3/2 - 839 words

Spruce had never been a courageous man, so he was told. It had always been related to him with a sort of neutral, “this is the way it is” quality. Source was a coward and the sun went down at nighttime. But the words, no matter how neutrally he’d always been told them, had a negative connotation that he couldn’t ignore. Cowards let their friends get hurt, cowards never achieved anything great, cowards were the lesser breed of the human stock and the weak link in a flock. I don’t want to be a coward, the thought occurred to him not for the first time. He’d never wanted to be a coward, he wanted to be strong and brave and able to protect his family. Ever since his brother had been gone he’d been the man of the house, he didn’t have the luxury of being a coward.
All this played through his mind as he clutched a dagger in his hand, anxiously flitting through the shadows cast by the tall buildings on Canal Street. He didn’t have the luxury of being a coward, he was too far gone to back out now. It was hard to do that when you were midway into an intelligence-gathering mission for an assassination plot. Spruce’s eyes darted up above him, reading the cross-avenues as he hurried along the roads to his destination. Street after street went by as he tried to force his worries out of his mind, focusing on the task ahead of him. Finally, after a good half hour, he slowed, coming to the servant’s entrance of a baron’s house. He tucked the knife into his suit pocket, adjusted his collar, and opened the door, hurrying in.
He was absorbed into the hustle and bustle of the waitstaff easily and moved through the house with an ease that surprised even him. He held a pile of towels he’d snagged from a servant as he walked down the hall, keeping his eyes low so as to not draw attention. As he walked he looked at the small opening at the bottom of each door, looking for the cyan shoes of the man he was here to spy on. He finally spotted them at room 32. He reached his free hand up to the door, hesitating for a moment. He had to get this right. If he failed the whole mission would fall apart. He had to do this, he had to be brave. He inhaled sharply, then knocked.
“Sir Mosley?”
“Who is it?” A gruff voice responded.
“Your interim butler, sir. I’ve come to bring you warm towels for the evening.”
“Come in.”
Huh, that had been easy. He opened the door and entered, coming face to face with the man he’d heard so much about. He was nothing like he’d imagined. Stocky, balding, and wrinkled, Mosley wore a garish velvet suit of mahogany and a shiny black top hat, perched on his receding ring of straw hair.
“Come sit boy.” He commanded.
Spruce did as he was told, sitting down at the chair he’d been gestured toward, holding the towels in his lap. He felt the cushion give a litter and heard a click. Before he even had time to process what was happening a strap came out of the chair, tethering his waist to the chair, followed by his hands. He made a startled noise at the back of his throat, moving his body desperately to try and get out. Mosley stood, walking up to Spruce and grasped his chin, pulling it upward so they made eye contact.
“Spruce Whisperwind.” He hissed.
“I-I don’t know who that is, sir.”
“You can play up your act all you like, but I know who you are boy.” He yanked inward and Spruce fell forward.
“Listen, we both know why you’re here. You and your pals are going to kill me. You came to figure out where I would go next so you could isolate me and pull a hit. I’m onto you. I know how this plays out.” He circled towards the back of the chair. “But there’s just one thing I can’t figure out.” He moved a hand, wrapping it around Spruce’s neck. “Who else is involved? I’ve figured out you and the assassin girl you travel with, Raven, but there’s a third girl, one I don’t know about.” Spruce shook his head desperately. No, not Esther. He couldn’t find out about her, he couldn’t get to her.
Mosley wrapped his other hand around Spruce’s neck. “So here’s the deal. You tell me the girl’s name and I let you live.”
“No!” He sputtered, breaths quickening as the Mosley’s hands tightened. “No!”
“I thought you might say that.” Mosley took one hand away and reached forward into the inside of Spruce’s suit jacket, grabbing the knife. He spun it around and pressed the blade against Spruce’s neck until he drew a pebble of blood. “Is there any way I could make you reconsider?”
Spruce had never been a courageous man.

Daily #2
3/2/2026
623 words

A/N: clintasha fic!! mcu canon compliant, but vague enough that it doesn't have to be aou compliant if you don't want it to P: extreme endgame spoiler warning so AHAHAHHA-
everyone should get into strike team delta, they're my favs <3 and i love the many names of natalia alianovna romanova; any time she is referenced, the name that is used is deliberate and specific. might touch on that a bit at the end hehe <3

“Clint, where's Natalia?” Coulson asks, after rapping his knuckles on the door to the office. His suit is crisp and he holds a folder in his hand.
Clint looks up from a pile of paperwork, identical folders littered across the table. “Natalia? Why don't you ask Hill; they had a meeting earlier.”
“I visited her already. She informed me that they finished already. I assumed she'd be here with you.”
“Huh. She's probably in her room then. Why do you need her?” He straightens up in his seat, shoving the paper aside.
“Fury's asked for her,” Coulson says with a wry smile. “I think you've got yourself a new partner, Hawkeye.”
Clint's eyes light up. “Wait, she's in? She's actually an agent now?”
“Against the Council's original intentions, the Black Widow is officially a member of SHIELD.” Coulson hands him the file. “Welcome to STRIKE TEAM: DELTA.”

~~

Clint winces, his right arm screaming red as he clamps his hand over the open wound. His bow is on the ground, discarded, and his unused arrows weigh on his back. The air is still and quiet other than his own heart pulsing and ramming in his ears. His chest heaves with shallow breaths and he pries his eyes open to squint through the settling dust.
Tasha.
He turns his comms back on, fumbling with the shooting pain in his arms. “Have you heard anything from Romanov?”
“Nothing yet.”
“Shoot.”
Coulson breathes on the other side of the comms. “Barton, where's Romanov?”
“No sign of her,” Clint chokes.
Coulson's voice crackles back, static augmenting his voice. “Where did you last see her?”
“Last I saw, she was taking on three hostiles. Phil, she just healed from a bruised rib. She insisted. I should have told her no, she would've been fine. It's been like 10 minutes, Coulson.” The words tumble out of his mouth, but his mind is waking up and he knows the signs of scuffle on the ground, knows which direction he'll start running first, knows that he has enough arrows still to make a few rash decisions. He takes a steadying breath, adrenaline coursing through him as he grabs his bow and stands. “But she's coming back home.”
“Barton-”
“Talk to you later, Phil,” he says, before switching comms off.

~~

He had jumped, but the ground never came up to meet him.
Not when Natasha had tackled him midair and given him no choice but to hold on for dear life and watch as her fingers lost grip and her hand slipped. And she-
And all that's left is a hallow echo of his heart skipping every odd beat, trying to catch up to someone who is no longer there.
The sky is streaked in a mocking array of reds and purples, and he chokes because she should be seeing it, not him, and the sky is dripping, dripping in maroon red like his ledger had become, that he should have paid for, that- That he was too weak to fight for.
Now, he had to go back with the stupid glowing space rock alone.
And face the reality that will color the rest of his life.

