VALE'S WRITING THREAD ⌗ㆍノ thriller games march '25 ˎˊ˗ ⭒

Vi ska bada bastu, bastu
Ångon åpp och släpp all stress idag
Bastubröder är je vi som glöder
Hundra grader, nå jaa
Bara bada bastu, bastu
Heittää på så sveittin bara yr
Oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh
Bada bastu, joo

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀❛ you do not follow me because i am the strongest. pax is.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀you do not follow me because i am the brightest. mustang is.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀you follow me because you do not know where you are going. i do.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀❛ LIFE'S LIKE SPAGHETTI - IT'S HARD UNTIL YOU MAKE IT.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀no stresso, no stresso, no need to be depresso.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀❛ i do not yearn to be their equal.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀in my heart, i yearn to best them.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀❛ my greatest wish for humanity is not for peace or comfort or joy.
it is that we all still die a little inside every time we witness the death of another.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀for only the pain of empathy will keep us human.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀there’s no version of God that can help us if we ever lose that.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀❛ “it's not natural for women to fight.”
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“it's not natural for someone to be as stupid as he is tall, and yet there you stand.”

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀❛ if i cannot be better than them, i will be so much worse.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀❛ what is a game?
it's tomorrow, ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀and tomorrow, ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀and tomorrow.
it's the possibility of infinite rebirth, infinite redemption.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ the idea that if you keep playing, you could win.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀no loss is permanent, because nothing is permanent, ever.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀❛ unfortunately, my one true love remains myself.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀❛ snow lands on top.

daily NO. ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ title of daily ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀one ⋆˚࿔ subtitle ˚⋆
lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua.

word wars ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ the supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting." ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀(i) day. DD/03/25 ⋆˚࿔ XXX words in X minutes. XX wpm. (no) prompt (status; pts worth). @warred.user (cabin name). ˚⋆
lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua.

critiquitaire ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ to the people who look at the stars and wish, and to the stars who listen - and the dreams that are answered. " ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀(i) DD/MM/YY ⋆˚࿔ context context context ˚⋆
lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua.

weekly NO. ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ weekly name; DD/03/25 to DD/03/25 ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀one ⋆˚࿔ subtitile ˚⋆
lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua.

cabin wars NO. ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ if you hurt me, i wouldn't cry. i would hurt you back." ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀one ⋆˚࿔ XXk words in X hours (@instigator.user, cabin name) ˚⋆
lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua.

daily I ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ the world of you. ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

Welcome everyone, to the 24th session of SWC! For the first daily of March, we’d like to ask you to introduce yourself in the main cabin; share your interests, and maybe respond to others! Once you’ve done that, you can choose one aspect of what you’ve told others - or what others have told you - and reimagine it as a location! What sort of landmarks would it have? What would the people be like? Would there even be people? Have an amazing day, and we can’t wait to see what you come up with!



⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀one ⋆˚࿔ main cabin introduction. ˚⋆
HEYY!! i'm vale (s.they), a 15-year-old chinese-british who's virtually residing in sweden/svalbard and jan mayen. i like debate, swimming (BR 50/100m), latin, reading (red rising and babel!!), writing, playing roblox horror games and yapping in french to online strangers in vc (don't question it). i play the piano and drums, and i love joost klein and kärijää's music. (EUROPE, LET'S COME TOGETHER!!) currently obsessed with bara bada bastu. YKSI, KAKSI, KOLME, SAUNA!!!! give it a listen love-it-cat emoji


⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀two ⋆˚࿔ 1k intro attempt. (jk i'm trying to hit 2k) ˚⋆
There is the faintest feeling of moving, though everything seems to be completely still. An instinct, perhaps, or a sixth sense? It's one that's often ignored, or overthought, or mistrusted.. despite the subconsciousness always being discovered to be correct.

The bottom of this box is glass, one with jagged scars and fractures crisscrossing its surface. It looks a little precarious to stand on, but it will hold firm, to most peoples' surprise. Far, far down below, there is the faintest outline of a gazebo, and a world at night, with people sitting around a fire in a backyard. The backyard is more like a forest, and the darkness looms. Three of the walls are shifting myriads of red and black, the occasional marble snake or tiger seeming to emerge then dissipate. The fourth looks like a window with a large perch - one that people sit on to read, or zone out. There is no roof.

Everything that can be seen will be viewed almost completely detached.

Soon, music flows in through.. somewhere. It's a chaotic beat, with many profanities laced within an aggressive, throaty language that most who ride this elevator won't be able to decipher. A hole appears on one of the walls; pitch-black and swirling and seemingly endless. “Like the music? No? Most of the people I come across don't really share my tastes. It's okay, I've gotten used to it.”

Through the window, multiple groups of middle-aged European musicians can be seen on a sprawling stage, strobe lights flashing fluorescent colours across the screen. Though they're mostly hazy, some seem clearer than others: a Dutch singer with a quirky mullet and a crooked smile, dancing with what looks like Duolingo's European Unionist twin; a shirtless rampager with neon green sleeves and spikes who's disco tunes are immediate earworms; a greasy-haired rapper who seems to be a pair of human trousers; a more normal-looking trio with high-quality pop singing something that sounds like a Slavic chant.

“They're mostly white males, so I do admit to being a little sexist.” the voice chuckles slightly at that - it's almost like they're shaking their head. “I was raised in Asia, in a Korean community along the southeastern Chinese coastline, so you'd probably expect me to be a fan of Cantopop and K-Pop and that lot. And I did, initially, but they all soon sounded the same. All pitch-perfect, mundane pop songs with the same drumbeat and singers who could probably be siblings, y'know? And most female-produced songs were about love schmove. I do like Halsey, though, and the occasional Mitski song. I admit to having a soft spot for Die With A Smile. But the main ones there - Joost Klein, my favorite, then Kärijää, Tommy Cash, KAJ. I love Bara Bada Bastu right now - the ultimate Swedish-Finnish sauna song. Vi ska bada bastu, bastu, yeah?!! I LOVE IT!”

“But let's move on.” There's a slight click, as though a button was just pressed, and the upwards motion intensifies. The voice continues yapping away, and it doesn't take long to decipher that this is the kind of person who talks about anything and everything - relentlessly. A different landscape soon comes into sight, beginning at golden shores and a glowing cerulean sea. From the shade of aspen trees, the opposite direction shows narrow streets with rich red-gold lanterns and bamboo stalls with sellers pandering their wares and delicious foods. Beyond that, up the mountainside, modernistic apartments sticking out in stark contrast to the sea level.

A nostalgic sigh emanates from where the voice had been coming from. “Home sweet home. I was born here, in the rural areas of a city alongside the coastline to the South China Sea. I'm still a little bit of a Chinese patriot, in comparison to my parents, who are more sympathetic to Western ideologies, alas.”

That world fades to a little girl with pigtails standing outside towering gates that are vaguely reminiscent of Korean temple gates. In there, basketball courts, a hypnotising swimming pool, a caféteria adorned by the warm lighting from lanterns and shrouded in joyous chatter as kids wave grape juices around, playing games. “A Korean school, where I made my first friends, and a friend for life. They're now happily residing in Taiwan. It was a bit of an odd choice, to be frank, for I am Chinese. My mother was also British, my father taught me by some Japanese principles, and we had family in France, the Netherlands, Canada and Australia. But I wind up amongst peers from a culture which none of my family had experience with.” Amusement tinged her voice as the windowview turned back to black.

Faint scenes flashed for few seconds, like the waving of a glass trophy at a competition, standing proudly on the blocks with medals adorning the neck, a debate platform nearly emptied, then glimpses of horror: hordes of people waving banners and shouting angrily, police stampeding with glass shields and pepper spray, gunshots as a nine-year-old hunched below the windowsill with her ears covered, the local representative bleeding out on the marble floors of a mall where she'd made her fondest memories. Then tears and fighting as her parents fought to stuff her into a taxi, carting her off to a different future. “They soon joined me, of course, but I was in an England where I was not familiar with the language and without many friends. My online life brought me much solitude.”

Then shots of a British school, of finding her footing, discovering a haven of comfort in the words and pictures of libraries and English lessons and epic Historical tales. Laughter with a group of girls, her first steady circle of friends. A warm-hearted, gentle petite girl, a curly-haired and raucous friend who knew the countries of the world inside and out, a mathematical prodigy who refused to give a s***, a blonde artist with the most obscene sense of humour she'd ever met. And her two favourites; someone who was the most brutal - both physically and mentally - that she'd ever met, who pushed her to do better, and a quietly kind and intelligent soul who was always there to support one another. After that, a plane that rose off into the azure blue skies, disappearing into the clouds.

“It was very nice of them.” now there's a faint outline of her, a smile in her voice as the elevator rises again. “I'd learned Cantonese first, then Mandarin, then English. I didn't always have words to describe what I wanted to say, and they gave a voice to the voiceless. It probably ignited my love for languages. I'd learned Korean and Spanish back in Asia, and my dad had always tried to force some Japanese down my throat. I picked up French in Britain, had a brief snippet where I'd teach myself Pig Latin, but now I'm trying to learn the proper Latin language. I'd love to learn Swedish one day, and I'm also targeting Arabic, Yoruba and Dutch.”

