. Recalling those days, I remembered I'd never found out where she'd disappeared off to. A spark of hope lifted in me. Was there a chance, even only the slightest, that I could see her again. Good memories of our mischievious ventures drifted back through the fog. I raced down the stairs, anticipating the next clue.

Word war with @pepper-and-a-pencil
Words; 132

Dana really didn't want to exit the room. It was a tricky situation- she had to do her homework… but after the fire, everything felt numb. She was too scared to even step outside. She closed her eyes, and turned the door knob…

Dana rubbed her head, slowly returning to conscious. She didn't even know when she drooped off. She stared around her. It was sort of like a magical wonderland. There were looming flowers, petals dangling. There were fantastical structures, ones like out of a storybook. Wait- when had she gotten here? Dana felt an overwhelming fear. This was a new place- possibly a new realm before her. Where was she? How had she even gotten here in the first place? Dana decided to get to her feet, as a start.

Word war with @-forevermore
Words; 244 words (i'm improving <3)

Luna knew she had to do it. And fast. She stared up at the mean ghost glaring down at her. She was being haunted. When the revelation had been discovered this morning, she had been shocked. She used to not believe in ghosts. But now- here she was, standing in front of one. She laughed nervously. “I brought your candles,” she told the spirit. They softened and said thank you. Well, not exactly said. More like a sense. Luna nodded, racing down. She had gone negotiating with a ghost. She wondered what would happen now? Would more ghosts come along like magnets, attracting? Luna shuddered at the thought. She still wasn't comfortable with the idea of a ghost in the Attic. It was scary- if she'd been younger, she would have nightmares. An actual ghost! The realization hit her harder than an anvil. She'd been the first person to confirm the existence of ghosts. She crashed onto the sofa, wondering what to do next. Should she tell someone? Or should she harbor it as a secret? Both seemed risky. Luna stood up. There was the fortune teller, of course. She dashed out of the house and into the tent by their house. There was a so-called fortune teller that gave you insight into the future, or so she claimed. Luna opened the flap and crawled inside. “Yes?” a kindly woman smiled at her. “I need guidance. I have a ghost in my attic.”

Daily #11
-I wrote about how I'm glad to have the friends I do
Words; 217

Mira really did not feel good. She'd completely forgotten about a essay and it was due today. And there was a test tomorrow. She'd overworked herself and now she just felt exhausted. She'd went down for a walk and now she was sitting down desolately on a bench next to some rosebushes. Suddenly, she felt a voice softly speaking next to her. Mira looked up and found her best friend Lily sitting down next to her. “Hi,” Mira said weakly. “You tired yourself out, didn't you?” Lily sighed. Mira nodded. “I think all you need is a hug. Also- why do you work so much?” “We have a test tomorrow. I'd prefer good grades. And I had to write the essay, because the deadline clearly says-” “Yeah, yeah. But you do need to make time for yourself.” “I didn't have time for that!” “You know you could have just done last-minute studying at school. That's what I'm doing.” Mira gave Lily a strange look. Lily shrugged, and after a moment, the best friends were laughing. Mira finally gave in to a hug. “Thanks,” she whispered. “It's what friends are for,” Lily whispered back. Mira hugged her tighter. Her mood lightened. True friends were always at your side through hard times. That's what Mira knew, and certainly appreciated.
—-
To Aurora

Daily #12
Words; 108

Alex is just a regular girl, living a normal, happy life with her sister. Then she finds a mysterious locket in her bedroom, and then her world goes into turmoil. She is an Aries, and according to a prophecy, she is destined to be a Guardian of the Zodiacs. There is also a vengeful villain on the loose- intent on utterly destroying order and peace. Places are being corrupted one by one, and Alex must complete a quest by a nearing deadline, otherwise it could spread, causing devastation all over. Luckily, she has her friends by her side. And she better hurry- there are the stars at stake.

Word war with @dolphin786
Words; 262

ava stood in a corner of the survivors' camp. she couldn't believe what had happened. she tried to look on the bright side of things, she really did. except there was no bright side. instead, there was a dark gloomy sky with clouds covering up the sun. and she was right under the rain. she sat down, knees drawn up to her chest. she was more upset than she let on. and she had to be the unluckiest girl in the world. a tornado had ripped her house to shreds on her birthday. it was too overwhelming to think about. slowly, ava glanced at the other survivors' faces. they had the same loss written all over. that word had been just four letters, nothing more than a faraway path. but now, it was too real, rushing up to meet her. actually, haunt her. she sniffled, hot tears coming up faster than she could hold them back. she quickly stood up, rushing into a corner, then weeping, brooding over her situation. right now, she wished nothing more than to be in the safety of her warm bed, her parents tucking her in, and this all to be a dream. on a whim, she pinched herself. nothing. it wasn't like she expected anything to happen. she stared desolately at the walls. what was she to do? when her home was gone. her life was gone, uprooted like a tree. she took a deep breath. for the sake of her family, for her own sake, she had to bear it. she had to push through.

Daily #13
Words; 353
“two shadows, reaching through the hopeless, heavy dusk”- @–tranquility

The two adventurers looked at each other with increasing despair. Night was falling, and they did /not/ want to be out here at dark. They were in a dense forest, full of unknown things- potentially dangerous things. “This was a bad idea,” Rachel said, almost trembling. “I hate bugs.” She jumped when she almost went face first into a cobweb, on which a big spider was lying in wait for unfortunate prey. Rachel would have swatted the web if it hadn't been there. Oliver nodded his agreement. “But then again… we didn't have a choice…” his eyes were downcast. Rachel's mood flared. “Everything is just unfair. Unfair! And now we're lost!” she yelled at nobody in particular. Oliver stared at her, taken aback. “Sorry,” Rachel murmured, ambling forward. “No- you're right. We have to find our way out. Maybe at an inn? Or something?” he suggested. “Yeah,” Rachel replied. “But it doesn't look like we're going to find anything like that here.”

Oliver shrugged. “You're right, but there's no harm done in trying. He pulled through a thorny bush, only to get smacked in the face by a tree branch. He sat down in defeat. Rachel gasped audibly. There was a hut in the near distance, inviting and tempting. It was sweet-looking, decorated with flowers and ivy. Oliver and Rachel hurried towards it, putting aside their relief for later. Now, if anybody sees a cottage in the middle of a dense forest, it is not the best idea to go inside. But they were too desperate. They knocked on the lovely mahogany door, praying that the owner was inside. The door opened, revealing a beautiful interior with only one strange detail. The pair could hear a gentle pulsing noise. Ignoring the pulsing, they looked around for whoever had opened the door. ”Maybe this isn't the best idea…“ Rachel began nervously, reaching for the doorknob. She turned it. It didn't open. She tugged at it in fear. ”It's locked!“ she shouted. Suddenly, a elegant woman came out behind them, her melodious voice calling: ”Hello, children. What a pleasant surprise it is to meet you…"

Critiquitare w/ @unercornshine | (title pending); Prologue
Words; 282

'Lisa, come with me, and no one has to get hurt. Just give me the ruby,' a husky voice rasped. ‘Lukas, you have no idea how powerful this is… you don’t know what you're doing,' a feminine voice resisted.

Well, you asked for it…' Lukas whispered. ‘If I manage to destroy it?’ the woman hissed. ‘Someone has to get it sooner or later, possibly future generations,’ Lukas extended his hand. ‘We can rule the world together, Lisa, just take my hand.’
'No!' Lisa shouted.

The walls of the shaggy warehouse loomed overhead as if to intimidate them. Drops of diesel dropped from the panels. The heavy thunderstorm shadowed Lukas.

Suddenly, his hand lunged out to grab Lisa's ruby. Lukas dragged his emerald to touch Lisa's ruby. Lisa pulled away. Quick as lightning, he slipped out of Lisa's view and rose up behind her. When she felt a hand grab for her ruby, Lisa twisted away. But Lukas held on. Lisa sprung away, but it was too late.

The ruby and the emerald were united, and the ruby swirled around the emerald in a dizzying look. Lukas got up wearily, dazed from the shock of being plummeted out of the warehouse and into the rain. Lisa couldn't make out Lukas's expression. As he came to light, Lisa glimpsed the manic grin on his face. He took the combined gemstones into his palm and fastened it around his neck. Instead of the shining, hopeful green of his Taurus emerald, there was an abyss. A never-ending, gloomy darkness.

Lisa cast her last spell. She made a diamond with her hands, then burst them apart. The next moment, the ruby was gone. And so was Lukas.

Daily #17
Words; 329
Lyric- “the memory hurts / but does me no harm/” from Abstract

I gazed at the endless sky, the sun rising above the horizon. My mind recalled, a faint, distant memory so far away. But when I reviewed the details, from her fiery glare to the strong wind, the sorrow came back. I dropped my eyes to the fields beyond, where we used to play for hours when we were young. I turned my head to stare wistfully at the craft that we made when we were just kids. It was a dreamcatcher, rumored to protect you from nightmares. It was working, so far. The clouds flicked by in the sky, and I'm sure I saw the vague shape of two girls, frolicking happily together. I sniffed, emotional all of a sudden. I knew reminiscing wouldn't do anything. It wouldn't make her appear again. I wanted to apologize. I should have already apologized when I had the chance. But my pride won over my guilt, and things were never the same. I stared up at the sky again, hoping to find guidance in its never-ending reaches.

/What do I do?/

A cloud passed by, a cloud in the shape of a heart. Or maybe that was just my imagination. I settled my chin in my hands. I knew what I had to do. Or try to do, at least. I knew her address. I took over a piece of paper, and leaned over my desk. I took a pen in my hands. My fingers itched to write, but I couldn't think of anything. What could I say that would be appropriate to the situation? I took a deep breath, and began to write.

Dear Mia,
This is your old friend. We got into a fight. I wonder if you've already forgotten about me, because I haven't forgotten you, and never will. I know it can never be the same, but I still need to make it up to you. I'm sorry, Mia. I hope you see that I mean it.
Ariana

Daily #19
Words; 411
List: Bright, Resolute, Watchful, Intimidating, Frightening, Charming

The sun was shining, and the mountains rose all around them. They were tall, icy peaks delicately topped with snow. Kristyn gaped all around the towering summits. She couldn't believe she was going to climb those. A feeling overcame her, one of wonder. She would reach the top, and she could barely imagine the view. She felt completely free, like a bird. She looked down at her climbing supplies, then at the mountains. She couldn't wait. Before, when she'd thought of mountain climbing, she'd pictured a big wall. Then, with a harness, hopping up the side. This wasn't anything like that. There was a steady route, and the whole climb took only a bit of agility, and a lot of energy. She felt that the mountains were keeping an eye on her, though not in an ominous way. More of a awe-inspiring one. Kristyn turned around, wondering which one to ascend. She picked a fairly simple one, not too high, and not too low. She started towards it. She tightened her gloves, and stepped on. She strolled through her path, delightfully observing snowdrops, snapdragons and witch hazel along the way. She inhaled deeply, taking in the fresh air. She slid over a rock. It was winter, but there wasn't much snow. She felt a snowflake gently settle on her arm. She blew it off, realizing that she was close to the upper parts. The path got snowier, and the flowers lessened. She looked up at the peak. It wasn't too far off. It did feel amazing, climbing a mountain. When the final bit of climbing came, Kristyn steadied herself. It was a tricky bit of work- nothing dangerous, though. She rested her foot on a boulder, pulling herself upward to the next one. It was sort of like a crude bit of stairs. After she felt like her legs would collapse, she finally reached the end. She shifted through the makeshift, less organized path and onto the peak. She gasped around her. There was a beautiful view. And by beautiful, she meant absolutely mesmerizing. The other mountains rose up, some higher than her, others lower. The meadow she had been standing in was decorated in specks of flowers. Kristyn had never been much for scenery, but this was too breathtaking to resist. Kristyn closed her eyes and felt a light breeze on her face. More than happy, she began to carefully descend. She would never be able to forget that spectacle.