He momentarily registers as the world dissolves and his body is being transported, his mind too fuzzy and overwhelmed. The world can pass by in a blur for all he cares. The sterile walls of the Avengers Compound are cold and there's no cause for celebration, not when he traded his best friend for a stone. His knees hit the ground, a dull ache.
His mouth is dry, tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, and he can only open and shut it without noise, when the ringing in his ears lull.
“Clint, where's Nat?”

the name natasha is only used when talking about her sacrifice, which is important to me. she has so many names and so many versions of herself, but it's also very personal. tasha is a clintasha thing ALWAYS and nat is more impersonable, relating to both natalia and natasha (and to an extent, natalie, i suppose) more avengers. idk she's important to me <3
and clint's name is never mentioned at all in the third section until bruce says it omg i just love it

oof you know what else. natasha's never actually in this fic at all. oooooof

Daily March 2nd
Words: 602

“Don’t be scared, the sea hasn’t eaten anyone for a long time,” Deryn said, skipping towards the water’s edge.
“How long is a long time,” Enna replied, eyeing the dark and frothy water.
Deryn stepped in, stirring up the sand, “A looong time. Pretty much forever. At least a hundred years.”
“Right. And you know this because…?”
“Everyone knows! Mermaids are just a story. A myth. I go swimming all the time.”
“Right. Then why haven’t you waded further yet?”
“It’s cold today. Come in, it’ll be more fun together!”
“Fine,” Enna hiked her white skirt up to her knees and cautiously dipped her toe into the water.
Everyone on the island thought mermaids were a myth, but Enna’s father had always taught her to believe in them. He used to be a sailor, when that kind of thing existed on the island, and he swore he had seen them. Empty-eyed and beautiful, reaching out towards him through the waves. But, everyone knew her father was crazy too, and her resistance to go swimming didn’t seem to be helping her sanity case among her peers. She let out a breath and stepped forward again. Deryn laughed and took a few more steps, the hem of her light summer dress dragging through the gentle current.
Enna had to admit the water felt good. She hardly ever got to stand like this in the Endless Lake, water pushing gently across her overheating skin. She stepped forward again and felt her feet sink into the sand. Maybe it wasn’t so bad. She closed her eyes and smiled, tilting her head back to the sky.
The water seemed to rush faster, churning and bubbling as though she was holding a shell to her ear. She was finally relaxing, finally realizing that the water felt good.
“Deryn,” she said, eyes still closed. “Thank you for convincing me to come out here, after all this time.”
She didn’t respond. Maybe she was dipping under the waves.
“Deryn?” Enna opened her eyes and was met with silence.
She couldn’t see Deryn anywhere, the only thing she could see was an iridescent sparkle under the waves. A trace of something her father had always babbled about. Mermaids.
“Deryn!” Enna cried, eyes frantic.
She ran back to shore, and she could’ve sworn she felt something nipping at her ankles. She whipped back around once safely on the sand and saw her friend’s hand reach up above the surface. Her face broke through too, her hair waterlogged and her eyes panicking as she gasped for breath.
“Enna!” she screamed before she was pulled under again.
Without hesitation, Deryn ran back through the shallow entrance of the Endless Lake and dove into the waves. She had learned to swim in a smaller lake when she was young, but she was out of practice and swimming against the current. She would never get to Enna. All of a sudden, a flash of seaweed hair appeared beside her. Iridescent scales covered her vision and there was nothing she could do. Nothing Enna could do. Everything went black.
***
“Are you sure about this? Didn’t the mermaids claim their last victim only a decade ago?” Navy said, his nose twitching as it always did when he was nervous.
“Don’t be silly, Navy. Mermaids are just myths,” Palmer scoffed.
He took a step forward and Navy scurried to catch up.
“I’m just nervous,” Navy said in a small voice.
“Well don’t be. I’m your older brother. I’ll protect you,” at his promise, Navy straightened his back. “Don’t be scared, the sea hasn’t eaten anyone for a long time.”

“I loved this place,” Eki said, smiling as she stood in Docking Bay Nine. She couldn’t believe it - today was the day she was leaving for the Fleet Academy on Earth, an exciting prospect. There’d always been some expectation on her that she’d follow her parents and go off exploring the far flung reaches of space, discovering new life and new civilisations and meeting all sorts of different cultures. She stood there, with her bags packed, glancing around at the space station she’d called home for so many standards.

“So did I, honestly,” Mir’ana said, hearing the surprisingly sentimental voice of Mir’ana. Eki’s Felician friend wasn’t known for showing much emotion, apart from deadpan humour and somewhat dark jokes. “It’s always been… home.”

“We’ll we’re heading off into the great unknown. Fleet Academy, here we come. I can’t wait to be exploring space on a starship or something,” Eki smiled. “What’s that humans say, when one door closes another opens?”

“Looks like someone paid attention in their Modern Language classes,” Eki heard the voice of her human friend, Asteria, join in. Asteria, like Eki herself and Mir’ana would also be joining the Fleet Academy with her. “And also, I would like to point out that I have lived on Earth before, so it’s not really a ‘great unknown’, Eki. You’re getting rather ahead of yourself.”

Eki snorted. “Well. What are we waiting for? Let’s go!” Eki excitedly bounded up to the waiting space ship in the docking bay, stepping towards a journey of new beginnings.

“Alright, Eki, slow down-!” she heard Asteria yelp behind her, but Eki was far beyond caring at that point. The future was bright, and it was calling her.

Eki sighed as she stalked to her bedroom in her small shared apartment with Mir’ana and Asteria. She was thankful that she was sharing with people she knew - she wasn’t sure how she’d handle living in quarters with people who she had no idea how to act sensible around.

“Eki! Is something up?” Eki glanced back as she saw Asteria had noticed her mood - great. Just the last thing she needed on her plate. Asteria seemed to be busy preparing dinner, as she normally had her Mondays free from any classes.

“I… just a lot of homework,” Eki replied dismissively. She didn’t have much work to do as the term had only just started, but she wanted to give Asteria an excuse to not bother her.

Asteria either didn’t hear it, or she saw through Eki’s excuse, because the next thing she knew, Asteria was standing with her arms crossed, leaning against the side of the door to her bedroom, her brown eyes finding Eki’s blue ones. “Eki. I know something’s up. I’ve known you long enough to know that you’re not okay right now.” Asteria’s words were somewhat forceful, but in a way that was firm and kind rather than demanding.

“Can I take some time for myself first though?” Eki asked, looking up at her friend.

“That’s fine,” Asteria replied. “I know you don’t want to tell me everything yet, and you don’t have to, but I would like to know what’s going on with you as your friend.”

Eki nodded. “I’ll see you for dinner then,” she said. “I need time to myself.”

Asteria left the doorway, and Eki quietly shut the door behind her to gaze out the window. The fact she had a window to gaze out of that didn’t end in endless stars - there was a cityscape, with trees, and other buildings. There was… a lot of colour in here, and she wondered if this was perhaps better than spending a lifetime exploring the stars.



asteriaaaaaaaa~
you free right now?

I’ll be free in about fifteen minutes
Why?

i want to talk to you
at the botanic gardens
because i am having a bit of a crisis right now
please

Okay, I’ll meet you there

“Eki?” Asteria asked as they walked through the botanic gardens. Autumn was in the air, and Eki couldn’t believe that there were so many different colours of leaves. It was beautiful. “You wanted to talk?”