Next all that could be seen through the window was glimpses of events. Two opposing tables, with a speaker and “OBJECTIONS!” thrown all around. The rippling surface of a pool as a whistle sounded and a squat-like frog race began, bobbing up and out of the water. A pen and paper. Doodles of characters, both cute and horrific. A shiny computer screen, where a little avatar wearing diving gear hauled itself into a locker as a mutated anglerfish rushed through the corridor. Smashing sounds of a drumbeat, the tinkle of a piano. The sounds of highly-accented, laughing French randomly interweaving itself into dialogue. Lines upon lines of code.

All went dark for a few seconds before the window opens. There is the strangest feeling that urges one to enter, and it leads to a vast library with endless shelves and a floor-to-ceiling wall of glass windows. Out there, a patio with the gazebo that was under the elevator at the beginning of the journey, one that holds couches and a spitting pit-fire. This library seems to be placed on a cliff, where it seems to be the turning of dawn, with the slightest sparks of starlight still in the sky as the sun kisses the horizon.

You briefly turn to the nearest shelf in surprise. Some books are pulled out, in messy stacks on the floor. Picking up the first, it reads ‘Red Rising’, bringing forth a vision of a golden-eyed warrior, battered and bloody, leading a battalion. Babel holds visions of a sprawling campus in a period lost to time. The Picture of Dorian Gray.. Lolita.. The Cruel Prince.. Six of Crows..

“Hey. Come over here.” the voice is definitely the same, though she's a lot bossier now. You lay your eyes on a tall and slender Asian girl, with shoulder-length dark-red hair pulled into a half-bun. Her spectacles are on the tip of her nose, about to fall off, and the way she drapes herself across two couches literally screams lazy, with a short attention span. She oddly towers over most of her companions, and you can tell her 5'10“ height fuels her ego quite a bit. Possibly someone who seems a little bit manipulative. You stroll over, and she clumsily heaves herself into an upside down sitting position, making space for you. She offers you a two-fingered salute.

”You can call me Vale. Those stars up there are my dreams, and you're in my head. Law, philosophy, United Nations, compulsive liars, Pringles, yadda yadda yadda. Anyways, step off the cliff when you're ready, into the elevator, and we can finally play our mafia game uninterrupted."

And so she sends you on your way.


⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀three ⋆˚࿔ notes and world summary. ˚⋆
Inspiration credits to Riley's headworld in Inside Out, OMORI, The Egg (Andy Weir) and Regretevator on RobIox. My world would be an elevator because that is how I view and deal in life; from a detached viewpoint aiming to influence as many things as I can without revealing my hand. The patio, sheltered by a gazebo with people on couches sitting around a pit fire is the general state of my relationships with people I love - we are forged in fire; we went through our hardships and generally trust one another to not backstab each other. The library on a cliff, tipping off to a city of stars is the way I dream and wander through life - taking quite a few risks but so blinded by the possibilities that I rarely feel pressured or embarrassed.


⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀four ⋆˚࿔ illegally trafficking other peoples' intros and turning them into a world.˚⋆
victim #1. @euphoriafall /// A small, quaint town located on the outskirts of somewhere, possibly in Yorkshire & The Humber. Amongst the warm, tiny cottages streaming with books and parchment tower out twisting spires and magnificent peaks, with the centrepiece a leaning, majestic church. Melodious symphonies sift through beech-lined windows and in a cavern there is an endless library with all knowledge ever known to man. There are little pubs and alleys dotted all around, paved by cobblestone pathways and the occasional large tavern where the Quill & Ink society operates from. Street musicians play soulful music and street vendors offer hot chocolate and sweet delicacies. Quite surprisingly, the underground society has links to more futuristic cities, where undertable transactions and mysterious agreements occur, especially on foggy days where the moon is in its twilight phase.

victim #2. @icebunny11 /// Deep in forests with autumnal leaves lie a mystical city that is the pathway to a different world. It is only accessible at precisely noon, if you dive into the lake and take multiple left-right turns. A canopy of auburn blankets you from the rest of the world, and you can already tell from the otherworldly singing and enthralling melodies that it does feel a little hypnotic. Around a crystal-clear pool, swaying to the winds on the shingle-dotted shores, are hordes of nymphs. Upon seeing you approach, the harp plucks a whistling tune as they pull out flutes and call to the sky. It is the place where dragons meet their forever riders, where lovers reunite to pass on to the next world, and where stories resolve to their hard-fought happy endings.

victim #3. @lili-in-the-valley /// Lands of green, cream, pink and gold that stretch on as far as the eye can see. The people who reside in there are warm-hearted and welcoming, albeit endlessly loyal and quick to defend. Amongst them roam a myriad of fantastical animals, ranging from gryphons to unicorns to dinosaurs to phoenixes. It is a wonder to behold, with skies always blue and lands rich in colorful blossoms and sakura-rose trees. You can enter through a gate, and follow a single river where the deer drink from as you admire marble gazebos and bubbling fountains. Markets that line various roads offer a variety of goods, from handmade scarves to rare gemstones to potions that offer you eternal bliss. It is clear that there is a darker side to this utopia too, but the fragrant smells and friendly smiles are enough to ensure you don't ponder into that far too much.

victim #4. @zoamher /// This world is one that can only be accessed in between a very specific timeframe on a warm summer night. You'll need to step on a train, but you must not tell the conductors where you are going, for this is a world known for its chaos and wildness.. they may try to stop you. Step off where the plants bloom freely, where the trees tower in rich shades of sage, forming a vast jungle. As you enter, you'll hear wild trolls singing, amongst many other creatures.. but no matter how beautiful their songs may sound, do not fall victim to their allure. They don't like visitors. You can pick the few flowers along the way, and walk with the roosters, but never stray from the path lined with salt. This will lead you to a hut at the heart of the jungle, overgrown with vines and spiralling ivy, where an exiled doctor resides with their faithful animals. She will offer you cures beyond your mind's imagination, but always send you away with an obsidian necklace and a promise to protect all who ever visit her again.

victim #5 (volunteer). @milkysplash /// Our modern world is one with many overlapping train rails, flight lines, roundabouts and ship courses; but have you ever wondered where they go when they disappear? The Gods are not so cruel to exile them forever into the oceans. It is instead a place that you can simply know as the ‘Astral Nexus’: the meeting point of all transportation in the world, a glorious haven for academics with a passion to connect people from everywhere in every world. The work they do is art, as they tinker and forge and craft mere hunks of greasy metal into masterpieces of speed. You can find anyone willing to do dirty work here; just offer them a cup of tea with a bowl full of sugarcubes, and they can create the pieces from your dreams. That is, if you aren't concerned with the dirty work involved to make them a reality.

daily II ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ five words, one story ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

Quick! Go to the comments of the main cabin and post five words of your choice for someone to use in a story. Then, pick someone else’s five words to use in a story of your own! Write 300 words to gain 200 points for your cabin, and an extra 100 points if you decide to share your lovely writing piece with us.


⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀one ⋆˚࿔ words chosen ˚⋆
solemn, fool, mentor, wanderlust, explosion. (-@lilyjen)

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀two ⋆˚࿔ is life but your imagination? ˚⋆
The clock stopped.. 66 minutes past 18.. it was time to get up. But the house was unyielding, and no one answered.

Somewhere out there, within the familiar confines of a tin monstrosity and leather seats, Maeve found comfort in the unjudgmental darkness of the night. It enfolded her, caressing her like a mother to their child, and shielded her from the horrors of typical day-to-day life. Placing her foot down on the gas pedal, the gentle hum of the engine sped her car forwards, twisting onto the connecting path from the roundabout. There was no clock in the car, no form of connection to the outer world. It was just her and the empty streets at night, under the watchful gaze of the moon.

Her nighttime deviations were a longtime outlet for the stress she often faced each day. Sometimes Maeve would wish that she could just use her mostly non-existent savings to drive off and purchase a little cottage on the outskirts of some far-off town, and use her psychology degree and meagre vocational training to make some small earnings. But what held her back was often the persistent, nagging reminder of the many sacrifices her parents had made to get them to where they were. With a declining economy, frayed relations with other countries and a president that most considered to be a little bit cuckoo, what had once been the American Dream in the 1930s was now for those toiling Americans to escape to other countries that were on the rise, instead of plummeting off the cliff. Her parents had done exactly that - sacrificed their comfortable life in a modest house to live in a sleek and tiny apartment, speaking a language they barely understood.

These expectations now weighted on her to carry the torch. The little white girl in Ipanema, who struggled day and night through her studies, in the hopes of securing a position amongst the high and mighty and influential in Rio, someone who would work hard and remain composed and not get involved with any of the budding unrest that had slowly emerged to the forefront. She'd heard her parents discuss moving away once again, and while she may not exactly reject the idea, the city was oddly growing on her. She'd definitely miss the warm January days by the sun-kissed shores, the wild parties under the palm trees, the horrifyingly bright sunshine yellow trams and the street vendors and the eternally blue sea. Not to forget the unnecessarily wide roads which she now sped down on, enjoying how she didn't have to pay too much attention to which lane her car veered onto because they were just so.. empty.

As her path slowly veered towards the mountains, Maeve decided it was about time to head back home. Though the sun had not yet risen, the moonlit sky had began to give way to hints of rose and gold, so her parents would probably do their nut if they discovered she had been out at this time. She was generally good at maintaining a cover, but sometimes she would just be a little too distracted and lose all track of time. Now she hurtled back towards her neighbourhood, probably slightly pushing the speed limit, but with only a car here or there no one would pay her that much pertinence.

