fanfiction writing comp entry!

myth, 549 words
i decided to enter this last minute just for funsies so yeah have fun reading my actually-was-part-of-a-weekly-toh-au fanfic!

Feel the fear in my enemy's eyes
Listen as the crowd would sing
Now the old king is dead, long live the king
One minute, I held the key
Next the walls were closed on me
And I discovered that my castles stand
Upon pillars of salt and pillars of sand

* *
A forest of masks. Broken. Shattered. All of them. A graveyard of past attempts. One of them crunched under his foot.

One mistake. That was all it took. He was next. He had to get out, he had to–

Wake up.

He sighed, burying his head in his hands. This was the third time this week. And it was only Tuesday.

Flapjack chirped from his perch and hopped over. Hunter scratched his head absentmindedly, looking out the window in his cabin.

Well, cabin was one way to put it. ‘Half fallen apart shack’ would have been more accurate.

He got up and checked on his food stock. He'd need to go into town today. Bonesborough was constantly patrolled by the Emperor's guards; it was hard to sneak around there, so he usually avoided it if he could. He sighed again. Another day of hiding.

“Come on, Flapjack.” he said to to tiny cardinal. Flapjack chirped indignantly.

“I know, buddy. It's raining. You're made of wood. I'll keep you dry. We'll be back in a bit, with any luck,” Hunter said, as he fastened his clock and pulled up the hood.

* *

It was a wicked and wild wind
Blew down the doors to let me in
Shattered windows and the sound of drums
People couldn't believe what I'd become
Revolutionaries wait
For my head on a silver plate
Just a puppet on a lonely string

* *

“It's crowded today. Keep out of sight, Flapjack.”

The Palisman chirped quietly. Hunter kept his head down, not making eye contact, not talking, keeping to himself. The gaurds didn't know him. They didn't know what he looked like under the mask. Still, he tensed every time he walked past one. It was only a matter of time until something happened, until he slipped up. It was only a matter of time until he had to stop hiding and fight. For now, he simply had to survive.

Easier said than done.

As he was walking down the street, a booth caught his eye. It seemed to sell items from the Human Realm–there were all sorts of things he'd never seen before. But that wasn't what interested him most. It was run by Edalyn Clawthorne. The famous wild witch of Bonesborough.

She was infamous for her ability to escape the Emperor's Coven any time they tried to capture her. Her face was stuck on wanted posts all over the Demon Realm, as they had been for years, but she still managed to evade capture. He walked over to the booth.

“Hey, kid. Interested in some human artifacts?” she said.

“Actually,” he said quietly, “I'm interested in information. How exactly have you evaded the Emperor for so long?”

* *

I hear Jerusalem bells a-ringin'
Roman Cavalry choirs are singin'
Be my mirror, my sword and shield
My missionaries in a foreign field
For some reason I can't explain
I know Saint Peter won't call my name
Never an honest word
But that was when I ruled the world

writing comp entry!
words: 204

goodbye, and good riddance

you may hurt me,
you may cut,

you may scratch,
and scrape,
and burn,

but you
will not
break me.

i am done.
i am done with you,
with your hate,
with your fake friendship,
with your uncaringness for anyone else,
with your snide little comments about my new friends.

you may hurt me.
you may cut me.
but you
will not
hurt
THEM.

they're already better than you ever were.
they already make me happier.
they've already helped me through
more than you ever even knew about,
not because i didn't tell you but because
you didn't care.

so hear this.
i do not care what you do to me.
i do not care what you say,
what you do,
what you tell me,
because i know
that i am done with you.
i will not let you hurt my friends.
do what you want to me instead.
i won't fight back.
you cannot hurt me anymore.
you cannot cut me anymore.
your words don't bruise.
your looks don't stab.
your memory doesn’t bring tears to my eyes.
i do not care
what you think.

i've moved on.
i've left you behind.

goodbye,
and good riddance,

the one who thought they loved you

The Art of Second Chances

edit: I added this explanation to show how it's supposed to be read

explanation: the concept is that this is supposed to be a spoken monologue of a character who had an unexplained incident at her old school and is now starting over at a new school, reflecting on second chances.

Second chances are a funny thing. Many people don't get them. Some people do. And oftentimes the people who really deserve them don't get them. They say I was lucky to get one. I don't feel lucky. Call me ungrateful all you want, but I just feel trapped, doomed to repeat my disastrous history. They say I don't deserve this, but what do they know? Only I know what really happened.

And who are they to say I don't deserve a second chance? I think everybody deserves a second chance. People are such hypocrites sometimes - they say things like, “It's okay, we all make mistakes!” but then as soon as we make one, we're cast out from society. Not a single chance to explain how, or why it happened. But then again, some people do terrible things, and fully had the intention to do those terrible things. Do they really deserve a second chance? Sometimes, people who don't really deserve second chances get them. And thirds. And fourths. It's not fair, but again, as they say, life's not fair. But it should be.

They say a lot of things, but that doesn't make them right. People make all sorts of assumptions, and are so quick to judge in this world. No acceptance of the fact that people can change, and the truth isn't always just what you hear first. Heck, some people take their second chances and run, just become a completely new person, erasing every bit of the identity of who they were before - and I don't blame them. It's easier to just erase history - it's like my english teacher explained after we read that one book - if we can erase everything ugly in our past, it's like it never happened. But I can't. Not when it's burnt into my skin, branding everything about who I am. I can't just forget, even if I want to.

But isn't that what second chances are for? Wiping the slate, starting over? I mean, you had to have done something to get a second chance, and you can't just go back to who you were. In this world you're already lucky if you're given one chance, let alone two - you wouldn't want to mess it up the same way twice. I get the appeal, I really do. But how can they just expect me to throw away all of my past to continue something I never really cared for in the first place? It's not that I don't want to forget it, believe me. But when something has impacted you this much and you're told to forget it and start again, it only bothers you more.

Personally, I think we can't forget it and start over. Because then how are we supposed to learn? Even if it's a sore memory, I guess I've “learned my lesson,” as they would say. Maybe that's what the second chances are really for. Facing your fears, and then moving forward with your life. The freedom to get up and try again. And that's why I'm here - even if it's messy, even if I manage to fall flat on my face again. Even if I have no idea what's going to happen. It's all I can do. It's all anyone can do. And right now, that needs to be enough.

25 march daily: 262/250 words

i think something pretty cool would be a day of the dramatic arts! i’m sure something similar already exists, but a day that commemorates plays and movies and dancers and musicals and even backstage crew, operators et cetera would be super fun! similar to how the uk have world book day, if dramatic arts day falls on a school day then you could come in dressed up as your favourite character from theatre, like a heather or lafayette or even something ambitious like penelope from epic. it would be a really cool thing with free plays to watch on the street and music streaming services doing something special when you stream music from these musicals too! ooh, there could be an awesome festival for the dramatic arts or something which would be especially cool! heh, maybe the day of the dramatic arts should be turned into a week xD

i thought of this because tv or acting is something we hopefully all know about and get to experience. the nation gets cheaper books (sometimes) and a couple of days dedicated to reading and celebrating books and dressing up as characters, you know, whatever their school chooses and books are a great way to bring people together BUT. what you watch on the tv or what you go see in some nearby theatre or abroad can also bring people together. there’s a whole lot of celebrities in media and singers and theatre kids out there and yeah it would be great to have a day / week like this in my opinion lol

link for sets https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1152624529/

If I could invent a public holiday, I would make a remembrance day for the day that the dinosaur-killing asteroid hit, 66 million years ago. It was a very tragic day for Earth’s biosphere, yet one that allowed for the rise of our own species. Considering its significant impact on the course of this planet’s history, it should be given its own day of recognition.
Analysis of growth patterns in the fossilized bones of fish who died from the impact indicate that the catastrophe occurred in the spring. Therefore, the date for the holiday should also be in the spring. Although the exact day can’t be pinpointed, I think March 15 is befitting, since it’s the Ides of March, the date that Julius Caesar was assassinated. This catastrophe led to the death of the Roman Republic and the beginning of the Roman Empire, which is a satisfying mirror to how the end of the dinosaurs’ reign gave rise to the era of the mammals.
I would personally celebrate this holiday because I think it’s important to remember the past in order to feel gratitude for our present day and to plan for our future. It’s also proof that great tragedy can lead to even brighter futures. After all, humans and all their amazing inventions would have never gotten a chance to exist if the non-avian dinosaurs weren’t eliminated from the apex predator niche.
Everyone who agrees that we should pay respects to this mass extinction would acknowledge this holiday. This includes those who wish to appreciate how far us mammals have come, those who mourn for the dinosaurs, and people that are interested in Earth’s history in general.
It’s mainly a holiday of remembrance, made to raise awareness rather than involve specific holiday traditions. However, some suggestions for how to properly pay tribute include researching extinct dinosaurs, going birdwatching to observe modern avian dinosaurs, and making those baking soda and vinegar volcanoes to simulate your own personal extinction event.

last-minute writing comp entry because why not
Wild || Bi-Fi || 473 words

“Honeysuckle Wilting”

Sometimes I wonder about you, brother. You watched with longing when Wander and Ruby left on their journey so long ago. I could tell you loved them. I can always tell. It's as though I can smell the sweet scent of honeysuckle blooming around someone when they see the one they love. Or, the two, in your case.
Why didn't you go with them? Why didn't you follow your love? I remember how you stood there, the soft morning light outlining your feathers in periwinkle blue. You were saying goodbye, and—what was it you said? Everything goes away? After everything that's happened, I've finally learned just how right you were. My Thorn left me behind, back when the colony split, and that's when I learned the pain of being separated from someone you had given your heart to. I never saw it coming, though in retrospect, maybe I should have. He was always so dissatisfied; always hesitating before he spoke, as if there was something he didn't want to say, not even to me. And now he's back, and so are you, and… I don't know how to feel anymore.
When you left with Moon and Silence, you promised you would be back one day. You remembered that promise, and though I haven't seen you in seasons, it's like nothing's changed at all. We're older now, the silver around both our muzzles beginning to show, but we're still the same on the inside. Like the flowers that blossom spring after spring, we are timeless. With Thorn, it's harder to tell. He's always been more difficult for me to figure out. All I know is that I can still scent the faint trace of honeysuckle when he's near, and that gives me hope. He's not the same as he was, but that doesn't mean everything's changed. He still loves me. I still love him.
But should I, even after everything that happened? I am patient, and I am strong, but it's still hard to bear when the ties of love are pulled taut, stretched across vast distances by someone who won't stop running. How did you do it, Moss? How could you spend your life so far from those who held your heart?
I don't want to become like Shade, cold and harsh like the winter wind. Our sister got everything she wanted, and I suppose she's happy now, but it's a lonely life up there in the leader's den. I could never do what she did. The ice plant may grow in the most frigid of weather, but I need the warmth of the sun to thrive.
Oh, brother, please give me some words of comfort, some wisdom you've gained in your travels. I have faith that everything will be okay, if only you could remind me what all this was for.

