November 3rd || You knew I had to break out the Stardew Valley reference xD <3 I blended two of the events that take place on the pier (Winter Market and Dance of the Moonlight Jellies) because I think it gives it more vibes hehe || 573/400 Words

The sun hung low in the sky, giving way to night. I walked towards the pier, looking around at the boats that had pulled up to the docks. Abigail leaned against a building, and we waved at each other as we passed. My eyes watched the sparkling waters, peace falling over me, as it always did in this place.

Vendors called from their boats, lights glittering over the serene blue water of my town.

“Staying up late, huh?” A voice asked behind me, and I turned around to see Mayor Lewis visiting a vendor with a painting, “your grandfather would be proud— we’ll make a town girl out of you yet.”

“Better than that corporate city I came from,” I said, laughing a little, but my heart still stung at the years of my life I had wasted in that factory, “and it’s pretty out so late— I never knew.”

“Cause you’re always going to bed at seven,” Sam said, approaching us, “You might as well be Sebastian with how much time you spend sleeping.”

I roll my eyes at him, then turn back to Mayor Lewis, “It’s so crazy— how the jellyfish visit us on their journey,”

He nods, “it’s one of the many beauties of this town, something that makes it seem almost magical.”

Honestly, I didn’t know what I would have done if my grandfather had not sent me to Stardew Valley. The early mornings on the farm, the late nights hanging out with friends… all of it was brought together to form a community, something that brought life into the world that had previously been white factory walls and floors.

It was the quaint life of this town that brought me joy, more than I had ever found before. The friends that felt like family, and the mysteries that were just waiting to be uncovered.

As I walked towards the flower vendor, Sam fell in stride with me. “It’s pretty out, is it not?” He asked, looking up towards the sky.

I nodded, “I’ve said as much,” I said, laughing a little.

He rolled his eyes, “It’s almost as if I have programmed responses.”

We walked onto the boat, the dim blue lights casting shadows overhead.

Then Sam turned around, and grabbed my sleeve, “Wait, it’s starting! Come on, we don’t want to miss it!”

We joined Vincent and Jaz, who were both yawning with the late hour, but I gave them both hugs and congratulated them on staying up as late as they did. Sam lifted his brother in his arms and brought him closer to the edge of the dock, so he could get a good view. I joined them, looking out into the waters.

Then, came a soft blue light, glowing. I gasped and looked down at the water, as glowing shapes began shifting, drifting closer to us on their journey. The jellyfish appeared from the horizon, and the entire town gathered at the docks to watch them pass.

A large green jellyfish floated near me, and I leaned down to look in the water. I looked up to point it out to Vincent, but the young boy was already asleep. Sam looked at me and shook his head, laughing.

As I watched the jellyfish fade away into the night, my heart was full— I felt so lucky to have my community, my friends, and the people who would be there for me no matter what.

November 4th || Songfic time! I wanted to do something based on “favorite crime” by Olivia Rodrigo— this went off in some odd tangent but I don’t have that much time today so I’m not one to complain bwahaha <3 || 662/300 Words

I was sleeping when the sirens started. Sitting up in bed, I peered out of the window next to me, lifting the blinds to see red and blue lights flashing, cars and fire trucks and ambulances blazing down the street in a flash of color.

Oh no.

That was the only thought in my mind as I tore out of bed, running towards my sister Leslie’s room.

My mom was already there, her face one of pure terror— her mouth open in a gasp that only the heavens could hear. I ran next to her, grabbing her hand. A part of me knew what was coming, but it still didn’t brace me for the way my heart dropped when I saw the bed empty. The worry only intensified when I saw the way the mattress was torn open with claw marks.

I looked to my mother, “she hasn’t come home.”

My mom shook her head, “I don’t think they caught her, love. We would know if they did.”

We would know by the reinforcements the police department would be sending, I thought to myself. I closed my eyes, willing the tears to stay away. This was not a time for sadness. It was a time for action— my sister could not be caught.

“You know what you have to do.” My mom said, her eyes meeting mine, watering as well.

I shook my head yes. It had been years since I had shifted— but I knew that if Leslie was starting to go on one of her sprees again, I would have to constantly stay in my heavenly form.

Closing my eyes, I focused on my breath and the sensation of my chest, rising and falling. Slowly, I reached for the core of the magic that lay between my rib cage, the soft blues and navies floating like the northern lights in the back of my mind. I drew on that power, urging it to come from within and out into the physical world.

With a soft pain between my shoulder blades, I could feel my wings sprouting. Only when I felt the muscles lock into place, slightly sore with disuse, that I reopened my eyes and turned towards my mother. She was looking at me in awe— as she always did when I transformed.

Me and my sister were born to a mortal mother— and an immortal father. A rogue angel, he had fallen in love with my mother when he had run away, and they had had two children together. Leslie was my older sister by three years. When the other angels had found my father, they had taken him away from us, and we hadn’t seen him since. They had also placed a cure on Leslie— for every five years she lived, she would have one year where she became one of the dark angels— beasts that could hardly control their own thoughts, and thirsted for bl00d to take back to their master, the king of the dark lands.

This curse had been placed on her, and ever since, we lived in constant fear that it would finally be the year, the year that maybe she didn’t turn back.

And it had been my job to watch over her. My heavenly form had been undisturbed, but I didn’t like to use it because of the energy it took to mask it from the others. After all, the magic it took to keep the illusion that there were not two giant navy-blue angel wings sprouting from my back was a hard one to maintain.’

And so I took off towards my sister— hoping that she was safe. That she was okay. That she hadn’t taken a life— even though that was an impossible ask.

Because as long as she lived, I would always be her sister. I would always be there for her, no matter what crimes she committed, what lengths she went too… she was always Leslie to me.

November 6th || Pumpkins (Delirious Kiara Version!) || 430/250 Words

I remember when I was little, I watched a cartoon almost obsessively in fall. Its main character was a square pumpkin, and I can not for the life of me remember what it was called. Pause for buffering while I look it up. It was called Spookley the Square Pumpkin! That is a fun name <3 And I remember just loving it for some reason– I was mesmerizied. Maybe it was because I was on vacation and it came on while I was looking at the hotel screen, but something about it was just so fun to me, to the point where it was the very first thing that came to my mind when I was thinking about this daily.

According to the netflix summary, it is about when a small square pumpkin has to save the pumpkin patch from a storm. Honestly, I don’t remember that much about it, just the way that the square pumpkin started rolling to save his friends. If you couldn’t tell, I am very delirious and kind of in the middle of an adrenaline rush so I am going to yap about this square pumpkin and other pumpkins in my life!