Weekly #3

Part 1
Words; 342

Dixie finds out that someone in her building has gone missing. She finds it suspicious- apparently, Ms. Electra just decided to suddenly move from Australia all the way to San Francisco. But Dixie doesn't believe that. She makes up her mind to investigate further. After some sleuthing, she finds out that it was way more than a sudden move- it was a murder.

Dixie sneaks inside Ms. Electra's apartment- it was a mess. Dixie takes a look around. She gets a few clues- and some suspects. She interrogates them. After some thinking, Dixie is sure she has the culprit. But then, her theory turns out false, and now she's grounded. Dixie tries to focus her mind off the murder. She searches the news for any more major crimes for some tips. There was one huge theft at that museum. Dixie listens carefully to the police, and gets a few pointers. Just as she had begun to relax, a shock comes for her. Another mysterious disappearance. Another excuse. Dixie realizes that the killer wasn't going to rest until his motives were fulfilled.

Dixie sneaks into the crime scene again. She finds a clue that happens to be the final piece to this puzzle. She rushes to report it. Finally, this would be solved! Dixie avoids the culprit as she goes. She meets her mother, tells her about it, and reports the felon!

Dixie notifies the police. After some turmoil, confusion, and fear, she finally catches the culprit. Almost in the act. It turns out, it was a very perplexing case. The culprit of the museum theft suspiciously matched the killer. They were trying to get rid of witnesses. It all clicked together, and Dixie finally calmed down.

It is a few days after the mystery was solved. Everything was going normally. Her parents are proud and furious at the same time, which results in her being grounded. Suddenly, a police officer arrives at their doorstep. He thanks Dixie, and her life turns much, much brighter. It’s a happy ending, and the story concludes.

Part 2
Words; 81

A thin strand of red hair (clue)- it was found at the first crime scene, carelessly strewn on the floor

Addison (red herring)- her first prime suspect, a redhead woman who seemed like the wrongdoer- but that was just a cleverly set distraction on the real felon.

Bootprints (clue)- a faint large footprint was caught next to a broken porcelain vase at the first scene

A robin's feather (clue)- it was found at the second crime scene, caught on the chandelier

Part 3 w/ theawesomemarbler
Words; 231
Me; interviewer
Marbles; witness
~
ME: Now, let's not make this difficult. Where were you when this happened? Describe everything, down to every detail; sound, sight, smell.

MARBLES: Well, it was horrible! I was walking past the elevator when suddenly I heard loud thundering down the stairs! I tried to find the source, but then something came into my view. It didn't look like a person. In fact, it looked like something horrendous! It moved so slowly with each footstep landing on the floor I can feel my heart beating with each step it took. There's some weird smell when it passed through my hiding place. I didn't like it at all, but I can't remember what it was… After it was gone, I went to the hallway where the creature came from, and what I saw terrified me to the bone. I saw a guy at the foot of the stairs, his whole body orientation is disfigured. There was bl00d all over the stairs and I couldn't stop thinking about that look on his face! An empty, creepy face that seemed a bit shocked! Thinking about it gives me the creeps again!

ME: This is a very peculiar mystery… what you’ve described could be a monster… except… Never mind that. According to you, this ‘guy’ was taken by surprise. The motives could be revenge, greed, or something similar. What do you think? Try very hard to remember. What did this ‘creature’ look like?

MARBLES: I don't know… To be honest, they seemed a bit human. They walked very slowly and their breathing was heavy but constant. And they seemed a bit short? I don't know… Their height was somewhat 5' 9''. Their shadow was scary though. I saw they had spikes all over their body! Their back, their limbs and even their torso! Especially there! The only part without spikes is only the head. I'm not sure what I was looking at, but it really looked like a beast!

ME: Beast? It may be some animal. Now, he may have been a human who had been attacked and went berserk. Maybe a bear? The creature seems similar to that, though I don’t have much knowledge on wildlife. This is curious. If you had a view, maybe you tell me in which direction the culprit went in?

MARBLES: Well, it headed towards the secret exit. Which is weird! Like it somehow knows the layout of the building really well!

ME: Then it likely wouldn't be an animal. But that doesn't explain the spikes. Maybe they deliberately disguised themself to hide? That's happened a number of times. I still don't feel very relaxed about this case. Now, what do you mean by secret exit? Like a secret path, a hidden exit, or what? And, you think it knows the layout of the building. That might mean they're on the inside. Can you think of any other details? Were there any other people besides you at the scene?

MARBLES: I'm sorry I can't…

ME: That’s fine. You’ve already been a great help. Thanks for your contributions. You can go now. Goodbye.

Part 4
Words; 1988

Dixie sighed, settling her recently folded clothes onto her neat and tidy bed. She could use a little excitement in her life. It really was unfair. Some people got too much fire, while others got none at all. She raced out into the corridor of their building, with not much consideration for the residents below. She called the elevator, tapping her foot impatiently on the marble flooring. Why was she so restless today? Finally, the elevator gates opened. She stepped inside, and punched the button to the ground floor. The gates reopened, and she bounded out, barrelling through the daily dog walkers. Bored, she took the stairs two floors up. Might as well say ‘hi’ to the woman who lived on this floor. She was a nice lady, and sometimes gave Dixie candy. She rang the doorbell, and restively waited. After a while, there was still no one at the door. Must be away, thought Dixie. But… she was just here yesterday. Where would she have gone in such a rush? Suddenly, the door opened to reveal a frowning policeman.
“Where’s Ms. Electra?” Dixie asked curiously. “And why are you here?”
“Well…” the policeman looked around, avoiding Dixie’s gaze. “She moved to San Francisco. We’re here for… maintenance.”
Dixie wasn’t easily persuaded. “Right. Okay,” she said, smiling at the policeman. He waved awkwardly, before disappearing back in the apartment and shutting the door with a slam. She started to walk away, before stopping abruptly. She couldn’t just leave! What if something had happened to Ms. Electra. No one would just move away from here to California? But eavesdropping… and on the police? It’s for the greater good. Maybe.

She slunk into a crouch, then slowly crept up to the door again. She could hear murmuring voices from inside. With a gulp, she put her ear to the door.
“This is indeed a shock. We’ll spread out, and question people. These residents are in danger…”
“We haven’t had a murder case for a long time.”
Dixie had heard enough. She pulled away sharply from the door, breathing heavily. Poor Ms. Electra, murdered? What had she ever done to deserve that? Full of rage, horror, and sadness at this upsetting revelation, Dixie sat down with her knees to her chest in the lit corridor. She should just forget this ever happened, go about her day as normal. But she couldn’t walk away. That would be abandoning your community. Dixie stood up. Would she, Dixie Hawthorn, just give up. No way. Filled with adrenaline and determination, she strode to the staircase. They were located in little spaces along the corridor. There were plenty of places to hide.
Then, she waited.

After what felt like an eternity, the police left. Dixie had dozed off, and now she awoke to the noise of them leaving, talking in low, serious tones. She exited the staircase, and ran to Ms. Electra’s flat. She opened the door easily- the police hadn’t bothered to lock it when they left. She slipped inside, silent as a shadow. She froze. The police hadn’t touched the body, for fear of altering some key detail. Dixie edged forward, trembling slightly. She hated all of this, yet couldn’t bring herself to back out. She had longed for adventure, and now here it was. She slowly continued, staying far from the body like it was a poisonous snake. Her eyes caught something. It was red. A possible clue! She darted towards it, kneeling and examining it carefully. It was a short strand of red hair. This could mean that the criminal had red hair! She felt like jumping with glee. She searched for something else. Her mood had lightened when she found the clue, but she couldn’t shake the feeling she was being watched. She walked to a broken porcelain vase, shards cluttered across the floor. There was a wilting rose next to it, along with a pile of dirt. She was about to mess up the dirt, when she spotted something. There was a footprint in the soil! It was large, most likely a boot. She got out her phone and captured a shot of it.

Back in her room, she kept on observing the picture of the print and the red hair. She had been pondering over it for ages, and she felt like she had a few suspects. There was Mr. Jones, a man who she’d barely ever seen. He seldom ventured out of his house. No one knew what he did in his free time. Then, there was Rosalind. She was a pretty woman, who used to be a Hollywood actor before she was fired for some reason. Now she spends her time sulking alone. And Mr. Lee, an enigmatic guy. Rumours said he only ever left the house to walk his vicious pit bull dog. She headed off to the first suspect’s apartment,

“Come in,” said Mr. Jones gruffly.
“Hi. How’s your day?”
“What do you want?”
“I just wanted to ask you, where were you around the afternoon?”
“Why?”
“Just curious.”
“I was feeding Ginger.”
He gestured to a small orange kitten. It mewled so preciously that Dixie just wanted to hug it. Cuddling it would be like fluffing a soft cloud! It would b-
Don’t get distracted. she chided herself. “Yes. Thank you. Bye!” she dashed off in a hurry, off to the next suspect.

She was standing in the doorway of Rosalind’s extra luxury apartment. Rosalind beckoned her inside. Stepping in, Dixie suddenly felt very self-conscious. Today, Rosalind was bright and cheerful. “Would you like some water?” she said, grinning ear to ear.
“Er… no, thanks,” Dixie replied uncertainly. Wasn’t Rosalind pouting up here just yesterday?
“I got a job at Hollywood!” Rosalind squealed, hopping up and down. There was no point in continuing here. Dixie left. That only left Mr. Lee.

Dixie gave the scowling man towering over her a radiant smile. She was at Mr. Lee’s, and he was not happy to see her. Preparing to take a step inside, Dixie untied her laces. Mr. Lee put up a strong, big hand.
“Out,” he bellowed, rather rudely, before slamming the door in her face. Dixie’s jaw dropped, half in indignation, half in disbelief. She had got her culprit.

The next day, Dixie stormed out to the felon’s flat. He opened the door, scowling fiercely.
“I know what you did!” she yelled defiantly into his face.
“What are you talking about?”
“Y-you murdered her!”
“Who?”
“Ms. Electra. Don’t play dumb.”
He looked sincerely furious.
“I did no such thing!” roared Mr. Lee. “I was out getting groceries!”
He shoved a bill into Dixie’s face. True, it was done yesterday. And it was a long list. Dixie paled. This was horribly wrong. She cleared the lump in her throat.
“I am so sorry!” she cried, tears rushing up.
“Fine,” said the Mr. Lee, softening. “But I’m calling your parents.”

Now she was in her room. Her parents had finished lecturing her. Thank goodness the new hadn’t got out. Dixie covered her face in her hands. She tried to distract herself. She flicked to a channel on TV, searching for any crime reports. There was one. It was a museum theft. A priceless painting had been stolen. She listened intently, and shut it down. She counted off the tips in her mind. She knew what to do.