Eki snapped herself out of her daydream. “Oh! Right, yes!” She replied. “Um. I’m not sure I really like being part of the Fleet Academy. I don’t even know if I want to explore space when it’s so pretty here.”

Asteria let out a light chuckle, but Eki knew she wasn’t laughing at her. “Ah, so that’s why you brought me here.”

“Yep,” Eki replied. “It’s just - I’ve lived in space my entire life, and everything here is so new and so pretty and so varied and so cool, I just don’t know if I can live in a temperature-controlled cabin for long periods. And the Fleet make graduates spend three or four years on a starship, and I don’t know if I can stand that. I want to leave the Fleet Academy and enrol in a university elsewhere.”

Eki bent down to touch a small purple flower that was beginning to wither. “See! It’s so pretty!”

“It is,” Asteria replied.

“But the thing is, I don’t want to disappoint my parents by leaving,” Eki sighed. “I’ve spent so much time working my way up to go to the Fleet Academy, and now I’m here, I’m just going to throw it all away.”

“Hey,” Asteria said, as Eki felt her friend envelop her in a hug. “You’re not going to learn anything by going down the well-worn path. If you want to leave and try something else, then… do it.”

“And you’re sure my parents won’t be mad?” Eki asked.

“They love you, Eki,” Asteria replied, her comforting words bringing Eki reassurance. “I’m sure you’ll find out you’ll end up exactly where you want to be. Sometimes, you just have to go wrong a bit first. That’s what my parents always taught me.”

“Thank you,” Eki replied.

“You’re really leaving us?” Mir’ana raised an eyebrow at Eki as she packed her bags, ready to move out of her room. Eki nodded in reply.

“Yep.” Eki replied. “We’ll see each other again soon, Mir’ana, I promise.”

Mir’ana snorted. “Knowing you, Eki, ‘soon’ could be anywhere from one day to several months.”

“If anything, I’ll be at your graduations," Eki responded in earnest. She would make it to their graduations. That was one thing she wouldn’t let herself miss. “Being on Earth has taught me that there can be a lot to explore in one place, so…”

“Ah, I see,” Mir’ana smiled. “You’ve got that need for some stability.”

“Maybe. I don’t know,” Eki smiled sadly. “But I love you, Mir’ana, and me leaving won’t change that, okay?”

Mir’ana’s whiskers twitched up. “Yeah, okay.”

“It’s weird to be back on a space station again,” Eki mused as she walked through the halls of Unity Spacedock. Asteria and Mir’ana had recently graduated from the Fleet Academy and Eki herself had gotten a degree in medicine for all sorts of creatures. Her two friends were dressed in the uniforms of ensigns, looking up proudly in their green junior medical staff uniforms. They’d be setting off on their first postings soon, while for Eki, life went on as normal. She’d be starting a job soon, too.

“It’s been four years since you last stepped on one, right?” Asteria asked.

“Mmmhm,” Eki replied. “Somehow, I don’t miss this as much as I ever thought I would. Earth is a far more interesting place to live.” Eki smiled bittersweetly as she looked out at the sleek ship that would be Mir’ana and Asteria’s home for the next few years.

“Why do I feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming?” Mir’ana groaned.

“I still loved this place.” Eki sighed sadly. “Part of me wishes I could come with you.”

“You’d much rather stick to the ground though, wouldn’t you?” Asteria teased. “I know how much you like the summer breezes down there.”

“I would,” Eki said, before quickly drawing Mir’ana and Asteria into a hug. “Safe journeys, guys. I’m so proud of you both.”

“Awww, you’re too sweet,” Asteria said. “I’m glad you decided to drop out, in the end.”

The moment was interrupted by Mir’ana’s groaning. “Asteria, we should go.”

“I won’t keep you any longer,” Eki smiled as she disentangled herself from the hug. She waved goodbye as her two friends walked away from her to their new beginnings, while Eki caught a glimpse of Earth below out of another window.

I loved this place.

Daily #2:
“You're such a good friend, Amaya.” I glared at her, waiting for an explanation. Deirde was walking away with a self-righteous smirk on her face after telling me, in her sickly sweet voice that I hate, “Honey, I think that sweater makes you look a little bit large.” I didn't really care what Dierde said, but I had expected Amaya to come back at her with something. Instead, she nodded! Nodded! And she's supposed to be my best friend! After a couple of awkward second without an explanation, I asked her what she thought she was doing. “Well…” she started, unsure. “Dierde invited me to her sweet sixteen party.” she told me, and my heart dropped. Dierde was the most popular girl in the school, and so her sweet sixteen was going to be big. Somehow, she had convinced her parents to leave that weekend, and she was throwing a giant party. But just because it was big didn't mean it was easy to get an invite. Everybody in the school had been trying to get their hands on one, but unless Dierde got something out of you, or you were a cute guy, you had no chance. But somehow Amaya had gotten an invite. “What’d you give her?” I asked, immediately suspicious, and I could tell she was hurt. “Why would I need to give her anything?” She spit the words out at me like I was the one being horrible. “Because Dierde doesn’t give anyone anything without getting something out of it.” I told her, crossing my arms so she would know I was serious. She sighed. “I might have promised her the third ticket to the Outsiders concert.” she admitted. I didn’t even say anything. I just walked away.
The Outsiders were a band that me, Amaya, and everybody else in our school loved. They were finally coming to a city about an hour away from our little town, and Amaya had managed to get three tickets, one of which she gave to me for my birthday. I had never asked what she was doing with the other one, because I assumed she was using it for her mom.
“Adrian!” I turned at the sound of my name, since it was Owen, not Amaya. “Hey.” I said. “What’s going on?”
“Um… so, Dierdre was mouthing off about you again…”
“When isn’t she?” I interrupted. “If I had a penny for every time Dierde said something about me, I’d be rich.”
That stopped him for a second, but he continued, “She said that Amaya told her you were a horrible friend, and Dierde was so much better.” I stood, wide-eyed as I tried to process what he was saying. Then I turned back around and marched over to Amaya.
It looked like she had already forgotten about me, because she was talking to Samantha, one of Dierde’s friends. “You’re taking Deirdre to the concert?” Samantha was saying. “That’s, like, so nice of you.”
Normally, I was a pretty polite person, but I didn’t care very much about interrupting this particular conversation. I barged right in between them to confront Amaya. “I get why you’d invite her to the concert,” I said to her, “but why in the world did you have to tell her that I’m a horrible friend?”
She looked confused, and I had no idea why until she said, “Adrian, I never said that.”
“Sure you didn’t.” I rolled my eyes. “Owen wouldn't’t lie to me about something like this.”
“He heard me say that?” she asked, still pretending to be confused.
“No, Dierdre told him about it. I guess she’s not such a great friend after all, if she can’t keep your secrets.”
“No… she’s not a great friend.” Amaya looked at me, regret filling her eyes. “Adrian, I really never said that, and if Dierdre was really lying about me like that, then she isn’t as good of a person as I thought.”
“You couldn’t have realized that when she insulted me?” I said in a low tone. “I’m supposed to be your best friend!”
Then, with the worst possible timing, Dierde sauntered over. “Why are you two talking to this loser? She asked Amaya and Samantha. Amaya ignored her and asked a question of her own.
“Did you tell Owen I said Adrian was a terrible friend?” she asked.
“Of course I did.” said Dierde “Because it’s true, right?”
“It’s not true!” said Amaya. “Adrian is a great friend, and I never said that! Maybe your the one who’s a bad friend here!”
“Well, maybe you should be more careful about insulting me if you still want to be friends at all and come to my party.”
“I don’t want to go to your stupid party if it means insulting Adrian. And I think you shouldn’t come with us to the concert, either, if you really don’t like her that much.”
“Fine, then.” And with that, Dierde walked away, not realizing that she had just lost the best friend she’d ever had.
I looked at Amaya, seeing her differently now. “You really never said that?”
“I’d never say that about you.” she responded, almost defensively.
I looked at her again, and said, “No, you wouldn't. You’re such a good friend, Amaya.”