Soon she pulled into the apartment block's parking lot, shut off her engine and quickly jogged up the stairs. Maeve usually didn't go through the main entrance after her usual night wanders, but instead used her alcoholic-consumed neighbour's entrance who was admittedly somewhat pleasant when sober. But when she heard the sounds of her parents arguing, she knew the shared doorway would outright expose her. Heaving a resigned breath, she knocked on the main door, turned her key and opened it.

Two pairs of surprised eyes glanced towards her.
Maeve began to explain herself. “Mom, dad-”

“Who the heII are you?” her mom seemed horrified as she took a couple steps backwards… as though distancing herself from her own daughter? “A-And how did you get in? Our door was locked!”
Her dad just stared at her, absolutely flabbergasted.

“Mom! I'm Maeve. Your DAUGHTER! It's February, not April Fools'. This isn't either of your ideas of a funny joke, is it?” Maeve frantically stared at her father in turn, but was only met by an empty, bewildered gaze. “Did Natalia put you up to this?”

Now her father had finally regained his senses, and picked up a chair, holding it defensively. Maeve raised her hands in surrender, backing away and beginning to feel a little panicked. She remembered her parents shouting a fond ‘good night’ when she'd gone to bed the previous night.. right? Yes… she could now rehear all the sounds, from her dad clicking on the television, her mom's final prayers, that moment when one of them had dropped a cup and the slight cursing that followed.

“Mom? D-Dad? I…” she suddenly felt like a deer in headlights now as she shrank back, clinging on to the doorway as though it would suddenly remind her parents of who she was and push them out of this stupor.

“Please get out of our apartment before we call the federal police forces. This is private property, and you are trespassing. And do not dare contact us again.” her dad's voice suddenly felt so distant, so strange to Maeve's ears.

Maeve began backing out to the stairwell, her eyes never leaving her parents'. “Please,” she begged, dropping down on her knees. “I'm really sorry for leaving the house in the middle of the night this time.. so many times. I'll do whatever I can to fix it, I promise! I'll study even harder, and work a job, and pay my part. I'll cover it all! Just don't kick me out. Please-”

She was sharply cut off by the sounds of the door slamming in her face, a ringing in her ears that seemed to warn of some forlorn danger. Her father's voice sounded from behind the door: “Don't you ever dare come back again. We will be calling the police to inform them of a vagrant, a beggar wandering around and claiming to be peoples' so-called non-existent children.”

Now Maeve fled down the stairs in tears, clutching the banister as she struggled for grip. She hopped back into her car, taking what meagre comfort she could from the familiar rev of the engine, and began the drive to the police station. It was just a small hope that she had been clutching at, that she could make the police hear her story out before her parents called. That wasn't likely, but whatever this world was, the impossible was now proven to be possible. Who could have ever thought? Perhaps it was like a very bad dream? She reached over and pinched her hand on the steering wheel, and felt the sting of her flesh pinging down at her. Nope. Not a dream.

Her car pulled into the police station just as the sun was clearing the sky. With only around five hours of sleep, Maeve suddenly felt very drained and overwhelmed by the previous day's events. If there was some welcoming lady happy to give her a hug on the way in, she'd make an exception from her no-touching policy and just melt into the arms of her imagination. Sliding the door open, Maeve jogged up the stairs, noting the familiar, almost colourless sign that read ‘Polícia do Brasil’, and under it, ‘nós nos esforçamos para servir’. In the waiting room, she could make out the edge of a newspaper that pictured an apartment on fire, furniture and walls torn apart, ravaged by an evident explosion as balls of flame rained out from above.

“Olá! Hello, young lady.” the receptionist's eyes appraised Maeve up and down, clearly marking her as the type to not usually have business in a police station. And she wouldn't, of course, if not for one of her friendship choices. “How can I help you today?”

“I-I'd like to request a meeting with a commissioner, please. It's urgent.” Maeve barely managed to stutter that out, and the receptionist could clearly tell she was in distress.

“Of course. Please, take a seat in the waiting room, and just give us a minute or two.”
It was definitely a lot longer than two minutes, but Maeve privately welcomed the rest, despite the anticipation and anxiety building inside her chest. And at last, she was called in to the commissioner's office. He gave her a tired half-smile, the shadows clearly showing under his eyes.

“Feel free to take a chocolate, and take what time you need to begin.”
Maeve plucked a little heart-shaped caramel and nibbled anxiously at the edges, finally noting how hungry she was. “I… uhh… um…” There was a long pause, before she finally managed to get a word across. “Help.” Her breath hitched in her throat, and the commissioner leaned over to take one of her hands. “You're in a safe space. Let's begin easy.” he told her that slowly, as if she were a child. “What's your name?”

“M-Maeve. Maeve Orlaith Byrne.” she said, and he paused to search for her name in his computer.
His brow was furrowed as he turned back to her. “There's no such name in here. What name are you registered under?”
“I just told you!” Maeve exclaimed, patience finally fraying to the end as she lost her solemn composure that she was well-known for. “Maeve. Orlaith. Byrne. M-A-E-V-E. O-R-L-A-I-T-H. B-Y-R-N-E!”
The commissioner swapped to using just two fingers as he slowly keyed in her name, turning the screen to her. Maeve affirmed the spelling was correct, but when he hit the search button, there was merely a blank screen.

“It's a crime to waste the time of an officer, young lady. Either tell me your real name, or tell me what is going on, or else I can get the law enforcement officers in here and give them permission to remove you.” his voice was grave, and he gave Maeve a stern look, one that seemed to be tinged with slight disappointment as though he didn't believe someone of her calibre would want to waste an officer's time. Or maybe that was just her wishful thinking.

“Okay, okay. So, I got home at.. around three A.M. this morning, and my parents didn't recognise me. I can guarantee you I went to the right address, because I know where I live. I literally have the keys to the apartment!” Maeve fumbled around in her pants pockets, but couldn't find them there, so came to the conclusion they were probably sitting in her car on the designated hook. “They refused to acknowledge they even had a daughter, and told me to-”

The commissioner immediately cut her off. “I am sorry, but I have to tell you to leave. Now.” His voice was tinged with a firm threat, and recoiling from the horror spiking in her heart, Maeve scuttled away, her eyes wide. She slammed the door open and began to run back to her car; only to be stopped by a senhora. The one who had been holding the newspaper with an explosion on the front page.

Her smile was sympathetic, but grim. “I'm afraid I heard all of that, young lady. I am so sorry you were chosen and befallen with such a fate.. all I can tell you to do is find a boy who left earlier on a motorcycle. He said the exact same thing, and was told to leave. May the Lord be with you on this hard and gnarled path.”

Maeve managed to nod distractedly, her head racing. Find a… boy? On a motorcycle? There could be so many. She rushed out of the police station in a frenzy, but her gaze immediately latched onto a boy leaning on a motorcycle on the road outside. Picking up her pace, Maeve frantically skidded to a halt in front of him, and he put his phone away to look at her. She noticed then his eyes were so oddly pale; a shade of slate blue that seemed to have all the colour drained from it. “Hey. An old lady told me to find you?”

She barely managed to register that she had successfully strung a comprehensive sentence together without her heart hammering away in her chest.
He gave her a long look, as though deciding whether to trust her, then extended his hand in a greeting.

“I'm Silas. I suppose you also got home earlier today only to realise none of your family members recognised who you are?”

daily III ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ market of hybrids. ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

I love brunch- waffles and juice and fruit, oh my! Brunch is what's called a portmanteau- combining two words to create a new word that contains the meanings of both of your original words, like cosplay (costume and play) or smog (smoke and fog). Comment three words and then claim two words someone else has commented. Combine those two words and write an advertisement for your new creation! Your ad should be at least 350 words to earn 300 points for your cabin, plus 150 if you share proof!


⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀one ⋆˚࿔ words chosen. ˚⋆
strawberry, star, marker. (-@angie–_)

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀two ⋆˚࿔ carve the mark (your heart holds true). ˚⋆
A siren sounds. Oh, it's your mother's iPhone, pinging that one of your AirTags has run off to the bustling streets of downtown Anqing, China. You didn't even notice that you'd lost something, but it must've been quite a while ago, right? To be fair, you got to the point of being so disorganised that your parents couldn't even bear to let you keep track of your own belongings using your own phone.

Speaking of that, where is your phone?
Oh, (word that means taking a dump).

This is where the Starmark can come in. Since many eons ago, the Starmark has been observed to be able to identify and guide you to the object of your deepest desires. And we do have to comment on the disappointing mental circumstances of humanity here, I'm afraid, for now over three-quarters of the human population on Earth's most desired item is their phone. The majority of people not in that 75% probably most desire food, water or stability.

(On screen, a scream sounds, as you crumple to your knees and stare into the empty void of hopelessness that is the world when you are without your phone.)
And now we watch you stumble through the five stages of grief: delusional denial, heart-wrenching anger, farcical bargaining, all-consuming depression and finally, humble, unwilling acceptance.
I'd tell you to be shameful of that, but I have to admit that I am not so different from you.

That's why I reach through the television to you now, and hand you a little circular orb. It is scratched and dusty, and you initially turn it away with an expression of disgust. How could a seller on national television offer you damaged goods, you wonder?