I carved pumpkins last weekend! I actually did not have a ton of time to do it because of Hadestown, but I always carve a cat pumpkin (because I love <3) and it’s always my like signature thing– my family makes fun of me for it but I really do love it! I always free hand the face in sharpie and then carve it out! My brother and father like to do very intricate designs– my brother did a storm trooper this year, and my dad did that one guy from scream. I think that they put way too much perfectionism in it and should just do animal faces as well :zany: But I really love spending the entire fall season with my family– from leaves falling to pumpkin aesthetics (and mushroom aesthetics!) to dressing up for halloween and all the wonderful fall things– I am a fall girl at heart <3

Pumpkin spice lattes– I have actually never tried one! Because I don’t like the taste of pumpkin that much I know, I know, it’s bad. But I just don’t love the texture or the taste! I do, however, help my mother make pumpkin pie for thanksgiving, and I’ve been doing a lot more cooking and baking recently so she might let me make it by myself! If she doesn’t I’m petitioning her to let me make apple pie instead hehe >

November 7th || 3 Genres: Fantasy to Sci-Fi to Epistolary/Apocalyptic (help I'm so tired this week what is this :sobbing: ) || 1010/500 Words

The castle was burning down. My eyes watered as I ran from the smoke, trying with everything inside me to get out, get away… as far away as I could. My dress flared out behind me, and I tried my best to not inhale.

I stumbled, hitting the ground, crying out in pain as my knees scraped against the hard cobblestones of the courtyard. The flames were coming closer, but my foot was caught in my dress, and I couldn’t get up. I was coughing, the smoke infiltrating my lungs, my eyes spilling with tears, my voice rough from my cries. The fire, it was getting closer, the fire overtaking the only home I had ever known.

I heard my brother’s cries… was he still in the castle? No, no! He was the crown prince, we couldn’t lose him too— I couldn’t lose my brother.

With every last muscle I didn’t know I possessed, I stood up off the ground, ripping my dress in the process. I’m sure the Nannie’s couldn’t scold me now— we were in a desperate situation, after all. And I ran back into my flaming home, yelling for my brother.

”Andrew! Andrew! Where are you!”

“Here!” I heard my little brother’s voice, and I sprinted towards it. I saw him cowering in his room, the fire licking in from all sides. My arm was in pain from where it was scorched, but I couldn’t find it in myself to care.

I grabbed him, lifting him up in my arms. He ducked his head close to me, and I stood up, carrying him out, trying my best to shield him from the worst of the fire, even if that meant taking the brunt of it myself.

Finally, I made it. I put Andrew down, rolling on the ground to snuff out the fire that had lit my dress. Slowly, I lay down. Andrew cried, but I motioned him away “Go find people from the palace— get help. Be safe.”

And I watched as the world faded into darkness.

When I awoke, there was a beeping noise in my ear. I yawned, before realizing that I couldn’t move a muscle in my face… and that I couldn’t breathe. There was some sort of gel around me, and it was suffocating me. I tried to move my arms, but the thick sludge around me made it almost impossible. I closed my mouth, holding my breath.

I heard murmured shouting outside, and then the gel slowly started to drain away from my eyes, my nose, my mouth… I gasped in a lungful of air, and was surprised I couldn’t feel any of the after effects of the fire.

That’s when I remembered the fire. Oh goodness, Andrew. Was he okay? Where… was I?

There was a loud noise, kind of like a woosh, and then the door in front of me opened wide. A hand reached in, and my eyes widened, unsure of what was happening.

I grabbed the hand, using it to step off of the raised platform I was on. My eyes quickly adjustign to the brightness of the space around me… but it was far brighter than any candle could have ever pulled off, the floors and walls around me made of some unfamiliar substance. My legs wobbled, almost as if they hadn’t been used for a long time.

I looked at my arms– there were dark marks that I supposed were burns, but they did not hurt the way burns I had received in the past did. Touching them, they didn’t even ache. Confused, I turned towards the person whose hand I was still gripping, and stepped back in shock.

It was a young woman, with a shock of hair that resembled the pink flowers outside of the castle that my mother loved to pick and make into bouquets. Her skin was a deep tan, many shades darker than mine, and freckles dotted across her nose. Her hair was shorn short, above her ears, and I wondered what had happened to make it so.

And that wasn’t even starting on what she was wearing– some sort of white suit that was bulky and… pants? That was menswear, I didn’t know what she thought she was doing, the nannies would scold her for sure!

Speaking of.. Where were the nannies? Where was Andrew?

“Where am I?” Was the thought that I ended up speaking out loud.

“Maybe a hundred thousand years after your time?” The woman responded, and I drew back in shock. Impossible.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that we cryogenically froze you when we saw your body buried– perfectly preserved in the ash. We just now managed to acquire the technology to bring you back to life… and here you are.”

I understood maybe half of those words, and I was so incredibly confused.

That was when a resounding boom rattled the ship, and I screamed.

~

Dearest Lilith–

I do hope that you are doing well. I know that you are probably struggling, and I have no idea where you are, now that we all landed on this unfamiliar planet. I am writing to you because paper was one of the only things that I could salvage from the wreck, even though I know you would laugh and tell me that it is terribly outdated. But it is what I grew up with, so I sincerely hope you’d understand.

– Amerith

Amerith–

I don’t know where you are now. I don’t know what you’re doing. My comm is hardly working, so writing letters is the only thing that will work. This planet is harsh and too hot for me– and the gravity is absolutely wacky. However, I have found water and edible plants (there were several days I spent with a terribly sore stomach before I found the right ones) … I am just so confused about what is going on, and why we were attacked, and why we ended up on an Earth That Isn’t Earth. Please, I hope I can find you.

– Lilith

Weekly One || 1,577/1,000 Words

Part One || Poetry! This was just a huge braindump and I actually really like it eee <3 || 240/100 Words

It will be easy, someone said,
To turn off those voices inside your head
It will be simple, they told me
To lift up the pen and write my own story
Now I am looking, wondering do you,
Feel the same way about life too?
Yes, you’re just a stranger I met on a train
But is this the moment we begin again?
Is every person who comes into our lives
Fated, as if to recognize,
A familiar face, from a moment’s passed,
Like the mother of old, come back at last.
Some say if you fall in love, you will meet again,
But you can’t even love your own best friend?
So you make up the people inside your head,
Who will make you happy until the end.
And then, have you truly lived life at all?
If you’ve only been giving into the scrawl
Of pencil on paper
Thoughts in a mind
Searching, searching, as if you’ll find
Something magical, in that life of mine.
They say it’s extraordinary,
But what if it isn’t enough.
To fill a bucket that’s cluttered with stuff,
With hopes and dreams, a wily thing,
And something that glitters, underneath the songs
That people sing.
And when you find that piece of paper, what do you see?
The words that are scrawled come back to me.
And then I close my eyes and say,
“There’s something waiting out there… it’ll find me someday.”

