#@daily-writing-challenge

[hyakatakatales]

“These bloody bandits will pay for their crimes!”

Announced suddenly and without prompt, the youngest member of the militia squad practically shouted the statement, and then looked around nervously to the rest of his mates, clearly looking for support.

None was found, these were all dour-faced men, they knew how well the bandits were equipped and manned.  We were trained to contend with the simple weapons and fare they had been reported to have, not this.   Bows, real swords, even mages at times.  We were not prepared for the mages most of all. 

We lost three men during the initial attack, we surrounded their camp and tried to flush them out.  It didn’t matter how careful our planning was, all strategies went out the window when fireballs and bolts of lightning came flying out of their main camp building, sizzling the ground and igniting the trees nearby.  Everyone hugged the ground, thinking the casting can’t go on forever, I knew magic of this level takes a heavy toll on its user.  That was our saving grace, in the end.

We pushed forward, sieging the house.  Mages are notorious for not enjoying hand-to-hand combat and we counted on that, sweeping aside the stragglers who were just as dazzled as we were by the pyrotechnics. 

A haze of smoke and wreckage littered the campgrounds, the blasts and discharges creating a sort of under-canopy which reduced visibility to mere yalms.  From the building, there was a great eruption of wood splinters and noise, cascading across the ground.  The door was blown off the building and standing there was this shabbily dressed mage, staring into the night. 

I pushed ahead, using my size to my advantage as I got closer, sticking to shadows and trying desperately to flank this maddened mage.  He was screaming something incoherent, raising his staff into the air and charging his magic for another no doubt deadly blast.  Acting quickly, and while some stairs below him, I used my shield to sweep his legs out from underneath him.  He was so entranced with his own power that he failed to react, he landed hard on his side, knocking the wind out of his lungs. 

Before he was able to consider his next move, I smashed his staff from his hands, sending it spiraling out into the night.  We recovered it later, it was a craggy shattered thing, how it managed to not explode in his hands was a miracle.

As he started to right himself to recover, a punch square in the forehead sent him reeling, disoriented and spinning back into the house. 

“Secure the rest, then cover me!” I shouted, sprinting after the mage into the house.  It was dark, and only lit by the fires and torches outside.  Shadows shifted and loomed in the mid-twilight of the Shroud, and I couldn’t see the mage anymore.  Knowing I had maybe a few minutes before he was able to cast again, I cast my eyes around, looking for any sign of the man.  In the corner, behind a turned-over table, I found him cowering. 

“You have no staff, no crew and no hope.  Surrender and we will prosecute you fairly.”  It was my only warning; I knew better than to relax my guard.  His anxiety suddenly sagged, and he started nodding “Yes, surrender, yes.”

My sword out and pointed at him, I followed his advance from around the table towards me.  I didn’t see his face; I looked at his hands.  A man’s hands, mage or not, will tell you way more than their face.  He twitched, pushed a hand out and started shouting something with far too many vowels in it.  I panicked, remembering the devastation outside this hovel and pushed my sword into his chest, making sure I didn’t stop until it came out the other side. 

I was commended by the militia’s office for bravery and decision-making in the heart of battle.  I was promoted for the cost of a man’s life.  That still sits unwell with me.

[tristayranambrosio]

Day 1 for May DWC 2024 (HoT Fest)

The Tenacity Isle after four days of celebration and the endless cheers and music, art, and storytelling was at last silent. The wee hours of the night winked stary and dark over the grass and tiles of stage and field alike, catching twin moonlights from the disks above, casting the whole space in the comforting hues of blue-grey, and Lilac-white. I smiled at the thought, imagining how even with the Pair of Hosts having retired for much needed relaxation and rest, they still seemed to suffuse their space with the presence of their Music, their movement, their charisma and their selfless support and love… Like true muses. I wondered if they realized that they had the unprecedented ability to inspire art with a simple nod or smile of encouragement to those like me. I wondered if they knew that if it weren’t for their help and patience that so many less would even know they could reach for their potential and seize it… I wondered if the Hearts of Tenacity would ever truly know that they made the world so much richer for sharing it with the likes of me.