But all models of the Starmark - and that's being generous, as there's only one type - are exactly the same. They all come from the same era, lovingly and caringly handmade and cursed by one person and one person alone. Though the creator is long gone, you can meet them and pay your gratitude by embarking on the legendary voyage. More details on that later, though, as it's a long and boring part of this!

You flip open the orb, and see a wheezing, weakly spinning needle that leans between two oriental lines. It vaguely reminds you of a wizened old elder, coughing and sputtering as he struggles to fight and pass on his accumulated years of knowledge. There is a chain that twists and binds itself to your wrist, and you instantly feel your fingers involuntarily flex and grip the compass tightly. The compass now emits a strange glow, of a colour that you secretly admit feels as though you are in your own presence.

The needle swings vaguely to the western cardinal direction. From your current geographical location, you can probably assume that will lead you to the streets of Anqing, China. How different from 75% of the population can you be, really?

(Fast-forward to a scene somewhere in Eastern Asia. In the distance, there are towering snow-capped peaks and you are standing in a fir forest.)

Oops, I may have failed to mention that if you aren't absolutely sure of what your heart's deepest desire is, it may somewhat… lead you astray.
But never fear!
As your heartstrings always call true, there have always been a good outcome of following the path, tracing your footsteps to where your heart has marked the spot where you will rise up to touch the stars.

(Now the television shows snippets of you with your arms around the reins of a mountain deer, laughing with a Mongol man whose arms around your waist keep you from falling off.)

Aww, how romantic… while that may sometimes happen, I'm sure we can all agree that your phone is a small price to pay for true love. Like the tale of Eurydice and Orpheus, your heart calls true, and it will lead you to your deepest desire.

How to buy it? You can't, unless someone gives it to you, or if you're willing to journey to the heart of your world.
I'm sure you'll go far to get the object of your deepest desires. I mean, your phone.

daily IV ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ word wars. ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

What’s that? You’re confused as to why we’ve been transported into this weird multiversal mega-train interchange station and hub where people are typing furiously? Oh, I must have forgotten to explain then. It’s the first day of word wars today! Head on over to the information desk containing all the information about word wars: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1140277309/ Have fun, and happy warring!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀one ⋆˚࿔ “if you're the mango, what am i?” (208 words) ˚⋆
against @yumeverse / @yumetopia ⌇ dystopian ⌇ 67-75 wpm ⌇ 3 minutes
so… you're a mango, huh? that's very interesting. but instead of asking yourself - or were you asking me? i'm not sure at this point. such a deep and philosophical question requires intricate pondering over what exactly this means. oh, did i mention, i have a divinely short attention span, so whatever i tell you i will not be able to stay on track to yap about.

what does this question even mean? so… i am the mango. ME. the speaker right now, me, i am the mango. very well. you too look very much like a mango to me, to be absolutely honest and frank with you, so i am very sorry to be unable to tell you otherwise. perhaps that is because of unfortunate warps in the time-space continuum in which the personal pronouns ‘you’ and ‘i’ are mixed up, so you are the asker am also the answerer. oh, golly, how gorgeous that would be! you're talking to yourself, and i don't even exist. perhaps that is right, and i do not exist. that seems absolutely plausible, as i believe a highly reputable source - that seems to be forbes - has reported a person or something along those lines that existence is absolutely questionable. something like that.

daily V ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ ride on the swc (diss)tracks! ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

With our rivalry with our beloved enemies in order, perhaps in order to convince them to become an even better enemy with their epic tyranny would be to create some anthems for them! Create three anthems of 150 words each for your cabin’s enemies in order to get on their good side so you can betray their trust…I mean so you get a cool 250 points with an extra 100 points for showing proof!

warning u might be offended :3 warning u might be offended :3 warning u might be offended :3 PROCEED WITH CAUTION!!!!! this was not intended to offend anyone but i am a very vulgar person irl.


⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀one ⋆˚࿔ journalism: crumbling under PRESSure. ˚⋆
so you're the press, huh? y'all don't know what's real.
always talkin' bout the news, but your stories don't make me feel.
typin' in all caps, trying to look smart,
but you've got no game, man, you're makin' rip-off art.

you might play with paper, but it's all lined with mold,
your ink's dried up and your lies are too bold.
it's no wonder the paparazzi can't be trusted,
they work under you, and even they would be disgusted.

cause yeah, the press, you ain't got no flow,
your news is old, and you're tryna steal the show.
you copy and paste, repeating what we know,
who even wants to know about donald's hairy toes?

cj kit and cd, y'all are playin' at tough,
but when it comes to the game, you ain't got enough.
you're out here with papers, tryna seem so tough,
but thriller brings the truth, yeah, we're callin' your bluff.

so the press, step back, just sit down in the crowd,
we're the future of swc and we'll stand up proud.
you're crumblin' at the pressure to hide away the truth,
but this press is outta date, and thriller's the one that's proof.


⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀two ⋆˚࿔ action: into the sinking-verse. ˚⋆
so, spider-verse, you think you've got the grip,
sliding through dimensions, but your webs are too slick.
y'all are bitten by ‘power’, got the spider bite,
but all i see is lil wannabes tryna fight.

you out here flexing, wearing masks like it's cool,
but i'm the one that'll school you in the heart of the duel.
you think it a leap of faith, but thriller's steady on the ground,
so when you sink, you'll see your game's just clown.

spider-verse, but you ain't got no stance,
you're just stuck in the web and you don't stand a chance.
swinging around, dreaming you're high in the sky,
but i know it's not the truth, so good luck when you fly.

radioactive bite? yeah, that's real fun,
but i'm the radiation, and we'll be the ones who've won.
you're swinging through dimensions, but can't meet our grind,
cause when it comes to power, we're a different kind.

yeah, your mask ain't even real, it's just a disguise,
but we'll be in the skies, mate, so watch us rise.
we give main character vibes, you're just a side plot,
we're the real venom, y'all will sink and stop.
SKIBIDIIIIII!!!!!!


⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀three ⋆˚࿔ fantasy: just can't shiz it up. ˚⋆
walkin' through the gates, gold arches so grand,
but all i see is a facade built on shaky sand.
statues of the wizard, yeah they lookin' real sick,
how unfortunate could it be if something came to blow it up quick?

y'all claim you're royalty, you're just here to flex,
SHIZ UNIVERSITY?! nah, y'all just tryna collect
glistening towers, but they're built on lies,
like the wizard himself, y'all are playin' with disguise.

yeah, shiz, y'all ain't got no game,
playin' in the shadows, tryna claim your fame.
you strut with power, but it's all for show,
and you've got no rizz, man, everybody knows.

you walk around actin' like you know it all,
but your whole school's built on a rigged flimsy wall.
you're teachin' your students they're the chosen ones,
but i see the cracks y'all can't outrun.

we got the flow, thriller with the real prestige,
when you're caught in your delulu, just a fake college.
your magic's just tricks, your words ain't enough,
but at least we're real with the pain, y'all just ain't tough.

yeah, shiz, y'all ain't got no game,
playin' in the shadows, tryna claim your fame.
you strut with power, but it's all for show,
and you've got no rizz, man, everybody knows.










i did say it might be offensive.

word wars ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ the supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting." ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀(i) wed. 05/03/25 ⋆˚࿔ 525 words in 7 minutes. 75 wpm. “the sun isn't just a spicy dish to eat on birthdays.” (won; 25pts). @igloooo1. ˚⋆
hello! professor vale here. i study philosophy at the best university in the world which does not actually exist mwahahaha. i just wasted multiple characters of my time typing that, did i not?! that truly is quite disappointing. so, with that in mind, let's get back to the question at hand. the sun isn't just a spicy dish to eat on birthdays. i would henceforth like to begin with calling you a stupid idiot and a huge doofus, just like the way that famous cook guy gordon ramsay does it. why in the knuckles would you decide you wanted to eat the sun? have you studied physics before? astronomy? i take it to assume you didn't pay attention in those classes. how very disappointing. anyways…

in terms of my verdict, i would like to point out that it is physically impossible to eat the sun unless you are some form of superhuman goddess assuming you are female. if you do not identify as female, or a superhuman goddess, i sincerely apologise for such a forlorn mistake. but i do believe it to be quite stupid to ahh… attempt to eat the sun. especially considering you very likely do not fulfil that criteria. of course, i am agnostic - whatever that means - so i do really apologise to such a goddess if you do exist. you are very beautiful, my lordess.

anyways. i do believe you would die upon even getting near this so-called dish. has such a dish even been invented? and i am british so i do want to clarify - by dish i can also refer to plate. note the key use of the word can here. CAN. not directly i do do refer to it as a plate. anyways, has such a plate even been invented, one that can support the overwhelmingly painful and scorching heat of the sun? i do not think so. so it is not possible.

i do admit to being a bit of a debbie downer here, so let us imagine that such a thing is possible. some sort of clumpy metal, and this is coming from a chemistry enjoyer, can bear the powerful lord that is the sun on a single plate without melting or scorching or incinerating itself on contact. what a gorgeous creation! so many other things will be possible with that.

but you are human.

yes, human.

a folly, fickle, weak human being who will run away from the table screaming after being force-fed a jalapeno in front of a camera for other folly, fickle, weak human beings' entertainment because you wanted a few measly sheets of paper. you will then have tears flooding your emotions just like a waterfall, and cry mummy in your loudest, pleading baby voice, then rush to grab the nearest cup of milk, if any. if not, you'll probably need to meet oh lord the milkshake man for him to gift you a blessing.

so, no, the sun is not for eating on a birthday. you're very silly to think otherwise or to attempt to spoil a day that comes once a year for your tongue to fall off. you're welcome.


⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀(ii) wed. 05/03/25 ⋆˚࿔ 401 words in 5 minutes. 80 wpm. 50-headed hydra; theme is a long ramble on eurovision. (N/A; N/A pts). against myself, to make up for no points from word wars today. ˚⋆
EUROVISION MY BELOVED!! ever since being introduced to the masterpiece that is eurovision i've always known that i would love it so, so much. it all started with my dear friend xeno who had caught into eurovision in 2023 after, presumably, cha cha cha that led her onto a path of redemption and love. she is still a huge kaarija fan. quite ironically i do remember watching that year, but i kind of slightly supported loreen more even though i thought cha cha cha was truly so, so brilliant. not to forget the italian representative waving a rainbow flag. that was beautiful.

and then came 2024. oh, my beloved 2024, with some of the strongest songs that could have won literally any other year if only fate had not decided to gift and bless 2024 with such gorgeous songs. my personal top five, i believe, was 1. croatia's baby lasagna with rim tim tagi dim, 2. netherlands' joost klein with europapa, 3. switzerland's nemo with the code, 4. lithuania's silvester belt with luktelk and 5. a joint two-way tie between ireland's bambie thug with doomsday blue and ukraine's alyona alyona and jerry heil with teresa & maria. that would have been such a gorgeous year had it not been overshadowed with the amazing joost's disqualification and nemo winning.. i love nemo but baby lasagna, why?!! but anyways that year helped me find one of my favorite and hopefully forever artists in joost klein. i could go on and on and on about joost his music is SO SO freaking good but anyways, to the present day in 2025.

already the ebu have decided to ban malta's entry kant which i loved and thought was genius. i do not wish to BLEEP the ebu just like joost and tommy sang about (i love u ebu for orgainising this cool festival) but like. anyways it will be the 69th eurovision and thanks to p di*** and elon musk 69 is now a personally cursed number. idk who even is p di***, to be honest. finland is good, but a little overrated in my opinion. i guess and fear that i may just be a little bit sexist in my tastes. i don't know, but that is likely.

i am really really hoping on melfest this year.. like, KAJ, please carry!! we need the bara bada bastu bastu in eurovision like it's the most

weekly I ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ worldbuilding; 03/03/25 to 09/03/25 ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

Welcome to the first weekly of this crazy joyride of a session! For this week, we'll be focusing on worldbuilding and how you can use it skillfully to develop your own story with it! Starting from the basics, we'll go from designing your own world's culture to using those details while writing to make your story deeper and richer than it would've been before <3 All aboard, and get ready for the time of your lives!


⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀one ⋆˚࿔ language and culture ˚⋆
Worldbuilding is more than just physical landscape; the people of your land are the ones that bring it to life, giving the rolling hills and crashing seas a purpose beyond simply existing. Mull over this for a moment, and then explore the characteristics of these people. What are their traditions and beliefs? How about the structure of their society? For the first part of this weekly, write 350 words describing the language and culture of those who inhabit your glorious world!
At the heart of the Strålessian Nexus is a single train station, floating in the middle of nowhere. The five ruling empires surround it, and there is nothing more in this empty void. To call it a void would be an understatement, really. It is an expanse of black and white and all colour and form, home to the point where all worlds meet.

Those who are charged with inhabiting the Nexus cannot even be called people. They are towering and slender, with elfin faces and down-pointing arched ears that end in a finely shaved tip, and adorned with webs or feathered wings. Their necks are long and arch gracefully not unlike a swan's, and they all bear softly flat faces with cheeks carved from marble. They give the impression of being semi-aquatic, with the way their noses are merely two holes borne into their face, accompanied by small silken lips and predatory, powerful eyes. All wear their hair long, but few completely tie them up, for they believe in allowing a gift from the Pantheon to run free. Some may braid small parts or whip them into an elaborate half-bun, but they prefer to allow their tresses to flow loose.

In the Nexus, where every known or created being may meet, their inhabitants cannot be segregated and boxed up into one caste or another. Ethereal and genderless, they do not have much diversity nor variation to the blind eye, but where the differences truly rank is within their thoughts. Their gifts are dictated by their empires, and how far they have fought to own it is characterised by intricate swirls and delightful twists that slide, slither and entwine their bodies, marking them as loyal to one another, yet no one else. This is a necessary precaution, for those at the heart of all worlds must not be swayed to bribery or inequality. The more detailed their markings, the longer or more caringly it shows they have served their own.

Yet their society is assimilar enough to be able to be the equivalent of what humans know as a “meritocracy”. Thoughts, innovation and skill are the currency that they deal in, as well as the language they speak. As dictated by the words of the Pantheon, which they have sought to honour through the many years they have existed there, they dictate their world - and link all others - by the one with the most skill. Their minds warp all sense of time and space here, so everything you know of can and will be manipulated. As such, age and time is not a concern of theirs. It is merely the question of who amongst the newly born will emerge the most skilful and powerful, and they will rise to claim their crown. The previous will be dethroned, and enjoy a life of advising as they slowly fade into the lower ranks unless they choose to fight the war and rise again.

You're probably wondering about family and procreation now. That… is not a concern here. Those who bring them into the world understand their position, and after nurturing and caring for their offspring, soon return to that of their eventual goal: to best them all and climb to the top. It is not possible to withhold information of success from one another, for that is outlawed by the Pantheon, and so all information ever known to them is accessible by all. It is merely the question of who is willing to struggle through the mud to reach the other side, or pave their own path to fight to the reward - which is knowledge, and to some lesser extent, power. This is shown by arching, menacing horns that may form in many different ways, and grow by the efforts they have made to water what they have. On the other hand, emotions are simply expressed through a long and sleek tail that ends in a slight fluff, almost having a different consciousness entirely. You could also read them through the shapes and colours of their pupils, though how exactly they express themselves cannot be described.. or shared.

They themselves are not as cold or reserved as they appear, despite being tasked with the respectable position of guardianship. Their culture and upbringing places great emphasis on respect, hierarchy and social harmony. Harmony in particular is extremely revered and sought, with many seeking to prove their upper hand but preferring what you would consider the challenge of doing so through brilliant rhetoric, brutal honesty and quick of mind. They emphasise maintaining a personal and individual identity, and never swaying to the sides, but bear a sort of code encouraging loyalty, honour and discipline, yet revel in a culture filled with innovation, taking the unconventional path and defying stereotypes. They do have a wild and free drinking culture, with many letting loose easily and sometimes being a little vulgar and brash with their fierce and relentless expression. But when they give their heart, it is for life, and they fully expect to receive the exact same in return.


⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀two ⋆˚࿔ geography and memorable locations ˚⋆
We hope you had fun writing about your world's culture and language! For this next part, you're going to create three aesthetic boards capturing important places, cultures and biomes in your story. Ensure that your aesthetic board includes at least five images. Go off the rails (in the best way)!

A semi-accurate vision board depiction of the Strålessian Nexus.


Typical customs and powers in the Nexus.


The inhabitants of the Nexus, the wildlife and common practices on streets.


⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀three ⋆˚࿔ technology ˚⋆
Now that you've created aesthetics for your world, the next step is to add in some technology! Technology exists in so many ways around us, and it should exist around your characters too. For this part, you will be adding unique technology to your world and writing 500 words about a conflict that occurs because of it. Best of luck and happy writing!
Rūta was one of the first humans fortunate enough to have been invited to visit the Nexus. It had been quite the shock for the little humans residing on Earth to realise that their concept of their ever-expanding universe was in fact far larger than they have ever preconceived it to be. Not that it was their universe, of course.

Rūta had grown up always considering herself to be one of the abnormal; a standout child prodigy who saw beyond the confines of human vision and came to understand the magnitude of the world. As a prepubescent, geeky teenager, she had recurringly brought up to her peers how insignificant the human species was to the rest of the world, constantly citing how they were one among billions and one planet in so many that the mind could not comprehend. There was a small part of her that did not always believe her greater-than-thou posturing, but little did she ever expect the extent to which she would be… well, correct.

Perhaps that was why she had been the chosen representative for the human race; this quiet, dreaming native girl from a coastal town in tiny Lithuania. She had really believed in the madness, let herself be swayed by the disturbing and wild thoughts, so when the truth came to be found, it felt a little like a joke that she could.. believe. Because who could blame her, really, for wanting to just know she was different? That she was special, and chosen?

Of course, there were the slight concerns in how Rūta could succeed, as the instructions weren't the most.. clear. The human delegation had simply, unapologetically offered a shrug that told her “we can't help, just do as it says”. And what had it said? The most obscure and ridiculous things, in a delectably comical loopy scrawl that told her to stand at the centre of Earth, close her eyes when the clock hit 02:36 AM and take five steps backwards. Rūta had never seen what these otherworldly entities were like, so she doubted that they knew she couldn't actually /get/ to the centre of the Earth without dying, and as such had to settle for the next best option: the centre of the Earth's flat map. The geographers had measured it to be around the northern border of Egypt, and so here she was at midnight, standing on these ethereal sand dunes and watching the ocean of night sway in the distance. She'd almost call it a blessing in disguise were it not for her anxiousness from the potential idea of exploring the unknown.