Part Two || Songwriting || 216/200 Words

It was when they put up the maypole,
And filled their pockets, full of stones,
And grabbed a ribbon, and sang along,
That I knew something was wrong.
Because I found, this town upon,
A mountaintop, they took me in,
I stayed the night, and told my stories,
And they reached for my soul…

He approached me, when the sun rose,
And took my hand, gave me a prose,
Of something greater, a bigger love,
Reaching towards me…

And we danced, we danced,
Until our shoes wore through,
I didn’t know, what else to do,
When the stones pierced my soles,
And the entire world turned red,
Their eyes widened, a dark smoke
Rose from within, they told a joke,
As all of them, disappeared…
What have I walked into here?

This mountaintop town, they all came down,
And swarmed around me, in a crowd,
Reached for my soul, and cried aloud,
And then I woke up…

I was still in my bed,
As they set up, the maypole,
And I still, had my soul,
Was this world ending?

This mountaintop town, they all came down,
And swarmed around me, in a crowd,
Reach for my soul, and cried aloud,
And then I woke up…

Something was not right…
In this world, I had a fright.

Part Three || Scriptwriting: East Wind Ghost (one of the scrapped ideas from my childhood I wanted to bring back <3) || 583/300 Words

Lights up on a therapist's office. Signs on the walls advertise mental health hotlines and overly-enthusiastic self-help methods. This is clearly not the most ideal place for a struggling teen… LARK EVER (16) enters from stage right

LARK: (impatient) For the last time, doctor. I promise you that I’m not crazy.

A figure in the chair turns around, an aging doctor with mad-scientist hair and huge glasses. Probably more fit to be working in a lab than a therapist's office. This is DR. YOUNG

YOUNG (condescending): Lark, honey, I am not saying that you are crazy. I am simply saying that there were a lot of traumatic events that happened recently, and manifesting ghosts can be something that is a side effect of this. I do have medicine, if you want to get this taken care of.

LARK: Pardon me, doctor, but I truly think that these ghosts are real…

YOUNG: tsk tsk… ghosts are not real, and I surely hope that you are not suffering too far underneath these delusions.

LARK: I’m sorry doctor that I’m not the perfect little therapy patient you want! My best friend disappeared, and I can see his ghost. Do you not think this is something that is worth addressing?

YOUNG (muttered): I was not paid enough for this.

LARK: And I’m not paying you so that you can prescribe me random medications and pretend like the ghosts aren’t real. There are more and more of them in this town… I know that you can see them too. I know that this town was touched by them.

YOUNG: It was true, when I was little I saw these ghosts. But I started taking this medication and it eased my mind after the trauma I went through, which is why I relate so strongly to your plight, Lark. I know that this medicine is going to help you. Here, just let me

YOUNG reaches towards LARK with a bottle of prescription in his hand. Lark bolts up from her seat, running towards STAGE RIGHT

LARK: Doctor, I promise you, I don’t want this.

Suddenly, a young man appears from behind her. He is much paler than LARK or YOUNG, in an almost undead way. His eyes are wide, and he looks at the scene with a sort of sordid smirk. He is enjoying this. By the way LARK turns to him and gasps, she knows him… and this behavior is not normal at all.

ETHAN: Lark, Lark. Is this poor man bothering you?

YOUNG (not hearing everything, but can still connect slightly with the paranormal whispers): Who’s there?

LARK: Get away from me… both of you!

ETHAN (laughing): Oh darling, you thought when I passed I was going to be the same person, when I came and haunted this town. But this town has taken too much from me for me to act normal.

LARK: Doctor… the ghosts in this town are not their normal selves. Lately, they have started becoming… corrupted. Old Mrs. McClain is suddenly haunting her ex-husband, when she used to dote on him… even Ethan isn’t the same. I know Ethan… and this isn’t him.

ETHAN: Perhaps you just didn’t know me well enough.

YOUNG: Lark, I promise you, this medicine will help.

LARK: No! Stop! I can help them, the ghosts… I know I can!

LARK turns her back and runs, exiting stage right. ETHAN and YOUNG watch her go, YOUNG terrified, ETHAN smirking

Part Four || Speech || 538/400 Words

Wait, you all are, here, right? Except you aren’t. You’re reading the words on this touchy-magic thingy that somehow transports words and pictures and sounds across the world. But wait— what’s the world?

There are so many things in our modern day that would never make sense if we tried to explain them to an alien. Technology is just one explanation— take the fact that we are willing to wait in a two hour line for a two minute ride— what’s the point of that? There isn’t— if you were an alien. But we know the reward at the end, we are familiar with the thrill that comes, the fun and the excitement, the bonding and the adventure that maybe we can’t get at home.

There is magic in the things we take for granted, the things that if we back up and look at are really funny, weird, or even sometimes outright stupid. That’s okay— there’s nothing wrong with that. It just brings a new perspective, thinking about it.

Why do we care so much about the number of likes on a social media post? If twenty people came up to you and told you look pretty or beautiful or your voice sounds incredible, or that your life seems fun and interesting. If twenty people in real life told us that, we would feel really good, right? So why is it that we need a million likes online— is it because things are distributed? Is it because society is built on a fake number of validation? Either way, that would sound incredibly strange to aliens.

Other things— fashion trends? Hats? Halloween? Scratch Writing Camp? Even trying to explain some of these things to people in our everyday life sometimes seems confusing and impossible. It’s a “you got to experience it to figure it out” kind of thing— but have we ever stopped to think about what would happen if we hadn’t figured it out? What would happen if we thought about every little thing we did, trying to figure it out.

That’s what school is for. Where hundreds of children gather together and sit in classrooms— some of them learning, some of them writing random numbers and letters on a piece of paper, some of them staring into space and not paying attention at all. Why? How? What for?

So we can be productive human beings in a society that is built on validation, that’s what. A society that is built on the idea that everybody has to work for something, that everybody has to be useful.

But some people are not productive? And those people are treated as less? That’s all things that wouldn’t make sense to aliens.

Our world is weird, there are things that wouldn’t make sense… yet things that we take for granted, things that we strive for and do and live for. But when we take a step back, what’s going on? Why are we doing these things? Why do we want to do this, why do we live for that? Why do we have to do that?

These are all questions maybe we should be asking ourselves more often— to see something magical and unknown living beneath the structure of society.