There was something bittersweet about the space being empty after being so full, bodies pressed together and moving as one with the lights flashing, smoke, mirrors, ropes, and any number of stage props and illusions all now spirited away leaving only the stage and floor in its marriage of geometric-cosmos offset by the overgrown infusion of the natural spill of grass and vines. It was like the two of them in the best way, every inch from shore to steep cliff peak… the Isle -was- Tal and Kon. It felt like home. I have one of those now, but had I not I could see myself escaping to this space because it was the sort of place I wished had born me… an excuse to claim I came from an island that carried every ounce of love and expression of two souls that could inspire art from nothing… I scaled the cliffs, caution be damned, because I wanted to look down at the space from its highest point… and it would mean my impulse would take root out of the way and not disrupt their stage. I’d waited for all attendees to leave, just to bask in the melancholy that followed the high of sharing the parts of my soul that were too intimate and raw for any other crowd… this audience understood. They always did. For that alone I owe the community they’ve fostered everything. When I finally pushed myself up to the peak… I was breathing raggedly and had to lay on my back to catch up. I placed a hand over my little star and gazed up at the night sky and decided it was probably good that I wasn’t a month further along… I wasn’t sure I could have made it up otherwise. When I rose I noticed the faintest hints of the night drawing closer to an end and begrudgingly accepted I had to head home, leave this strange pocket of reality where it was melodies that ran in my veins, and dance that powered my every movement… I swear to you the place was magical in all the ways I once dreamed a place could be. Like the very soil under my feet drank in our arts absorbing it and committing those emotions to its eternal memory. I scanned the cliff for the right space and smiled when I found it… a simple space that overlooked the stage from behind, a view that saw both the show… and the backstage where we drank the levels of caffeine and hangover cures to make it through to next evening’s rave or performance… where we all stored train conductor hats and so many fireworks we could be considered an explosives threat…  Perfect. I retrieved the pair of rosebuds I had brought and set to work, One a deep Navy and Blue Grey the other a Pale Lilac and white. When the first bloomed it would be with blue fire and comet trails, petals almost feathered and patterned with the plums of a show-man… the other it’s mate would bloom in constellations and patterns, and flow with the traces of arcane ley-lines between the starlight. I never managed to have one bloom without the other and that was as it should be. In my garden it took me almost half a year to get them to propagate, but here… their roots basically leapt from their stems to bury deep in the performance saturated and music rich soil. Like they belonged. I sang softly one more melody to the space this year and sure enough… they bloomed in full color, vines spilling down the overlook, dramatic and extra in all the ways the two I had grown them for were. “A million dreams for the world You’re gonna make” Once the roses bloomed I trusted that the two Muses in residence here would appreciate them… because I suspected that removing them would be harder than just ignoring them. The gift was not enough to show them how much they meant to me, after all, how could I show how much their approval and support meant… How could any of us? It was a start. And I left for home with the Tenacity Isle perfumed with Comet Trails, Feathers, Starlight, and Arcane bursts.

@daily-writing-challenge @konietzko-sylvoran @talthorn-sylvoran (Love you guys thanks for hosting this year as always!)

[thecozykirin]

Day 2 - Suppress

( Trigger Warning for a PTSD attack in this one )

( Another piece from my husband and roleplay partner <3 )

( @daily-writing-challenge

Boom, boom, bang!

The uproarious crowd rose their voices in sync with the vibrant pops of colors that lit up the night sky. The sudden eruption sent the night wildlife into a frenzy to get away, including the insects that sprang from the brush and whizzed past Yasashi’s ear with the buzzing of wings.

Amber wings.

The world fell away from him in that moment and the sound of the others muffled as though someone had taken his head and dunked it under water. With each pop of color, Yasashi felt his heart thud heavy in his chest as his mind reeled from the sudden break in reality as adrenaline surged through his veins. The loud pop of fireworks were no longer fireworks, but the boom of canons and the cries of what had once been delight were now screams of his ill-prepared comrades and the orders from his commanders. 