Suddenly, she could hear her mother’s agitated voice coming from below. Dixie did feel guilty about this, but she leaned down to listen.
“Moved to India?.. Alright.. Thank you.. Bye.”
A jolt ran up Dixie’s spine. There was another murder. She swallowed hard. There was a ring at the door, which jarred her from her thoughts. She raced down to get it. It was a man. He had red hair, a neatly trimmed beard. He was wearing a suit. He had glasses, and he was wearing boots. He had a hat, with a robin’s feather in it. Something about him set a nagging at the back of her mind, but she couldn’t put her foot on it.

“I’m new here!” he said, which for some reason set alarm bells blaring in my mind. Dixie gasped audibly. He was the culprit. She didn’t have proof, though… And she definitely wasn’t running off accusing people again.
“Alright,” she replied, forcing a smile.
“Goodbye,” he waved, and Dixie swore she could she a sly smirk on his face. She gulped. She ran to the nearest chair, and sat down with a thump on it. She walked up to her mother. “Who was that you were talking to before?” she asked, hoping she sounded genuine. “She’s my friend. She lives right below us. She-”
Dixie had already rushed off.

She was staring at the door. She pushed it open, peeking inside. It was empty. She edged inside cautiously. The police had barely inspected it at all, thank goodness for that. She stared upwards, scared. She blinked twice. There, there! A robin’s feather! Dixie gapes at it. Suddenly, a rustling echoed from outside. She felt a sinking feeling of terror, and she darted out as fast as she could. She stumbled up the stairs, bumping into somebody. A criminal stared down at her. She yelped, jumping to the wall.
“What’s wrong?” he said. The feather in his hat was missing. She realised what had happened. He must have come back soon after the second murder, to try to pick up something he forgot, maybe? And he accidentally left his feather behind. She glanced up at him. A man of his height would likely have got something stuck on that low hanging chandelier.
“N-nothing,” she stammered. “Just walking!” she bolted past him, leaving him staring at her in puzzlement.

She hammered open the door to her flat, racing up to her mother. Mum immediately caught that something was wrong. “Darling-” she began.
“Mum! Wait!” Dixie panted. “I need to tell you something.”
“Well, go ahead.”
And so Dixie narrated her misadventures, her findings, her suspicions. The whole story. She told about how she found all the clues, one by one. Then how she encountered the wrongdoer in the stairway. At the end, her mother was staring open mouthed at Dixie. She gave her mother a reassuring grin. Her mother’s face contorted into a dozen emotions before finally settling on determination. She picked up her phone from the table.

“Hello?… Do you know about those murders committed here?… My daughter… She’s found out the culprit… Yes, yes, of course… Goodbye.”
My mother put her phone down, her face shining with pride and rage at the same time.
“Grounded,” she said firmly. Dixie couldn’t even protest. Soon, her mother came up to inform her.
“So, here’s what happened,” she said, sitting down on the bed. “Have you heard about that museum theft? He stole that painting. Ms. Electra and… Jane… were witnesses. He was trying to get rid of them.” she nodded and began to leave. “Wait!” called Dixie abruptly. “I’m sorry about your friend.”

Her mother smiled, and descended back down. Dixie lay down on her back, staring through the skylight at the gleaming stars. They were shining like diamonds. Always carefree. Dixie put up her hand, as if to catch hold of one, and never, ever let it go.

After a few days, a police officer arrived at their doorstep. It was the inspector himself. “I’m looking for Dixie Hawthorn,” he declared. Dixie walked up to meet him, curious.
“How are you doing?”
“Great, actually. I’m here to deliver the police force’s sincerest gratitudes. Thank you for your help. We really couldn’t have done it without you. When you’re grown up, I’m sure you’ll make an amazing investigator!” he tipped his hat off to her and departed. She stared after him, jaw dropping to the floor. She regained her composure, straightening her jacket like a tie.

Investigator Dixie. she mused to herself. I like that.

Daily #30
Words; 231

Gemma stretched her palm, and almost immediately a tiny flame sparked to life. Just recently, a powerful pendant had ‘blessed’ her with a power. And she had been super hyped to find out what it was. Only to find out… it was pyromancy. Yes, a few people would do anything to be able control fire. But her? She would be better off without this so-called gift. Why her, firstly? She'd done nothing special. All she'd done was to go hunting for a missing camera. She felt for its reassuring prescense, relieved that her fingers touched it. She clenched her other palm, snuffing out the fire. It was so destructive. Weren't superpowers supposed to be enchanting and helpful to the world, all that stuff? When the pendant had first bestowed on her divine light, she had been imagining raising her arms at the edge of the city, making flowering vines arise to help the situation. Then, nearly the whole city cheering her name. All this could do was burn down something.
“Are there take backs?” she called hopefully to nobody in particular. Nothing, other than her hair falling over her eyes yet again, if you could call that a sign. She alighted another mini fire, staring at its magnificent glow. She had a power, she was stuck with it. She had to learn how to embrace it. It was now or never.

March 3rd, 2024 Daily !! 256 words

“You're my favorite person,” my girlfriend tells me, holding my hand as we sit on the park bench to the west of the pond, like we always do.
“And you're mine,” I reply.
I rest my head on her shoulder and she looks at the serene, shadowy flora and fauna. I let out a relaxed sigh and, in response, she squeezes my hand tighter.
“Is something on your mind?”
“It's just,” I take a deep breath. “I have something to ask you.”
I lift my head up and turn to face her. She looks at me with her mouth slightly curved into a smile.
“So ask me then.”
I get off the bench and kneel on the dewy sidewalk. My girlfriend's smile becomes wider and the twinkle in her eyes that I've always loved shines brighter.
“The moment we met, I knew my heart was yours and for 2 years, you have been a person I can love, talk, cry, and smile with,” I start talking and my girlfriend starts crying tears of joy.
I continue, “Would you give me the greatest honor of being your wife and, in turn, be mine?”
“Oh my god, of course I would!”
My now-fiancée leaps in to my arms and I hug her tighter than I ever have before.
“Thank you,” I say gently as my eyes start tearing up.
“You're welcome,” she whispers in my ear with a laugh. “Fiancée.”
I feel like I could stay in this moment forever and I know that she feels the same.

“Your eyes are beautiful,” she says. “and they look familiar. Do I know you?”
“I don’t think so,” he says. “I’m new here, I don’t know anyone yet.”
“Maybe I knew one of your ancestors,” she says.
“Do you mean family?”
“No, ancestors. I’m older than I look,” she says with a smirk. “Much older. Where are your people from?”
“Oh, all over the galaxy,” he says, “I’m a little bit of everything.”
“Then the chances are very great.”
“Where are you from?” he asks.
She shakes her head sadly. “Oh, it isn’t around anymore. Hasn’t been for a long time. I’ve been many places in my life, seen many people. Including someone with your gorgeous eyes.”
“I’m not close with my family or familiar with my ancestors. I couldn’t tell you who you’re thinking of.”
“That’s alright,” she says. “Besides, that isn’t why you’re here. Or why I’m here. Would you like something to drink? Or a dessert? We have anything.”
“I’m alright, thank you,” he says.
She looks slightly puzzled. “Then why are you here?”
“I’m exploring. This ship is different than any I’ve ever been on, and it excites me. Would you like to join me? You seem like the type of person who only goes where you’re needed, who’s never seen the quirks of the vessel she calls home.
“That’s an interesting proposition and an equally interesting assumption. And in fact it tells me whose eyes you have. But I will have to decline. I have duties to perform here. This is where I am needed.”

dialogue prompt! httyd, “i’ll keep you safe”

Toothless was coming back for a visit, and it was very important this time because his human, Hiccup, now had a smaller human, even smaller than Hiccup was when Toothless had first met him. And Toothless was going to meet Hiccup and Astrid’s new small human.
He dove down onto the ship as soon as he spotted it, and barrelled into Hiccup out of excitement, accidentally knocking his human over in the process.
“Hey, buddy,” Hiccup said as Toothless licked his face thoroughly, showing his affection and also making sure his human was okay. It had been too many seasons since their last visit.
Toothless stepped back and allowed Hiccup to stand back up. That’s when he noticed Astrid, who has just come out of the cabin. He barreled over to her as well but skidded to a stop when he noticed the new small human, a boy the size of a cat, was in a bundle in her arms.
“Hey, Toothless,” she muttered as she rubbed the spot between his ears.
Very, very carefully, Toothless leaned forward and licked the forehead of the small human. He was going to make sure this cat-sized boy, and his parents and sister, stayed safe. Very safe.

in-cabin daily! 171 words

Silas carefully shifted their skin into their best interpretation of a palace guard. Now that they’d mastered their shapeshifting ability, nothing could stop them from getting their revenge on the queen who’d kidnapped them and experimented on them. It had been years since Silas escaped, but the terrifying memories still felt like they had happened only days before. Probably because Silas relived those memories every night in their dreams.
Someone was coming.
Silas ducked into the first unlocked door they could find, which happened to be a closet full of handmade towels and colourful crystals. Interesting, they thought. Quite an unusual selection of items to keep in a closet. For some even stranger reason, the closet could lock and unlock from the inside. Silas slid the latch and the door locked. Safe for now, they shifted back into their natural form, that of a blue-skinned teenager with long limbs and longer hair.
That’s when they noticed they weren’t alone. There was a little girl, there in the back of the closet.

As I walked down the street, looking for the umbrella shop, someone had complimented me on my hat. I hadn't thought much of it, but then a few moments later, someone had statched it right off of my head and dissapeared into the crowd. Here I am, a month later, and ready to take my hat back. I had been able to figure out where the theif lived, and now I stand in front of their house ready to steal my hat back. They wern't home right now so it was the perfect opportunity. As I quickly picked the front lock I kept looking over my shoulder, nervous, because this was one of my first heists. I opened the door as quietly as I could and looked around. It smelled gross, sort of like roten barbacue chips, and the furniture was random and sparatic. I understand why they need my hat now, they needed some more cash. Hat's in our world hold magic, and without one no one here would be able to cast spells at all. Because they are such a nessecity the people who make them can get away with making them pretty pricy, and since mine A: had a design, and B: had quite a bit of magic I had stored up in it, it would sell for a high price. I looked around the place, it only had a few rooms. One was a bathroom, one was a main room that was a living/ dining/ kitchen room mix. I decide to first check in the bedroom, since it seems most likely to be there. I look inside the drawers, and in one, I see it. My hat. I bring it out, and dust it off. It would need a thorough cleaning once we got home. I sneak out of the room, out of the house, out of the general vicinity of the area. I lean onto a building and let myself breath a sigh of releif. This had been perfect.

Just gonna store me stories in here

Daily, Mar2: https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/744314/?page=4#post-7835932

Dailies

Prompt: The world trembles in awe of the fire in your spirit and the chaos it brings.

‘Where are you now?’ she wondered, brushing away the tears. She held one up to the moonlight, glistening like a diamond, full in its glory and shine.
Then it rolled off and fell to the ground.
Gone.
Without a warning.
She turned on her back and gazed up at the large skylight. He had built it for her. Made sure it was perfect so I could always sleep under the stars. The tears kept on coming, rolling like a raging river with a never ending source. She got up knowing she could never sleep.
Would she ever?
She went to the door and pushed it open with a small creak.
He always pretended the creaking infuriated him, to try and make her laugh again.
Would she ever?
Her bare feet pressed on the smooth wooden floor, the only thing anchoring her as she swirled through the memories. His laugh. His smile.
She pushed the door to his room open. It was the same, but different. The posters hung in the same space, the same unmade bed, even a sheet of unfinished homework on his desk, yet it was all empty.
Hollow.
She walked slowly, closing her eyes the tips of her finger brushing gently on his things. She was afraid if she wasn’t careful, everything left of him would disappear.
Gone.
Her fingers brushed something and her eyes flew open, half expecting him to jump out and startle her. Their was no such luck. It was just the stupid sheet of paper. She glanced at it and gasped softly.
Not homework.
A letter.
She picked up the sheet and walked over to his bed, sitting down tentatively.