⋆⋅☾⋅⋆ 1k Introduction ⋆⋅☾⋅⋆
March 1

Word Count: 612

Hello all! I am Dawn, also known as Dwan or Dan (or Donathon or William lol). I have been doing scratch writing camp since 2021, when I was only fourteen years old. Since then, I've been pretty consistent with joining each session, though I've missed a couple. Scratch Writing Camp has been a huge part of my life in so many different ways, from the friends I made to the leadership skills I learned from co-leading. I can't imagine life without it. Whether you're a swc veteran or this is your first session, I can guarantee you'll love it and make so many great memories. I've met some of my best friends through scratch writing camp <33 (shoutout Mouse )
Before I joined scratch writing camp, I was on scratch for 2-3 years. I *hated* writing and would avoid it all costs. That is until I discovered roleplaying. I was hooked. I loved the social aspect of it as I was pretty withdrawn and disconnected. I was also into art and enjoyed drawing my roleplay ocs. As I roleplayed, I obviously met some swcers as there's a large overlap between the two scratch communities. That eventually led me to look up to quite a few scratchers who just happened to be doing swc; and little me wanted to impress them so I decided to join swc. Long story short, I fell in love with writing and just never stopped <3
Anyway, in addition to writing, I have *many* other hobbies. I love trying new things and tend to cycle through hobbies. If it's something creative, you can almost guarantee that I've tried it or want to. Before covid, I had more active hobbies like aerial silks, taekwondo, acrobatics, horseback riding, etc. during covid they obviously shifted more to things I can do at home. I took up things like knitting, writing, drawing, crafts, etc. Now I have a pretty good balance, I love dance, musical theatre (though I aged out of my theatre program :pensive, reading, baking, and cooking, among other things. My favourite thing is spending time with my friends though. Whether that's in person or online, I love being with people. (I also love meeting new people, so feel free to shoot me a message! I promise I don't bite <3)
I don't know how to transition so let me briefly talk about my dog because she deserves a mention. I love my dog. Her name is Piper and she's a labrador x golden retriever mix. She's adorable and I love her so much. I don't know what else to say about her, except that she's the best dog in the world and I will die on that hill
I already talked about my hobbies so let tell you about some of my favourite things. Like I said earlier I love to read, so I might as well list some of my favourite books. My top series is The Hunger Games and I don't think that will ever change. Suzanne Collins is a genius. The books are a masterpiece and I will take no arguments. I also really enjoy Jane Austen's novels. As far as movies go, the Spiderverse movies are both top tier, and I also love K Pop Demon Hunters. I actually hate most of The Hunger Games movies, surprisingly. They just left out so much detail, they don't do the books justice. The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes was okay, I hate that one the least. I *am* excited for the Sunrise on the Reaping movie though!! The Sunrise on the Reaping book is my favourite though so I'm worried it won't live up to my expectations.

Fairy rings were always something that Abby was curious about. Maybe dangerously so.

To her, they were just so beautiful and symmetrical. An oddity in nature. She knew what they really were, of course. Just mushrooms.

But she could dream of what the storied said they were: portals to another realm. The fairy world, to be specific.

That's what the myths always said. She used to think they were silly stories, when she was a little girl. That they were just stories her mom would tell her to entertain her, or get her to sleep.

She always thought that they were just childish stories.

Until her mother disappeared of course.

Mom always went out to the woods behind their house. Sometimes it was to gather berries and herbs. She always said they tasted better than the ones from the store. Abby always agreed. They were better than storebought.

But sometimes it was just to walk around, observe nature. Sometimes she'd bring a journal to write about her findings, occasionally doodling a particularly pretty flower or bird that she saw.

She always did it once a week.

She'd disappear into the woods for an hour or two, journal and pen, or basket and gloves, in hand.

But three hours had passed, and there was no sign of her.

Five hours had passed, and dinner hadn't been started yet. Abby and her sister were too young and small to cook by themselves. Their dad wasn't home yet, either.

Eight hours had passed, and dad was home. He didn't seem worried quite yet. Not until she wasn't responding to his texts.

Twelve hours passed, and Abby couldn't sleep. Neither could her sister. They didn't think their dad could sleep, either.

Twenty-four hours passed, and dad kept calling people. Nobody was helping. Abby couldn't stop crying. Her sister couldn't, either.

Forty-eight hours passed, and people were finally searching for her. Abby and Liz were at a friend's house. They just waned to go home.

Ninety-six hours passed, and there was no sign of her.





Two years passed, and there was no sign of her.

Dad was re-married now. Abby and Liz don't like her.

They don't say that.

But two years had passed, and Abby had found a lot of things.

She had found her mom's journal, tucked away in the back of the closet, hidden deep in a shoebox. Sketches of animals she had never seen before decorated the recent pages, leading up until the day before her disappearance.

She had found her mom's necklace, embedded with iron around the edges, a pretty piece of green topaz in the center. It was gently folded away in a cloth, stuffed in the bottom of a drawer.

She had found a birthday present for her eleventh birthday, hidden right next to that shoebox. Her mom had never gotten to give it to her, she had disappeared four months before it.

She opened it for her thirteenth birthday, instead.

It was a book, one about mythology. Specifically about the fae, and their customs, and stories they made appearances in.

She read it because mom gave it to her.

She still thought that those stories were childish.

She learned a lot of things.

Like how fae couldn't touch iron, because it would burn them. You would use it to ward them away, to keep you safe.

Like how fairy rings were portals to the fae realm, a weak spot in the border betweem human and fae. You could enter to the fae realm through them.

There was no guarantee that you would be able to come back.

Mom always wore her iron necklace when she went out into the forest to gather mushrooms.

Until the day she disappeared.

She never said anything about her findings.

She did start to wear her mother's necklace after she read that book, though.

Maybe those stories weren't so silly after all.

Fairy rings were always something that Abby was curious about.