Yasashi clenched his teeth squeezing his eyes shut as he struggled to find his bearings. Normally he was able to swallow these memories, keep them as shadows in the back of his mind. Those times had passed. He was no longer on the wall, he was in Elwynn, far away from the wall, far away from —

A grasshopper had spread its wings and buzzed past his ear and his entire body jolted upwards.

Mantid.

His ears were now perked and pupils shrunk in panic as his eyes darted about in his skull like that of a trapped animal. Each pop of color another round of canon fire, each shout belonging another comrade, and the smoke that crept into his nostrils from the display only sought to pull him deeper into his memories.

Suddenly, the Pandaren was staggering, the behemoth no doubt bumping into bodies on his way out, bodies his eyes no longer recognized as strangers but blurred faces he had once known, kin he had served with.

Why was this happening?

It had never been this bad before

Where was he?

He thought he was safe

He was safe, wasn’t he?

Were Soo-ha and Kimiko safe?

He didn’t understand

It wasn’t until the popping of color had faded and the shouts a dull ache in the background of his ears did Yasashi collapse to his knees and vomit. In reality, he was tucked safely against a large tree, but in his mind he was huddled within one of the guard towers, dirt now cold stone.

A pair of gentle paws pulling his head up into a welcoming lap caused Yasashi to flinch and his eyes darted up to the worried visage of Soo-ha.

Wait, Soo-ha couldn’t be here. She wasn’t there when the Mantid swarmed, right?

Yasashi’s brain struggled to juggle the conflicting information as he trembled in the much smaller Pandaren’s embrace. “S…Soo-ha, I…..” he gaped like a suffocating fish, fresh air burning in his lungs like the ashes had done that night. “I don’t….I don’t k-know where I am….”

Soo-ha stared at the male and as gently as she could, she cradled his face in her paws, touching their foreheads together as her eyes conveyed the words her occupied digits couldn’t. ‘You’re here with me.’

Gradually, the horrors of the past began to fall away from him like a melting shroud. The distant screams no longer his comrades, but those celebrating the summer holidays, accompanied by cricket song.

While he settled back into reality, a new emotion rose within Yasashi. Shame. He opened his muzzle as though to apologise, but Soo-ha would not hear of it and instead she pulled him into herself fully, embracing him.

It felt odd being on the receiving end of comfort, usually it was him helping her through periods like this or the looming terrors that sought to pursue her in her dreams. The next breath Yasashi took in was not smoke or blood, but the rich scent of aged parchment she carried and this was the smell he hung onto, the scent that he used to anchor himself.

And for the first time Soo-ha had seen, he wept.

[silversoulcreations]

Admiral's Orders.

My Dearest Brother, Some might call me on this for my own damned self, but you have been cooped up in your home for far too long. Lytharos is all but a man, You are alone. You are miserable. I know what it is you seek, but if you do not actually get OUT, You will never find it. I cannot watch you waste away any to nothing. Your happiness is important to me.

Thus, I have made arrangements for you to attend several functions, the first of which is an informal event this Friday, where you will put that lovely singing voice we were both graced with to the proof. The second, a party late Saturday evening. Do not ask questions, I have included an outfit for you to wear to the latter. Please, I beg you, Try to have some fun for once. It won’t kill you, and I don’t want you to end up like me. Go. Live. That’s an Order. With deepest Sincerity, Your Brother, Admiral Jarethius Nialo

Jaredian blinked, reading over the letter again, before glancing towards the bed to find a wrapped parcel awaited. Swallowing hard, he silently cursed his brother's meddling. Jarethius had always been the outgoing one, the one who had seen the world, who had experienced it's joys and sorrows, who had, as he said, -lived-. Carefully he moved to the parcel, poking at it with his cane, first, before slowly unraveling the parchment, only to let out a soft gasp, and close it again. "Damnit Jareth... Egotistical, self serving... molted mangy mutt of a-..." He trailed off, his head bowed, shaking it slightly. He -meant- well, of course, but to make it a bloody -order?- What was he going to do, Shoot him?