Dear Alaina,

I’m pretty sure there isn’t a good way to start this letter, so I’m not going to try.
I know if you’re reading this, I’m not around. Because otherwise, I would’ve chased you out with a broom already!
I can’t imagine the shock you got when I told you. I’m not scared. There’s nothing I can do anyway.
Don’t lose yourself because I left. Don’t want to join me.
Stay there. Enjoy your life.
You’ve always had something inside you. I don’t think you ever realized. There was always something inside your soul.
Let the world tremble in awe of the fire in your spirit and the chaos it brings.

- Your Brother

⠀

rot in peace Silk 2010/01/17 – 2024/03/02 cause of death Scratch forums formatting difficulties “(please bear with me I'm a little bit stupid okay)”


dailies:

2024. 03. 02
thingy?? I like it, at least

“What if I died here?”
“What?”
“What if I died here?”
“You won't die here.”
“But what if?”
“We'd mourn you.”
“I don't want to be mourned. Just remembered.”
“You'd be cremated. I'd scatter your ashes across the water—”
“I hate the water.”
“You'd be fertilizer for the seaweed.”
“That's acceptable.”
“We'd all give little speeches about how great you were and all your accomplishments and whatever—”
“Would you mean it?”
“. . . Yeah. I would”
“What would you say?”
“You were always the strongest, out of all of us. You were like the sky, there but not there at all, vast and incomprehensible. Your eyes were like diamonds, harder than steel, bright and multi-faceted, and perfect.”
“That's—that's bull. Nobody cares that much. You can't care that much. Especially not here.”
“And you never understood how important you were to all of us, how much we all needed you. How much we loved you.”
“You can't—you're a liar.”
“Not about this.”
"So you—you—still believe in love? We're literally living at the end of the world. There's nothing here, just to keep going.“
”You do too. You just pretend not to.“
”I—“
”We'd burn your clothes, too, maybe. I couldn't imagine anyone else ever wearing them. I don't think we'd burn your journals. That would feel too much like destroying your memory. But we'd seal them away, in a vault or lockbox or something, for the world to discover millennia from now. We wouldn't read them.“
”You'd read them. You always wanted to read them.“
”Not when you're dead. I respect the wishes of the dead.“
”But not the living, apparently. Go on.“
”I'd finally be able to tell you.“
”Tell me what?“
”Not yet. Not yet."

2024.03.03
rejoice in my horrible songwriting skills!

Mythology

In the spirit of heroes of old,
the legends we tell,
this great adventure begins.
For glory,
for fate,
for all that we'll make,
we will venture on.

Come now, heroes,
hold tight your blades.
The gods have called us to arms!
Steady your oars,
unfurl your sails,
adventure awaits across mare nostrum.

The Oracle has spoken,
we're ready to quest,
join us on this journey.
For glory,
for fate,
for all that we'll make,
we will venture on.

Come now, heroes,
hold tight your blades.
The gods have called us to arms!
Steady your oars,
unfurl your sails,
adventure awaits across mare nostrum.

This is our Odyssey,
this is our legacy,
this is our destiny.
For glory,
for fate,
for the world that we'll make,
we will venture on.

Come now, heroes,
hold tight your blades.
The gods have called us to arms!
Steady your oars,
unfurl your sails,
adventure awaits across mare nostrum.
This is the time,
this is the age of heroes,
and those heroes we will be!

Tragedy

Careful, careful, watch your step;
the path is treacherous here.
Get ready to run or get ready to hide.
Are you going to get out of here?

Someone is dead in the woods,
the vultures already feasting.
They're long gone,
and you will be next,
what are you feeling?
Best be afraid,
you don't know
if you're going to survive.

Careful, careful, be aware;
the woods are silent tonight.
Get ready to flee or get ready to fight.
Will you make it out alive?

Someone is dead in the woods,
the vultures already feasting.
They're long gone,
and you will be next,
what are you feeling?
Best be afraid,
you don't know
if you're going to survive tonight. . . .

2024.03.04
excuse me first person present is HECKING BORING >:( but one doesn't argue with the dice—

I kick whoever's behind me in response to the tap on my shoulder, realizing too late that it can't be one of my friends, because this is a new school; my friends aren't here. Slowly, I rotate my head to look over my shoulder. The kid standing there has blonde-ish hair held up with a butterfly clamp, looking like if I took a tape measure to all of her body parts, they'd all be in perfect golden ratio. Probably one of those annoying, obnoxious gymnastics girls.
“Hmm?”
“Kicking me was quite rude, you know.”
You have got to be kidding me. I roll my eyes and turn to face the direction of the line again, not deigning to reply.
“Are you going to just ignore me?”
I sigh. Yep, that was the intention.
“You're new here.”
“Uh, yes?”
“My name's Kayla.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“What do you mean, you know? You don't know me.”
I sigh and rub the bridge of my nose. I hate dealing with people like this.
“You're in my history class, second period. You sit in the second-worst seat in the room. You have a twin brother named Sam. He plays football? Lacrosse?”
For some reason (I can't fathom what), Kayla suddenly looks uncomfortable. “You know Sam?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know all that?” (Pronunciation of that is accompanied by vague hand-circling.)
I shrug. “Eh.”
“That's not an answer!”
“Okay, fine. Your seat is second-worst because it's second-closest to the door. Sam is in my third period and has the same last name as you, and the two of you look similar enough to be siblings. He's clearly one of the popular sports guys, but he doesn't look like a soccer player and I heard him saying baseball is stupid, so he's not a baseball player either. That leaves football or lacrosse.”
“Hmph. I was going to ask to be your friend, you know.” Kayla stalks off. Someone else pokes me, this time on the other shoulder.
“That was cool.” The kid is short with a bad haircut and freckles, and looks like he does theater. “Here, take my card.” I'm handed a plain white business card with the word “aardwolf” printed on it in the most boring font possible.
“Why?” I ask. “And did you seriously use Arial?”
He gives me a two-fingered salute. “That is for me to know, and you to question.” He runs off towards the back corner of the cafeteria.
Yeah, I think I'll make friends here. Ones that aren't Kayla.

2024.03.08
a crappy little letter to the singular person who inspires the vast majority of my poetry.

to , the only person who could ever be worth it.
you. always, always, always you, because it always comes back to you being better than me. you were always better than me. (i didn't realize that, at the time: we were so different, so they decided we were the same. they made a mistake.)
so you are the reason i am a poet. i was always a writer, finding escape in the worlds inside when the one outside was too painful (remember me hiding in the bathroom trying to convince myself that this wasn't real, this wasn't real, it couldn't hurt me you never did that), but you made me a poet.
you. i loved you. love you. hate you. i hope you die, i hope you live, i hope you live a long, happy life and never see me again (but i'll see you again, i'll find you again because i cannot be a poet without finding you again.)
you will never read this, but nearly every you i write to is you, the friend i maybe once had but lost because i am me, and you are you, and the world seems to be built for people like you against people like me.
you'll probably change the world. for the better. you changed me for the better, even if you'll never know that. if. if this ever gets to you, if you ever read all these things i write to you, by that time you will probably have forgotten the little girl in your third grade class who loved cats, the girl in your fourth grade class who was constantly being told off for clicking her pen too much, the kid in your fifth grade class who would cut flowers and snowflakes out of sticky notes and tape them to the plastic shield in front of her desk. you will most likely have forgotten the kid in your sixth grade D period reading class who cried because they couldn't, couldn't do whatever the teacher was asking of them, and you almost certainly will have forgotten the kid with dark hair and scared eyes and mental illness who shared none of your classes but would glare across the hallways at your back because they didn't know how to speak to you. i wore a big red scarf. if there's one thing i think you might remember about me, it would be the scarf.
your family still sends mine Christmas cards. every year. with pictures of you and your twin brother and you dogs.
do you know?
do you care?
do you still think about me, the way i do you? (of course not, because you're too perfect to let one girl you were friends with in elementary school invade every waking thought, because you're not me.)
you'll do well in life.
you'll go farther than i will.
and i think i'll be back here, watching.
thank you for making me a poet.
love,

2024.03.11

I sit against the wall of the gym, picking at my cuticles and watching the others shout and goof off. I would be there with them, but, well, I'm me. I don't do that.
“Are you okay?”
I look up to see—oh, great. It's Hannah. “I'm fine.”
“No, you're not.” Why is she like this?
"I'm fine,“ I insist.
”What's wrong?“
I scowl. ”I don't know, maybe everything?“
”What about something more specific?“ She persists.
I wave my hands in the direction of the others. ”That? This?“
”What's ‘that’ and ‘this’?“
”Why are you better at this than, like, my actual therapist?“
”No changing the subject. Answer the question.“
”Fine, I. . . how am I supposed to know? It's just—like, pretty much whenever I'm in a group setting, I end up sinking into the background. Disappearing. Like I'm invisible. Like I don't exist.“
”Hmm. Well, I think the problem is with the other people, not you. You just have to find people who won't ignore you.“
”Yeah, no.“ I can't do that
”No, yeah! Here.“ She grabs my wrist and drags me away, outside, towards a small group of people sitting in the grass. One kid leans over to whisper something to the kid on their left.
”What?“ I ask.
”Nothing—Hannah does this sometimes, just grabs children from who-knows-where and adopts them into the group. I'm Leo.“ He offers me his hand, and I shake it hesitantly.
I glance at Hannah, who grins. ”See?"
To be honest, I don't, but I'll try.

2024.03.13
hi, guess who has never read The Count of Monte Cristo?
“Moral wounds have the peculiarity that they are invisible, but do not close: always painful, always ready to bleed when touched, they remain tender and open in the heart.” - Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo
from @Sunclaw68's profile

So time heals all wounds—but this isn't true, is it? The grains of sand scooped away by the water or swept away by the wind
will not return again to this shore; what is taken away is not so easily gained back.
My childhood is not so easily gained back.
But best not to dwell on the past, is it? no;
the past is always the trigger I must pull, the fuse I must light,
to free the words in my mind to fly forth;
this barrier more fragile than the first layer of late-November ice on the lake.

So time heals all wounds, except for ones that can't be healed;
the ones that remain long after they should have scarred over—“forgive and forget,” they say,
but I cannot forget (this will stay with me longer than I live; how could I?) and I will certainly not forgive;
and I need these wounds; I need this pain; for who am I without this?
Without this, I become everything I hate; without this, I forget, and forgetting is a luxury I cannot afford;
without this, I may become that and that is something I cannot allow myself to become; but also:
the slightest touch or jostle opens up these wounds again,
tears my sutures: I am not laughing against the pain but with it, because this river will eventually deposit me into the ocean,
because if I keep going where it brings me I will eventually be free,
because if I ignore it long enough I will end up in a place where it is safe to acknowledge it.

So time heals all wounds (yours, maybe, but not mine).
So the sharp edges are dulled by the old man's footsteps (not mine, not mine; he steps only where it is most painful)
So the days pass, so the years pass, so the ages pass;
not all wounds are to be healed.