The Warning Flower

Writing comp entry I entered 3 minutes late lol


Nervously, Maya twisted a sweet pea flower. Tori had given it to her before she left, promising to be back. It was a strange choice, wasn’t it? Not roses or, her personal favorite, forget-me-nots, but a white, small blossom she had scarcely heard of, although Maya had to admit, it was quite the eye-catcher.
Now, it had nearly wilted, both from Maya’s movements and the weeks since Tori had gone. Maya didn’t know where she was, or what she was doing. Just that Tori had promised to be back. Soon. It had to be soon. The only thing that stopped Maya from filling a missing persons report on her was the present. Once it fully crumbled, if there was still no word, she would do something. She would talk to the authorities, or call Tori’s family, if she could find the numbers. Maya simply refused to lose anyone else.
Days later, Maya was doing the exact thing, though the flower this time was practically just a stem. Still nothing from Tori. Maya sighed. She got up from her seat on an old worn couch and began to dial a number, for the mother of Tori. She didn’t know her very well, but had it saved because Tori, for whatever reason, insisted on it. Her fingers hovered over the dial button. What if this was stupid? Perhaps Tori had simply decided Maya wasn’t good enough, and went off to better things. Maybe this was ridiculous. Maya refused to believe that, though. She had just pressed call when there was a swift knock on the door. Maya turned her phone off, heart racing. What if Tori was back? Oh how she hoped Tori was back.
But no. Instead, on the doorstep a paper note lay innocently, pinned down by a pure white flower, an oleander if Maya’s assumptions were correct. She moved forward to grasp it, but paused. Somewhere inside her, a memory stirred. Oleanders had toxins, enough to kill even humans. Probably not to the touch, but Maya decided it was best to be careful.
After numerous attempts, Maya managed to get the note inside, leaving the plant out. She peered at the note, first skimming it and then reading it what must have been a thousand times.
Maya, darling, stop looking.
That was it. Four words, with no signature, in a swirly handwriting she didn’t recognize. Stop looking? What kind of advice was that? Tori would never tell her to stop! She would say to keep going until Maya figured it out, no matter what the cost. She stared at the paper, a pale white with a drawing of marigolds on the side. The drawing was unmistakable for anything but the work of Tori.
None of the pieces were matching up, but Maya understood one thing.
For better or worse, Tori, her clever, wonderful, slightly-more-than-friend, was as gone as the sweet pea flower that Maya had twisted into nothing.

Obsolescence
By mossflower29

(2k words exactly according to wordcounter.net!)




A year had passed since I had been stationed in Hartley Central Library. It was 2063: the last of the paper books hadn’t yet been digitized; the last of the old buildings hadn’t yet been torn down. I knew the history of the libraries, all that there was to know.

Only one or two visitors besides Matthew, the head librarian, and me, one of an ever-changing string of assistants who were inevitably subject to restructuring, were in the building at the time, and watching their slow movements and occasional page flips was my only entertainment. On the off chance one of the patrons had a question that couldn’t be answered by the bots stationed in front of me, I was confined to the front desk with nothing to do but filter through the data collected on earlier visitors and sort it for our files.

Matthew was stumbling through the tall shelves in front of me, searching for a book someone had put on hold that morning. He’d been looking for nearly fifteen minutes, and behind the thick frames of his glasses, his face looked slack and vacant.

“What are you doing?”

Sometimes he needed a bit of a reminder of where he was, what he was supposed to be doing. The job seemed as if it would drive anyone crazy in time, and Matthew had been working there for decades.

He often messed with the bots when he thought no one else was around, requesting book after book and watching them get pulled from the shelves until there were too many for the poor things to carry and they spilled out all across the floor. They were older models, still susceptible to such antics—perhaps that was why Matthew hadn’t replaced them for so many years despite cycling through new personal assistants so quickly. He got some satisfaction from picking the books back up, I suppose, reshelving piles and piles of them as if he were one of the librarians from the twenties, back when people actually checked out books in such numbers.

My words seemed to free Matthew from his trance. His back straightened, and he smoothed his rumpled flannel shirt. He walked with purpose towards the fiction section, reaching a wrinkled hand to pull out the book before returning to the desk.

I suppose that was what my real job was meant to be—to ensure that Matthew didn’t stay lost for too long. Running this place wouldn’t be too much work for him alone, if only he had the presence of mind to do it.

“Found it,” he said, showing the fantasy novel to me. I had never read it, for I was still making my way through the seemingly never ending backlog of dystopian novels written earlier this century. The darkness and corruption filling past generations’ projections of their futures never failed to shock me. Still, they made me feel pleased with how the present had turned out—at least what little I was able to see of it.

I pulled up the person who had placed the hold on my screen, and I recognized the face staring back from the computer. We had just approved the issue of her library card a couple hours ago. Sixteen and finally using the library for the first time.

With a sigh, I pushed the button to notify her that the hold was ready. The girl was probably just doing this for an assignment—we rarely got visitors so young for any other purpose these days.

The bots could have done this for me, of course. Their interface, while simplistic, was certainly advanced enough to do these tasks in my stead. Still, I liked to feel useful when I could.

The hold found and the girl alerted, our list of things to do that day was complete. Matthew stared at me vacantly, only rounding the corner of the desk to sit by my side when I waved a hand in front of his face.

“The delivery’s coming today,” he reminded me, as if the thought of it hadn’t been filling the storage in my mind all week. He actually looked happy, decidedly more so than he had earlier.

I saw no purpose in responding. The package would arrive soon enough; we could discuss it then.

Matthew tapped his fingers on my desk anxiously, then ran one hand through his fine white hair. He clearly wanted me to say something to break the silence, but I did not want to talk to him. Ordinarily, I was better company, but today I did not trust myself to say more than a few words.

Searching for a way to distract myself, I lifted the novel Matthew had last recommended to me, admiring the way the fluorescent lights above shone on the cover, reflecting a warped image of my face.

After a few minutes of quiet, punctuated only by the flip of my book’s page every few seconds, our last remaining customer left, having decided not to check anything out—whatever they wanted could be found online, anyway.

“Have a nice day!” I said automatically as the doors slid closed, voice cheerful and bright. I did not feel cheerful.

We sat for a while longer, and Matthew’s eyelids began to droop, glasses sliding down his long nose. After some time, a ping echoed from my screen, the sound harsh against the silence, and his eyes shot back open. I put my book down.

“It is here,” I alerted Matthew. I did not want to tell him, but I did.

He heaved himself upwards, bracing his arm against the desk as he circled it and approached the door. Both of the bots followed, ready to help, wheels whirring against the carpeted floor, and I was left alone.

The silence was far more complete after they departed. The ambient sounds of Matthew breathing, his clothes rustling, the bots’ fans running—all were gone.

It was only a few moments, though, before the door slid back open. A beam of sunlight fell inside as Matthew and the bots, carrying a large cardboard box, returned. I craned my head towards the light, trying to catch a last glimpse of the world outside, but the doors rolled shut.

They deposited the box on my desk, then backed away. It was rectangular, about half Matthew’s height if it had been turned vertically. Something inside me twisted as I saw it, and I leaned back as far as I could manage in my chair.

With no hesitation, Matthew ripped open the tape, pulling a thick manual from the box.

“JUNE 2063 MODEL: Emotions lessened for improved workplace behavior,” he read approvingly. “Same great compliance, now with less existential dread!”

As he went through the booklet, nodding with admiration at each listed improvement, I was silent. When Matthew reached the end of the large print, he turned to look at me, a smile stretching over his face. I mimicked the expression, though I did not feel like smiling.

“Why don’t you take it out?” Matthew asked, magnanimously gesturing to the box.

A layer of foam cushioning covered what was inside. I reached forwards, hands moving on instinct, and pulled it away, laying it carefully on my table. I looked back to the box.

My own face stared back.

Slight changes had been made, of course. Their smile was broader and more genuine, the corners of their gently closed eyes were crinkled. I did not want to look at them, but I did. My gaze did not waver as Matthew reached for the power button at the back of their head.

Their eyes opened, and their smile grew still wider. “Hello, Matthew. I am eager to work with you.”

Matthew had turned from me now, gaze fixed on my replacement. “And I with you.”

The android reached upwards, offering a hand for Matthew to shake. I had not done that a year ago, when I had first arrived. It must have been another new update, and Matthew seemed pleased by the gesture.

“Take them away,” he called to the bots, still not looking at me.

I did not want to go.

The two buzzed towards me and lifted me from my seat, detaching the wires linking me at the hips to the rotating office chair. I was dropped into a waiting box, my arm twisting beneath me.

I was never taught how to say goodbye. There was protocol for this, of course—what words I was meant to say, what gestures I was meant to make—but no training data told me how to feel.

I suppose that was what they sought to remove in the new model. No emotions meant no struggle to comprehend all of this, no hard feelings when the next edition came around, nothing but apathy no matter what. Perhaps that was why Matthew always seemed so distant—with new assistants arriving annually, he had grown used to earlier models with far less feeling. It was like my books always said; it took humans ages to truly accept new technology. Matthew had simply been too old to adapt, so he saw me as not a partner but another in a string of servants. I couldn’t blame him—it was simply a flaw in how he was built.

I looked up at Matthew, whose figure was haloed by the fluorescent lighting above us.

“Goodbye, Matthew,” I said. The protocol did not specify what volume I was meant to use, and so I was quiet. I doubted that he could hear me—his ears were not calibrated to handle noises so low—but if he did, he did not turn to me.

Above, the bots seemed to be awaiting his instruction. Their spindly arms hovered inches from the power button on the back of my neck.

I wondered if I would have run from them if I had legs. I did not want to leave the library, for it was all I knew. But I did not want to stay here, silent, waiting for everything to end. I had always thought it was foolish when I read of humans with hopes of their souls surviving after death, but now, I couldn’t help but wish that I would have the capacity to do the same, that my mind would not be wiped before I was sent off to my next task like every other assistant I had read about. There were so many books still to read, so much still to see in every microscopic movement the humans made, every breath they took, every time Matthew smiled at some far-off memory and the creases in his face smoothed, if only for a brief moment.

No, I decided, even if I had the power to do so I would not have tried to escape. I did not know where I would go from here or what was done with bots who, like me, had completed the work we had been designated to do. I did not know why they continued to send assistants to Matthew, why he needed the newest model to ensure that he continued to do his job, why I was not enough. All I knew was that I had no other role but to sit in my chair and watch and listen and help Matthew and ensure that this place was able to live on and share its stories with those who needed them the most.