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

As it turns out, he very well might have attempted to shoot him... At the very least, when he went to complain, Friday morning, Jarethius very well -did- point his pistol at his brother, re-iterating in that fake but oh so often used pirate accent just how much he meant his words. So he went. He attended the little get together from one of the performer's guilds. He stood on the stage, and he sang. He crooned and purred in velvet tones from the heart. He even found friends old and new amongst the crowd... One obstacle down. Not that he would have considered it an obstacle after the fact, despite his nerves. He'd enjoyed himself, tremendously, but... Staring at the outfit sitting across the room from himself, his mismatched eyes of blue and green simply stared, one part terrified, one part excited for what was to come.

Could he really do this?

[daily-dragon-drawing]

#2 -玉森 (jade forest)- A pretty green dragon and protector of forests 🌿🍃✨🌲🌳

[deputiized]

i will breach the battlefield and die a cold lonesome death for folly. being dead serious rn. i cannot believe they dressed her in a button up for valentines day

[diyasgarden]

thinking about art/tashi/patrick doing some college inspirational lecture about athletics or sport and they both see reader and immediately are like good god 😳😳😳😳🔞🔞🔞‼️‼️‼️

“what do you mean you don’t know her?”

“jesus, you think i know every student?”

“can you both shut up?” Tashi huffs, watching you walk off to the back of the small lecture hall. Pretty would be an understatement to describe you, but she’s too preoccupied in trying to figure out who you are to find the right word.

“I’m just saying if i was on campus–”

“You’d know the names of all the hot girls, I know,” Art says, cutting off Patrick with an eye roll.

Patrick lets out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. His gaze shifts to where you sit, admiring you scourging through your backpack for something. Art smiles at the boy before sneaking a glance at you too, his eyes shifting to the clock on the walk behind where you sit.

1:12 PM

The talk starts at 1:30.

Eighteen minutes. That would be enough…

Before he can even finish the thought he can sense Tashi’s eyes on him. He turns to meet her slightly raised eyebrow, and in an instant he knows she’s jumped to the same conclusion.

Patrick senses the silent confrontation and looks over to both of them, eyebrow raised.

Oh he thinks. That’s how it’s going to be.

When you look up from your backpack, you see three tennis players trying to get over to you first.

[elenthyaolyenths]

[ChillOmenstober] Day 10: "Yellow"

↓Companion text (410 words under the cut!)↓

They have met, a long time ago. But fate doomed them.

In a world where a demon can remember and see his other half.

In a world where his other half would never see nor recognise the demon.

.

.

.

“Great warrior, I know you didn’t want anything more than the price we had previously discussed for your protection. But my family and I are now back home, safe and sound, and for that I will feel indebted to you forever. Please, accept this small gift.”

Aziraphale was about to object, but when he saw the item his now former client was presenting to him, his words failed him. The old woman had a soft chuckle. Then she took his large, powerful hand in her thin and fragile ones, and put the gift in his wide palm.

“Please. Take it. I specially asked my nephew to craft it while we were traveling. He barely rested at night just to be sure you could have it before your departure.”

Aziraphale looked at the golden chain and its two red and vermeil flowers, a species he couldn’t recall the name. Delicate, marvellous. Obviously expensive. When he accepted a month ago to escort this family of craftsmen and jewellers, he wouldn’t have expected to earn such a chef-d’oeuvre.

“I-I can’t. I have to refuse.”

Yet, he couldn’t keep his mesmerised eyes off it. And the woman seemed not even surprised, wearing a broad and proud smile. 

“You are a trustworthy protector, Sir Aziraphale. During our travel, your focus never broke. Except this time at the Siwa market, when you met that little one who was selling flowers. I saw you buy their entire stock, then giving it all them back and keeping only one flower for yourself. I would bet my best camel that this plant is now dried and well-stored in your package.”