2024.03.19
character: Sage Willow (from current WIP novel)
character-describing words: blunt, passionate, troubled
setting-describing words: light, soft, celebratory
blame Merriam-Webster: brusque, emotional, charged, gentle, soothing, uneasy
(welp, the words were to describe the setting, not the events?? hehe >:3 )
okay so this is a oneshot set some time after the events of The Night Will Never Be Silent, which you can probably find more info about somewhere else (I'm too lazy to go find it myself, sorry)
preemptive preventive measures; Sage and Kai are NOT in a romantic relationship.

TW: deadnaming, toxic parents, mentions of family problems and death (no gore)
Ah, the Solstice. The holiday for families to fall apart, for children to get kicked out (or run away before that can happen), and for getting poisoned by the decorations that were so common this time of year.
The sounds of the bustling Solstice Market were muffled by the fat flakes of falling snow, but Sage still heard the footsteps approach behind them. With the obvious rustling of a long, heavy cloak and the fact that most anyone else would at least try to hide the fact that they were approaching, this could only be one person.
“Kai,” Sage said, discreetly looking over their left shoulder.
“Other side,” Kai said from Sage's right.
“Oh, you're horrible.”
“I think we all know that already.”
Sage hummed, adjusting the display of decorative holly branches.
“Why are you here anyway? You don't normally sell at the Market, do you?” Kai leaned forward on the display counter, looking out at the rest of the Market.
Sage elbowed Kai. “Don't lean on that.” Kai moved, and they continued. “I'll do it when it's convenient; I haven't had many clients last few weeks. Ha. No one wants to kill someone over Solstice, I suppose. I assume you're in the same situation, unless you specifically schedule time to bother me?”
Kai chuckled. “Maybe.” Sage crouched down to fuss with something under the counter just as another marketgoer walked up to the stand.
“Not to alarm,” Kai whispered down at Sage. “but your mother's here.”
Sage froze. "What? What the hell is she doing here?“ They hissed.
”Not sure. Should I do something?“
”Don't. Hopefully she'll go away.“
”Okay.“ Kai watched through narrowed eyes as the golden-haired woman examined the items on display. Other marketgoers came and went, but she didn't go away.
”She's not leaving,“ Kai whispered. Sage sighed deeply and pulled out from under the counter.
”You've been here for some time. If you're not buying, I will have to ask you to leave,“ they said, pinning Genevieve Willow with their stare.
”Phoebe,“ Genevieve said. ”This holiday is for family. Your father and I would like to have you home.“
Sage rolled their eyes and put their palm on the counter. ”Please leave.“
Kai put an arm around Sage's shoulders, also glaring at Genevieve.
Genevieve's eyes hardened. ”Sage,“ she spat.
”Yes?“ Sage tilted their head.
”If you would just be reasonable, I'm sure we could work out whatever is wrong.“
Sage scoffed. ”My father doesn't give a ****. Quinn's the only one in that house who actually cares, and even he understands that I'm better off where I am now. The only reason you want me back is because you can't stand the idea of me being perfectly happy and well off without you.“
”Please. Stop being difficult; this is family, Phoebe.“
”You know that's not my name.“
”Phoebe!“
”People are staring. I must ask you to leave.“
Sage rubbed their forehead. ”Kai, try not to make it too violent or obvious, okay?“
Kai nodded and vaulted over Sage's market stall, almost knocking it over. Sage barely managed to keep everything from spilling off the display counter.
”Phoebe! You can't do this!“ Genevieve roared, backing away as Kai approached her. Sage ignored her and continued arranging their Solstice wreaths and branches.

Kai returned to the Solstice Market as Sage was packing up their stall.
”What, was my mother so annoying that it took you four hours to deal with her?“ Sage said.
”What? Nah, I had something else come up.“
Sage nodded, lifting up the crate with the contents of their stall. ”You can't sleep at my place tonight, by the way.“
”What?! Why?“
”I have some. . . fragile objects currently waiting to be delivered, and I cannot have you breaking them.“
Kai rolled his eyes good-naturedly. ”Fine. Any plans for the Solstice?“
”I suppose I'll sit and sulk at home, as usual. You?"

2024.03.20
same universe as last daily, but this all happened before the events of my novel, and it's about our French Guy antagonist who is actually just a scared little bean as well as a guy who really, really, really should be dead and who is to blame for literally everything.
poor Michel.
ik there's hardly any context, but you'll get more if you find me @inkk_splatters on the archive :33

TW: dark-colored letters (idk why Scratch doesn't like this word)
Hᴀʟғ ᴀ ᴍɪʟʟᴇɴɴɪᴜᴍ ᴀɢᴏ, the Wizard built the Clock. And half a millennium ago, the Wizard died. Only, he didn't.

The old man's body was failing, yes, but his mind felt clearer than ever. His days were numbered now—but maybe, just maybe, they didn't have to be. It was a known rule of Clockwork that you couldn't create life, but what if one already had a soul, an animus, and just needed a body to put it in? So the Wizard did what he did best—he planned, he designed, he built; and what he built was brilliant. A mechanical human body, a Clockwork man that could move and speak just as a human could, and most importantly, a creation that would be able to contain a soul.
Of course, the Wizard would not be able to continue his life as it was. He had already passed on the secrets of the Clock to the next generation with irreversible magic, and he couldn't simply live in the city—the people of Calends were too familiar with the particular type of magic their city had been built on, and he would get spotted in an instant. He would go somewhere new, then.
When the next ClockKeeper entered the tower one day to find the Wizard's body cold on the ground, she assumed the old man was dead. A reasonable assumption, and one that, in all cases, should have been correct, but it wasn't. The mechanical body had caught the Wizard's soul just as it left his body, and now, though it stood as still as when the Wizard was working on it, the empty openings of its eyes showed something else other than gears and springs inside the metal skeleton—they showed life.
The man who used to be the Wizard left the Clock tower and boarded the first boat he could find to the Continent.

Fɪᴠᴇ ʜᴜɴᴅʀᴇᴅ ʏᴇᴀʀs ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ, Michel Bonheur's life ended when he answered the door and found a mechanical man standing there.

Michel had been home alone with his brother, as he often was. His father, being the best Clockworker on the Continent, was constantly traveling and leaving Michel and Achille at home on the precedent that Michel was competent enough to take care of the both of them on his own.
And this arrangement worked perfectly fine for Michel, right up to the day the mechanical man appeared.
“I am looking for Christophe Bonheur,” the mechanical man said in a voice that sounded like metal on metal.
“I'm sorry,” Michel answered. “My father is out travelling. I'm not sure when he'll return.”
“In that case—” The mechanical man heaved a sigh, and Michel could hear the gears turning within his body. “—you may call me the Automaton. Now, you are going to do what I say, or I am going to hurt that adorable little brother of yours.”

2024.03.21
ik i'm a poet but i ain't passionate about sh#bleeep# i'm just somewhat traumatized decently mentally ill and extremely full of bullsh#bleeep#
ahaha guess who found a fun new way of (istg if this word is the one) :DDDD
aha ha. ha. haha. he. he. he. guess who's traumadumping in their daily…………
so uh heavy TW for implied domestic abuse……. oopss…… haha…………

who is wrong? (bang, bang)

don't blame me here (not me) for your mistakes

don't you know (you don't know),

don't you know (you'd never know, never know, never know). . .

lucky i'm still alive (misfortunate soul, do i deserve this?)

(liar liar liar liar) you're not lying you're just wrong
you don't understand (why don't you why won't you)

not my fault (never my fault)
your narcissism

you didn't want a family (falling apart)
you don't know a family (that's why we fall apart)
this is not this is not (down-beat) this cannot be
(wait wait) not what you want (you don't)
understand (what you want, not what you want)

(and flash) i don't know (crash delayed) you don't know
(why) you think you know what you don't know

(unheard) and i hide
(unseen) and i leave
(uncared) for i
don't know where this will go (don't want)
to know where this will go

she's not the only one you hurt
i hear the shouting (i know) (you think i'm asleep)
how could i sleep (without the rain)
to drown out all the noise the shouting (can't be)
the only thing i hear

let me drown (drown drown weighed down)
in noise that isn't (words that i don't care about)
you (screaming fighting shouting) i don't want (this, this)

(retreat) i hide (retreat retreat) this shell
what (when danger is inside not out) who's trapped

i'm (trapped) here, here (am i scared)
please (please please please, please)

(and what when) i will be gone (soon and i won't wait for you and)
will they grow up (up, up and never once look forwards) to be me (again)
(again again) will they (can they do it like i did it will they) have to
(and they shouldn't have to and i shouldn't have had to)

land. (land two feet on solid ground from flying i hate flying)
with wings crumbling to ash as i (step, step i will walk again)
forget i could fly once (and never again can i take to the air)
so i will land (safe already running)
far away and if i make it (to what destination)
i will not let you know, because even if I tell you, you will not understand, and if I tell you this you will not
understand.

2024.03.23

All of the lights in the house are warm-colored, and most of them aren't particularly bright, either. The dim lighting is barely enough to illuminate the strange, blob-shaped furniture scattered in seemingly random places.
This is a place that always has something going on, never stagnant. The lights blink and flicker, hums and clicks emanate from who-knows-where, and the wooden floor beneath the plush carpet creaks with every step. A cool breeze blows from nowhere.
The room is irregularly shaped, much deeper than it is wide and spiraling deep into the ground. The ceiling is low—barely enough room for an average-height person to stand. The walls are lined with shelves, shelves stacked with all collections and assortments of things; piles of coins and rocks and trinkets and shiny things, interspersed with books stacked five or six high.
There is a Creature curled up in one of the blob-chairs, half-buried in a blanket, with a bag of chips and a mug of tea, typing away on a laptop.
wifi went out and I couldn't save it >:(

2024.03.29
prologue for NNBS
i speedran this don't judge
may or may not end up being canon so uh

!!!SUPER SEVERE SPOILERS READ AT YOUR OWN DESCRETION!!!
“Cain, you're not supposed to be—”
“Theo, go away! Not everything is about you, Theo!”
Theodore Willow stumbled, nearly falling, before continuing to chase after the other boy. “I'm just saying; you're going to get in trouble! Where are you even going?”
Cain paused at the top of the steps, rolling his eyes. “I'm trying to get rid of you, obviously. If you'd just stop sticking your nose into things that aren't your business—”
“I'm just trying to make sure you don't get—”
“You're not helping! Do you not understand? None of this is any of your business! I'm the one who has to—” Cain cut himself off.
Theo crossed his arms. “Has to what, exactly? Because if it's anything against the rules, I'm not letting you do it.”
Cain scowled, pushing past Theo as he headed back down the staircase. "You're not not letting me do anything. Go do the extra credit or something.“
Theo whirled around. ”Cain! We're friends, aren't we? I just don't want you to do anything you'll regret!"
Cain said nothing.