November 10th || Touch Grass || 311/250 Words

Today was the first snow of the year! It’s honestly very early for it to be snowing where I live– normally it doesn’t snow until a bit of the way through December or the very end of November at the very latest, but I guess the seasons have been a bit wacky this year. Like, it was October and we still were having like 80 degree weather which is kind of crazy in my mind.

But what makes the snow a little less enjoyable is that the roads were really icy on the way to school– there were so many police cars and fire trucks and ambulances driving past to deal with accidents that had happened because of the snow and ice. And in my school there isn’t really anywhere to put winter coats because we don’t have lockers and my backpack is full as is, so I literally had to freeze on the walk from the bus to my home in the afternoon and from my car to the school in the morning– it was not as bad as it could be but just prepared me for a very cold winter :sobbing: my hands are still like ice cold bwahaha

It is supposed to warm back up again tomorrow which is good, though! I want my pretty crunchy leaf season back > So yes! I did go touch grass today, even though the grass was covered in snow and a little frozen. I was half hoping that we would get like a two hour delay or something because of all of the ice on the roads, but because it is still light outside when we are going to school, they didn’t do anything about it. Even though the probably should have because my mom was slipping and sliding a little bit as she was driving me to school in the morning.

November 13th || Personification: various weekdays || 372/300 Words

Tuesday was mad. Again. Honestly, it was nothing new for Thursday. The days of the week were constantly arguing, unwilling to give their ownership over to the next. Saturday and Sunday held on especially hard, which was always annoying. For Thursday, they had developed a friendly relationship with both Wednesday and Friday, taking ownership quietly from Wednesday and handing it over quite happily to Friday.

But good old Tuesday, never happy with its lot. Thursday looked from where the group of weekdays sat in the conference room, their various colorful shapes morphing, almost like liquid on a metal surface, slipping and sliding back and forth. Tuesday was a dark green, its blob-like shape shifting quickly as it spoke, its voice medium-paced and droning.

“I don’t think it's fair how I have to have some random day in the middle of the week! Saturday and Sunday, look, everybody wants them! The only people who want me are people who have something fun happening on Tuesday. And those are few and far between… I just don’t understand.”

Monday was a dark red, and moved slowly, as if having to struggle to even move at all. It’s voice was low and slow, “Tuesday, I don’t understand what is so important that you must argue so all the time. Nobody likes me, and that’s just fine. I’m too tired to care about what others think.”

“But at least you have something that sets you apart!” Tuesday said angrily, “I think that it is quite unfair that you get to start the week– everybody knows when Monday comes around! I get confused for Wednesday or Thursday or even sometimes Friday, which is always annoying. It’s like I have no identity of my own!”

Wednesday squeaked, the sunny yellow of their form vibrating, “I find it quite rude that you call me such! It is not an insult to be me! I am in the middle of the week, and think that I am quite memorable– you should be glad to be me!”

Thursday was not particularly insulted– they knew that there wasn’t much that they could do to make themselves more interesting, and just aspired to get along with the rest of the days of the week.

November 14th || Title Daily: “365 Days Of Paper Airplanes” by @Milkysplash (2 sessions in a row of Skylar titles :eyes: ) || 597/500 Words

For 365 days I threw paper airplanes at your back during math class. In my memories, they lay scattered over the floor, now. All the paper airplanes you took care to unfold, to read, to laugh. But you never sent one back. You never sent one back to me– I didn’t think of it as strange until now, looking back. Thinking about the way you listened, you read them and laughed, and then proceeded to put them in your backpack.

I don’t know if you threw them away, or if you still have them, in some box somewhere. Maybe, maybe one day you’ll show your kids, or you grandkids, and talk about the one time that you fell in love. Or, at least someone fell in love with you. Because now… now I don’t really know what to think. If when you said those three words you really meant them, or you just said them because we were kids who thought love was the next step, the next step in our adventure.

Now it’s twelve years later, and I am thinking back to my childhood. To all the time that I lost, pretending to be somebody that I’m not. I think that I can find love– I think that it’s close to my reach, now. I think that love is something everybody deserves– the real kind of love, the love that surpasses paper airplanes in math class.

But just in case you remember, too, I have each paper airplane, and saved it for you:

Day One

Hi? God, that sounds so awfully boring. I wish I was one of those people who was comfortable using one of those greetings that I see in my head… maybe “salutations” or something equally fancy. I’ve probably scared you away by now, but that matters naught. Anyway, I thought that it is cool that you’re starting at a new school in the middle of the semester. I always think that people who do that are brave. I think that I would hide away in my room until spring semester starts, because I couldn’t deal with the stares and all the people talking about the “new kid.” Anyway, what’s your name? Sure, I’ve heard it from the rumors, but I think I want to hear it from you.

Day Two

Thank you for telling me your name after class yesterday. It meant a lot that you weren’t scared off by me. God, I get so sentimental in these letters. Or honest? I don’t know what the word is– I’m not in AP lit, so don’t come at me. Those smarties are my friends, though. They would probably know what words to say. Sometimes, though, it feels like the smart kids get all the answers. But I know that we regular kids have a place in society, too. Just because I wasn’t gifted to do calc in my head doesn’t mean that I can’t work hard and do something with my life. At least that’s what I like to believe.

Day Three

Do you think that you would like to sit at my lunch table? I promise that we’re perfectly normal. I mean, sure, half of the time Walter and Casey are debating about the newest Tony nominated musical or whatever, and Emily and Ryan are dancing, and Lillian and Grant are gossiping, but I think that we are quite entertaining, nonetheless. Plus, I think we’re way better company than those baseball jocks you sit with. No offense to them, but the conversation seems a little… dry.