Once again, he found himself unable to speak – the old lady was definitely too much perceptive for her own good. Or maybe it was his entire fault, being too oblivious. Maybe both.

“Please excuse a old hag’s curiousness, but why these flowers?”

He stilled, flabbergasted – he didn't even know why. He stared back at the jewels, made of vermeil and a curious sort of reddish gold, mimicking almost flawlessly the flowers he saw the other day.

“Why these ones? Well, I'm afraid I don’t know.”

Fiery colours – a touch of red, and a wonderful yellow.

“…They’re pretty.”

. .

Codename: L.T.G Project - with @captainblou

Linktree - Tumblr Masterpost

♥ Tag-List below (tell me if you want to be in or out)♥

@goodomensafterdark ;

@floscrap-blog ; @demonsandpieohmy ; @amagnificentobsession ; @captainblou

@ineffable-hyperfixation ; @itsscottiesstark ; @moralsofanalleycatsposts

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@mad-aims ; @daisydimple20092 ; @seraphhiim ; @rebeccakatmauri

[bookished]

( a collection of fun and adventurous dialogue prompts. adjust phrasing as necessary.) feel free to make edits to better suit your muse, but please don’t edit or add on to the original post <𝟑 if you like, please consider supporting me through tips, it's highly appreciated.

"Want to try sneaking into the movie theater?"

"There's this exclusive sky bar on the top floor. I bet if we act confident enough, we could just walk right in. Ready to blend in with the high rollers?"

"You know the 'Staff Only' areas in aquariums always look so intriguing. I've got an idea involving lab coats and clipboards. Interested?"

"There's a secret passage in this art gallery that leads to a hidden exhibit. I overheard the curator talking about it. Shall we go exploring?"

"I've always wanted to see a movie from the theater's projection room. I've got a friend who works here – you get what I mean?"

"So, that exclusive restaurant is fully booked for months, but I may have 'borrowed' a couple of names from the reservation list. Feeling adventurous?"

"The old amusement park's been closed for years, but I know a way in. Imagine having all those rides to ourselves under the moonlight."

"I heard there's an underground speakeasy in this library. Apparently, you need to whisper a password to the librarian. Wanna try our luck?"

"Remember that fancy pool party we weren't invited to? I've got two waiter uniforms and a brilliant plan. You in?"

"There's a secret rooftop garden on top of that skyscraper. I bet we could talk our way past security if we pretend to be lost interns."

"I know this sounds crazy, but I found a hidden door behind the museum. Want to see where it leads after closing time?"

"The local TV station does live broadcasts from that studio. I bet with the right timing, we could sneak onto a set during a commercial break. Ready for your 15 seconds of fame?"

"I discovered a hidden hot spring in the woods just outside town. It's a bit of a hike, but imagine a midnight dip under the stars."

"There's a secret room in the library that's usually locked. I copied the key while volunteering. Want to see what forbidden books they're hiding?"

"Remember that fancy cooking class that was full? Well, I may have found a way for us to observe from the kitchen's back entrance. Hungry for some culinary espionage?"

"I know how to get onto the roof of the tallest building downtown. The view of the sunset from up there is incredible. Shall we?"

"There's a masquerade ball at the governor's mansion tonight. I've got two masks and a wild idea. Care to crash a high-society party?"

"My friend works at the zoo and says we could help feed the penguins after closing time. Interested in a secret animal encounter?"

"I heard this old theater is supposedly haunted. Want to sneak in after hours and do some ghost hunting?"

"There's a secret beach hidden behind those cliffs. The catch? We'll have to climb down a rope ladder to reach it. You up for it?"

"I found an old map of the city's underground tunnels. Fancy a subterranean adventure date?"

[safrona-shadowsun]

Daily Writing Challenge: May 2025

Day 1 (5/25): Cruel / Beauty

@daily-writing-challenge

It had been some time since the Harvester willed her Focus into being and given it proper attention. The summoning for the Scythe did not need words like many of her demons did. It only desired the quick offering of a soul fragment and the pulse of a thought for it, and now it hovered before her. 