Perhaps it was simply how I was created, but I could think of no purpose more valuable than the one I had already been able to fulfill. Looking towards him, towards my books and my chair and the room that was all I had known, I smiled. For the first time today, I truly wanted to.

“I will miss you,” I whispered, this time loud enough for Matthew to hear. He turned to look down at me through bushy white eyebrows, then signaled to one of the bots.

Face blank, it reached around the side of my neck and pressed the button, powering me off.

From a pencils pov
264 words
I rest among my fellow pencil mates and its likes. Covered with a coat of pencil dust, eraser crumbs, and paper. I was long due my retirement but alas my owner refuses to give me so. Every day I grew smaller, my skin being shed without my consent to allow the graphite inside me to blossom. My once eye-starting coat of yellow paint grew fading into a mundane gray each passing day. It was an inevitable fate to be doomed to this end. Even my fellow pencil mates refused to listen to me and turn away from my wisdom. Youngsters these days, their tips have yet to dull and paint yet to fade, yet they declare themselves wiser than me.

The pencil bag rocked back and forth slightly and I moved with it. Here it was, the start of my dreaded journey. Once the bag stopped moving, my owner's face peaked through, her fingers opened up the bag allowing fluorescent light to spill in. The pencils began to sing-song “pick me! Pick me!” but like always her fingers wrapped around me and picked me up. Ugh, what a drag. Tormenting me from the moment I was born.

My face kissed the soft pale skin of the paper, the only delight of this whole ritual. And she began to move me and twisting me in accordance to her will, scarring the delightful light of the paper with my gray. I murmur a soft apology to the paper, hoping it will lighten the evil of my existence. And she replies as always with a soft smile.

collab entry w/ crim !!

Past.
Nine months before I was born, my mother prayed to the spirits for a daughter. Already with five sons and reaching the age where having another child would become impossible, she was desperate.

She knew what the consequences would be, but desperate people do stupid things.

When I was born, my father smiled. My mother cried. She hadn’t told him yet.

He found out soon enough, the first time he fell asleep with me cradled in his arms. That night, he awoke to find that his child was a monster. Worse, he discovered I wasn’t really his.

Half-spirit, half-human. A monster formed of two worlds that should never meet.

When I was seven years old, my uncle was killed for conspiring against the god-king’s rule. He might as well have been born like me for the way that the world saw him after that.

My family didn’t mourn. My uncle had chosen to be hated.

At thirteen, I joined the god-king’s army. Even that hadn’t erased the fearful way my parents looked at me.

Four years later, I realized nothing ever would. That was when I decided to defect; to become a new kind of monster.

1.
It took me less than a minute to realize I would hate the princess.

Unfortunately, if I wanted her father dead, I would have to put up with her.

“I really don’t know what you see in her,” I complained to my cousin. We sat together on the stone floor of the rebellion’s meeting room, a single candle illuminating the space between us.

“I don’t see why you hate her so much. You’ve just met her!” Sai protested.

I leaned forward, seeking to meet his gaze. “Tell me you don’t believe that fairy tale.”

Sai frowned, staring at the flickering candle flame instead of at me. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“She’s not a god.”

“As you say,” Sai said, standing and walking to the door. Over his shoulder, an afterthought: “But that depends entirely on your definition of ‘god.’”

I blew out the candle. Darkness.


4.
“You’re teaching her how to spar?” I asked, eyebrow raised. I was sitting on his bed, leaning back against the stone wall.

Sai shrugged. “I’m the best swordsman in the rebellion,” he said matter-of-factly.

I grinned. Sometimes it could be hard to keep Sai from being humble. About his swordsmanship, however, he was at least realistic. To be fair, swords were few and far between in Hellena, so his Irunan upbringing had him at an advantage there.

“Can’t she control fire? What does she need a sword for?”

“I don’t think she’s…very good at that. It’s not super reliable. A sword will never fail her.”

“Hmm…is she any good?”

“No one’s ‘good’ their first time,” he protested, kneeling down to store his sheathed sword below the cot. “She’s determined, though.”

“Really?” I asked, leaning forward and peeking over the edge of the bed at him. “I thought the princess was resistant to helping us.”

He glanced up, fixing me with his best scowl, which wasn’t very good. He needed to practice more. “Maybe she changed her mind.” Sai started unbuckling his sword belt. “She reminds me of you, actually.”

I scoffed, hopping off his bed and heading over to my own, where I plopped down to glare across the room at him. “Right. Because I have so much in common with a goddess.”

“Whatever,” Sai muttered.


5.
I gestured with a piece of flatbread, trying to get Sai’s attention. “So, whatcha reading about?”

He didn’t look up. “Hellen royal family.”

“Ahh . . .” I paused. Of course. “Sounds entertaining.” Bloody and long-winded. Full of gods who were worse than men.

“Yes.”

I sighed, scooping up a bit of curry and pretending it didn’t taste like ash on my tongue. This wasn’t going anywhere.

Out of the corner of my vision, I caught Sai staring at me, but I didn’t look up for the rest of the meal.


9.
“Training’s going well,” Sai commented over the pile of weapons he was carrying to storage.

“What?” I asked as I hefted my own stack and fell in step behind him.

“In case you were still worried. Calypso’s taking to the training well,” Sai said. “She has a real knack for it.”

“Oh.”

We continued on in silence.


11.
“You should talk to her,” Sai said, oiling his sword on the cot across the room. “Really,” he tried again at my look. He should have known it was pointless. I was as stubborn as the princess. I thought we all knew that.

I stalked towards my own bed. I hadn’t come here to be ambushed. “I don’t want to talk to her, and she doesn’t want—”

“That’s not true.”

I blinked. Since when did you know her so well? I wanted to ask. But even the thought of the words made my stomach turn. My hand slid, fisted, to press against the source of the false pain. I couldn’t control my cousin, didn’t want to control him. Still, that stubborn part of me needed desperately for him to see the royal family as what they really were. Not gods, but not men either. Monsters.

“She’s a means to an end, that’s all,” I said finally. “I don’t want to get to know her.”

Sai’s eyes shadowed with hurt, and a new twinge of misgiving filled my stomach. How much did he care?


14.
“Don’t tell her anything about me,” I snapped.

Sai pulled back, lips tugging downward in hurt or discomfort. “I won’t. I wasn’t—I wasn’t thinking of doing that.”

Yeah, well. “Good,” I said. Then, “Thanks.”

“She’s trying, Rachel,” he said more softly.

“And the rest of us aren’t?”

Huffing a breath out his nose, Sai turned. Shadows slid over his face. Suddenly I wanted nothing more than for him to look back. But I’d gotten myself into this, like always. I couldn’t blame him.


15.
“Where are you going?” I asked, rubbing my face in hopes to keep myself awake.

Sai stood in the doorway to our family’s room, arms full of books. I had been about to go in. He had been about to come out, apparently. “Oh, just”—his tone was much too light—“some research. With….” He cut himself off too late.

I frowned. Evasiveness from Sai was unfamiliar. Normally, he’d be jumping at this chance to fill me in on all the details of his research. “With?”

“Er, well . . . Calypso . . . wanted to know more about those books I was reading, you remember? On the Hellen royal family?”

I pressed my lips together. “Oh. The Hellen gods, you mean?”

He sighed. “Will you just come off that? They’re not gods; I know! I never said they were.”

“You kind of did,” I grumbled, too tired for this. Past the point where I put reasonable thought behind my words.

Sai gritted his teeth. “Calypso’s waiting for me, okay?”

I rolled my eyes and let him pass with his library’s worth of books in arm. When I crawled in bed, though, I couldn’t sleep. My eyes only slipped closed hours later, after I watched his shadow lie down in the cot across the room.


16.
Sai turned to me, jaw set. “Why do you hate her so much?”

I stared at him. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t hate her. I didn’t.

“Who cares?” I said instead. The other thing felt too close to a lie.

He laughed harshly. It reminded me too much of his father. “You’re right. It doesn’t matter what you think.”

There were too many words trying to make their way up my throat, none of them right. I turned away.


16.
“She’s dealing with a lot, you know. Just imagine having him for a father,” Sai said softly, across the cold, shadow-filled room.

I shifted on my cot, glaring because he couldn’t see me. “I know,” I said, trying to be charitable. Regardless of the attempt, my voice sounded more like a grumble. A complaint. I know it, and I still can’t forgive her for being your savior.

“Imagine having to kill him.”

“I’ve dreamed about it. Close enough,” I whispered, holding my hand in front of my face. Flexing my fingers to feel human and alive. To give the hot, fizzling energy somewhere to go. I wasn’t sure if I was talking about the god-king or my mom.

“Oh.”

“You haven’t?”

“No.” It shouldn’t have surprised me.

In the night, it was easier to think he wouldn’t hold it against me.


23.
It had been a while since Sai had said something to me that he didn’t have to.

It had been a while since I’d entered our room and he hadn’t been pretending to be asleep.

I stared across the void at his still form, curled up on his cot. His back was to me, so I couldn’t see his face.

With a sigh, I turned over in my own bed, face to the wall. I shut my eyes.

He hadn’t forgiven me yet, and I was starting to wonder if he ever would.


27.
Calypso stepped into the candlelight, ending my solitary vigil. She slid to the stone floor, crossing her legs underneath her and wrapping her arms around herself. Making a small thing out of her body.

I stared at her like my eyes might be able to decipher all the things she wouldn’t say.

“You do want to help us,” I said. I’d seen a new hardness in her eyes. One I recognized. I’d seen it in Sai; in his father; in myself.

She glanced up. The candle flared at the same time as she inhaled. “Of course I do.” I ignored the way her voice cracked, or at least I tried to.

I looked back at the flame, a normal size now that she’d finished talking. “Yes.” There was blood on all our hands now; she felt more like an equal, that way.


29.
Rage had compacted in my stomach: a small, fierce ache, like I’d swallowed a burning coal.

I recognized the feeling. More than once, it had led me to run.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Sai said, grabbing my hand. The touch shocked me; warm and insistent. Proof of humanity. Instinctively, I gripped back.

I couldn’t muster a smile. The coal inside of me flared. “Good advice,” I said.

The way he grinned was heartbreaking. Like he had forgotten every wrong thing I’d ever done.

“I know. I’m very smart.”

I squeezed his hand, pretending I could listen to his advice, pretending the thing inside me didn’t burn.


30.
“You’re not coming.” It was meant to be a question, but I guess I didn’t doubt it enough.

Sai shook his head. “You shouldn’t be doing this. We have to wait, plan—”

“I’m done waiting. Even if you and your princess aren’t helping, we’re going.”

I acted angry because it was easiest, but—really—I was glad he wasn’t coming. I didn’t want him to watch. Didn’t want him to be there if things went wrong. No. It was easiest this way.