Rūta soon heard a ping from the telecommunicator strapped to her waist, and so she shut her eyes, sending a final prayer to the skies. She stepped backwards, once, twice, thrice, feeling as though she was going to fall over the sands. The telecommunicator suddenly shut off, sending the slightest jolt through her body before everything just went black.

Next thing she knew, she was seated on what appeared to be a train.


⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀four ⋆˚࿔ incorporating your world into your writing ˚⋆
You're almost there, legends, so let's finish strong! Now that you have a good idea of what your new world looks like, it's time to bring it to life. Whether it's an alien landscape or a fantastical paradise, write 800 words of a story introducing your world, using pointers from Kiara's workshop here to help. The world is yours - go do something amazing with it!
All around Rūta, there were figures that seemed as though they were buzzing in and out of life. Some beings looked as though they could be human or a vague relation, but most seemed completely absurd and otherworldly. There seemed to be far more carriages than the eye could see, but Rūta quickly ducked away when she noted some other passengers seemingly staring at her.

Turning away, she attempted to distract herself by fiddling with the curtain binds, awkwardly peeling away layers that felt like such an alien material. Soon she reached a glasslike surface, framed by curling swathes of gold, but beyond that was just absolute blackness. Sometimes, Rūta swore she could see glimpses of other worlds, but they faded away before she could zone in on it. Resigned to this strange atmosphere, though feeling a little hesitant about letting down her guard, she began to doze off.

“Please step off the Express now. We have arrived at our final destination: the Strålessian Nexus. You will soon meet your tour guide, who will be familiar to those who have been here, but be crucial to your experience if you have never visited the Nexus before. Please be respectful to one another and do not probe too far into each others' origins.”

Rūta didn't think that was in any language she had ever heard before, or even that anyone had even spoken, but she could understand what they said. She shuffled into the queue behind some gravel-shaped creature that turned hissing embers in her direction, and just kept on walking in the direction the crowd shoved her in. There was soon the strangest feeling of herself rising upwards, and she found herself standing amongst a motley of different beings and facing the most otherworldly creature the limits and feeble folds her human mind could ever conceive.

They… it was impossible, really, to assign this being to the boxes she knew of he and she. They were slender and graceful, long necks arching like swans and being around the height of an average tall human being. Their skin seemed to be made of molten metals, and was a pale silver adorned with dark, jagged marks all over. Their eyes were without a doubt, that of the predator on the top of the food chain, and their lower torso fused into some conflagration of a tail.

“You can call me a Voice of the Bard. I am their mouthpiece, essentially, and I am here to welcome you all to the Nexus.” their voice was deep and echoing, and before she knew it, Rūta felt motion in her surroundings as they began to move. “The Nexus is a beautiful creation, a haven; the intersection between all worlds which you will have to pass through one day or another. It was by the hands of our beloved Pantheon was it carved and it is through that which we thrive. As time ticks on, more and more creations in the vast expanses of all thought will reach awareness enough to be invited to experience this place.”

The group paused for a moment, and the being gestured downwards. Rūta did, too, and felt almost as though she was swaying in midair, dizzy and terrified. Below them was a train station floating in the middle of nowhere, the express that had presumably carried them here now disappearing into the black hole below. From around; a sea of stars, and yet also a void of nothingness that ringed the little isle that bore the train station. Around it once again was a large ring of land, multiple terrains fading from one into another, and beyond that…

“Do not be deterred by this strange feeling. It is necessary to carry us to our final destination, a place where you will see the true magnitude of what we are. Please do not fight it either, for one unwilling mind may result in many more stranded souls.” Rūta gently shut her eyes, but it felt like a mere blink and someone touching a feather against her nose before she felt her feet finally land on solid ground. Slowly daring to open one eyelid, Rūta glanced all around in partial surprise, looking upwards, then down, in confusion. It looked a little like an astronomy laboratory, where the scientists would catalogue all the planets and the astronomers stand on their balconies and stare out through their tiny lens to pick out the smallest sparks of light in the deep night sky. Above her, it felt exactly like that; a tiny circular pane of glass that revealed a starlit sky. Below was an eternally spiraling cave that looked like a library, but there was an almost transparent map spread at the largest radius in this cavern.

With a snap of their fingers, their guide turned the map to solid, and began pointing out locations. “Out there is Atlantis, the land that seems slightly submerged into the parchment. Over there is Earth, where our newest visitor, the humans, originate from, and quite ironically, over there is a world with peoples so very similar to humankind.” they began listing other places, but the language soon became one Rūta could not decipher, it all merging into collaborative sounds of hissing, clicking, whistles and more. “Where you are right now is the viewing platform we are standing on. We view all the worlds ever conceived through this lens high above, and it helps us greatly maintain balance without bias or influence.”

Suddenly, something snapped inside Rūta - perhaps that it was so impeccably perfect, or that it sounded like an elaborate hoax, or that it simply wasn't believable. Humankind is oftentimes like this; immature and foolish and dreaming and stubborn enough to rather live in their own delusions. Her human delegation had secretly snuck her a pack of matches, to be “used in the most extenuating circumstances to get rid of all this rat fodder these creatures are feeding us”. And so she snapped it, and lit the flame, spreading her arms and preparing to consume the whole world in this blaze.

Their guide simply laughed, faced her with a piercing stare and turned her into dust.
They then turned to the remaining party of watchers, offering them a smile half-apologetically.
“We knew the human wasn't ready. We just wished to prove that point to you all.”





**the introductory story (part IV) is also the same story for part III. it should total 1,300+ words.

daily VI ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ constellations; our guiding light. ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

Ancient sailors and wayfarers looked to the sky to guide themselves using the very same constellations we see today. There are currently 88 recognized constellations, so for 450 words and 350 points (plus 100 points for sharing), write about one of these starry collections for this SWClassic daily! You can write about the mythological meaning behind the group of stars, their role throughout history, or the constellations themselves—reach for the stars!


⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀one ⋆˚࿔ Ὀφιοῦχος; the serpent bearer. ˚⋆
dear ophiuchus; they who bear the serpent,
please guide my frail body and ailing mind to its renewal once again, borne from the ashes. rarely do i ever enter your realm, for my fortunate combination of genetics and my parents' careful and wise insistence upon me training within the waters prevents me from tumbling into the mercy of those who are tasked with spreading illnesses.

sometimes i do wonder who it is that chooses to sentence us humans to such a fate. i do understand that it is necessary for the culling of the population; the survival of the fittest, but as one of many ants bracing against the inevitable day i - or my beloved family and friends - are squashed against your feet, can you really blame me for desolately hoping that it will not be those we love? blood is such a fickle and thin feature, and yet we allow it to dictate our loyalties. so, as i look up to you in the starry sky, perhaps you will take my mercy and bring my ponderance to the gods higher up?

i do not blame those who spread these illnesses. they may have their rightful reason to do so.
down on the mother's soils, we hear the jangling spirits of the nosoi, the daimones of plague, sickness and disease, escaped from the protective wrath to wreak havoc upon the worlds. we also hear the tales of the keres, those who can take on the physical manifestations of deadly diseases and give them temporary life. of course, there too are the arrows of apollon and artemis, who may choose to bring or protect as per their whims. if i am correct - and please correct me if i am not so - you are under the guidng light of scorpius, and you sometimes bear the words and messages of hygieia. the loyal serpent slides and hisses, but it purifies all, and hence why it is such a beautiful creation.

you perhaps do wonder why i, a pan-asiatic chinesewoman, writes this in the modern era where we have all but turned our backs on the divine entities far above, believing and dismissing them to be mere human fable from eons ago. but even if we disbelieve, we must always remember the words and actions and beliefs of our ancestors - for without them, we would never have come to exist. is that not so beautiful?

as i lie in bed to stare at the endless skies, i wonder how you came into birth. how, when you ascended to a new world, your life was rife and deemed worthy enough to be immortalised in a glistening set of starlight that flashes across the skies. i do wonder whether you are ever irritated, particularly when the pesky weather decides to pass through plumes of clouds towards you, distorting your words and retaining you necessary to seek another to give a voice to the voiceless, as you once did. i too seek to do that in my future, but perhaps once i have risen from this illness.

i hope you accept my offering, ophiuchus, and see that i mean the best for what i do, and bring me renewal. i have looked up to the stars and wished, so i wish you will behoove my words and guide my body onwards into the new light.

ave atque vale,
laurel.

word wars ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ the supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting." ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀(i) thu. 06/03/25 ⋆˚࿔ 420 words in 5 minutes. 80 wpm. “is now a bad time to tell you i'm claustrophobic?” (unknown status; 25pts). @_click_ (adventure). ˚⋆
i am scrolling through the consuming depths of the gram. the gram is a place that is designed to capture your mind and attention span, and simply merely just keep it. that is all. you do not and no longer have control of your attention span, but you do not have the option to delete it as the gram now controls your mind. the gram is an all-consuming powerful entity who slowly eats at you from miles away but eventually gets a tad too close for your comfort… now, within months that felt like mere milliseconds, it is a crocodile that snaps at your waist with greasy drooling jaws and yellow jaundiced teeth. you can see the bleeding in the gums. and just as the legend doechii said, alligator bites never heal.