Weekly Two || 3383/1500 Words

Part One || Researching: Titanic <3 || 737/200 Words

-The Titanic was a British luxury passenger liner
- Sank April 14th, 1912 during its maiden voyage
- Going to New York from Southampton, England
- Around 1.5k died
- White Star and Cunard were two of the biggest ship lines of the time
- Olympic, Titanic, and Britannic were sister ships
- Designed by Thomas Andrews
- 1st class:
- Dining saloon, four elevators, swimming pool
- 2nd class:
- comparable to the first class features of other ships
- 3rd class:
- less, but still quite comfortable
- 16 compartments that could be closed from the bridge, water could be contained in the event the hull was breached
- bulkheads were not capped a the top
- “unsinkable”
- Launched on May 31st, 1911
- One of the largest and most opulent ships in the world
- Carrying capacity of 46,329 tons
- Set sail on April 10th, 1912
- Captained by Edward J. Smith
- Benjamin Guggenheim, William Thomas Stead, Isador and Ida Straus
- April 10th stopped at Cherbourg France
- John Jacob Astor, Molly Brown
- Iceberg warnings were ignored
- Much of the job of the wireless radio operators were relaying passengers’ messages
- At 10:55 Californian sent word that it had stopped after being surrounded by ice
- Phillips did not listen (wireless radio operator)
- Lookouts did not have binoculars
- 11:40 the iceberg was sighted
- First Officer William Murdoch wanted to try to get around
- Was too close to avoid a collision
- People believed that Murdoch made a dumb decision and they would have survived if they had hit the iceberg head-on
- Was a calamity of dumb coincidence after dumb decision
- SOS reached the Carpathia around 12;20, but the Carpathia was quite far away. Most ships were far too far away
- Californian was very close but had turned off their wireless
- There were actually enough lifeboats on the ship, the problem was that they were not being launched at capacity. Actually, being in a lifeboat was quite a bit more dangerous.
- We love those musicians that never stopped playing
- They were barring people from entering lifeboats that were not women or children
- Bow sank, stern rise, basically planting it horizontal. By 2:00, only 3 collapsible remained.
- Crew was released at this point
- 2:18 the lights went out, then broke in two.
- Third class suffered the greatest loss
- Passengers in the steerage were prevented from boarding boats
- Carpathia arrived around 3;30
- All survivors were picked up by the Carpathia
- Investigated what, exactly, happened. A lot of people cannot tell their stories after perishing at sea, so therefore the entire story is hard to piece together.
- Californian? People said that the Californian saw a ship but thought that it was too small to be the Titanic.
- British Inquiry found out that the Californian was very much to blame.
- Both US and British proposed safety recommendations
- There might have been another ship that was actually an illegal seal hunting ship might have been the other one.
- Fashion:
- 1st class:
- Men wore tuxedo style suits, top hats, polished shoes.
- Women wore tight laced corsets and gowns with gloves.
- More cocktail dress type with tight fitting clothing, bright colors seemed very fashionable. Women would likely have a different dress/hat/fan/glove combo for every single dinner, to show their wealth and opulence.
- 2nd class
- They would wear fancy and rather nice clothes, but nothing close to the wealth of the upper class. Ladies and girls would wear bracelets and necklaces, would get a couple different outfits to choose from for meals.
- 3rd class
- Men wore britches and shirts, women wore long skirts, boots, and high collared blouses (think Eponine core). Was still rather nice and not at all really “poor” in the fact that they had no clothes, and the clothes were rather well maintained, but nothing fancy.
- Architecture:
- Designed to showcase opulence and comfort, featuring many different styles. The Grand Staircase was a place with intricate woodwork and a giant glass dome.
- Rooms varied by class: first-class spaces were extravagant and third-class was modest but comfortable.
- Large, well-equipped spaces with modern amenities.
- French Louis XV style was used in the a la Carte restaurant
- First class smoking room featured Georgian style paneling
- First class dining saloon was inspired by Haddon Hall in England
- A Deck was just for first-class, included the promenade and reading rooms
- B Deck had the most luxurious accommodations like First-Class suites
- D Deck contained first and second class dining saloons
- F Deck included Turkish baths and swimming pools

Part Two || Description Writing || 703/400 Words

The Titanic was something of opulence, or of safety, depending on your reasons for being there. The liner was one of the most modern and fastest of the time, created by the illustrious White Star Line.

It sat at the docks of Southampton, England, bobbing lightly in the waters. From the outside, it was nothing short of impressive. Smoke drifted from pillars in the background, the ship looming like an eerie ghost figure. However, the people boarding it were merry, many wearing fancy attire, to make sure they are seen and noticed by the other wealthy, influential people who were boarding the boat.

Inside, the first thing the first class would see was the Grand Staircase. It was a huge thing carved out of mahogany wood, like the train of a wealthy woman’s dress, spilling down the front hall. There was a large glass dome above it, letting natural light shine upon the room.

The third class, however, was not as opulent. Women and families paraded in quietly from the C deck, and men walked in the aft. They wore clothing that was simple, not opulent, but still quite nice and well-maintained. There were quite a few families, with smaller children, hoping to get to the Americas.

The ship would be stopping in France, and then continuing on to New York City, where many of the lower class passengers hoped to make a new life for themselves. The wealthier passengers, however, were just there to make a splash in society— rub noses with some of Europe’s richest men and women, figure out what fashion trends were all the rage, and what the newest designers had in the books for this year.

Women wore bright colored dresses with matching gloves and fans, showing their status. They hung onto the arms of men dressed in tightly tailored suits in dark colors— tweeds and browns and blacks. They wore bowler hats on their heads, moustaches groomed to perfection.

The ship was freshly painted, the hull near the color of the dark blue waters below, a navy blue. Portholes were on the sides of the ship, and a promenade deck could be visible from above.

So many different architectural choices were made on the ship— from the French Louis XV style of the a la Carte restaurant to the mahogany panels on the walls in the first class smoking lounge, the entire first class section rang with opulence and wealth— the perfect place to take a trip or voyage to New York City.

The third class was modest, nothing compared to the luxurious life that those in the first or even second class enjoyed. Those here in the third class were only on the Titanic as a vessel to reach a greater world. The staterooms were smaller and filled with bunk beds, with many people in a room. Bathrooms were mostly communal and shared, as were many other amenities. However, the third class was quite comfortable, comparable to the first class on smaller, less expensive ships.

The beds were soft, if the covers a bit thin, the metal of the bedposts brand new, and unrusted. There was no porthole, but the space had enough air to breathe, even when there were twelve in the room together, three families of four. The space was lit well, you could see where you were going, and those inside talked in quiet voices about the new life they were going to see in New York, their plans for the future, for themselves and their families.

The first class staterooms were huge, with lavish decoration and large beds, and those in this class enjoyed every amenity known. Suitcases and expensive dresses were placed with care in closets by workers on the boat, jeweled chandeliers hanging in almost every individual stateroom.

Second class was still quite luxurious, the people inside enjoying restaurants, libraries, and other amenities that could not be found for the second class on other ships. They lounged together, talking excitedly about rubbing noses with the most wealthy people in all of Europe, and all the new things they were sure to discover on their journey. They wore nice clothes, though not nearly as opulent as those of the first class.