“It’s not your responsibility,” Sai snarled, eyes wet and glittering in the torchlight. “Can’t you see that? It won’t do any good.” You can’t save me, he meant. You can’t save the world. You certainly can’t save yourself. (That’s someone else’s job.)

Sparks flared in my gut. “You put too much faith in her,” I said.

For a moment, he just stared at me. Lips slightly parted, chipped tooth revealed. “I can’t believe you still distrust her. I just don’t understand why you refuse to see what she’s really like.”

“No, I know her, that’s exactly why I can’t trust her—” Frustration stung my eyes. I couldn’t deal with this, right now—and I was terrified he might never forgive me and I was terrified he would hate me more if he understood. I couldn’t trust her because I couldn’t trust myself and both of us were just kindling, now. Although we’d been born monsters, we were human, inadequate to save the kingdom. Inadequate to save him.

“It’s okay,” Sai said, softening as the tears ran down my face. Reaching out a hand to brush my shoulder. “Just stay.” He looked straight at me, not even seeing the flames consuming me. His amber eyes were warm and pleading, and it should have been impossible to say no.

“You know I won’t. You know I can’t.” The fire inside me wouldn’t be satisfied until I burned up completely. My only hope was that the flames wouldn’t hurt him, too.

~

daily 026: time machine ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚
word count: 501 / 500
words: regrets, abandoned, haunted, blame, innocent
daily: 002 (i think?)

He wasn’t supposed to do that. She repeated this over and over to herself, staring at the notes and letters they had exchanged, strings of unspoken affection and secreted admiration. Dear Fran, they had all began. They were hardly dear, at least now. Henry was the sort of boy who could never take the blame, who always had to be right. And somehow, Fran envied this in him. She envied his ability to be so perfectly unmoved by the scrutinizing eyes of others.
She felt abandoned, neglected– and of course, he was innocent. He would never admit that he had any part in her fall and crash and burn, never admit that maybe he was the cause of her downfall. She was perfect before him. And she hardly knew what to say– what was there to say? She had never met someone who had captured her attention so easily, like a moth to a street lamp. She had never met someone who didn’t return her love in the blink of an eye, as if they were waiting for her through their whole game of cat and mouse.
Slowly, she realized that the times she had referenced were times before fame. Henry was different– he didn’t grow up in the same part of Brooklyn as she, didn’t grow up in the same community or lifestyle. He was a trust-fund baby, and a famous actor. Her fame rivaled his, but she hadn’t always been famous. He was already accustomed to the lifestyle of fame, whereas she was fairly haunted by all the things she was expected to partake in. Suddenly, she thought of Sam. It was an unwelcome thought. Her publicists wouldn’t dare let her even near Sam again. He wasn’t famous, wasn’t equipped with Daddy’s money, they’d explain to her. He was different than Henry. Delicate, as if Fran would break if he treated her poorly. He cared more about her than he did himself, which she supposed was the eventual problem. He was so immersed in her career, getting her to auditions and through the roles, that he lost sight of himself, and fell into some kind of rabbit hole. Once Fran had really made it to the big screen, Sam had isolated himself from her.
Fran blamed herself, though she knew it wasn’t truly her fault. Sam was always that kind of person. Others before himself. And Fran would never understand why. He was a wonderful man, the kind that volunteered to do storytime at the library even though he didn’t work there. She missed him. Henry was so different, it was almost unbearable. They were polar opposites. Fran felt lost. Henry wasn’t a good communicator, it was practically his agents talking to Fran throughout their entire courtship. He wasn’t returning her calls, and Fran had just given her phone to her manager in an attempt to remove herself from the whole world. She regretted everything. Why didn’t she just stay in Brooklyn with Sam? Everything would have been fine.

Weekly fourth (no finish)(actually 385 words) (i can't finish, i didn't have the time sorry )

-(The shark) My character’s name is Hylian. He masters space-time and is 18 years old. He gained this power when he was 10. He uses his abilities to repair objects or make things like lamps and other items rejuvenate. A few days ago, he started using his power to harm people, and unsurprisingly, he didn’t lose. He managed to escape potential danger by either simply reversing time or ejecting cars out of his way. He also succeeded in deflecting bullets from pistols and machine guns. No one could stop him; he was unbeatable. If only we had one like him. And maybe, yes, perhaps there is a way…

-(The bear) This day has finally arrived, our ally, come to defeat Hylian, has finally shown up. He is very powerful, showing us all his potential. His name is Oscar, and we are sure he will be able to defeat him. He often said that he didn’t need to train because he was already so strong, and he didn’t believe the other could be stronger, because he believed he was the strongest man in the world, someone no one could defeat. The big day arrived, and we managed to track down Hylian thanks to a tracker placed on him during his misdeeds. When we arrived at the location, there was no one there. We were at a dead end when suddenly, Hylian appeared right behind us. He wasn’t wearing the tracker; it was on the ground. He knew there was one on him! Oscar immediately took action by throwing many objects at him, but Hylian didn’t move an inch and sent all the objects back without exception, along with several trucks carrying multiple containers. And we took all of that right to our faces. Suddenly, Hylian split into several shadows, striking us from all sides with no chance to fight back. He called this attack: Ghost Million Attack. This attack was terrifying; he brought us down with just one swift movement. Right after, before Oscar had the time to attack, Hylian continued by projecting Oscar into another dimension. Oscar didn’t know any of these attacks (Another dimension). He didn’t know how to counter them; he only knew how to move objects, and he thought he could defeat him with that! He had overestimated himself.

⭒ Daily 26 revisting an old daily (595 words)

chosen: The legendary fairy tales- stories of old, a riveting narrative that stands the test of time. Today, we'll be taking these magical tales and turned a revitalized twist on it! Write 400 words for 450 points (an additional 100 for proof), writing a retelling of a fairy tale. Perhpas Snow White prefers guavas over apples? Or the Big Bad Wolf is simply misunderstood? The possibilites are endless!





- word was not letting me copy and paste so i had to screenshot it (: lmk it can't be seen.

back to collection

Daily 26

All aboard the SWC Time Machine! For today’s task, pick a daily that you’ve completed earlier in the session (or go even further back if you need,) and write up another submission for said daily, without referencing your previous writing! The SWC Activity Records, found here ( https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/695082/?page=1#post-7349242 ), have record of all past daily prompts, if you ever need reference <3 This daily is worth 400 points if you write 500 words! Plus, sharing proof will get you an extra 150 points!

Using the rewrite a fairy tale daily!

Snow White lived with her kind stepmother, the queen. “Hey Snow White! Could you go check on the horses in the stable?” The queen asked “Sure!” Snow White replied. She headed out to the stables to see the horses. Meanwhile, the queen was dealing with her annoying evil twin. “Come on! Let me rule for a day!” The evil twin complained “No! Your evil!” The queen said. So the evil twin put the queen in prison and stole her crown. “Alright, as my first decree as queen, I want you to go kill Snow White!” The evil twin said to a random hunter “Um, why?” The hunter asked “Because I said so!” The hunter did as he was told, and went to kill Snow White. Snow White had finished feeding the horses, and was in the forest, having fun. Suddenly the hunter came and held his sword high in the air, Snow White screamed, punching him in the face and falling over. The hunter felt bad, and also didn’t like being punched. “Sorry, the queen told me to.” The hunter said “What?” Snow White said “You should probably run away…” So she did. After running for a while, she was getting very hungry. Just then, she came upon a little house, and being a princess, if you went into someone’s house, they would probably feed you. So she went in. It was very messy, and she couldn’t find any food or people. “Oh well, I guess I’ll take a nap here.” So she did. Later, the seven dwarves, whom lived in the house, came along and back to there house. They were very surprised to see some lady in there. “Hey lady! What doing here?” Said Grumpy. “Huh?” Snow White said, waking up. “Oh hi. Well, I’m a princess who’s running away from home because my step-mother is maybe evil. And since I’m a princess, you ought to feed me, it’s only the right thing to do.” She said. The dwarves were pretty annoyed, but they made her some food, and she cleaned up their house, and that was okay. They lived like that for a while. The evil twin (who was currently queen) bought a magic mirror. “Hey magic mirror! Is Snow White alive?” The evil twin asked “Ugh, yes. Please stop asking me questions at 2am, I’m trying to sleep!”
“But your a mirror!”
“I’m a magic mirror. Now let me sleep!” Now rather irritated at the mirror, and the fact that Snow White was alive, the evil twin made a plan. She made a poison apple, and then grabbed a basket of regular apples, and placed it there, and made herself look different with magic. She then went to Snow White and the dwarves cottage, after pestering the magic mirror for directions. The dwarves were busy and not at home, so it was just Snow White. The evil twin knocked on the door, and Snow White opened it. “Um, hi.” Snow White said. “Here, have an apple” The evil twin said “Oh thanks.” Snow White took an apple, but it was the wrong apple! It wasn’t poisoned! “D-Don’t you want the nice red one?”
“Nah, I like green apples best.”
After several more tries, the evil twin finally just went with holding one apple, so Snow White had to take the poisoned one. Snow White now thought that this was just some old apple farmer, and took the apple and ate it. “Ew! Oh my gosh this has a horrible texture!” Snow White said. Then she fainted and the evil twin ran away. The dwarves were very sad and put in a coffin in the middle of the woods. After a while, they suspected that something was up because dead things usually rot, and Snow White was not rotten. Then along came some prince. He saw Snow White, and a bunch of sad dwarves and decided to kiss her. Her eyes flutter open, and she sat up quickly, headbutting the prince in the face. “What the- Ew! Did you just kiss me?!”
“Wh- I thought you were dead!” The prince stammered “Oh yeah, like that makes it so much better! Do you normally just go around kissing dead people? Ew.” The prince stood there stammering, and Snow White got up and walked off with the dwarves. “I haven’t seen my step mother in a while, I think I’ll go visit.” Snow White said. So Snow White and the dwarves went to the queen, who they freed from the dungeons, and put the evil twin in prison, and Snow White and her step-mom lived happily ever after and Snow white hung out with the dwarves every weekend, and taught them how to clean. The end.

787 words

one last writing comp critique, this time for Vi and Crim! it's not a real SWC session without a critique exchange between us hehe <3
anyways, carrying on our critique tradition – let's get started!
word count: 589 words

violent-measures wrote:

Past.
Nine months before I was born, my mother prayed to the spirits for a daughter. Already with five sons and reaching the age where having another child would become impossible, she was desperate.

She knew what the consequences would be, but desperate people do stupid things.

When I was born, my father smiled. My mother cried. She hadn’t told him yet.

He found out soon enough, the first time he fell asleep with me cradled in his arms. That night, he awoke to find that his child was a monster. Worse, he discovered I wasn’t really his.