so, yes, it would certainly be a terrible time to tell me that you're claustrophobic. honest to god, you should have told the gram that before you downloaded that horrifying app - but i suppose you didn't know about it then, and the gram would not have heeded your warning. but the gram is all seeing. all hearing. all knowing. the gram would most certainly have known that you are claustrophobic - they simply would not have given a ****. because the gram is just in here for the clicks, the scrolls, and watching smugly as your eyes grow wider and wider till they pop out of their sockets, veiny and painful and disgusting and revolting to stare at, but what can you do, really? you have given yourself over to the gram, and now the gram's jaws that are relentless and unforgiving, will clamp around you, secure you until you feel your heart palpitating and choking and your face turning red with pain and horror as you realise your fatal mistake. but the gram is you, and you are the gram. you are one and the only.

too bad. the gram does not give mercy. you have chosen the gram, and the gram's escapes from life that it can provide you. regret it? no chance of the gram showing forgiveness. i have perhaps told you that already. but the gram does not care. the gram has taken you, the walls are closing in, and your fate is sealed. all you can do is bow to the gram, and be consumed in its ever spinning vortex of clicks and scrolls and clickbait and ragebait and skibidi toilet videos. enjoy your life, because that is
it doesn't care if you are claustrophic.

daily VII ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ critiquitaires. ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

I don’t know how I’m going to write this daily message…Nothing really seems right but I can’t quite put my finger on it…What should I do? Oh! I know! I’ll go over to the Critiquitaire! If you’re struggling with writing something, just head over to https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1140278045/ in order to get some advice from others on your writing!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀one ⋆˚࿔ “constellation daily” ˚⋆
written by skylar (@milkysplash) /// 785 words /// https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/808229/?page=13#post-8436326

Before I start, excuse me for making this sound like a monologue.
I ADORE the characterisation of Ally; just reading this genuinely makes me feel like I am interacting with a 3-year-old. The way you used simplistic language and portrayed her eternal optimism really feels like lil kiddo is there and a sunbeam of light!
The family unit is very wholesome and, though a little inexplicable of /how/ exactly it feels like so, Renée and Robert have a sort of chemistry that reads as though they'd be a good pairing. (I did briefly wonder if you had the Twilight Saga in your mind as you wrote this - Renée; Bella's mum and Robert Pattinson; Edward's actor.) It is also admittedly very refreshing to read a story that isn't exactly plot-heavy or fuelled on emotions like most are. This is short and sweet, and I like that a lot.

But you asked for thorough, harsh critique, huh?

Without yet diving into a line-by-line analysis, my main ick is that Renée and Robert don't really feel as though they have individual personas. They seem a little atypical to the average mother and father role; warm and maternal/paternal still fuzzy and protective enough; quick to jump to worry. Every single person or couple will parent differently, but their pasts, personalities and personal experiences will tie into just /how/ they parent. You might want to consider looking into relationship/personality dynamics between couples and take some common tropes to spin off.
For example, there is the perpetually well-known “sunshine x grumpy” trope, which you could defy gender expectations by having Robert read as the sunshine, and Renée as the (grumpier) black cat. As the parental persona you present to your kids is obviously going to be different, there should still be some traits that shine through - instead of Renée suggesting they take Ally stargazing and Robert instantly agreeing, perhaps Robert should suggest it and Renée show some more uniquely characteristic hesitance. You could then have Robert crack a joke, or flirt (or something along those lines) to try and persuade Renée, and have her reluctantly agree (while shooting death stares).
Of course, changing personality dynamics at such an axis is gonna be a little tricky, so you should aim to maintain the balance you had in this piece while giving the two parents some colour.

My other ‘general context’ confusion was why Renée and Robert were willing to take a THREE-year-old child out at night. Stories should maintain some semblance of common sense (unless you are a certain cough cough character in Shatter Me or Isabella Marie Swan, of course), or try and explain away different quirks. We're all human and will automatically compare the differences to what we know of and have experienced in our lives.
Perhaps hint that they're a young couple, if they are, by having R&R show more affection and/or flirtatiousness to lightly explain away why they are a little less overprotective and overbearing than what society would expect them to be? Or perhaps discreetly suggest that their society and culture are very relaxed in terms of sleep… or instead outright reveal that they are, in fact, the vampires/characters from Twilight. (I'm just joking. Please don't tell me the last one is as it is. PLEASE.)

This part is not a critique but just a really interesting observation! Taking the assumption this story is on Earth, what possible cities/countries could R&R +A be living in? The most likely (in my eyes) are Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, Argentina, Chile and Brazil.

Okay, lets get into the more intricate and slightly painful bit (lol).

Immediately worried, she jumped out of bed, and rushed over to Ally’s bedroom, flinging the door open and flicking the bright ceiling light on.

The comma between ‘bed, and rushed over’ feels unnecessary as they are one-after-the-other and slightly related, also as ‘rushed’ is a fluid motion so you would be reflecting an action by having the sentence roll. ‘bright’ is also a little unnecessary here in my opinion.

in her own forevermore.

Apparently ‘forevermore’ is still a word (which I should know as a fellow Brit XD) but it feels a little clunky and out-of-place here. Perhaps just placing a little fingerspace in between would help.

Renée heard footsteps, seeing Robert walk in through the door.

I think you were a little rushed as you wrote this because the sudden tense change caught me off guard. I'm not the greatest at grammar and punctuation, but I'm pretty sure it would be “Renée soon heard footsteps, then saw Robert walk in.” or “Renée heard footsteps, then saw Robert come to join her and Ally.”.

Renée could read the look on Robert’s face. “You want to take her out stargazing?” Renée asked.

Renée could feel Ally perk up at the mention of stargazing. “Stars?” Ally asked, through hiccuped sobs. “Stars?”

The triple-drop of Renée's name makes the writing clunkier. Maybe replace at least one of those with ‘she’ instead?

The night was warm - thankfully, it was the height of summer. The skies were fairly dark, and the stars were fairly noticeable, even above the bright city lights.

“- thankfully, it was the height of summer.” You can be thankful that the night was warm, but in a logical progression, the next statement(s) would be WHY you were thankful. You also used “fairly” twice in a row which feels a little repetitive and unnatural (which doesn't help with the commas adding to that effect lol). Maybe “the stars were faintly noticeable” would be better?

Apologies for the abrupt ending but my attention span is at its limit. That is all *bows*

word wars ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ the supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting." ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀(i) fri. 07/03/25 ⋆˚࿔ 265 words in 3 minutes. 88 wpm. no prompt (won; 100pts). @pepper-and-a-pencil (fan-fi). ˚⋆
here goes a little more rambling about my favorite song contest, and tbh, probably the only one that i am ever truly invested in. the one and only eurovision! despite not being ethnically european, though i do like to think my passport counts, as well as my somewhat distant european relations, i LOVE IT SO OSO MUCH. like fr it's the greatest and most fun thing ever to listen to.

so, this year. 2025. every single year there are people reporting that it's going to be a weak year and sometimes i do agree with them but then i remember how easily i am influenced by peoples' opinions and swayed with is pretty hilarious for someone who consideres themselves rather very stubborn. ahahah… anyways, with that in mind, this year my top favorite is going to be sweden, as usual. well, not really as usual, because there was also that one time last year where they sent marcus and martinus and unforgettable was just a little too forgettable for me that i decided to discount it and choose/opt to support a different piece. air from the year before by the same artists were still really good. but as to why i am so invested in this years' mello and why i am so looking forwards to it: it is that there are so, so, so many good entries this year! but i do think i am just admittedly rather addicted to bara bada bastu - i mean, i listen to it every day, it always brings a smile to my face and feels like kaj


⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀(ii) fri. 07/03/25 ⋆˚࿔ 509 words in 7 minutes. 72 wpm. "the hidden cabin of mangoes was going to win this session of swc. (unknown status; 25pts). @icebunny11 (bi-fi). ˚⋆
so we are discussing some suspiciously gorgeous hidden items, are we? it seems as though this session of swc will be us digging through a treasure trove, in search for the most brilliant wonders hidden upon mundane piles of stone and dirt.
but i do not really see the purpose and brilliance of mangoes. really, all cabins of swc are traditionally named or in honour of a particular genre of writing, and why should this one be not so? what exempts the mangoes from being able to, well, have such joyous fun and rise above the mundane general population? why do the mangoes have this privilege, and others not so? is that not so unfair as it seems to be in my eyes?

anyways.. i suppose we are here to tell the tale of how this supposedly hidden cabin of mangoes was going to win this session of swc. i mean, there's literally a prompt in the word wars project informing us of this so-called hidden cabin of mangoes, so very quickly this will already discount the previous claim. ahaha… i do quite enjoy spoiling peoples' experiences and make it painful.

and… let us get our thinking caps on here, folks, and wonder whether and how the hidden cabin of mangoes will win. i suppose that as it claims to be hidden, the cabin of mangoes was never and will never be on the scoreboard hence its members and all general other campers in swc will be unable to figure out slash glean what on earth had caused it to exist. and so, as one is unable to fight and succeed over an opponent who is a little bit, well, unable to be seen or heard or felt or even just exist, of course the hidden cabin of mangoes is going to win this session.

wait, had i not just discounted this statement?
how absurd.