Part Three || Character || 746/400 Words

Hazel Miller: 19 years old
-English
- From a sophisticated family— her family likes to be among the most famous
- Dark curly hair, hazel eyes
- doesn’t like following the rules or the restrictions of her class
- would rather have an adventure than wear a fancy dress and be paraded around
- is notorious for sneaking off right as she is supposed to be at/getting ready for a formal event
- 1st class passenger

Hazel is the rule-breaker of her family, much to their dismay. She would rather be getting into trouble or having fun with people she barely knows before she would want to be going to a formal event. Sure, she does enjoy the finer delicacies of life and may be considered a little hypocritical, because she likes to spend all her time around those of the lower class but returns right back home to her cozy bed when the sun goes down, but her best friend back home in England was trying to teach her to be better than that, she’s trying. Her family took her on this ship so that they could meet some of the most influential people of the time, specifically John Jacob Astor, and hopefully find some marriage prospects for Hazel. Hazel’s plan is to befriend those in the lower class and help them create a new dream for themselves once they get into America, with her money. She managed to get her best friend back at home, Ida, onto the ship, with the hope that she will be able to build a better life for herself and her family in New York than she was able to in England.

Ida Ilmakangas: 18 years old
-Finnish
- Blue eyes, ashy-blonde hair
- rule-follower, quiet
- loyal to her family and those she loves
- has a lot of thoughts, but does not share many of them
- soft-spoken
- puts others needs before her own
- 3rd class passenger

Ida is a girl whose family ran away from Finland after an encounter with the law. They struggled for years in Southampton, until Ida met Hazel. The two girls became quick friends, even with the differences in their upbringing. Ida is the first person to scold Hazel for breaking the rules, as she greatly values authority figures, especially after her family having to run away from the law at a very young age for Ida. She has a lot of thoughts about everybody that she meets, but she keeps them mostly to herself. Hazel is the only person she ever feels comfortable sharing these (oftentimes dangerous or scandalous) thoughts with, and with Hazel, she feels free. She knows her friend has a lot of flaws, though, like the way that she pretends to emphasize with the lower class but has never truly felt struggle before in her life. Ida is trying to teach Hazel to be better, though. Ida is not without flaws of her own— she will sacrifice herself for others before even beginning to think about herself.

Michael Ross: 18 years old
-English
- Light brown hair, trimmed in a very military-esque cut, green eyes
- funny, doesn’t take things seriously
- has a consistent problem with authority
- likes to make unconventional friends– the better stories they have, the more he wants to be friends with them
- affinity for toxic friendships because of the trait listed above
- disowned by his family when he was 16, for running away to join the military
- was quickly (honorably-ish) dismissed from the military for failing to listen to instructions
- then was taken in as an assistant for the White Star Line
- was assigned on the Titanic
- quickly made it his job to shirk all his duties and befriend the passengers

Michael Ross is known for being the king of all bad decisions. If there is something going wrong onboard the Titanic… it is probably because Michael had a “great plan.” He is magnetic and charming, and finds it rather easy to sway people to his side, even if that is not very beneficial for himself or for them. However, though it may not always seem like it, he deeply cares for the people he lets truly close to him, and if you befriend him and truly value him as a person, he would do most anything for you. His bosses on the Titanic take the “if he isn’t caught, it doesn’t matter” kind of eye to handling Michael and his shenanigans, and are waiting until they get a passenger complaint to say anything about him.

Part Four || Writing || 1197/500 Words

Southampton, England
April 10th, 1912, 10:05 AM
Hazel Miller

Hazel was caught up in the rush of fancy dresses and posh English accents, but all she could focus on was looking for a head of ash-blonde hair somewhere in the crowd. She strained her neck, trying to spot her short friend somewhere, but was quickly reprimanded for her efforts by a quick tug on the sleeve of her dress. She turned to see her mother, a frown that seemed reserved just for Hazel plastered on her face.

“Hazel, dear,” she said, her voice veiling carefully controlled anger, “it is unladylike to crane one's neck. I’m sure whatever gentleman you are looking for will meet us in the lobby once we board.”

Hazel rolled her eyes but settled down, following behind her father as they walked towards the boarding gate of the RMS Titanic. She was excited, despite everything. The days she would spend– a lot of it unsupervised– would be the perfect time to spend time with Ida. Her best friend had been drawn away a lot recently, having to work at the seamstress’ more and more to support her family. Hazel wished that she could do more for Ida, but she knew that Ida didn’t want or need her help.

But there was the fact that her mother was truly thinking that Hazel would find a gentleman on this flight, who she could marry. Hazel felt that she was still far too young to even think about marriage, though she knew her mother was still largely stuck in the past ways of life– where women past the age of sixteen must be courting at any given moment, or they ran the risk of becoming wizened old spinstress.

“Mister and Madams, mind if I take your luggage up to your room?” A voice asked, and Hazel and her family turned to see a young man holding out a hand.

Hazel physically leaned in… he was rather attractive.

Her mother looked at her with a warning glare in her eyes, because she knew Hazel’s burning desire to flirt with every attractive man that she met… even more so if he was not a wealthy gentleman.

Hazel smirked at her mother, then turned a soft smile on the man, “why, of course not! In fact, it would be of great help to us. See, I’ve traveled quite a ways from London to here, and my arm is positively aching,” she laid on the dramatics quite thick, but to her surprise, the man didn’t jump to her rescue, he smiled, a laugh passing his lips.

“Why, then I feel as if I simply must take it from you, if it truly is that much time that you have been oh so labored,” he winked, taking her bag from her, and grabbing some of the other luggage from her mother and father.

“We’re in one of the deluxe staterooms– last name Miller, first name John.” Her father said, giving the man a few dollars, which the man pocketed with a grin.

“I know who you guys are, don’t you worry.” The man said, before tipping his hat, “I’m Michael Ross, if you care to ask after me. Most of the staff should know who I am.”

He then swiftly disappeared into the crowd, their luggage with him.

Southampton, England
April 10th, 1912, 11:23 AM
Ida Ilakangas

Ida knew that she couldn’t be looking too hard for her friend, that Hazel was probably caught up with all those wealthy idiots towards the front of the boat, and would find her later. She grabbed her younger brothers’ hand, escorting him in the back entrance. Their mother was supported by her twin sister, Emily, and the family made their way into the third class rooms, hauling all their worldly possessions with them.

Ida would forever be in Hazel’s debt for getting them a space on this ship, in granting them a chance to the new world. Ida knew how Hazel could get, always wanting everything but somehow still wishing she had nothing. In this way, Ida knew it was a great sacrifice for her friend to willingly send Ida away to New York, when she knew that the two of them would likely never be able to correspond again.

But Ida had heard that work was better in New York, that there were groups of foreigners just like them, who were all working together in a community, just making the best of the things that life threw at them. Ida knew that in New York, maybe her family would finally have the chance to be a part of something, something greater than their small lives in England, the lives they had been forced to lead after the world came after her father for not being able to pay his bills.

Ida bumped into somebody, sending him stumbling.