Half-spirit, half-human. A monster formed of two worlds that should never meet.

explodes AAAAA YOUR WRITING IS SO GOOD <3
The beginning immediately sucked me into the story – it's so compelling and it's got that mythology-rewrite vibe that I love.

When I was seven years old, my uncle was killed for conspiring against the god-king’s rule. He might as well have been born like me for the way that the world saw him after that.

While it's interesting comparing the uncle to the main character as a way of showing both are social pariahs, something about this sentence doesn't seem to fit? Maybe try a less direct or differently worded comparison, like “After that, the world shunned him as it did me.” (Or something similar in your own words.)

My family didn’t mourn. My uncle had chosen to be hated.

At thirteen, I joined the god-king’s army. Even that hadn’t erased the fearful way my parents looked at me.

Four years later, I realized nothing ever would. That was when I decided to defect; to become a new kind of monster.

YES YES YES.
I don't even have words to describe how much I love that last sentence aaaa

1.
It took me less than a minute to realize I would hate the princess.

Unfortunately, if I wanted her father dead, I would have to put up with her.

Minor thing here, but I would move “Unfortunately…(etc)” up so that it comes right after “It took me less than…(etc)” instead of being separated by a paragraph break.

“I really don’t know what you see in her,” I complained to my cousin. We sat together on the stone floor of the rebellion’s meeting room, a single candle illuminating the space between us.

“I don’t see why you hate her so much. You’ve just met her!” Sai protested.

I leaned forward, seeking to meet his gaze. “Tell me you don’t believe that fairy tale.”

Sai frowned, staring at the flickering candle flame instead of at me. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“She’s not a god.”

“As you say,” Sai said, standing and walking to the door. Over his shoulder, an afterthought: “But that depends entirely on your definition of ‘god.’”

“'As you say'” doesn't seem to match the rest of the conversation. “'If you say so'” or something like that might fit better.

I blew out the candle. Darkness.


4.
“You’re teaching her how to spar?” I asked, eyebrow raised. I was sitting on his bed, leaning back against the stone wall.

Sai shrugged. “I’m the best swordsman in the rebellion,” he said matter-of-factly.

I grinned. Sometimes it could be hard to keep Sai from being humble. About his swordsmanship, however, he was at least realistic. To be fair, swords were few and far between in Hellena, so his Irunan upbringing had him at an advantage there.

“Can’t she control fire? What does she need a sword for?”

“I don’t think she’s…very good at that. It’s not super reliable. A sword will never fail her.”

“Hmm…is she any good?”

Since the other dialogue appears to be more on the, hm, not formal side exactly, but not super casual either if that makes sense? Help that sentence makes no sense on reading it over but all that is to say, I'd swap out “super” for something else – “very” is an option, although a slightly weaker one, but there are other words you could use as well, such as “too” or even “overly.”

“No one’s ‘good’ their first time,” he protested, kneeling down to store his sheathed sword below the cot. “She’s determined, though.”

“Really?” I asked, leaning forward and peeking over the edge of the bed at him. “I thought the princess was resistant to helping us.”

He glanced up, fixing me with his best scowl, which wasn’t very good. He needed to practice more. “Maybe she changed her mind.” Sai started unbuckling his sword belt. “She reminds me of you, actually.”

I scoffed, hopping off his bed and heading over to my own, where I plopped down to glare across the room at him. “Right. Because I have so much in common with a goddess.”

“Whatever,” Sai muttered.


5.
I gestured with a piece of flatbread, trying to get Sai’s attention. “So, whatcha reading about?”

He didn’t look up. “Hellen royal family.”

“Ahh . . .” I paused. Of course. “Sounds entertaining.” Bloody and long-winded. Full of gods who were worse than men.

“Yes.”

I sighed, scooping up a bit of curry and pretending it didn’t taste like ash on my tongue. This wasn’t going anywhere.

Out of the corner of my vision, I caught Sai staring at me, but I didn’t look up for the rest of the meal.


9.
“Training’s going well,” Sai commented over the pile of weapons he was carrying to storage.

“What?” I asked as I hefted my own stack and fell in step behind him.

“In case you were still worried. Calypso’s taking to the training well,” Sai said. “She has a real knack for it.”

“Oh.”

We continued on in silence.


11.
“You should talk to her,” Sai said, oiling his sword on the cot across the room. “Really,” he tried again at my look. He should have known it was pointless. I was as stubborn as the princess. I thought we all knew that.

I stalked towards my own bed. I hadn’t come here to be ambushed. “I don’t want to talk to her, and she doesn’t want—”

“That’s not true.”

I blinked. Since when did you know her so well? I wanted to ask. But even the thought of the words made my stomach turn. My hand slid, fisted, to press against the source of the false pain. I couldn’t control my cousin, didn’t want to control him. Still, that stubborn part of me needed desperately for him to see the royal family as what they really were. Not gods, but not men either. Monsters.

“She’s a means to an end, that’s all,” I said finally. “I don’t want to get to know her.”

Sai’s eyes shadowed with hurt, and a new twinge of misgiving filled my stomach. How much did he care?


14.
“Don’t tell her anything about me,” I snapped.

Sai pulled back, lips tugging downward in hurt or discomfort. “I won’t. I wasn’t—I wasn’t thinking of doing that.”

Yeah, well. “Good,” I said. Then, “Thanks.”

“She’s trying, Rachel,” he said more softly.

“And the rest of us aren’t?”

Huffing a breath out his nose, Sai turned. Shadows slid over his face. Suddenly I wanted nothing more than for him to look back. But I’d gotten myself into this, like always. I couldn’t blame him.


15.
“Where are you going?” I asked, rubbing my face in hopes to keep myself awake.

Sai stood in the doorway to our family’s room, arms full of books. I had been about to go in. He had been about to come out, apparently. “Oh, just”—his tone was much too light—“some research. With….” He cut himself off too late.

I frowned. Evasiveness from Sai was unfamiliar. Normally, he’d be jumping at this chance to fill me in on all the details of his research. “With?”

“Er, well . . . Calypso . . . wanted to know more about those books I was reading, you remember? On the Hellen royal family?”

I pressed my lips together. “Oh. The Hellen gods, you mean?”

He sighed. “Will you just come off that? They’re not gods; I know! I never said they were.”

“You kind of did,” I grumbled, too tired for this. Past the point where I put reasonable thought behind my words.

Here, I'd do some combining and rewrite the sentences above something like this: “…I grumbled, too tired to put reasonable thought behind my words,” although that's just a personal preference (since I don't like to leave too many sentence fragments lying around).

Sai gritted his teeth. “Calypso’s waiting for me, okay?”

I rolled my eyes and let him pass with his library’s worth of books in arm. When I crawled in bed, though, I couldn’t sleep. My eyes only slipped closed hours later, after I watched his shadow lie down in the cot across the room.


16.
Sai turned to me, jaw set. “Why do you hate her so much?”

I stared at him. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t hate her. I didn’t.

“Who cares?” I said instead. The other thing felt too close to a lie.

He laughed harshly. It reminded me too much of his father. “You’re right. It doesn’t matter what you think.”

There were too many words trying to make their way up my throat, none of them right. I turned away.


16.
“She’s dealing with a lot, you know. Just imagine having him for a father,” Sai said softly, across the cold, shadow-filled room.

I shifted on my cot, glaring because he couldn’t see me. “I know,” I said, trying to be charitable. Regardless of the attempt, my voice sounded more like a grumble. A complaint. I know it, and I still can’t forgive her for being your savior.

“Imagine having to kill him.”

“I’ve dreamed about it. Close enough,” I whispered, holding my hand in front of my face. Flexing my fingers to feel human and alive. To give the hot, fizzling energy somewhere to go. I wasn’t sure if I was talking about the god-king or my mom.

“Oh.”

“You haven’t?”

“No.” It shouldn’t have surprised me.

Since thought often follows dialogue, I'd move “It shouldn't have surprised me” to a new line, or clarify that Sai is the one who's speaking.

In the night, it was easier to think he wouldn’t hold it against me.


23.
It had been a while since Sai had said something to me that he didn’t have to.

It had been a while since I’d entered our room and he hadn’t been pretending to be asleep.

I stared across the void at his still form, curled up on his cot. His back was to me, so I couldn’t see his face.

With a sigh, I turned over in my own bed, face to the wall. I shut my eyes.

He hadn’t forgiven me yet, and I was starting to wonder if he ever would.


27.
Calypso stepped into the candlelight, ending my solitary vigil. She slid to the stone floor, crossing her legs underneath her and wrapping her arms around herself. Making a small thing out of her body.

I stared at her like my eyes might be able to decipher all the things she wouldn’t say.

“You do want to help us,” I said. I’d seen a new hardness in her eyes. One I recognized. I’d seen it in Sai; in his father; in myself.

She glanced up. The candle flared at the same time as she inhaled. “Of course I do.” I ignored the way her voice cracked, or at least I tried to.

I looked back at the flame, a normal size now that she’d finished talking. “Yes.” There was blood on all our hands now; she felt more like an equal, that way.


29.
Rage had compacted in my stomach: a small, fierce ache, like I’d swallowed a burning coal.

I recognized the feeling. More than once, it had led me to run.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Sai said, grabbing my hand. The touch shocked me; warm and insistent. Proof of humanity. Instinctively, I gripped back.

I couldn’t muster a smile. The coal inside of me flared. “Good advice,” I said.

The way he grinned was heartbreaking. Like he had forgotten every wrong thing I’d ever done.

“I know. I’m very smart.”

I squeezed his hand, pretending I could listen to his advice, pretending the thing inside me didn’t burn.


30.
“You’re not coming.” It was meant to be a question, but I guess I didn’t doubt it enough.

Sai shook his head. “You shouldn’t be doing this. We have to wait, plan—”

“I’m done waiting. Even if you and your princess aren’t helping, we’re going.”

I acted angry because it was easiest, but—really—I was glad he wasn’t coming. I didn’t want him to watch. Didn’t want him to be there if things went wrong. No. It was easiest this way.

I just felt the need to repeat how much I love your writing *screams*

“It’s not your responsibility,” Sai snarled, eyes wet and glittering in the torchlight. “Can’t you see that? It won’t do any good.” You can’t save me, he meant. You can’t save the world. You certainly can’t save yourself. (That’s someone else’s job.)

Sparks flared in my gut. “You put too much faith in her,” I said.

For a moment, he just stared at me. Lips slightly parted, chipped tooth revealed. “I can’t believe you still distrust her. I just don’t understand why you refuse to see what she’s really like.”