Cain made it to the plaza without hearing any more protests or annoying footsteps pattering behind him. Finally, he's stopped following me. He looked around him one last time to make sure no one was watching, then hurried into the Clock tower, taking the steps two by two until he reached the top, out of breath.
“Sorry, sir—Theo was being a pest,” Cain said, dumping his schoolbooks on a small side table.
“No need. There's time. There's time,” replied the old woman seated on a wooden stool in a corner of the room. “The documents are on my desk. Sign where indicated.”
Cain nodded, retrieving the papers and a pen. As he signed, the ink disappeared, seeming to both melt into the paper and evaporate into thin air, leaving not a trace behind. He slid the papers into a slot in the wall, causing a hollow thunk to issue from it.
“Locks,” said the woman. “Start from the inmost ones.”
Cain did as told, unlocking and relocking each of the tower's many locks in sequence. As he got to the second-to-last one, he heard the sound of a doorknob turning. He whipped around.
"What are you doing in here?“ Theo demanded, standing in the doorway.
”You've ruined it!“ Cain fumed. ”I don't even know what the Clock is going to do now; this isn't supposed to happen!“
”What?“ Theo closed the door behind him. Gears began turning and clicking in the walls.
”Oh, now you've done it. Way to ruin everything, Theo.“ Cain yanked open the door to leave. ”I'm done with you."
Theo ran out as well, calling after him, but he was nowhere to be seen.


weeklies:

week of 2024.03.11
part 1
yellow roses (354 words)

I stand on your doorstep in the February rain, holding a bouquet of yellow roses and hoping you'll answer because a, I'm starting to get soaked, and b, I spent thirty dollars on these heccing roses and if I do not get to give them to you today I will be absolutely ⁋lssed. I'm about to ring the doorbell again when you open the door and nearly crush me (and the flowers) in a hug before stopping and stepping back.
“Oh! flowers! Not gonna crush those. Hi. Uh, it's the fifteenth—”
I step inside and shove the flowers into your hands, grinning. “Yeah, discount chocolate day! We can go to that fancy chocolate store and buy all the stuff that they didn't sell on Valentine's Day, for cheap! It's basically free chocolate!”
You laugh, and I laugh with you.

We return with boxes and bags of chocolates to fling ourselves onto your bed, giggling. I land on one of your favored stuffed animals, and you let out a dramatic gasp, accompanied by a “No! Mr. Flufferface!”
I roll over, freeing the toy dubbed “Mr. Flufferface,” and toss it across the room. “There. He's safe now.”
“Abuse!” you shriek, and retrieve Mr. Flufferface to whack me over the head with. I raise an arm to defend myself. After a few blows, you flop back onto the bed with me, holding Mr. Flufferface to your chest.
“Why roses?” you ask me.
"Yellow roses. They, um, they mean friendship. Joy. But also, they're not really roses. I mean, they are, but they're not, like, roses roses. They're 月季花, not 玫瑰花, I think in English they're still roses, they're China roses or something, um. I just like them better. I think they're prettier. And I thought just regular roses would be a bit basic so—uh, yeah. Sorry.“
”They're all gonna die. I don't know where to put them and I always kill plants.“
”Sorry.“
You elbow me. ”No, don't be!“
I hum, but say nothing. We remain in comfortable silence for some time. Finally, you turn to me. ”I love you.“
I smile. ”Love you too."

part 2
not a Romeo and Juliet, but a Weaver Girl and Cowherd (401 words)
btw fricC you Scratch bad-word filter >:(

While we sit together on my back porch, the fireflies twinkle in the grass. The summer night is warm, and a light breeze plays across our faces. The atmosphere has an air of finality to it.
“I'm sorry.” You've been apologizing for the past two days.
“Don't be. It's your parents, not you,” I try to reassure you.
You mumble something I can't hear.
“Hmm?”
“I'm probably never going to see you again. . . gonna be on the opposite side of the country. . . .”
I nod. “Life. . . is like that sometimes.”
You huff, somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. “So this is us, then. Tragic, star-crossed lovers, never to see each other again. Romeo and Juliet.”
I roll my eyes, smiling. "Romeo and Juliet doesn't qualify as a tragedy or a romance. They both freaking k!II themselves at the end because they can't stand living without each other or something like that; that's just stupid. Our situation is more like. . . the Weaver and the Cowherd.“
”Never heard of it.“
”Basically, there was this celestial weaver girl and this regular human cowherd who fell in love, but the weaver girl's dad was like ‘No, you’re not allowed to do that' and they were put on opposite sides of the Silver River—the Milky Way—where they are now. And they can only see each other on the seventh day of the seventh month.“
You reach over, take my hand, and squeeze it, looking up at the night sky. ”So they're stars.“
”Yup.“
”Which ones?“
”Not a clue. I think they're some of the brighter ones? And the one that's supposed to be the Cowherd has two smaller stars right next to it, symbolizing their children, and of course they're on opposite sides of the Milky Way, but I don't know. I'm not an astronomy person.“
You sigh. ”You're right. I think that is us. Minus the being able to see each other. And the kids.“
I laugh. ”I guess. . . the most we can do is try to remember each other. I think I'll definitely remember you.“
You turn your head to look at me, smiling. . . .
Suddenly, your mom calls out from next door.
”Oops, gotta go.“ You let go of my hand and run across the yard to jump the fence back to your house. ”Bye.“
”Bye," I say, watching you leave, and staying to watch the fireflies long after you're gone.

part 3
(y'all do not know how much strife this caused me)
so I guess the people from part 1 are the same as the ones in part 2 now
magpies.

here. I'm so done ToT

and no I definitely did not just copy-past the same image of three magpies to make the mystical-bird-bridge thing

part 4
silly little SWC/Riordanverse crossover lol
I know this has about fifty glaring continuity errors but I JUST NEED TO FINISH THIS WEEKLY OKAY PLEASE ToT
sigh idk man it's about friendship and love and (WAIT SCRATCH WHAT DID YOU JUST DO). something like that.
thanks to everyone who volunteered! (sorry if I didn't write you very well I highkey lowkey speedran this haha)
I'm an Ares kid now because it's unrealistic for me to be a Hades kid and it's more convenient in terms of non-written-out-plot for my dad to be the godly one
1859 words

My parents were arguing when the dog poofed.
Now, that's not a sentence I thought I'd ever write, either. But my parents were busy screaming at each other in the kitchen, and I'd done what I always did—go outside and sit on a rock for an hour or so, because there wasn't really anything else I could do. I hated when they did this. It was nearly always about something completely ridiculous, and sometimes they'd be so caught up in their arguing that they would completely forget about me.
I'd heard footsteps in the driveway—hooves, actually—but I'd assumed it was the deer, because it was always the deer. It was not, in fact, the deer.
Actually, it was Herbert. (Oh, look, another sentence I never thought I'd write.)
Herbert Brush was not wearing shoes. Also, he had hooves? were they fake? I wasn't sure. He ran up to me, out of breath and stumbling over the pile of boulders.
I'd open and closed my mouth a few times before finally saying, “You. . . were in my history class before I changed schools. Why do you have hooves?”
He nodded. “Yeah. I'll explain stuff later. We, uh, sort of need to get out of here before you die.”
“What?” I asked. That's when the dog appeared. I nearly fell off my rock—despite common belief, giant dogs do not typically materialize in Connecticut backyards.
Just calling it a dog seemed a bit misleading—it was probably large enough to take the trunk of the largest tree in our half acre of wood and use it as a chew toy. I didn't know much about dog breeds, but I was pretty sure it was one of the small, irrationally angry ones. It slammed straight into the tree in front of it, then took a step back and shook its head. It barked at us.
“Tell me I'm hallucinating?” I said hopefully.
“You are not hallucinating. Run.”
“Run where?”
“I don't know, anywhere! That thing's gonna kill you!”
The dog barked again and growled at us. “Gonna kill you” did seem like an accurate description. I ran.
I pelted across the drive and through the woods, Herbert somewhere behind me.
“You wouldn't. . . happen to. . . have. . . a weapon. . . on you. . . would you?” Herbert huffed between breaths.
I patted down my pockets. Pen. Sticky. Chapstick. Piece of string? Other pen. Piece of broken blade.
“Nope!” I shouted back at him.
“Well then, keep running!”
We ran for a while before Herbert stopped, hands on his knees. “I think we lost it.”
I looked behind us. I didn't see the monster dog. “Does that mean it poofed back to wherever it came from?”
“Hopefully. Look, it's not safe right now. The Greek gods are real and you're probably one of their children, and that means a lot of things are out to kill you. I promise I'll explain everything later, but right now we have to get somewhere.”
“You're going to take a child away from their family?”
“Well. . . yeah?”
I shrugged. “Eh. Let's go.”
Herbert looked a little shocked.

A bus, a train, a taxi, and a large-ish amount of money later, we arrived to. . . somewhere. Herbert led me up a hill to a pine tree with a glowing rug on one of its branches and a dragon curled underneath it.
“Here it is,” he said. “Camp Half-Blood.”
“Unimpressive. Am I allowed to pet the dragon?”
“Not yet you aren't,” said a person who'd just come up the other side of the hill. “He tends to bite off the fingers of people he's not familiar with. Nice to meet you. I'm Moonsy, daughter of Athena. She/her.” She stuck out her hand, and I shook it hesitantly.
“These are Bookie and Kiara, also children of Athena,” Moonsy said, gesturing down the hill at two other people. Bookie waved.
“Great, you can give Silk the tour. I have a. . . meeting,” Herbert said and hurried off to who-knows-where.
No one talked for a moment. Then I asked, “Tour?”
Moonsy nodded. “Let's go see Chiron first.” She walks down the hill, gesturing for me to follow.
“Chiron. . . horse dude? What are those called?”
“Centaurs. Yeah, that's him. You'll probably get claimed by your godly parent. . . soon. Any idea who it might be?”
“Not a clue.”
Moonsy pointed out the different areas of the camp as we walked through to the large house in the middle, explaining a bunch of stuff that I didn't care too much about. There was the type of stuff you'd normally expect to see at a summer camp; cabins, a lake, dining hall, volleyball courts, etc.; but there was also a massive climbing wall with something like liquid fire (it is not lava. it cannot possibly be lava. i will not allow it to be lava. even magic lava has to follow the laws of physics.), an ancient-Greek-style amphitheater, an archery range, and a battle arena.
“So, you guys have, like, fighting training?” I asked.
“Yep!” Moonsy replied. “You'll get to pick a weapon later.”
“Pick a weapon? Like an actual, sharp weapon?”
“Yep.”
“So do you practice with sharpened weapons? Do you have, like, wooden practice blades or something, or do you just, like, use HEMA protective gear or something?”
“We spar with real weapons. You can choose to use armor if you want.”
There is no way that's safe, I thought, but I didn't comment any further.
We made our way into the house, which, I might mention, was painted the ugliest light blue color possible. Chiron the centaur was in what should have been the the living room, talking to a kid with dark hair and eyes and ink on their hands.
“Hi, Rush,” Moonsy nods towards the dark-haired kid. Rush raises a hand in greeting.
“New arrival?” he asked.
“Yeah,” said Moonsy. I nodded.
“Well, then. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood. Would you like to watch the orientation film, or would you prefer just to have me explain things to you?”
“Don't watch the orientation film,” Moonsy and Rush said simultaneously. I look at them. I wonder why?
“Oh. Kay. . .” I said hesitantly. “I think I mostly get what's going on here; children of Greek gods, here so they don't die out there, and I honestly don't care enough to want to know anything else.”
Chiron raised both eyebrows. “Really? Would you not like to know why you've grown up with only one parent your whole life?”
“I grew up with two parents. I assume one of them isn't actually my parent? I hope it's my dad. I don't like him.”
Chiron rubbed his forehead. “In that case—Moonsy, have you already shown. . . ”
“Silk,” I said.
“Have you already shown Silk around?”
Moonsy nodded, and Chiron turned back to me. “I suppose you may go and familiarize yourself with the camp now. You'll be staying in the Hermes cabin until you're claimed. Moonsy can show you where that is.”
I nodded. I was already itching to get out of there—I couldn't wait to get a weapon and spar. I turned to Moonsy as she led me back outside. “So, I get a weapon?”
“Yeah! We have a shed full of stuff—swords, mostly, but there's other stuff, too, so you can pick what feels best for you.”
I grinned. I already knew what I wanted.