“I am so sorry,” she said instantly, once she saw that he was wearing the official clothing of somebody who worked on the ship. She then saw that he was carrying luggage, and that some of it was very noticeably pink, embossed with a great “HM”

“Wait, is that Hazel Miller’s luggage?” Ida asked him, curious.

“You certainly have a lot of words,” the man, well, he was no more than a boy, said. “But I forgive you, it’s impossible to see everyone coming from all directions around here. And yes, this is the luggage of the Miller family. Do… you know them?” He was looking at Ida with skeptical eyes, which was to be expected. She and her family were dressed even less well than most of the third class passengers around them, seeing as the Millers were sponsoring her journey.

“I do. Hazel is one of my closest friends, but that is none of the matter. Who are you?”

“At least you have better manners than your friend, she didn’t even ask me my name,” The boy said, grinning. Ida supposed that grin got him a lot of what he wanted, a lot of the time, “I’m Michael Ross, at your service.”

“Well, not really my service, huh? Since I’m just a lowly third class passenger,” Ida said, a touch of mocking in her voice,

“Well, miss…”

“Ida Ilmakangas. But you can call me Ida.” Ida said, knowing full well that the Englishmen didn’t like her last name. Didn’t like that it wasn’t common, didn’t like that it showed she was foreign.

“Miss Ilmakangas, because I insist on formalities…” Michael continued, and Ida was shocked that he had pronounced her last name without a touch of hesitation, the word rolling off of his tongue, “I’ve appointed myself the personal assistant of all classes, because I think that it is… not very fair… that first class gets all those amenities and you all don’t.”

“Well, thank you very much, Mister Ross,” Ida said with a faint smirk, “but are you really in charge of that?”

Michael shrugged, “Well, they don’t like telling me what to do, because I like doing my own thing. Call on me anytime, Miss Ilmakangas.” He gave her a wink and a bow before heading off.

November 16th || Since I wrote this daily I think I reserve the right to use Dawn Dish soap /lh (aka kiara can’t think of anything else right now bwahaha <3)|| 299/250 Words

So, it looks like you want bubbles of fun! This soap will bring you not only the cutest ducks, but most bubbles per buck! With a dark blue color that will look perfectly aesthetic in any bottle you choose to put it in (clear or not), and the most adorable ducks on the cover. Who knows, your life might suddenly turn into a dawn ad and you can have a baby duckling all for yourself!

Plus, the bubbles are sure to bring fun and games to the whole family. Your grandfather can perform the trick where he swallows a bubble, and you can have fun, no extra work required! Plus, it will make all your dishes shiny and clean, and it will be so fun while you are doing it! Who wants dirty disgusting dishes when a single pass from Dawn Dish soap can make sure that you never have to worry about this problem again? There is going to be a load of fun and silly play with this Dawn Dish soap, and has so many uses! You can even use it for a blowing bubble race, or for elephant toothpaste! Yes that rhymed, and you too can rhyme if you use dawn dish soap! There is nothing that is too wild, nothing outside of the realm of possibility when you trust in dawn to get your dishes clean!

So if you want baby ducklings, or perhaps fun and games for the whole family (and quite a bit to reserve for yourself) then you should buy Dawn Dish soap, as it is always reliable and quite a bit of fun to use it! Plus, this ad was wildly enjoyable and quite a bit of fun to listen to, and therefore Dawn dish soap is the soap for you!

Aaah I'm sorry, Kiara, I accidentally put my weekly in your personal writing thread!! I am SO SORRY!! SO VERY SORRY!!

Don’t worry about it at all Eva <33

November 17th || Fall Recipe: a pie that holds memories || 256/150 Words

Hello my dear witches and wizards, and welcome back to another recipe by yours truly— a wonderful fall pie that can hold some of your best memories (and yes, it can hold bad memories too, but who wants that)

Do you know the smell of your mother’s cake, or maybe its the chili that your grandfather makes every time you visit? Yes, all that holds memories. But this pie can hold actual memories— things that you want to remember in perfect clarity for all time.

First, you add in the regular pie ingredients: eggs and butter and salt. Then you choose what fruit or other thing you want to put in your pie: whether that be apples or blueberries or cranberries, or something wildly fantastical. It is your choice, after all!

Then you want to add a little bit of spice— anything that is of your choosing. Then you are going to take the magical wand or staff, and then think really hard about the memories that you want to preserve in that pie. Then you just whisper the date that that memory occurred on, and tap your wand or staff against the fruit. Then, my loves, you can have the perfect memory-filled autumnal desert, and whenever you eat it, you can relive that memory.

If you just want the feeling of that memory, then you can simply focus on the feeling, it’s as simple as that! I hope that you enjoy, and tune back in to my blog next week for another wonderfully magical recipe!

November 18th || Crossover fanfic: the Crows and Kady, Ezra and Nick from the Illuminae Files <3 || 473/300 Words

Kaz Brekker was appalled. Completely and totally appalled. How did these people call themselves any sort of criminals? One of them had pink hair, one of them looked like if Wylan decided to dye his hair black and get tattoos, and the other was… about as average as you could get. He looked like Pekka Rollins’ son, and not in a good way.

“Where are we?” The one with pink hair said, looking around. Her eyes were wide, and honestly reminded Kaz a bit of Nina.

Kaz was confused. If these people had been around anywhere, they would know where they were. “Ketterdam.”

“Where the heck is that?” The one with tattoos asked. His voice sounded a bit more like Jesper, now that Kaz was thinking about it.

“You don’t know about Ketterdam?” Wylan asked, looking at the group in wonder. It had been a long while since they had met outsiders.

“No. We’re from… outer space.” Kady said, and the Crows looked at each other in bafflement.

“Now I have no idea what the heck that is.” Nina said, crossing her arms, and leaning forward in interest, “But how do you all feel like discussing it over waffles?”

As they walked, Kaz could see the Crows falling in with a few of the trio. Jesper and the tattooed one (who he learned was named Nick) were talking and laughing, they shared a similar sense of humor. Wylan was discussing the technology that the blonde one had in depth (the blonde one was Ezra, what a strange name) and Inej and Nina were talking to the one with pink hair, Kady. Kaz trailed behind the group, keeping his eyes out for anything suspicious. They were still technically criminals.

Kady pulled out a device from her pocket, and instantly it caught the interest of Wylan, who paused his conversation with Ezra to walk over. “What is that?” He asked, and Kady handed it to him, letting the boy turn it over in his hands.

“It tells me everything that I need to know about the world around me… but it stopped working ever since we fell through the wormhole to get here.” Kady said, watching as Wylan pressed buttons on the side, and only succeded in making a bright white screen appear.