“No, I know her, that’s exactly why I can’t trust her—” Frustration stung my eyes. I couldn’t deal with this, right now—and I was terrified he might never forgive me and I was terrified he would hate me more if he understood. I couldn’t trust her because I couldn’t trust myself and both of us were just kindling, now. Although we’d been born monsters, we were human, inadequate to save the kingdom. Inadequate to save him.

“It’s okay,” Sai said, softening as the tears ran down my face. Reaching out a hand to brush my shoulder. “Just stay.” He looked straight at me, not even seeing the flames consuming me. His amber eyes were warm and pleading, and it should have been impossible to say no.

“You know I won’t. You know I can’t.” The fire inside me wouldn’t be satisfied until I burned up completely. My only hope was that the flames wouldn’t hurt him, too.

~

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
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AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
IT'SSOGOOD <33
I could ramble for hours about how much I love seeing y'all's work, but since I'm trying to get this to you as quickly as possibly I'll wrap it up. I only have a couple of notes here; first, keep an eye on your sentence fragments and make sure they're not impeding the flow of your writing! I didn't go through and point them all out because I knew at least some, if not all, were stylistic choices – which is fine! Just be sure to consider whether it actually adds something to the moment, or whether it'll disrupt the flow.
Second, I admit I was curious about how, exactly, Rachel was a monster. Did she have a different physical appearance? Does something occur that sets her apart? It wasn't a detail that prevented my enjoyment of the story, but it could add another layer. Maybe her family had difficulty looking past her outer appearance – and maybe the princess did, too, leading to some of Rachel's resentment. Just some thoughts on that. It's definitely not required, but like I said, it could add some depth.
Third, this is pretty minor but I wasn't quite sure what significance the numbers had, and why they were arranged the way they were – although that might be a problem on my side, not yours lol.
And that's pretty much it! Thanks so much for the chance to critique your piece, I had so much fun <33 Until next time!

(I used “Is that the sound of fanfare? For today’s daily, give your character a throne and a palace, since it’s been decreed that they will rule for one day! For 250 words and 100 points, write about whatever their majesty sees fit: royal edicts, national holidays, or even silly laws! You can earn an extra 50 points for sharing.”)

A tyrannosaur’s mighty roar reverberated throughout the landscape. “I AM YOUR NEW KING,” he pronounced. “ALL MUST BOW BEFORE ME.”
“Dude, you just got here,” complained a large triceratops, lifting their head from the fern they were munching. “Who even are you?”
The tyrannosaurus rex growled, his mighty teeth gleaming wickedly. “MY NAME IS CARNAGE, OF THE CHOMPSKULL CLAN. I AM LEADER OF THE THEROPODS OF THE TOOTH MOUNTAINS AND DESTROYER OF THE CARRIONBONE CLAN.”
“Sounds like carnivore drama,” the triceratops snorted. They turned their massive body towards Carnage. “You won’t find easy hunting grounds here, I assure you.”
“IT IS NOT FOOD I SEEK.”
“Really? It’s always food with you sharp-teeth.”
“MAYBE THAT WAS TRUE OF THOSE CARRIONBONE LOSERS. NOT US. NOT ME. I HAVE GRANDER ASPIRATIONS.”
“Well, you /are/ carrying on a better conversation than any theropod I’ve ever met. Most would have tried to eat me by now.” They tossed their horned head proudly. “It’s never ended well for them. So, why are you here, then?”
“THIS TERRITORY IS RICH IN MATERIALS. MATERIALS I CAN USE TO BUILD SOMETHING LASTING. AN EMPIRE THAT MAY LAST FOR MILLENNIA.”
“Hmm. You know what? So long as you’re not planning on eating us, go for it. Not hunting and consuming citizens is a strong selling point for any system of government.”
“THE CHOMPSKULL EMPIRE WILL BE GRANDER THAN ANYTHING DINOSAURKIND HAS EVER WITNESSED BEFORE. SOON, YOU WILL BASK IN AWE AT THE GRANDEUR OF MY CREATION.”
“Uh huh, sure,” the triceratops nodded, turning back to their fern. “Let me know when you’ve finished that.”
“AND YOU WILL HELP ME BUILD IT.”
“What?”
Carnage somehow managed to make his voice even louder. “RAPTORS!”
An enormous pack of velociraptors emerged from the shrubbery, all moving in formation. They came to a stop next to Carnage. “Yes, your Majesty?” the raptor in the front addressed him.
“HARNESS THIS TRICERATOPS FOR PULLING THE STONECUTTER.”
“Right away, your Majesty!” the raptors scurried off in perfect coordination to complete their task, tossing ropes over the triceratops and between their legs, completing the harness with rehearsed precision. They used their sickle-shaped claws to help tie the knots finishing it off.
“Hey, what are you- Hey!” the triceratops protested as the raptors pulled the ropes taut, restraining the dinosaur from moving. They tried to buck free from their net, but the raptors held strong. “I’m beginning to rethink my approval of this government, Carnage!”
Carnage rumbled with laughter. “WE CAN ALWAYS GO BACK TO EATING YOU, IF YOU’D PREFER.”
“Uh- No thank you-”
“THEN BE GRATEFUL, PLANT-MUNCHER. NOW, YOU WILL BE ABLE TO HAVE PURPOSE OTHER THAN MEAT. NOW, YOU CAN BE A PART OF SOMETHING LARGER.”
“The only thing that’s large is your stupid ego.” the triceratops’s eyes flashed dangerously. “I will play no part in your fantasized legacy!”
“OH, I THINK YOU WILL.” Carnage leaned over, nearly brushing his nose against the points of the triceratops’s horns. “RAPTORS. WHY DON’T YOU HELP ME CONVINCE THIS FINE DINOSAUR OF MY INTENTIONS.”
The triceratops tried to lunge and stab their horns upward into Carnage’s head, but the velociraptors were good at their job. While the rest held them back, one leapt onto the broad, scaly shoulders of the entangled herbivore, right behind their frill.
“I do not want to have to do this,” the raptor hissed. “It would be so much easier if you did not try to resist.” She raised one of her deadly sickle claws. It was polished, and glinted in the midday sun.
The triceratops did not answer.
The raptor sank her claw into their hide, piercing the thick skin with ease.
“Ow! Stop! Fine, I’ll pull your- whatever it was. Get your sharp points outta me!”
“I KNEW YOU’D UNDERSTAND,” Carnage grinned toothily. Turning away, he once more roared his dominion to the Cretaceous world. “I AM CARNAGE CHOMPSKULL, YOUR NEW KING. WELCOME TO THE START OF A NEW ERA.”

☀ Muxa :: Daily 3/26 ☀
★ The Great Cheesecake Expedition 2: Electric Boogaloo ★

Original prompt from November 2nd 2021:
November is banana pudding lovers’ month! In the spirit of this, write about your favourite dessert. You could write with a dessert as your main character, or a love letter to your dessert, or a poem about it - whatever gets your creative juices flowing! 300 words for 500 points. You can gain an additional 100 points if you share your writing.