Yet Safrona knew the summoning would be only half the battle. 

Unlike some animated artifacts or arsenals of dark esteem, the Scythe did not have voice, but it had personality. Some fragment of vanity contained by the soul that dared to bind and wield it before she had taken it as her own. Now it pulsed with a hot resentment at her lack of attention, braiding a spike of pain to her soul like a wicked thorn as she attempted to touch it. 

“Come now,” she chuckled tensely, wincing as she implored it. “I have been ungraciously distracted. I know. I’m terrible. I’ve let you go to waste. But my hands are yours now, yes?” She reached again at the midway apex of its grip at its hilt with no doubt, ready for another soul-spike of pain if the Scythe willed it, but the fuss had dampened with the coercion of her words and promise, allowing her touch finally without ‘retort’. It desired to be used and to be fed, in the end. 

Attending to the Scythe required not the heavy hand and spark of a blacksmith, but the gentler precision of a gemcrafter, and Safrona learned enough to make her hands useful in such things. Gently setting the Scythe in her altar’s housing that clamped the weapon in place, she properly cleaned the segmented blade that crowned it, a thick curve she then sharpened to its familiar wickedness with the delicacy of a gem grinder. 

The gems embedded to the blade’s framing were out of season, and she felt the Scythe’s rise of excitement as she unveiled the rare blasmephite to replace them. A small collection of rare gems for a rare Scythe that took its own preparation - a revelation that she planned the reworking and refitting, and only needed the time.

After some devoted work, she released the Scythe and left it to float, and felt its dark invigoration in approving pulses. A defined beauty could be given to the Scythe’s ethereal craftsmanship; she had been lucky to find such a ‘weapon’. But this was no simple tool, no sword to be swung, and no means to an end. The Scythe would protest at the ignorance to be used so and would never have given over its bonding, perhaps even choosing to remain lost to time. It was crueler, hungrier than any simple blade, and unmerciful by design as a Warlock’s arsenal tended to be.

And the sinfully vain performed so much better when they felt especially Pretty.

[daily-basil]

Been busy so have a trad doodle

[tristayranambrosio]

Burning Dawn (DWC day 5 Flame)

(The song the Performance is to) The deep violet colored silk runs like a living fluid around me… I am shrouded in their darkness, my light obscured by the panels of night. I am center-stage though I have no audience tonight, I never do for this… I’ve not the skill to perform these acts like those I’ve been lucky enough to call my peers… in this I am out matched, but this is not for them… for anyone. When I part the silk like veils I see her face… forever burned into my thoughts like a desert flame, she wound herself in the very same silks and seduced me with the songs she sang from their heights… I twist the panels of fabric into rope using my toes and tension builds, strength from the coiled silk that is stronger than what it’s softness implies, above my head I wind and twist the second panel of fabric as music fills my ears and muddies her features makes her chestnut skin fade into the same dark violet above me. This isn’t for her… this isn’t for anyone… this is for me. When revealed the lights that pin me scatter rhinestone catch lights like a thousand starbursts from my skin tight attire, in the pinks and magentas and oranges… reds of a sunrise, of a dawn bursting to life still barely arched off the stage between two dangling streams of midnight. I nestle into the familiar embrace of the dark, as if I am the flame of daylight… the first pink fingertips of sunlight reluctant to look towards the horizon. She whispers promises I once believed, the sweetest Symphonies of the life I might have had… She asks the question none had ever before, and I melted in her thrall… I wind the silks tight about my torso, fiercely hoisting my upper body level with the engagement of my core set into a hold the position by gripping the far silk partially wrapped about the arch of each foot, pantomiming a steady ascent away from the ground, as if I am walking step by step while parallel to where I’d laid Dormant. “And who is it who takes care of you I wonder?” The words sound like poison now, they were nectar and I was starving and even now they ring true enough to sting my heart with the memory of barbs plunged into it by the very same question from the very same lips… uttered instead in cruel irony.