Now, this was something Kaz was interested in. Technology like this could be monumental for Ketterdam, and something that people have not even dreamed of having— Grisha were the only thing that even came close to having this sort of power. In the use of the everyday world… it would either improve it or destroy it.

Inej sensed his thought process and rolled her eyes, “always thinking of the next business deal, are you, Kaz?” She said, not even caring that she had drawn the attention of all three strangers to him.

Weekly Three || 1052/800 Words

Part One || Why I procrastinate || 373/300 Words

Reasons I procrastinate:
1. I don’t feel like it.
2. There are other more fun things I would rather do
3. I am tired and have no energy
4. It seems like it would be hard/take a lot of energy
5. It isn’t due for a while, so I can wait!!!
6. It just isn’t a huge priority for me at the second
7. I have a lot of other things going on

There are a lot of reasons that I may procrastinate something, and some things I procrastinate a lot more than others. One reason that I might put something off is that I just don’t feel like it! This really has a lot to do with reasons 5 and 6– with things that are due a long ways into the future. Because they aren’t due for a while, I can say that I will have a lot of time later (even though I don’t always) and therefore I can do it later, and not now. Another reason that I might procrastinate is that there are more fun things that I would rather do— like read a book or write or work on something for SWC (though sometimes that’s what I’m procrastinating :zany: ) when something seems fun to me, it is more likely that I will do it. 3 is something that happens to me a lot, where I am tired from various things that have happened that day or that week, and I simply think that I do not have enough energy to accomplish the task.

Sometimes, when the task seems like that it would be difficult or that it would take a lot of energy to complete, I would be less inclined to finish it than if I perceive it as an easy task or something that will not take much time to complete. 7 is something I struggle with constantly, the fact that there are so many other things going on that doing something is not a huge priority for me right now. For example, personal projects like writing might get pushed under the rug when I have things like tech week or other rehearsals, which are higher priority and tend to take up a lot of time.

Part Two || Motivational habits and how they worked for me || 215/200 Words

Today during study hall, I tried the method of listening to music while I worked to let myself wake up starting the day (I have first period study hall) and also get some work done! I learned that its a lot easier for me to focus when I can tune out the other things happening in study hall and have something going through my brain while I work— in this case, music. It really allowed me to focus and get a ton of work done, so I think that this is going to be something that works for me!

I’ve known for a while that I focus better when I listen to music, but today really proved it to me. I put on my fall playlist, and managed to finish up my math homework, my choir practice test, my Spanish homework, my SWC daily and Gothic prep, and started on this weekly! I think that this is something I am going to have to focus on a lot more, especially as I get into finals week coming up soon and have to start studying and reviewing, it will be a lot easier for me if I am listening to music and can focus in during the time I have allotted myself for working or studying.

Part Three || Time management habit and how it worked || 385/300 Words

Pomodoro technique: lock in, break, lock in, break

This technique did not work a lot for me. I did manage to get a little focused work in, but what I sensed happening was that my breaks wanted to get longer and longer. At the start, I decided on 20-10 work/break periods, and my first set of working was very productive when I had the motivation of taking a break at the end.

However, when I sat down to scroll for my first break, when my timer for 10 minutes went up, I told myself it could be a 20/15 split instead. After that, I decided I wanted to make it a 20/20 split, so I had a break for 10 minutes longer than I had initially wanted to before I forced myself back to work. And this happened again and again, until towards the end I just decided to give up and keep scrolling for the rest of my allotted time. I think that if I had something or someone to keep me more accountable then this technique would work better, but working on it by myself is probably not the best technique for me at this moment in time. Instead, I think it would work a little better for me if I tried to do something like get a certain number of assignments done before giving myself a break, that way I finish what I need to and still am able to have a break to motivate me at the end, because I think that really managed to make me work faster and have more high-quality, focused work.

I think that knowing these techniques are a good thing to know, but I think I just like to lock in for a while or a certain amount of time (like a study hall) so that I can focus and just get stuff done, because I always feel good when I finish things and don’t procrastinate, but that is hard sometimes. This week I have a lot going on in the evenings, though, so I force myself to lock in during study hall, which I think is a really helpful technique because I don’t have as long at night spending doing homework or stressing about a due date that is quickly approaching.

Part Four || LOCK INNNN || 76/60 minutes || 79 words

I managed to lock in for a little over an hour! I got a ton done in this time, all my homework for today and tomorrow. There are a few things that I did not have enough time to get done in study hall, like marking stuff up for my one act play, but it’s okay because I will find time to do that later in the home room style thing I have in the middle of my day.

November 19th || Lint gets stuck babysitting a bunch of baby dragons in a volcano by @z3phy_the3_cr4zy || 445/300 Words

I look around the volcano, watching the fox approach me. “Hi Lint!” I say, smiling at the fox. “I’m so glad that you can make it!”

The fox looks at me, and begins speaking, “Thank you most kindly, madam.”

I almost burst out laughing right then and there. The heat from the volcano around me warms my skin, and I can hear the sounds of the hatchlings in the next room. The foxes' almost randomly posh British accent, though, is something that astounds me.

“So your job today is to help me out in the hatchery. We have some new baby dragons, and while I’m away on my trip, I need somebody to watch them. So today is going to be a trial run, just to see if you can handle them.”

The fox gives me what must be some sort of fox salute. “Madam, I assure you that I am more than adequately equipped to handle these hatchlings.”

“And I thank you for your confidence! But they can be a… lot,” I say, thinking of the small dragons that will start crying at the same level as a fire truck siren right next to you when they get hungry. And they get hungry a lot. And they like to chew pant legs! It is a good thing, I suppose, that foxes are not required to wear clothes.

“Anyway, follow me,” I say, motioning for Lint to follow behind me as we make our way towards the door to the hatchery. I open the first big metal door (fireproof, of course) and let it close behind me before opening the next door– we don’t want any baby dragons escaping.

Inside, there is a huddle of maybe twenty baby dragons– in colors that range from bright red to emerald green. All of them have wide gold or silver eyes, and stare at us with the cutest expressions. However, they can get feisty when they want, I know.

“Why, they look positively adorable!” Lint says in that British accent that I still cannot get over. It seems to be almost impossible that such a sweet and chaotic-looking fox has a voice that seems to fit in a regency period movie.

Then one of the baby dragons sneezes, and fire comes out of its nose and singes Lint’s fur. The fox gasps in surprise, jumping back.

“Gemma!” I scold the dragon, then turn to Lint, “Are you okay? If this is too much, I understand.”

Then, however, Lint does something that surprises me.

He starts laughing. “I do love someone who appreciates arson!” He tells the small dragon, grinning, “I think that I’m going to love it here.”