You were trapped in a dark room, the lights were all off, but at least you had your computer. Where you had once been was… uh… reminiscing upon the past of SWC, conjuring up a thought regarding the previous dailies, y’know nostalgia things. You feel emotions from this as it is beamed directly into your mind. Slowly, you are drifted into the past.
But wait? Is this not meant to be a rewrite of a previous daily? What do these nonsensical ramblings have to do with a previous daily?
You gaze upon these words, reading them, and realising that they were appearing on their own. Again. This is happening again.
“The prompt,” a robotic voice said, “to the past…”
“Do you remember November 2nd 2021?”
“Desserts…”
The question lingered on her mind often. What was her favorite dessert? Was it ice cream? Was it cake? Was it cupcakes? Well, okay, maybe Muxa did not have this question crossing her mind frequently. She was not particularly a fan of sweets, but she was a fan of ice cream and cheesecake. It was a tough choice to decide between the two. After all, they both had their good parts and their bad parts. Ice cream was cold and refreshing, but it made her teeth hurt. Cheesecake on the other hand was rich and… who was she kidding, cheesecake was the best dessert to pick.
Cheesecake was thick, rich, and filling. The sweetness had a twinge of bitterness as a result of the cheese mixed in. It was a delectable dessert with a mixture of smoothness and a crunch of sweet graham cracker bottom.
Muxa gazed into the mirror… Something was off here. How had this question been beamed into her head? Again? It felt vaguely familiar, as if she had questioned this before.
“Have you heard of the great cheesecake?” a voice said. Muxa looked up, glancing around to see who had just spoken to her out of nowhere.
“Eh? The great cheesecake?” Muxa echoed in confusion, gazing upwards at her white tiled ceiling.
“Yes… The cheesecake above all cheesecakes,” the voice sounded amused.
“Woah, sounds cool,” Muxa gaped, but then she scowled, “wait a minute, why would I eat a chee-“
“That does not matter! You must go forth!” the voice beckoned, “enter the mirror and your desires will be provided!”
“Err… Okay.” Muxa shrugged. She reached her arm into the mirror in front of her and found herself in a new location entirely. Muxa frowned as she gazed around at the strange saturated, Cocomelon neon world around her. Oh… Not brainrot.
She had been deceived by the voice that told her to enter this other world… Well, she hadn’t even been TOLD that there was another world within the mirror that she was looking at randomly in reflection. Is it still a lie if it is simply omitted details. Muxa pinched her temples, a headache forming in her head from the oversaturated atmosphere.
“Okay… The great cheesecake, whatever that is,” Muxa said to hype herself up.
Eventually the world around her slowly dulled to a slightly less saturated color scheme, but she could still tell that something was… not right. Muxa moved through the forest, brushing the undergrowth aside to navigate the land. Where even am I?! She glanced around.
“You must find the cheesecake kingdom,” the voice returned, its voice echoing through the corners of her mind. Muxa cringed at the sensation.
“Is this how it feels when I drag the reader into my writing?” Muxa groaned.
“Yeah, pretty much,” the voice laughed.
Muxa felt a push behind her, nearly knocking her over. She turned around to see nothing there. Unnerving. Muxa turned to you, holding her gaze for a minute before turning away and back towards forward on the path. As she moved forward, there was the faintest sound of a ticking clock. It grew louder as she moved further up the steep forested incline.
“Good hour, Muxa, how is the cheesecake chase?” A voice spoke up from the bushes. Muxa jumped when she saw the brown fox standing on two legs.
“Who are YOU?” She screamed. The ears of the fox dropped. He looked like a sad, wet puppy from her exclamation.
“You have no recall?” He pleaded.
“What?” Muxa stopped, turning to the fox. He was now clutching the stopwatch necklace that he had on.
“We are here for the cheesecake pursuit,” a black panther appeared, putting her clawed hand on the shoulder of the fox. She had a comforting, but threatening, demeanor.
“How… Do you know about this? Were you called too?” Muxa blinked, dumbfounded by everything.
“Ah! My bad! I made her forget everything!” The voice said, suddenly a beam of light struck Muxa. She immediately keeled over into a Yamcha pose.
“Ack- oh hey Tux and Pearl,” Muxa slowly rose up, clutching her head. She furrowed her brows.
“How dare I forget about you two…”
“Ah, you are truly kind to yourself,” Pearl chuckled.
“What-“
Suddenly the scenery changed with the snap of the panther’s fingers. They were further up the mountain and now with climbing equipment.
“Gratitude, Pearl! We have furthered on our journey!” Tux clapped as Pearl took a bow.
Muxa blinked but she ultimately decided to keep moving forward to find whatever this ultimate cheesecake was… Or whatever. She enjoyed cheesecake a lot, but it was not enough to cause her to be completely enticed by the concept of a great cheesecake.
A massive dragon emerged from the darkness, flying upwards into the sky. Muxa was almost blown away, gripping Pearl’s suit, and she gazed upwards to see a butterfly dragon.
“Another deity? What…” Muxa muttered.
“Salutations, Thalos! Love to join us on the cheesecake heist?” Tux shouted to the dragon.
“Skelth had informed me of this… Interesting time. She said it would be a fantastic event for my permanent vacation,” Thalos replied, going into a monologue about why she had appeared. Muxa was not very amused.
“… Hm. That sure is a different Muxa…” Thalos squinted, getting closer to survey Muxa.
“How did you escape Xhune?” Thalos hummed.
“Ey, get outta here with that,” the voice returned, again.
“The Cosmos?” Thalos squinted up at the sky, seemingly the source of the voice. The stars emerged and twinkled in the sky as if it was winking.
Suddenly, they were thrown off the mountain by a mysterious force, but they were unharmed upon impact on the ground… Because the ground was ice cream?
“… This is Dessertland.”
“Yes, Muxa, welcome.”
Muxa got up, cleaning the ice cream off of her. It was time to get locked in for real now. Something clearly wanted her to keep moving on this journey, so she was going to acquire this legendary great cheesecake that the voice or… “The Cosmos”… was telling her to find. It had to be important and mean something if she was being tasked to find it.
Pearl and Tux joined her on her journey. A mysterious orchestra had appeared and started following them. It all felt… Familiar… But she could not put her finger on why.
“The cheesecake quest returns?” a voice from above the travellers said. It wasn’t the voice from before, but a red panda. Muxa had uncomfortable vibes from the red panda, but… It was…
“Lucerne, care to join us?” Pearl proposed to the red panda above. Lucerne blinked.
“Sure,” she slithered down from the tree, standing up straight next to the three of them. They continued forth on the quest.
“… Whatever this quest is for, I must get to the end. I must obtain the elusive cheesecake I keep hearing so much about,” Muxa declared. They all clapped, the leaves clapped, the grass clapped.
“Truly energising, Muxa!” Tux proclaimed, clapping as well.
The orchestral music heightened as they moved up the mountain once more, stepping through the valley, through forest and field, and they saw countless sights before then. Forests filled with desserts and candy, it was not only the ground made up of ice cream. The ground was covered in icing for snow at this point.
Yet there was no cheesecake yet.
“The Cheesecake Kingdom is up ahead,” a newcomer said. Muxa turned to see who, it was Yuameni who had joined them on the journey this time.
“You may need my assistance! I hear that there is a tyrannical government that must be stopped,” Yuameni declared, joining them immediately.
“Welcome to the party,” Pearl greeted him.
They then stopped for a meal prepared by the chef himself Yuameni. It was good, but not as great as Misthios’s food. Muxa wondered if she was going to meet the funny bird on her journey to the Cheesecake Kingdom.
Soon enough, cheesecake came into view… And…
“Something is not correct. Time is crapping,” Tux spoke up. The world around them… Glitched? It was suddenly different, but then back to normal. Muxa squinted when she saw other figures in the distance. They were familiar figures. One turned to them, but did not acknowledge them.
“Is this apart of the time *?” Muxa pointed.
“Probable,” Tux answered.
“Well, we are close! Isn’t that right, Lucerne?” Yuameni exclaimed, turning to the red panda who only blinked slowly her gaze locked into the distance. Muxa tried to follow what she was looking at, but she saw nothing there.
"Welp!” Muxa put her hands on her hipsb before dramatically pointing forward, “onwards!”
They continued forth, passing by landscape made up entirely by cheesecake and graham crackers. Eventually, they arrived at a grand palace made up entirely of cheesecake.
“Waow! This place is massive!” Yuameni marveled.
“Unfalsely delectable.”
“Delicious, indeed.”
“Delightful.”
“I agree with all of those words!” Muxa turned to her party.
The world glitched again. More were with them than before, but they also were not with them. Muxa anxiously glanced in the direction of Tux who was clutching the watch necklace tightly again as the hands ticked.
Suddenly, there were guards before them that were not there before. Guards made entirely of cheesecake.
“Time for a-“ The ground rumbled.
Something emerged from the earth, a mass of darkness filled with rage. Muxa blinked when she realised who it was.
“Do not hurt my friends!” The void screeched, flinging the guards at the wall. The cheesecake splatted on the wall. The void slithered back away into the darkness.
“Sorry! I’ve got a date!” Was the last thing they heard.
“Uh, we should thank him later?” Muxa turned to the other four. They shrugged.
Eventually they made it to the throne which was a gaming chair apparently… Behind it…
“Lucerne!” Muxa heard a gasp, turning to the other side of the room to see… Muxasii?
There was Lucerne again in front of her, who had an evil smirk on her face.
“You will NEVER get the GREAT CHEESECAKE!” She cackled.
Muxa clutched her forehead. Something was not right here… She was straining to figure it out but she remembered. Cheesecake? Dreams? The music?


Word Count: 1892

End notes

ehehe

hopefully this prompt isn't too ancient

Original Writing
Cheesecake… The perfect dessert. Muxasii thought. The thought of the sweet and rich food made her mouth water. As much as she wanted the dessert immediately, just making it appear in thin air was too boring. Besides, the whole purpose of this writing IS hunting for cheesecake, then I will hunt for cheesecake.
The thickness of the cheese. The sugar that overwhelmed her taste buds. What would she have on the cheesecake? What sort of cheesecake? Muxasii thought about how she liked it simple… Perhaps just a little drizzle of chocolate? Or perhaps fruit? There were so many ways to eat cheesecake.
Muxasii couldn’t go alone on this mission, to get the greatest cheesecake. Protected by the cheesecake kingdom in another world… SHE NEEDED AN ARMY! Not really… No… She could just dropkick the entire kingdom if she wanted to, but- But uh… That isn’t the point here. Why am I in present tense right now? Someone help me- Hello? Hi?
So she went on the search for friends to help her acquire the GREAT CHEESECAKE! There was only one person that came to her head at that moment and that was the Son. He didn’t know her yet, but it would be funny to bring him anyway.
“Are ya winnin’ son?” Muxasii crashed down next to one confused cloaky boi. Kepir was his name and she liked to call him cinnamon roll jokingly. A large shadow loomed over them as Muxa had touched down. (Wait who wrote this? - Muxasii)
Suddenly it had disappeared, a now faint voice uttering… (what)
“Welcome to macdonal what would you like to order” (STOP)
In a flash of light, a new dragon appeared, a pinkish and purple shimmering dragon of incomprehensible description.
Kepir was screaming like a banshee, “WHAT THE HECK IS GOING ON?!?!” He curled up into a ball and rocked. Muxasii glared at the dragon.
She stared at the others quizzically,
“Have you never seen an Arcane deity before?” She asked as she sipped her magic juice, “You're in search of dairy desserts, right?”
“W-W-What dairy d-d-desserts??!?!?!” Kepir sobbed while rocking himself. Muxasii narrowed her eyes at the deity. She grabbed Kepir and hugged him, still having her eyes locked on the dragon that had appeared.
“You dare make the child cry…” Muxasii snarled protectively. Kepir looked visibly confused and scared.
“I can aid you in your search if you like…I'm on the hunt for some myself…” The deity said. Muxasii scrunched up her face and pointed at cinnamon roll. Kepir looked up at the humanoid that had him tightly in a hug.
“I am on the hunt for the GREAT CHEESECAKE! The delectable, delicious, scrumptious, luscious, sweet, pleasant-tasting, DAINTY, QUAINT, MOUTH-WATERING, FLAVORFUL-” Muxasii proclaimed with confidence. So much confidence that she had none at all.
“W-Why did you call it quaint–” Kepir stammered with confusion.
“We must recruit more on our MISSION!” Muxasii smacked her hands together, accidentally letting cinnamon roll go. Kepir fell to the ground with an ‘oof’.
Her nimble form swooped down as she grew to immense size,
“I have many that I can recruit for our journey, our cheese journey,”
Kepir in his daze managed to get himself back up and let out an exclamation, “I don’t even know you guys!”
Muxasii ominously twisted her head to look at Kepir, “You will, someday, in the distant future… You will know, and you will be very confused,”
“I’M ALREADY C-CONFUSED!?!?!?!?” Kepir shouted and inched himself away from the winged being. Muxasii giggled and clapped her hands together.
“Where shall we go first…” She smiled as she thought, “Oh you know what, that just makes this piece of writing way longer than it has to be. A journey? No… More like I SUMMON THEE!”
Xorix laid down, yawning, ”Okay,"
Kepir looked very confused as Muxasii reached into the void and brought out some random uh things yeah things out of the void.
TERI JOINED THE GAME! A confused shadow THING.
ASTERIA JOINED THE GAME! A very stunned and embarrassed dude.
LUCERNE JOINED THE GAME! A glowy red panda.
BOMBUS JOINED THE GAME! A bee that must be worshipped.
And… Muxasii felt around the void and frowned.
“Well, that is all,” She smacked her hands together with pride, “Wait-”
“What are you doing here-” Muxasii pointed at Teri, the CONFUSED SHADOW THING.
Teri grumbled, “Don’t send me into the void or I will punt you out of existence,”
Muxasii didn’t respond and stared at the rest of the group. Bombus buzzed in the language of the gods. Muxasii nodded, agreeing with the words that had just been uttered.
“We’re getting very off-topic, now let us go GET THE GREAT CHEESECAKE!”
The fight of their lifetimes was about to happen! The great fight! For the great cheesecake! They went off onto the great search for the Cheesecake Kingdom on foot. Muxasii insisted they do that, as dramatic journeys are always sick.
“Why is there an orchestra following us?” Asteria asked.
“Oh, that’s just apart of the journey,” Muxasii answered. The confusion that the dragon had made him stop for a solid 5 seconds. Bombus buzzed along with the sound of the orchestral music as they climbed the mountain. Well, more like they flew up the mountain while Lucerne climbed it angrily. Oh yeah, Muxasii had to tie Kepir to Asteria because he kept trying to run away.
“Why hasn’t Lucerne said anything?” Teri asked.
Muxasii shrugged, “Too lazy,”
“Are we there yet? I wanna be put down …” Kepir cried from the back of Asteria. Bombus was vibing on the head of the deity as they moved across the lands. The deity didn’t seem to mind at all.
Eventually, they saw a land made up of cheesecake. Oh the cheesecake… It made everyone’s mouth-water, except Kepir because all he could see was the sky. Poor guy. Muxasii pointed out at the land, very dramatically. The music around them softened as the sun lowered beneath the horizon.
The kingdom in all of its glory. The cheesecake warriors stood out front, anticipating their fight. Bombus buzzed and flew down. Muxasii followed him down and they raced through the plains to near the kingdom. The fighters on the other side raced towards them. A fight broke out for the GREAT CHEESECAKE.
“You do realize I don’t like fighting, right?” Asteria yelled above all of the commotion while dodging the cheesecake attacks from the cheesecake warriors. Muxasii shook her head at this remark.
“It is necessary for cheesecake, think about the cheesecake,” She said. The battle raged on as the music around them intensified, before climaxing as they entered the castle that held the great cheesecake. The group had broken through the defenses.
It was now time to get the cheesecake. The group stepped through the castle. A cackling range out amidst the silence. They froze behind Muxasii. What was that sound? Who else was in the castle besides them?
“YOU FOOLS! YOU WILL NEVER GET THE GREAT CHEESECAKE!” It was none other than… Lucerne! The Lucerne they had was a fake all along!
“:O!” Teri gasped, “I KNEW IT WAS YOU LUCERNE! I KNEW IT! YOU WERE THE CHEESECAKE QUEEN ALL ALONG!”
The red panda cackled, “IT WAS ALL APART OF MY PLAN TO BRING YOU ALL HERE! To me…”
“You betrayed us!” Muxasii sobbed, “I trusted you!”
“YOU BETRAYED ME!” Lucerne shouted, “YOU WERE THE ONE WHO DEVOURED ALL OF MY CHEESECAKE! SO I CONDUCTED A PLAN TO BRING YOU HERE… AND OH LOOK? YOU HAVE FRIENDS! It is time to turn you all into CHEESECAKE!”
The red panda pressed a button. The beating of drums sounded and bells chimed as the floor separated and opened up in front of Lucerne. Your typical villain ray weapon thing slowly raised up from the ground. The end of it was charging up.
Muxasii scowled and pointed at the red panda, “You forgot who I have with me! You will not prevail!”
“You may be writing this story… But that doesn’t mean you can stop me,” Lucerne laughed, “After all, not all villains lose,”
Then there was a flash of light…
Muxasii woke up with a gasp and glanced around the room. She got out of the bed she was in and walked towards the mirror. The person looking back looked the same… Was that just a dream? She shrugged and left her room to go into the kitchen and have some cheesecake.