The door creaked open, revealing rows and rows of swords, knives, archery equipment, and even some guns. I nudged a broadsword with my foot before running my hand along the bottom left rack of blades. I picked up one of the rapiers but almost dropped it.
“It's heavy!” I exclaimed. Honestly, it wasn't, really, but I was used to five-hundred-gram sabres, so this was around twice the weight.
“Is it?” Moonsy asked. “Have you handled swords before?”
I flicked the rapier around. Hmm. Not this one. “Technically, yes, but also, technically, no. I fence.”
I put it back on the rack and picked up another. This one was a bit shorter and a bit heavier, with a larger protective guard. It still wasn't the same as a modern Olympic sabre, and I usually had a glove, but the grip was the same shape. I could get used to it.
“I like this one,” I declared.
Moonsy nodded, seemingly in approval of my choice. “Well, I'll leave you now, but if you have any questions, don't be afraid to ask!”
I turned and gave her a thumbs-up—I was already running towards the arena. When I got there, there was only one person in it, a kid with combat boots and a haircut that was almost bad, holding a club that was probably almost as long as they were tall.
“Hi?” I said, waving awkwardly.
The kid walked over. “You new here?”
“Yeah.”
“Nice to meet you. I'm Puppy, Ares cabin head.”
“Um. I'm Silk.”
Puppy looked me up and down. “Sword, hmm? Basic. Think you're any good?”
I rolled my shoulders backwards a few times. “Maybe.”
“Let's spar, then. We'll see.”
I nodded, tossing my jacket to the side and getting into a ready stance.
“Let's go!” Puppy shouted. They charged.
They made a swing at me, and I almost tried to parry before remembering that they were wielding a huge, heavy club rather than a sword. I dived out of the way just in time.
I got back up as Puppy recovered from the swing, and I went on the offensive, holding my rapier in front of me. They slowly backed up as I shuffled forward, but then they suddenly ran to the side and swung their club at my head. I hit the ground, dropping my sword, and rolled away—I'd avoided getting brained, but now I was without a weapon.
Puppy attacked now, waving their club (can you tell I don't know how clubs work yet?) in my face and forcing me into a corner. “I win,” they declared, lowering their club a bit.
“Uhhh. . .” I slipped one of my shoes off with my other foot and kicked it at their face. “Not yet!” I ran across the arena and picked up my rapier again.
Puppy turned to me and grinned. "Oh, you are so getting it now.“

We kept sparring until the sky was nearly dark and we were both drenched in sweat.
”You're pretty good, for a newbie. Have you done this before?“ Puppy said as we made our way to the dining hall.
”Eh. I fence,“ I replied, shaking out the front of my shirt.
”That's pretty cool. Think you're going to stay here year-round?“
”Probably. I've only been here for a day, and it already feels more like a home than—what?“
Something had suddenly illuminated Puppy's face and the area around us in bright red. ”What?“ I asked again.
”Look up.“
I did. There was a glowing emblem of a boar's head floating about half a meter above me. It hung for some seconds, then dissipated. Puppy looked ecstatic.
Chiron trotted over from the dining hall. ”Hail, Silk insertlastname, child of Ares."
Puppy nearly knocked me over in a hug.

oh i'm so done we're ending it here because if i go on it's not gonna get an end and i need to submit this like now

March 1 ~ 1030 words ~ 0 points
Hi, I’m Toko, though I also go by Bean. I’m an ambivert, book lover, musical lover, and writer. I use any pronouns with no preference, and I’m in Script this session. This is my first time participating in SWC though I have done JWC before, last January. I really like writing so I’m excited to be a part of SWC to improve some of my writing techniques and to learn new writing styles.
I’m excited to meet other SWC-ers because, although I’m sort of shy, I’m trying to come out of my shell and socialize more. I’m also trying to be more active on Scratch, so I hope that meeting new people will help with that. I have a few IRL friends on Scratch, but I don’t really have online friends so I’m hoping to do something about that.
Some of my goals for this session are to write more, especially longer stories, and to read more. One of my favorite authors is Rick Riordan. It’s such a hard decision to pick my favorite author or book, but Rick Riordan has written so many books I like, so I can’t not pick him as one of my favorite authors. I read books really quickly – when I enjoy them and I have time, which happens to be on the thirty minute bus ride to school. However, reading on a bus can be difficult because most of the time, it’s noisy and bumpy, and sometimes I have to do my homework that I procrastinated until the last minute instead.
As I mentioned, I love reading, and some of my favorite characters from some series are Inej from Six of Crows, and Nico Di Angelo and Alex Fierro from the Riordanverse. Some of my other favorite books are Fable by Adrienne Young, The Left Handed Booksellers of London by Gareth Nix, and The Fault in Our Stars by John Green.
I love Broadway, both the music and the onstage dancing. I’ve started learning some of the choreography for a few musicals too! My favorite musical songs are Satisfied from Hamilton and Don’t Lose Ur Head from Six. I’ve memorized both of those, as well as a lot of other songs! I am a very big Broadway fan, as you can see!
I’m also a theater kid, and I just got a role in my school play. I’ve lost count of how many plays I’ve been in, but I especially like this one because of its plot. I got cast as the knight, a background character who is a woman dressing up as a guy to be in the Royal Army. Rehearsals start soon, after the track season though.
I run track and field, though I do the mile. I’m not a sprinter and I’d rather run a 5k (3 miles) for cross country than do track, but I can’t do cross country until next year. I have my first track meet of the season today, but there are only two more. One next week and one the week after. I also have to train every day which can be tiring, though it’s exhilarating as well.
I’m currently working on a novel, though I have a lot of other ideas, and I want to start something new. However, I don’t really want to give up on my novel, so I’ve been turning those other ideas into incomplete short stories. I have a problem though, that whenever I get an idea for a story, I go on a writing spree and get so excited about it, but later that day, or the next, my energy will fizzle out, and it’s unlikely I will finish that story any time soon.
I’m an avid baker, and instead of gifting my friends things like books or gift cards, I like to bake them desserts. This weekend, actually, I’m going to bake banana chocolate chip muffins and lemon cookies for my friend’s birthday. I also like to bake banana bread every Sunday to eat as breakfast during the week because I barely have time to eat on weekdays before school.
I’m Jewish, American, and Canadian, though I live in the US. I speak English, French, and I’m learning Hebrew, Spanish and Latin. Latin is one of my favorite classes at school, even though it is the most work. My other favorite class, Theatre, doesn’t have any homework, but it’s my other favorite because of what I’m learning, the really nice teacher, and because most of my friends are in that class.
As I mentioned, way above at the beginning of this rant about myself, I’m an ambivert, and that plays a big role in my life. I like analyzing people and that makes me sort of quiet, because I just sit in random places thinking about people. However, being so quiet is part of why I’m so sensitive and I cry easily, though I’ve been growing out of those habits. The other part of an ambivert is extrovert. The extrovert in me likes socializing with my friends and talking to people, though because of my two contrasting sides, I’m most likely to talk in person with only people I know, though I will talk a lot.
I also have a weird with the sky and stars. Most of the time, my mood correlates to the weather, though it’s not what you would think. It seems obvious that pouring rain or snow would leave you in a bad mood, but it’s the opposite for me. When the weather is bright and sunny, I feel gloomy both inside and out. The stars as well decide for me how to feel. When I see a lot of them at night, while trying to fall asleep, I know that the next day will be pretty good, and vice versa.
I have another obsession, Greek mythology. If you name any Greek God or a story, I can tell you something about that. Part of my obsession is why I chose Latin as a class to take so I can learn more about mythology, both Greek and Roman.
I’m sorry for this really long rant, and if you read all of this, I’m highly impressed!

daily 2
the teacher's lecturing again, something he's been doing more often than not. to the majority of the class, but more specifically asiya, it's merely background noise - she's become rather talented at tuning the voice out, not catching a single word as soft piano music drifts through her mind. her earbud's concealed by a lock of light curls, which are almost glowing in the afternoon light.
nora watches her from the desk to the right - well, not asiya specifically, but the way her pencil glides gracefully across the little empty strip of the note page. the bright yellow stands out from the rest of the room - a little spark of fire that always catches her gaze no matter where she's looking. she's happy for the distraction, the entire day had been so incredibly boring.
if asiya noticed nora's eyes dreamily following her work, she paid no attention to it. she drew an eye, then another, until a masterpiece filled the space. minute after minute, nora admires her work, nothing else occupying her mind except the occasional snippet of mitochondria this and that.
at last, asiya feels a gentle tap on her shoulder, and she looks up to see nora's smiling face. they weren't all that close by any means, but somewhere in the back of head she associated nora's name with the word kind.
“your art's so pretty i could kill for it,” she says softly, and asiya lets out a giggle of surprise at those words.
“could?” she whispered back teasingly, “you mean to tell me you're capable of killing?”
nora smirks, “hmm, maybe.”
their teacher gives them both a stern look, and they turn back to face the front of the room. as soon as he turned away, asiya turned back to nora, a hint of a genuine grin playing on lips that hadn't smiled in so long.
"thank you," she mouths. turning back to her art, she looked at it with a newfound fondness. someone liked it, even if it wasn't her.

“your art's so pretty i could kill for it” - recca <3

In-Cabin Activities 001: 530 words, 2 stories

i. 110 words, dialogue prompt (Keeper of the Lost Cities, “Do you hate me?”)
She couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe.
Everything was shattering.
His beautiful ice-blue eyes were locked on hers, a silent, desperate plea in their crystalline depths.
He’d betrayed her.
Betrayed all of them.
His lips moved, forming several different words before he finally spoke.
“Do you hate me?”
She didn’t know anymore, truthfully.
But slowly, she shook her head no.
“Keefe, I…”
Sophie didn’t know how to continue. What could she possibly say?
But in the end, she made the choice that felt right with her heart, even though her mind was screaming at her to leap far, far away and leave her tangled mess of feelings behind.
“I don’t hate you.”

ii. 420 words, in-cabin daily
He was waiting, just like he said he’d be.
She shivered as he turned to her–not a frightened shiver, but an expectant one. Something big was going to happen, she was sure of it. Otherwise, why would he have arranged this meeting?
His voice was as smooth and deep as ever as he spoke.
“Good evening, Miss Luna,” he greeted her, striding over. The dark cloak he always wore billowed in the slight evening breeze, looking for an instant like a writhing mass of shadow and midnight. She shoved the strange thought aside, stretching a hand out in greeting. “Good evening.”
He took her hand and bowed over it, making a dusky flush rise in her cheeks, and when he straightened the traces of a smile were on his lips.
“I have a favor to ask of you, Miss Luna.”
Somehow he’d stepped even closer, and her heart hammered in her chest as she looked into his black eyes. There was just something so…so…she wasn’t quite sure. Something different about his face. His features looked like they shouldn’t belong together, and yet it was impossible to separate them, at least on his face. Hair the color of autumn flames, eyes like umber velvet, suntanned features that weren’t rough or coarse, but fine, yet without looking delicate. The only thing she did not like were his lips. They were red–too red–blood red, red as poppies, red as sunsets. She could lose herself in his eyes, but his lips made her want to pull away.
But surely it was very silly to judge someone by his lips, so she stayed right where she was, dropping her lashes and peeping up at him from under their thick screen demurely.
“Yes?”
He moved his hand up to cradle her face, and she shivered again at his touch, warring between embarrassment, delight, and something else she couldn’t identify–something that made her sick to her stomach.
“Are you sure?” he asked, lowering his voice.
“I think so,” she whispered back, her brows creasing slightly. “What is it you want me to do?”
He bent to whisper in her ear.
“Don’t run.”
She flinched, and the illusion broke, just like that.
No, broke was the wrong word. It melted, dripped, distorted. Until all that was left in front of her was a black cloud of darkness and two dark eyes and a pair of red lips, stretching to inhuman proportions as he spoke again, repeating his request.
“Don’t run, Miss Luna. This will all be over soon.”