⋆.˚ “Down the Match” ⋆·˚ ༘ *

Pressure is a privilege. A saying drilled into my head. No one knew my past, present, or future, yet still had the audacity to push me further. I do not fight back, I never do. Just listen, smile, and accept what is given to you. No comments or remarks, not even a thought. To be able to retain a burden placed onto your shoulders, that is what it takes to win.
“And now, ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Claire Delrose!” The sound of the crowd buzzed through my brain. I walked onto the court, unaware of any surroundings. Each step felt like another trudge adding onto the weight of my backpack. I blinded the beauty of that day, isolated through anticipation, in fear. My opponent had already settled her belongings on the bench. She was a tall girl, wore a pleated dress, and a visor over her slick ponytail. I observed, in what I could, I did. Confidence radiated off of her like a beaming crystal. How elegant and brave, a girl who could stay true to herself in the worst of times.
I placed my backpack down onto the bench. You must breathe. I needed to save myself from dooming too far. I picked up my racquet, my beloved racquet, and took my place. The umpire began her routine introduction which spurred into a monotonous ringing in my head. To be zoned out into a different world is an understatement. Emotions crushed me every ticking second as I began to walk towards the base line. I pushed myself to get through the warm up. It was good for me, I had to begin somewhere. The clock came to an end and my opponent took a sip of water. It was now officially time to begin.
It was her serve first. “Fifteen love.” An ace to open her game. I knew what I dreaded the worst, and I must not let it come. She held serve. At changeover, I took my small chance to observe the audience. I saw my box. Coach was angry and I knew why. But all she ever wants for me is to be happy with myself. I could not break her heart, I would not break her heart. In the midst of absolute struggle, I fought through the deuce of my first service game. We were tied one-all.
I fought and fought, continuously pushing forward. Yet I could not take a hold of the first set. I felt bruised. I was letting myself down. This was too important to lose. I could feel the expectation radiating throughout the crowd. It was high and great. The longing of an awaited win, for me.
It was when I was about to lose all hope, I noticed the most familiar face in the audience. A face I had mastered since I was born, a person so dear to my heart. But how could it be? He was on the other side of the country just last night. Settling down next to Coach in my box, my brother gave me the warmest smile. I looked over, trying to crumble through my feelings. He began to mouth words to me. And he told me three things. “Remember this Claire. You are resilient, I love you, and fear is your friend.”
At that moment, I snapped back into reality. The life inside of me came rushing through my body. I could feel, I was not numb. This adrenaline shook me and brought back my senses. “Time!” shouted the umpire.
I knew what I had to do. From set down I would win. I would persevere through. Not for Coach, not for the audience, not for my brother, but for myself.
Point by point, game by game, I took redemption over my opponent. “Game and set, Ms. Delrose ties the match one-all.”
I learned that people will always set expectations. They will never be able to know how I will succeed. It is not a burden, a weight, not an audacity pressed upon me. There is no need to want to fight back, there is no need for blind acceptance. To be able to bring yourself up in devastating times beholds you a virtue that makes one better than others.
In these last few moments of the match, I learned what perseverance really was. A carefree mind, confidence, and an alignment to fear in order to create the best version of oneself. The mind of a champion is what I gained. It was not about winning, losing, or the expectations upon me. Yes indeed, I went on to win the match and accept a trophy for that final.
A champion is no easy task to fill, for they must be unconditionally accepting that pressure is their privilege.


✎ 3.2.2026 ~ Daily #2 ❀ ~ 795 words ౨ৎ
⌗ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴀꜰꜰʀᴏɴ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇʙᴏᴏᴋ ⋆˚࿔

02.03.26 ★ Same Line Daily
571 words

“C'mon… I would never, ever date Dallas Winston,” I told Marcia the moment we climbed out of Randy's car. It was a blue Mustang, and a real classy one too. He had gotten it about four months ago, and we've been cruising around ever since. Marcia sighed contentedly as we watched it swerve away through the cool night air.

“I know that, Cherry.” She raised her eyebrows. “You don't like Coca Cola, anyway.”

I half-smiled at that. Marcia was a real good friend, and she was right. I wouldn't have taken the drink even if I had wanted to.

I mean, I knew it wasn't my fault that the Socs and the Greasers hated each other. I just didn't get why. That kid I talked to - Ponyboy - we weren't much different. And Bob and Dally were just two sides of the same coin!

At my side, Marcia was staring off into the distance, hands in her pockets. She had given her number to Two Bit earlier, and I could tell she was thinking of him. It was just a matter of waiting, though I didn't see much changing anytime soon. I mean, as if a Greaser would go for a Soc like us- why did things have to be so complicated?

The same thing was on my mind a week later, although the situation was really very different. Whatever turn of events that had led me to being a “spy” for the Greasers would be too much to go through, but, somehow, I found myself spending my Saturday night driving to the hospital.

Now, I know what you're thinking. What was I doing at the hospital when I had just told Ponyboy that I wasn't gonna go visit Johnny? Thing is, I hadn't forgotten that Dally was injured too. And I guess that when I read the local paper, some part of me realised that just because someone's mostly dangerous doesn't mean that they're fully bad. So yes, Dally was a criminal, but he sure had a heart of gold.

I felt like a bit of an outsider, walking into his room. Not a full Greaser, but not a full Soc either. Just a person, really. A person visiting a friend.

I was greeted with the glint of a blade as Dally shot up in his bed.

“Goodness! Dally, where on earth did you get that knife from?”

“Uh… Two Bit?” came the cautious reply, and, irritatingly enough, he grinned. “Why, you scared?”

I was a little, but shook my head. “No! Of course not… I just wanted to see how you're doing, being burnt and all.”

“Jesus, I'm doing fine. No need to come visit, Soc.”

I knew he was joking by then because of the way that he spoke, and we went into an easy conversation from there. It was slightly guarded, slightly offensive, but still nice enough. It seemed almost too soon when he sprang out of bed and started to head for the door.

“Hey, where you going?” I asked, hoping he wasn't off to that dreadful fight.

“You seriously don't know that there's a rumble going on today?” Then, just like that, he was gone.

I didn't see Dally again after that, though I definitely still thought of him. And it's been rough, but things are rough all over, and at least I now know one thing for sure:

I will never, ever date Dallas Winston.

Daily #2 - 778 words
“Write a piece that opens and closes with the exact same line, but by the time the reader reaches the end, its meaning has completely changed.”

A/N: Peraltiago my beloved let's go!! the fluctuating tenses are kind of an author's choice but yeah idk i kinda lost track of my timeline jgjdjsjkd just ignore them okay