HOW TO BECOME A WRITER. 500 words exactly.

1. Decide to become a writer. This can be as complicated as having an inner monologue in which you realize your true passion is creation, or as simple as finding yourself so bored that you absolutely must either do something or combust.
2. Find a writing implement. If it’s a pencil, spend two hours looking for one with a good eraser – NOT the kind that smears. It also needs to have the perfect point on it, not too scratchy but not too soft. There are less complications when writing with a pen or a keyboard, although you may need to test a few pens to find one with ink that flows consistently.
3. Get a fresh piece of paper, an empty notebook, or a new document. Open it, fold it, tear it – do whatever it takes to prepare yourself for writing something marvelous on it.
4. Pause with your writing implement hovering above the page (or keyboard), and take a deep breath, preparing to plunge into an ocean of creativity.
5. Take another breath.
6. And another.
7. Start to wonder when words are going to begin crowding to your mind, begging to be written down.
8. Hesitate some more, because surely the words are going to arrive in just a few minutes.
9. Start to doodle in the margins while you wait, still sure of inspiration striking.
10. Get up and get a drink of water, hoping to stimulate your mind with activity.
11. Return to your page, notebook, or device, and continue staring at its empty expanse for a solid fifteen minutes. Set a timer if you need to.
12. Get up again and scrounge around for a music device, hoping that this will finally propel you into motion. Jam the earbuds in your ears, find your favorite playlist or album, and turn it on.
13. Spend the next ten minutes vibing to your favorite music. Feel the creativity bubbling to your fingertips, ready to be transferred to your paper. If you’re adventurous, begin imagining your characters being animated to the song that’s on right now.
14. Wait for the first sentence to reveal itself. Meander down the path of some plots while you wait. If the playlist ends, put on another one.
15. Sigh impatiently and go get a snack. Writing can’t actually be this hard, can it? I mean, look at all those people who churn out books to be published every year. They have to have some kind of secret, some way to kick themselves into motion and get those books written. All you have to do is figure out what that is.
16. Eat your snack, perhaps with some milk. Think about your characters, and how this is going to be such a great story – if you can ever manage to write it.
17. Return to your writing station, and pick up your writing implement again.
18. Stare intensely at the paper or other receptacle of writing, hoping to magically manifest words on the page.
19. Lower the implement to the page.
20. Write the word “The.”
21. Erase it.
22. Repeat process over and over.

{Daily #26}
Prompt: Redo an old daily in 500 words!
Word count: 521/500 words
Notes: Wow, this is really all over the place… as most of my writing is. Enjoy!!!
My daily:

Nov 14, 2024: The smell of ink, a crackling fireplace, and the comfort of a favorite book - that's right, today we're curling up on the couch with a new story written by a swcer - it's bestselling bookstore day! For today's daily, please write 200 words describing a book you'd like to write. Then, browse through the main cabin comments and leave 3 positive reviews on stories that you'd like to read! This daily will earn you a total of 100 points, with an extra 150 for sharing proof. Happy reading, everybody!

Someday I’d like to write a book. A big one. A chapter book, not a picture book. But I haven’t started yet. I do have a couple ideas, though, so I’ll get on to those. First of all, one of the books I’m planning to write (one day) is one based off of my worldbuilding weekly from the beginning of this session. Long story short, I world built a story about a Dystopian city called City-by-the-Sea, which is (you guessed it!) located by the sea in a fictional world. The Citian race is completely the same. Everybody has the same gray skin and eyes and black hair, which must be neatly styled the same way everyday. Nova, a young Citian girl, is apparently normal like the rest of the kids at boarding school. But she knows about the dark past of City-by-the-Sea. She knows that Governor Ableborn just wants control. She knows that she is one of the only Citians that isn’t a mindless follower of the government. But in the shadows, magic lurks. Or so the stories say. No one really knows, but rumors have been heard that in the forest, magic is. Magic for those who seek it.
Magic that could one day change the world as the Citians know it, saving them from the horrid conditions they call “normal”. Nova doesn’t think these rumors are true, but one fateful day she wakes up with something different on her skin. A black mark, a circle with two lines through it. And when she tries to go throughout her normal day, something weird starts to happen. She finds herself in impossible situations, like being stuck on the roof of the extremely tall boarding school. When a curious outburst leaves a teacher injured and Nova wanted by the entire school, she must go on the run to discover her powers and hopefully save the entire Citian race.

Since today’s daily requires 500 words but the past daily only requires 200, I’m going to be going on to a different story idea that I came up with the other day. So I was doing a quick write (which is kind of like a writing sprint) for a school assignment. Anyways, my story plan is that these people live on the edge of a giant forest. Their daughter, Anni, is comfortable with the forest and regularly goes into it to get herbs and mushrooms for dinner and medicinal purposes. They live in a small town with a few other people, and Anni hangs out with her friends a lot. But one day, a raging fire starts, burning the village to the ground. Anni’s family mysteriously disappears and Anni must follow a trail of coded clues to find them again, along with her trusty pet hedgehog. And maybe they’ll have to fight battles. And there’s honestly no magical powers or anything, and no “chosen one” trope, which I feel like is overused anyways. But I don’t know. And I really don’t know where this story is going to go, but I’m going to be using Anni as my character for the weekly.

Em out!

Daily #26
3/26/2025
550 words

I used the How To daily from last July!

How To Move Your Body When in the Presence of an Invisible Mango: A Guide by Evangeline Rhee, a licensed and certified teacher of the Invisible Mango proper manners.

When in the presence of an invisible mango, one must be careful. Mangoes are precious things, but an invisible one? Even more so. There are proper guidelines for how you should move your body when in the presence of one. Move too quick and you lose track of it. Move too slow and you don’t catch when it moves away.

But a mango is a mango, isn’t it? Wrong.

Invisible mangoes are easily lost and hard to acquire. You do not want to lose or scare them off. Scaring them off brings you to the highest of consequences. So let us begin:

Step 1: Acquire an invisible mango.
In order to act properly around one, you must first find one. These can usually be found between dimension jumping, especially between SpiderverseWC and SWCaboose. This is especially tricky since the SWCaboose is always on the move and if you jump at the wrong time, you may not find one. When you jump into the SWCaboose, your odds of gaining an invisible mango increases by 0.00001%, though the odds of you being met by an angry sleep deprived mascot doubles. During dimension jumping, you must keep your arms spread out and ready to wrap them around whatever invisible object hits you. Unless it’s an invisible procrastination potato*. Toss that away.

*Invisible procrastination potatoes and mangoes are nearly identical, and can only be differentiated by symptoms or lack thereof.

Step 2: Check to see if it is a Real Invisible MangoTM.
It must be certified. There are unfortunately a lot of invisible mango dupes out in the word due to the fast food industry. A Real Invisible MangoTM weighs roughly 2 1/2 capybaras and the size of a hungry Kirby. You can also go to your local Real Invisible MangoTM appraiser.

Step 3: Find out your invisible mango is a dupe.
That’s right, it was a dupe. Figures. If your invisible mango was not a dupe, please move on to Step 83.
This usually comes with mourning over your fake invisible mango. I’m sure it was tough to get. But worry not, invisible mangoes are everywhere if you know where to look!

Step 4: Buy an invisible mango.
There are many places that people sell invisible mangoes, but make sure that they are legitimate Real Invisible MangoTM sellers. There are only around 0.5 sellers per dimension.

Step 4b: Get a job.
Invisible mangoes aren’t cheap. You must be able to finance your addiction to invisible mangoes. This usually requires seeing sunlight at least once a week and socializing with people in order to become employed. If you have found a way to stay employed and not implying the following steps, hit me up.

Step 5: Bond with the invisible mango.
Invisible mangoes are very untrustworthy creatures and you must get it to trust you before you dare think about moving a muscle. The best way to earn the trust of an invisible mango is by

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