well… what else can i tell you? the hidden cabin of mangoes was very likely to have been started by a cult in mangoland, which for whatever reason i seem to think is located in mongolia. i swear to you and god that i was thinking of a south american or latinoamerican country as i wrote that but i somehow ended up writing mongolia. that was the first country that popped into my head, please do not question it! so, we have a cabin with a very rich and deep history that arises from the snow-capped frosty terrains of southern mongolia, with some form of powerful imperviousness to the frost and freezing temperatures to allow these mangoes to survive.

oh, i just remembered, frozen mangoes do exist, no? and they are a delicacy, or at least considered to be, all around the world. so i suppose that is where our lovely mangoes have originated from. and hence also the cult following they have generated which has grown into this lovely cabin of mangoes. how very delicious and enjoyable. i think. i'm not sure. and where do the people even come from? what a wonder

daily VIII ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ letters to a female inspiration. ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

Today is International Women's Day! With that in mind, we're going to take the day to recognize and appreciate the outstanding accomplishments of the women in our life. Whether it be a family relative or somebody you look up to, today, you're going to be writing them a 300 word letter, thanking them for all their resilience. Complete this daily to earn 250 points and an additional 150 for sharing proof. Also a reminder that Cabin Wars is tomorrow, so get your mango canons ready!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀one ⋆˚࿔ to viola davis.. ˚⋆
to viola davis,

i think you are such an incredible and gorgeous person. i first came across your works so, so many years ago, but only learned of your name very recently. then did i realise just the large amount of power a name can bring to a person; to be able to identify them and from then on always spot them out without forgetting who they are.

the time which i finally eternally committed you to memory was after watching the ballad of songbirds and snakes with my friends. the main characters and plot were genius and probably to die for, but the character of doctor volumnia gaul had always stuck out in my head from that day on. it was just the immensely large frizzy hair but the even larger and sassier attitude. gaul had the aura of a mad scientist but also a budding tyrannical dictator that hid the shell of a person who had been torn apart and soon driven to madness with the allure of power. i saw all of these very clearly, and so, so much more through the intricate lens we viewed her with. i remember thinking then; whoever was her actress had played her so immensely well.

so i did a quick google search, as it is nowadays, and came across you. my first thought was “hey, she looks quite familiar.” and i truly did recall seeing you pop up in some extremely faint memory from years ago, playing some character now long forgotten. i soon realised so many crossovers - kung fu panda 4, svicid3 squad, beautiful creatures, ender's game, the help, solaris… such a diverse variety with so, so many different characters. i figured that most of these you were very likely to be an insignificant double or background character, but no. in each and every single one of your works, you bear a signature rarely detectable that is unique to yourself, and boast a beautiful talent to portray so many different individuals. it is god-given and probably the best there is on this planet.

but my perspective changed further when i followed you on the gram, for that is the era we all live in. you actively supported and promoted causes - of course, many actors and actresses did, - but yours showed your person. you would look deep into the areas of your personal interest, support lesser-known creators and give a voice to the voiceless by just paying attention and using social media to a truly good advantage. and i thought that that was so, so beautiful. ironically, the viola davis platform was almost even educational in your campaigning and lobbying and humble showing of your talents, and i learned so many different stories told by different voices all around the world. as a girl in a very different community to the perspective you brought, it was crucial, and it was so, so incredible.

please continue fighting on and being the diva you are.
sending the sincerest appreciation and respect from europe,
vale.

cabin wars I ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ if you hurt me, i wouldn't cry. i would hurt you back." ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀one ⋆˚࿔ 2k words in 4 hours (@lizeus10salmon, fantasy) ˚⋆
fie! cometh h're and englut mine own coxcomb thee distemperate daw. stand ho stealing oth'r peoples' hats. i fain shall throweth myself upon the sw'rd to sacrifice myself f'r mine own people, ‘gainst thy disgusting presence.

oh, what is yond? thee claimeth yond t is thy god-given, did bless job to removeth revolting hats from existence? so i wouldst anon wisheth to accuse thee of the greatest act ’gainst humankind: blasphemy!! all hats art quite quaint and craft'd by the divine hands of our l'rd, so i kindly yet firmly asketh thee to stepeth hence.

and thee anon has't the audacity to suggesteth to me, a valorous sir, to p'rhaps tryeth consuming mine own owneth coxcomb? well, i shalt deem thee with a sarcastic response. from wh're shouldst i starteth, and alloweth mine own teeth gnaw hence at the fine fabrics liketh a guttural and disgusting rat? thou art heinous, and the revolting one.

oh, what is thy fav'rite flavour of coxcomb? t is apparently yond of silk, i supposeth, because thee doth has't the finest gust f'r the most exotic types. prithee doth leaveth me anon. begone, bef're i beshrew thee into the pits of hell. farewell, sinn'r, and i shall seeth thee suff'r in the aft'rlife.


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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀two ⋆˚࿔ 4.5k words in 7 hours (@ziqing11, illu-fi) ˚⋆
just one quick little ramble about melfest… i will get to eurovision soon. i didn't always hear every and each single song that was in the process as i only tuned in for the final but that was such a gorgeous final. sweden is such a beautiful country :3

my personal favorites were:
(1) KAJ - bara bada bastu
(2) greczula - believe me
(3) mans zelmerlow - revolution
(4) meira omar - hush hush
(5) dolly style - yihaa!

but let me ramble from start until the end. i have the music playing in the background and it is genuinely the greatest feeling right now even though my attention span is completely and totally flying out of the window. currently playing is voice of the silent by john lundvik which is surprisingly such a beautiful song and quite powerfully delivered. however john has apparently been a previous contender for sweden on eurovision which puts me off slightly (not too much, though, because i really want sweden to do well at eurovision). it's actually making me feel stuff which is really nice. but there have been word flying around that he would not enter again as he had expected to place far higher which is a little bit disappointing.. he wasn't as high in the odds in the first place so that does feel a little disappointing for such a misconception. it's powerful and quite like ear candy which is very nice, and it's the kind of stuff that would be making the rounds in my pop playlist.

now playing is dolly style's yihaa! it's pronounced ji-haa which is quite interesting and looks a little like a typed out


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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀three ⋆˚࿔ 2k words in 4 hours (@bookhuggers2022, action) ˚⋆
Jason stared desolately at Dante, his lips slightly forming into an o-shape. Was this… betrayal? He didn't really believe it either; his darling Dante, the funny, steadfast, charismatic, loyal one who had held him up whenever he fell, who had wiped his tears at his mother's funeral, who had had his back even when his investment went into failure. The man who had hugged him into his chest when he saw the ghosts of his past again, whispering over and over in his ear that all would resolve itself in time, then swapping to a Slavic ballad to lull him into sleep. This couldn't really be, right? There was no way… Dante would never dream of leaving him.

Dante simply watched Jason with an exasperated gaze, one partially laced with disappointment. Had he truly thought it would be serious? Dante made a living as a politician. A POLITICIAN!! Even the general public knew politicians were renowned for their brilliant skill in deception and their sharp-witted tongues, hence making them the ideal candidate to lead a campaign to influence society and shape the world for the future. And Dante was young and rising in the ranks: one with so much potential, one who had accumulated enough power and prestige and connections to be able to take to the big stage eventually. And the fact this foolish man had not even bothered to wonder whether Dante was chasing Jason for his fathers' connections to the gas and trade industry.


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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀four ⋆˚࿔ Xk words in X hours (@violating.user, cabin name) ˚⋆
lorem ipsum dolor sit amet.


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word wars ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ the supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting." ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀(i) sun. 09/03/25 ⋆˚࿔ 418 words in 5 minutes. 83 wpm. “if you're the mango, what am i?” ( unknown status; 25pts). @icebunny11 (bi-fi). ˚⋆
hi! if you are the mango, what am i? by the way, please consider this a triumvirate and i am merely the proxy: i am the transmitter, the translator, the means by which the two of you important communicators and beautiful people will understand one another. this is incredibly important for you to understand as i am, as a matter of fact, neither the mango nor the speaker, but the person who passes the message from one side to another as it would not be advisable for the two of you to communicate.

why, do you ask? i am afraid that as the state-assigned and rule governed proxy i am not allowed to share that information with you. i understand that you will be curious and this further strengthens your curiosity, but there is not much that can be done about this. my sincerest apologies, and please stop communicating with me - you are only allowed to use me to pass on a message to the recipient on the other side, but not me.

so you know want to know why you are a mango, or, more precisely, why the other side thinks you to be a mango. very well, that message will now be passed on. ahh… what is that, i ask? very well, thank you for repeating the phrase and clarifying your words.

the other speaker tells you that you are a mango as they are a being with a mind. as they are a being with a mind, they are therefore able to distinguish between one being and another, so it is of great help to them. and as they have a mind, they are able to utilise that mind to great usage and decide what you are. if it is any comfort, the other recipient has decided that i myself am a… well, monkey. a premature ape, if you must. a constipated gnome, perhaps. so the recipient henceforth decides what you are, and i hear that you find this to be rather unfair, no? very well, i will relay this to the other speaker.

the other speaker now wishes to tell you that you are more than allowed to make up your own mind for what you are and what you perceive them to be. that is because he knows, deep down, that you too are human, and you can decide to perceive him as a mango. in fact, he actually would like to tell you and encourage you to perceive him as a mango.