“There’s a typo in this crossword puzzle!” Santiago exclaimed. The squad had been on hour five of their detectives-only retreat, and everyone was already tired and wanting to get to the beach house. “I mean, come on, only idiots spell accommodate with one C-” She started to explain her annoyance.
“No one likes a know-it-all, Santiago.” Jake had monotonously and tiredly replied from the backseat, without even opening an eye.
Amy rolled her eyes and silently returned to the puzzle, which she felt was more deserving of her attention than Peralta.
~
Amy was dialing Jake. The Captain, the Sarge, and her were off to a special meeting at One Police Plaza; and, to put it simply, she didn’t trust Jake not to set the precinct on fire or not to flood it or not to completely demolish it somehow. If he wanted to, she thought, he would find a way to do it. When she was about to hang up herself, annoyed, Jake answered.
“Heeeeeeeeeeey.”
He said one word and Amy knew. He said one word and Amy knew; she knew that he was already in trouble and that she would probably have to be the one to clean up so the Captain wouldn’t get mad and everything didn’t spiral out of control and wondered why things always backfired and affected her and why she felt responsible for-
She stopped herself. Why do I assume the worst? Maybe that’s just his new way of greeting everyone. It doesn’t mean he’s in trouble. She shook her head. It’s Jake. There’s a 99% chance he’s in trouble.
“Soooo. How are you guys doing?” He emphasized the last word, clearly trying to hide the worry in his voice; but Amy knew him better than he thought she did. She could read him, even on the phone.
“What,” she paused and took a breath, exasperated, “did you do?”
“Listen. Do you happen to know the best way to clean up stains of horse feces mixed with scrambled eggs and slime? We’re talking BIG stains.” He stopped for just a moment. “You know. Just a hypothetical.”
~
Amy was journaling, her colored pens neatly organized beside her notebook. She felt confused, and she couldn’t understand why she was having doubts about going out with someone so perfect. Teddy was perfect. He loved police work. He had gone with her to code camp. Where was she going to find someone else that knew, from memory, that code 10-51 meant “Roving gang” and the need to “specify direction of travel and number in group”? Yeah, Teddy was perfect.
Except he… wasn’t. He was boring. Don’t even get me started on his love for pilsners, Amy wrote down.
But then, what?
Amy grabs a blank page from a pile in her desk and starts mindlessly doodling on it (so as not to ruin her perfectly organized journal). Her thoughts wander and wander, and eventually settle on Jake. Jake, immature and childish. But also Jake, funny and passionate. Jake. Jake. Jake.
And there, in the loneliness of her room, accompanied only by her stationery, Amy tucks her hair behind both ears at the same time.
~
Jake was sitting at his desk, thinking about cases and thinking about his mom and thinking about random stuff and thinking about the squad. Most importantly, though, he was thinking about the girl whose desk was next to him. That is, Amy. He was thinking about Amy. He had been planning the fifth Halloween Heist since November 1. But he had been planning something much more special for around six months, and now he was scared something might go wrong. He was nervous, really really REALLY nervous; and the worst part was that he had to keep this a complete secret. Not even Boyle could know.
“Hey Jake-” Amy called out, not taking her eyes off her computer.
“Whaaaaat do you need?” Jake’s face betrayed how caught off guard he was. His voice sounded abnormal, to say the least. Suspiciously high-pitched and a tell-tale sign that he was worried. He tried to play it off.
“Jeez, I see you’re clearly planning something for tomorrow’s heist,” she said, with that determination and authority that he so admired about her, and shot him a distrustful side eye. “But I just need you to sign a file for me.”
“Of course, yeah, yeah, yeah. Cool, cool, cool.” He rolled his chair over to Amy’s desk. “So, where is it?”
~
Jake and Amy are lying in bed. Jake looks at his phone; the date on it reads April 28th. Amy reads a magazine; she gasps.
“There’s a typo in this crossword puzzle!”

⋆ monday, march 2nd: same opening and closing line
content warning? i though the bird thing was funny but this lowk made me sad

the birds are watching.
we’re eight years old and lying on our backs on damp spring-green grass. there’s probably bugs all over our arms and tangled hair but we don’t care enough to be bothered by it. the gentlest of sunburns flushes our cheeks pink, and we just lay there and laugh until we’re so out of breath we think we’re dying.
“do you think they liked our show?” i asked my friend between giggles. the birds, they’re gathered at the edge of the forest perched on the outermost branches. dark, curious eyes had followed us as we’d performed a small number of sorts, cartwheeling and somersaulting all through the meadow like madmen before collapsing.
“i’m sure they did. who wouldn’t?” she smiles widely, showing off a missing front tooth. the daisy crown on her head has gone lopsided. soft chirps and notes of song float around us; the same melodies we’d been hearing through our windows since we were babies. a bright blue bird ruffles its feathers. “aw, look, he’s so cute. do you think he’d let us pet him?”
he doesn’t, to our disappointment, and the whole flock flees into the shadows of the trees as we run forward. we’re not sad for too long though, quickly going back to jumping around and blowing wishes on dandelions.

the first war comes two years later. our parents don’t exactly tell us so, but we can tell by the tension in the air, the empty gray sky, the emptiness of the stores, the pictures in the news and the way we’re practicing all kinds of random drills at school.
we ask our teacher, once. “what’s hiding under a desk going to do if the building explodes?” there’s a snarky glimmer in my eye as i ask it, thinking i’ve stumped her. i liked stumping adults, but she only smiles sadly.
“it’s better than nothing, darling.”
she tells us that it’s all going to be better (‘normal’, she’d called it) within a couple of weeks, maybe months at most.
even from then i knew deep down she was wrong, yet i hated to see it come true.

a full year later and normal doesn’t quite simply ‘come back’ the way we wanted it to, instead shifting itself into a new identity. normal is the absence of recess, dry bread, smoke in the skies. the adults keep smiling but i can see the new lines in their face, tension behind their eyes.

it sort of spirals on from there, i think. i don’t really remember those parts well, anymore. rockets, hushed anticipating silence, headlines that made my mom (my mom, the strongest person i knew) send tears falling into her morning coffee.
i don’t really see my friend anymore, but i hope she remembers all the fun we had back in the day. i yearned for it so bad, every second of every day. the meadow with flowers in its glory and laughter ringing high and clear.

time flies, not unlike the bluebirds had when we tried to catch them and later when the first cannons fired. i pull the curtains and peak outside at barren ground, devoid of life, devoid of the ants that bit so ferociously and i found myself missing them, too.
i don’t know if i’m only imagining it, but i don’t think i’ve seen the sun in a long time. there’s four gray pigeons, perched on a wire and blending into the landscape. i can see the menacing, artificial red glint in their eyes.
the birds are watching.

Hi! I'm Pyrite (she/her) and I'm 16 This is my first SWC session, I look forward to getting to know you! Feel free to message (although I might forget to check scratch because I'm good at forgetting to check things), I don't bite!

My hobbies include reading, writing, drawing, knitting, and playing games! I mostly prefer reading (and writing) yuri, with some of my favorite works being The Summer You Were There, Long-Awaited Feelings, and Can't Defy the Lonely Girl! Expect a lot of f/f stuff from me. I enjoy playing chess, though I'm not very good at it, Blood on the Clocktower (denial, sandy, game when??), and Minecraft (DENIAL GET ON THE SERVER DENIAL.), although I haven't had a whole lot of time to play due to living on my own after transferring universities

I'm a junior double majoring in biochemistry and microbiology, and some of my research interests are oncology and pathology! I'm super interested in diseases and vaccine development My finals will be smack in the middle of March, so I probably won't be available then

My music tastes are a bit out there I feel like? I listen to a pretty wide mix of genres—DnB, digicore, hyperpop, and rock, to name a few—but I don't listen to that many artists tbh. I adore most of Vylet Pony's recent-ish works (creature man is so good!!! i love creature man <3) and I listen to a lot of nightiger when I'm studying, which is pretty often.