(back to table of contents: https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/744314/?page=1#post-7831826 )

Daily 2
꧁How I see it, to truly love something, you have to dive deep into why.꧂
—a_sloth_who_draws
Not a compliment, technically, but I couldn’t find any.
301 words

The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the deserted beach. Lerissa sat on the weather-beaten dock, her gaze fixed on the distant horizon as the waves crashed against the shore.
Beside her, Iovis leaned against the railing, his eyes reflecting the muted colors of the sunset. “You know,” he said, breaking the silence, “I've been thinking about what you said earlier.”
Lerissa turned to him. “About what?”
“About love,” Iovis replied, his voice tinged with a vague humor he always seemed to have.
Lerissa nodded, her interest piqued. “And what did you come up with?”
Iovis shrugged, a wry smile forming at the corners of his lips. “I guess I realized that it's not enough to just love something on the surface. To truly love it, you have to understand it, to unravel its mysteries and uncover its complexities.”
Lerissa considered his words for a moment, the gentle lapping of the waves providing a soothing backdrop to their conversation. “So, what do you truly love?” she asked.
Iovis glanced out at the vast expanse of the ocean, his eyes shimmering. “I love you,” he said softly. “Your voice, your power, your beauty. But more than that, I love the way you make me feel—small yet connected to something greater than myself.”
Lerissa smiled, a hint of understanding dawning in her eyes. “I think I know,” she said. “For me, it's you. The way you can evoke emotions, tell stories, and transport me to another world. That's why I love you.”
Iovis nodded, a sense of happiness blossoming between them. “Exactly,” he said. “To truly love someone, you have to dive deep into why. And once you do, you'll find that love is more than just a feeling—it's a connection, a passion, a part of who you are.”

March 2 ~ 272 words ~ 400 points
My compliment was “I love the way your hair flows” from @1lmam

Letting my breath flow through my body, I take one last quick inhale and prepare myself for the last jump. Squeezing my legs together, I urge Moonlight on, and we gallop forward, headed straight for the last jump. The water jump, Moonlight’s least favorite. I try to calm myself as we hurl over the jump, and as we land, perfectly, I let out a final exhale, as we slowly trot to the gate.
As I dismount Moonlight, my friend, Jessie runs over to me, squealing about how I aced that last jump.
“Oh, Kiki, that jump was just perfect! You looked like an angel, and I love the way your hair flows in the wind!”
I repeatedly thank her as she joins me walking Moonlight back to her stable. However, just when I make it to stable, another friend compliments me with the same thing. “I love the way your hair flows,” and again with another friend.
“What is with the same compliments?” I exclaim.
“Well, it’s true,” I get as a response.
“Your hair is like the breeze tickling tree branches, it’s so majestic and wonderous.”
“Thank you-?” I reply confused by what’s going on.
“You are so welcome! You deserve so much, so much more than we can give.”
As the six of us, Jessie, some other friends, and I walk back to the arena to watch other people and their horses jump, I finally figure out that they were playing a prank on me. But I don’t mind; at least I got some nice compliments out of it, though I have to figure out later if they were true.

3/2 daily - 380 words

compliment: “I love your enthusiastic and energetic energy” - alana

“I love your enthusiastic and energetic energy,” my best friend Briar said to me. She was the introvert and I was the extrovert. Normally, people called me ‘Annoying Amber’ because I was so loud and energetic.
For weeks my other friend Millie had been trying to convince me to audition for the play we were going to be doing, Annie. She said I’d be perfect for the role, but I wasn’t really sure.
I walked my way over to the lunch line, today was pizza. After grabbing a slice of pepperoni pizza, I saw Millie waving out of the corner of my eye.
“Amber!” she yelled, “Come sit with me and my friends!”
I redirected my path to her table. She sat with the theater kids, a mixture of girls and boys in theater class. She introduced me to her friends, and we talked a little bit.
“Amber, you should audition for Annie! You look just like her, and I think you will love theater,” she exclaimed.
I wasn’t really sure if theater was my thing, but I found myself walking to the drama room after school. It was a big room, with a stage against the wall that was huge, big enough to host lots of plays.
I went over to the signup sheet, and put down my name. Millie smiled so brightly when she saw me, she waved me on over to where she was sitting and we waited.
Ten minutes later, the drama teacher, Mrs. Gatewood called my name. Millie gave me an encouraging thumbs up, and I went up to the stage. It was nerve wracking, having judges staring right at me and the light of the spotlight. I sang and acted a few lines, when finally my turn was up.
The judges had said that we were free to leave once we were done so I left.
A few days later, I arrived at school a little early because the audition results were out. Lots of kids were crowded around the board, trying to see if they would be on the list.
Slowly, I made my way to the front. I couldn’t possibly make a big role, right? But when I glanced at the board, right in the lead role, was my name, Amber Hastings.

Date UTC: March 2nd
Time Comp. UTC:
Prompt Sum.: Use a compliment in a 250 word story
Point Value: 300
Extra Points?: 100 for proof
Total Points: 400
Word Count: 333/250
Compliment: @ReadWriteSing “you are an amazing person, and that will lead you to being the last person on earth”

“You are an amazing person.” His words echoed in my ears. “That will lead you to being the last person standing. Win for me. Please.”
I staggered forward and jumped down the cliff, holding my breath, and leaving his body behind me. As I hit the water, I could barely make out shouts from above. Oh. Those were cheers.
My eyes opened after the impact and I scanned my surroundings. I was underwater at the base of the cliff. I kept myself under and swam for the shore, trying to keep his death out of my head. But the same words kept coming back into my head. ‘It was my fault. It was my fault. It was my fault.’
I shook my head to clear it, but that didn't do the trick. My thoughts blocked my vision and I nearly rammed into a particularly sharp-looking rock. However, by some miracle, I got to shore unskewered. I dragged myself across the sand and sat against a boulder. My leg still throbbed from earlier, when Elian and I had run from the other bloodthirsty contestants during one of the last challenges. One of them had thrown a knife into my calf, which sucked. Running would be near impossible now. But I had gotten the better treatment. Elian was dead, I had no right to complain.
I examined my wounds and cleaned them up as best as I could. I lamented my decisions, cursing the stupid game masters for tricking me into this. I had never wanted to go up against anyone or kill anyone! I thought that we would all get to rule over our own planet. This one was called Earth, but apparently, only the lucky victor would be allowed to rule. I thought that the seven of us would rule the seven pieces of earth they promised us. But nooo. I had hoped to rule with Elian. Two kings together, that was our dream.
“Win for me.” Okay Elian, I'll do my best.

march 2 daily - 391 words
compliment: the world needs more people like you from @essayist
this is a very rushed story lol

The sun was setting, painting beautiful streaks of reds, oranges and pinks across the dark blue sky. The faint murmurs of cars around town were fading to nothing. Two young girls were striding down a cobblestone street, occasionally making some small talk while looking for a peaceful place to sit.

“The park seems quite nice, with the new streetlights around it. Why don't we sit there, Lavi?”
“Elo… it'll be too crowded. Let's go for the stream tonight.”

Lavi, or Lavana, was a tall girl in her tween years. She had dark brown hair and dark brown eyes and often liked to joke about her appearance as ‘typical’. Her laugh had a magical ring to it and she enjoyed reasoning and debating with other people.
Elo, or Elowen on the other hand, was a more average height, despite being the same age as Lavana. She wore her fiery red hair in two plaits and had enchanting green eyes. People often assumed that she had a big temper and a loud voice, but really, she was just a mouse in terms of personality.
The two girls had stumbled across each other a month ago and had become friends quickly. They met up nearly every night to go somewhere and talk to each other.

A small pitter-patter of water announced that they were here. Elowen gently set her backpack aside and rolled up her pants while Lavana went straight for the stream, dangling her feet in the clear water while wearing shoes.

“What's on the agenda tonight, Elo?” Lavi asked.
Elowen smiled. “The usual.”

The pair sat silently side by side for a while, content with the other's presence. The sky slowly faded to dark until all they could see was the small glow of fireflies nearby.

“Aren't your parents worried?” Elowen whispered, looking down at her battered watch.
“I wouldn't be here if they did.” Lavana said in a wistful tone. “You?”
There was no reply.
A small sigh. “The world needs more people like you.” Elowen muttered.
“Who, me?” Lavana said jokingly. “A typical twelve year old?
”Lavi, you just seem so- nice. Accepting. And not… intruding. We've barely known each other for a month and I feel like I can trust you with anything.“
Pause.
”You too, Elo. You too."

Both girls then thought in synchronization:
If only she knew.

March 2 Daily
352 words
Compliment:
“Your pfp looks very distinguished.” -Chuey

Kate stood at the bus stop, shivering as the wind blew cold winter air at her. Around her, kids milled about, bundled in warm jackets and toting backpacks, instruments, and the like, waiting to start the day.
She rocked back and forth on her heels, watching the older kids chatter with their friends, breath appearing in pleasant puffs as they spoke. Her own classmates stood apart in the cold, playing games on their phones or texting their friends, too busy to talk and definitely not to her.
A mom drove up to the bus stop, her SUV’s tires crunching the frosted grass as she accidentally drove up the curb. A kid jumped out, grabbed his backpack, and closed the door.
That’s Owen, she recalled. Lives three doors down. Seems nice enough. We sit at the same table in creative writing.
He smiled and waved at her before joining the clump of waiting students. The SUV drove off, dead leaves trailing in its wake.
She shyly raised her hand and gave a tiny wave back, then craned her neck to look down the street for the bus. Nothing. She stood there awkwardly, the wind tugging at her ponytail, before giving in and pulling out her phone to check the time.
7:34. It should be here by now.
A notification appeared on her screen. Someone had commented on her short story that was due today, probably suggesting edits since they were supposed to peer review.
She opened the doc, surprised to see it was Owen, who had typed something a few seconds ago.
–Your pfp looks very distinguished.
Kate giggled. She had chosen one of her favorite photos from the Library of Congress as her profile picture, titled “Woman in hat eating hot dog”.
She looked up and caught his eye. Thank you, she signed, mouthing the words.
No problem, he signed back.
She saw another comment appear on the doc.
–Do you want to sit with me on the bus?
She looked up and saw the bus pulling up to the stop, and, after a moment’s hesitation, smiled and signed back.
Yes!