I'll edit this to have links to all of my SWC stuff
dailies
3/2 https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/869490/?page=6#post-9016861
3/3 https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/869490/?page=8#post-9018402
3/5 https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/869490/?page=10#post-9021026

random stuff
https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/869490/?page=15#post-9027158 » cabin war entry that i was late for

March 2nd Daily (same sentence)
417 words
concept is the reader slowly realizes they're being introduced to a dystopian world taken over by technology through this tv program

“I love technology!” A charming animated girl bounces into the frame. “I'm Anna! And technology is what makes Earth a step above the rest!” A graphic of a small, wired network floats onto the screen. “This is our neuro enhancement device! Most of you have it already, because it can be painlessly implanted at birth, and grows with you to give you advanced neurological capabilities, as well as access to technology without those pesky screens - just direct connection to you!” The graphic slides up out of the frame. “We now have some exciting news! This technology is now going to be available to everyone thanks to-” The screen goes black. You squint, wondering what happened. Two seconds later, however, you get your answer. An alarm sound starts playing from the tv, as red text scrolls across, reading: “DO NOT TRUST THEM - THEY'RE NOT HELPING YOU, THEY'RE CONTROLLING YOU.” An image appears, one of the company that created the neuro enhancement device, zooming in. But something looks different, the sky is bluer - this footage is from a couple years ago. The CEO sits in a chair, writing an email. Suddenly, the screen cuts back to the original broadcast.
“Sorry for the disruption in our program, it should continue as normal,” a deep, male voice booms. Anna unfreezes on the screen.
“This technology is now going to be available thanks to the new government mandate! If you do not yet have your very own neuro enhancement device, stop by the nearest Mindwell Tech center. We will also be going door to door, just to make sure everyone has the opportunity to-”
“THEY'RE LYING TO YOU. ANNA HAS BEEN THE GOAL FROM THE START. IT DOESN'T BENEFIT YOU, IT CONTROLS YOU.” The screen shows the text ANNA in red, zooming in to reveal an acronym. "This is what ANNA really stands for.“ The text reads, ”Artificial Network for Neurological Authority.“ The text fades, leaving one last sentence. ”Don't give in. Help us stop them before it's too late, before it's not this easy to intervene.“ *click.* The program cuts to black. It stays like this for a minute, before smiling Anna comes back on the screen. However, it seems there is still a struggle for power on the broadcast.
”I love technolo-“ ”I'm ANNA.“ A robotic voice. ”ARTIFICIAL NETWORK FOR NEUROLOGICAL AUTHORITY“ ”I- I'm-“ ”I love tech-“ ”I love-“ ”I'm-“ ”ARTIFICIAL NETWORK FOR NEUROLOGICAL AUTHORITY.“ ”I'm An-“ ”I lov-“ ”I love technology!" Finally, the program just shuts off.

➵ Quest the Second: Same Line Daily ⊹ ₊

I would sooner die than let another deadly riddle spill out my mouth. I could gouge my eyes out and still see what others don't. I could cut off my ears and still hear whispers from the voices trapped in my mind. When will it end? Never. Never, they told me. Prophecy is not a gift you can throw away. It will haunt you for years and years even into life after. Like a cup of poison filling to the top and overflowing. There's always enough poison. Like the Olympians above filled the fountain and cursed it. Cursed the fountain to overflow and for the pain to be eternal.

Heroes come begging for answers whilst I pray that I don't. That the gift curse will leave me and float into the wind like all things do. Heroes come expecting prophecies and walk away with riddles that would confuse the best Greek philosophers. Only a madman or a lunatic would understand. But if I'm not a madman or a lunatic, what am I? What could I possibly be if not those things? A prophet. That is what I am and what I am cursed to be. I will be nothing more and nothing less.

Heroes seek me but they shouldn't. Every prophecy comes with tragedy. Knowing what the future holds is a burden better left cold. When heroes leave with my riddles, they go on to face great pain. They go on to die or live with trauma. “I shouldn't blame myself. The Olympians did this. Blame Apollo! It's not your fault.” That is what they say. That is what they think. But they are wrong. So very terribly wrong. I volunteered. I offered myself the finest golden platter and I said I would do it. THat I would take on a weight stronger than the world. That I was and could be stronger than Atlas himself but I was wrong.

They were wrong and I was wrong. It was my pride that got me to this point. My pride was not only my downfall but the downfall of many others. I could've lived a different life. I could've made friends, helped people, and I could've saved lives instead of ending them. This is why I'm doing this. This is why I'm marching up to Olympus. I don't care what happens. There's nothing they can do to me or take from me and I would sooner die than spill any more hero-killing prophecies.

» — ⋙ 412 words ⋘ — «

placeholder for table of contents

Daily 2 - Bookend Structures
word count - 422 words

I was finally alone.

The screams echoed into the darkness of my apartment, an outlook over the city filled with traffic and blinking lights. As I dragged myself out of bed, I couldn't help but notice the sun rays glimmer right past my window. The sky was a shade like no other, filled with a combination of pastels - a paint brush dipped in one and mixed right to the other. It was breathtaking and in some ways, it was a way to forget. To lose yourself in this abyss would be one of life's greatest gifts, or so I thought.

I stared directly out the window, palm on the handle just waiting to open the balcony. It was dreary, cold, but the sun would make you think otherwise. I knew better than to go outside but every inch of my body wanted to defy my conscience. Suddenly, I heard a knock on my door. It was faint, almost like a wooden echo. I genuinely thought that I was hallucinating, however, I still decided to go check it out to see what was up. As soon as a I opened the door a letter fell right in from of me.

It was engraved with gold leaf and had a wax seal - I knew who this was, after all, how could I ever forget. After quickly scanning the halls, I shut the door abruptly, and for a second, I just stand there with my hand still on the knob. Slowly, my shoulders are tighten as if someone locked them in place. I can feel the shape of the mask still sitting on my face, and suddenly… it slips.

– x –

Tears pour down my eyes as my vision gets hazy. I thought I was over this. I thought I was over her. Yet, a literal year later all I can think about is who we used to be. I used to find solice, comfort, in the shadows with no disturbances. But now, the quiet became haunting. Instead of a sign of my freedom, it was the very cage that kept me trapped from ever exploring what more would look like with you. Even as the days passed, I never even stopped to consider just what life was leading up to.

I took you for granted. I took us for granted. The words echoed in my brain, but not as the comforting mantra you would think they'd be. Instead, it served as a haunting reminder…

I was finally alone.

Daily 2!
“This character is #@$!*#@ broken!” Paul seemed to be on the verge of slamming his red and blue controller straight into Micah’s face. “If it’s so broken, then why is it in the game?” Micah teased with a huge grin on his face. The two were sitting on the couch, with Joyce and Liam sitting on the carpeted floor of the game room. The teens were staring at a widescreen TV that emitted the occasional “pow” and “blam”, primarily to Paul’s dismay.
Joyce looked at Paul with a little concern in her eyes. “Shouldn’t you go a little easier on him, Mike? I mean, he has fewer hours on that game than you do talking to women.”
Paul grinned and looked at Joyce. “Hey! He has talked to you for at least 5 or 6 hours total this semester.”
“Still under double digits!”
“Wow, Joyce. Sometimes you can really be mean. Let’s put a hold on that topic. I need some revenge. That comment hurt almost as much as this is about to hurt Paul.”
Joyce and Liam looked back at the TV just in time to see Paul’s character fly off the screen. “Huh, down to one life already. I hate this guy.”
The two continued at it until the inevitable outcome of Micah’s victory was announced through fanfare. They traded controllers with the two on the floor and got up.
“So uh, what else is there to expand on, you barely knowing what women are? I mean, it’s good you’re admitting it, but I am interested as to where this is going.”
“Well, aside from Joyce, there is one other that I talk to…”
“You’re kidding.”
“No, I swear this is serious!”
“What? Who? Which one is out of their mind?”
“Haha, very funny. Do you know Stacey, the one who’s been going to the same classes as us? We never really told you, but that wasn’t as much of a coincidence as you may think.”
“Why are you talking like it’s some top secret mission? This is big news, man! But uh, why did you need to talk to me?”
The two walked into the kitchen, and both grabbed a soda from the fridge. The loud hiss could be heard from the TV room. A voice echoed out. “Hey! Make sure to save some for us!” “Yeah, yeah, hold your horses, we’ll bring some for you guys.” The two each grabbed an extra drink and started walking back.
Paul started again. “Look, if you came to ask me for some advice, just know you are somehow getting more experience than I am, so just do whatever you are doing right now, I’m sure it’ll work out between you two.”
Micah sighed and started to reply. “I know but-”
“THIS CHARACTER IS #@$!*#@ BROKEN!”

♣ // SWC March 2026 - Daily #2

Aha Will Never Let You Down || 444 / 400 words

"We are not exactly finished, but! 444 words, daily for the one and only Scary Tales! https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/post/9016489/ +650 points. Aha is not responsible for any damage caused to your story, Aha is not responsible, Aha is not responsible…"

—————————————————-

Aha will never let you down!

Posters decorated with obnoxiously vibrant catchphrases and generally nonsensical punchlines lined the walls of the famed World's End Tavern. From the corner of her eye, the girl could see a small group of jelly-like cubes — wispaes, as she had learnt merely a system hour ago, hopping along their way across the hallway.

Aha will never let you down!

She was given no instructions as to where to go next, which way to turn at which corridor, not even an estimate of when she had to arrive. Time seemed to flow differently in this utterly whimsical space, where “fun” seemed to last for as long as eternity suggests and all else diminished within a matter of seconds. There were no hints as to which turn would lead to an awaiting enemy, which doors opened up to traps and trapdoors even she could not escape from. And even if she were to run into someone, the last thing on the opponents' minds would be to battle it out on anything besides a friendly game of cards. As far as the girl was concerned, it was just the way she liked it.

Aha will never let you down!

As she continued to traverse through the seemingly endless spiral of blinding lights and catchy tunes, she stumbled upon a strange, large room. Whether it looked like just your ordinary archives or a collection of the world's most comedic creations was entirely up to perspective. And in the center of it all… Wait, is that…

The grand total of one copy of one of the rarest items in the entire cosmos was sitting right in the center of the open vault.

The… one of the rarest items in the entire cosmos.

Hidden… barely hidden, really, in the open vault.

No, it's unmistakable! It has to be a Stellar Jade! What else could it be?

Who leaves their Stellar Jades out in the open?! Not me, clearly…

It was a no-brainer. The action that followed was so quick she had barely even registered it herself…

(What? You thought she stole the Stellar Jade? Snatched, perhaps, since stealing doesn't usually apply to cases wide out in the open well, it wasn't like the setting wasn't a fan of “doesn't usually”, but we are. Wait, or would it be “we aren't”…? Are we fans of the “doesn't usually”? Haha, I'm confusing even myself!? Oh, puh-lease. That's way too predictable, no…?)

[This content has been removed and marked for moderation by Aha. Aha is not responsible for any damage caused to your story, Aha is not responsible, Aha is not responsible…]

Aha will never let you down!

Daily 2 || 699 words

When it rained, she would go to the bridge.

Kalanchoe sprinted through the town, feeling the drops against her fur. She ignored the glares of her neighbors as she followed the dirt path she had trod hundreds of times before, leaving the village into the forest. When there, Kalanchoe slowed, walking peacefully between the trees with pink and gold leaves. And before long, she reached her destination.

The river cut through the forest, its current amplified by the harsh rains. A small wooden bridge arced over it, and on its peak was the person Kalanchoe was looking for.

Tempest's hair flowed in the wind as she looked at Kalanchoe, a grin forming on her face as she ran to hug her. Kalanchoe laughed as she embraced Tempest, the creature being a friend, a parent, and a mentor to the strange hybrid creature.

“It's been so long!” Kalanchoe chirped, pulling her bandana off of her face as Tempest stroked her fur. “Do I get to go home with you yet?”

“Not yet,” Tempest whispered, her voice gentle and almost drowned out by the rain. “But for right now, I can be here.” Tempest's fuzz glistened as rain drizzled onto her, reminding Kalanchoe of the stars. “Now, what shall we do today, little one?”

Kalanchoe aired out her frustration first. How the village she was forced to reside in considered her a beast, even after she had done every little thing Tempest had told her to. It was like they were incapable of seeing her as sentient just because she had a more feral side.

Tempest listened, stroking Kalanchoe. Tempest was a good listener, even if she didn't have advice for the young rabbit-being. And once Kalanchoe was finished with her stories, they played games, ate Tempest's special food, and meditated together, before Tempest told Kalanchoe the story she always did: about how the rain spirit shone on anyone who was honest and kind, and how one day it would open the door to Tempest bringing Kalanchoe to her home.

“Thank you for everything,” Kalanchoe whispered as the rain slowed to a trickle. She looked at her reflection in the water and smiled, before moving her fluff to cover the eyeless side of her face and pulling up her bandana in order to hide her fangs. When she looked up, Tempest was gone, as she always was.

Kalanchoe giggled, waving to the unknown lands beyond the bridge, before turning to go back home, her expression falling.

When she returned to the bridge at the next rainfall, Tempest wasn't there. Confused, Kalanchoe waited for some time, before crossing over the bridge, calling for her friend.

The trees beyond the bridge were orange and gold, and unfamiiar creatures skittered over their branches. Tempest had told Kalanchoe to never cross the bridge, but Tempest wasn't here, and Kalanchoe had to find her.

She had only been walking for a few minutes when she saw it. Burned into the ground was a symbol that reminded Kalanchoe of the rain, and surrounding it was a group of creatures like Tempest, holding spears and staring at the symbol in disbelief. Kalanchoe gasped when she saw Tempest's special necklace in the center of the symbol, and swiftly ran to grab it. The creatures stepped forward to point their spears at her, but jumped back when Kalanchoe snarled, her eye full of fury.

She then turned and bolted back to her house, not stopping until she was sobbing in her bed. Tempest was gone, she knew it. Her own kind had finally found out that she was leaving her forest and put an end to it. Kalanchoe grit her teeth as she looked at the necklace in her paw.

She would never have a home now that Tempest was gone. The rain spirit clearly did not see her beyond her heritage, just like everyone else. Kalanchoe had nobody left, and she could not afford to wait for someone new to find her and see her for who she really was. It was time for her to forge the life she needed to in order to survive on her own.

And when it rained, she would go to the bridge.