I climb. My arms scream in protest but I climb. With each yard I gain another coil wraps about my arm until I use one sweep to upend myself to trade one binding of the arm to wrap my thigh… I echo the same then reach out to the darkness into which I cast a thousand prismatic stars from the gems sewn into my suit. I spread my legs and in a surge throw my weight to swing me upright, my hair threatening to escape its tie, but not yet. I catch myself on the two silk sheets and wrap them under my shoulders, closing my knees to artfully construct a hammock for me to hang seated far above the stage. Perhaps I am a fool to practice the art she perfected… that I learned once to offer a partner… a dancer in silk and symphony. Perhaps I’m torturing myself… But I feel a burning in my limbs, and in my core, and it makes me feel I am one with the music in the air. I give in to the music and the exertion becomes a flurry of flips, and reversals tangling, and untangling, whipping my weight in precise extensions to fall… just right and I climb… higher and higher… towards the light that refracts off of me as if I am a jewel, a lantern hung between the last clutches of violet night.

As I crescendo into the rising action I am suspended, legs split above me as I yank the tie from my hair and it cascades out and down with gravity as I defy it with not but silk tension and the power of my core’s ability to support me. I rake my fingers through the curls I unleashed and feel like something wild and alive, like a spill of color blooming in the waking world. I curl myself in and clutch the underside of my knees back bowed and chest arched outward to the open air, like a star is attempting it’s escape from within me… then I reverse and use the momentum to flip upright my hair fanning out in a wild after image behind me that makes me a magenta comet, like a dawn fast approaching to chase the nocturnal back into resting. I wrap my arms in the silks freeing my legs to walk mid air and build momentum… speed… and I am spinning. I tuck my knees in and clutch my silks so the coil with me, I twirl and spin so fast that I am a blur my hair and crystalline catch lights sparkling like I have set the silk ablaze with flame, with sunlight. I burn… This does not -belong- to anyone… this is just as much my art… in fact, with no witness to it, I am the only one this is for.

As the spinning slows I untangle myself… just to wind the length of the silks slowly in coil after coil around my middle, to cross the one rope with another until I reach the knots above… I am wound and cocooned parallel with the stage once more… and as the music halts I take the breath I need to extend my arm and leg out to one last desperate hold… Then I fall, my weight cut loose from its wound coil and I plummet between the silk like a whirlwind yards and yards that took me the whole performance to ascend, unravel me, and -just- as I would crash land… I catch myself mid drop held effortlessly like a timeless piece of art, limbs like brushstrokes lit by my contrast against the dark… I am a flame defiant and my own. The music fades… and I gracefully lower myself to touch down… now a flame slowly dying in the sunset of the performance. No one applauds… but I also do not feel the lingering scorn… or the shame for having come to love the way my body aches after each dance in the air with not but fabric as a partner… I let the streamers of midnight brush my cheek as they settle back as long curtains untangling themselves from my harsh movements suspended between them. It is strange and painstriken how I found this outlet… but I embrace each moment that I blaze as dawn between the silks. 

( @daily-writing-challenge )

[thecozykirin]

Daily Writing Challenge Day 4: Grief

Life was a series of greetings and partings, that was the way of things. U-Jinn knew this better than anyone.

The life of a Shado-pan was not easy, he had known many painful partings over the years and with time, each of them turned into a dull ache that eventually dissipated into a soft pang when he'd sit and reminisce. But this ache was not going away.

When U-Jinn was brave enough ( Or when he was forced ) to return to his private dwelling, he'd still feel inclined to gently knock the back of his knuckles against the surface of the sliding door that had remained shut and silent for nearly a decade at this point.

And yet, each time he approached it, it felt like only yesterday that she had been gone.

Her room itself was perfectly preserved. Not one thing had been moved out of place, he wouldn't allow it to be. Doing so would introduce change and change would disrupt the lie he'd tell himself sometimes that when he opened the door at the end of the night, he'd see her tucked in safe.

It was a lie, yes...but it was one that made him feel better.

On this particular night, he sat and stared at the chair, remembering so many years earlier on that day when Soo-ha stood in front of it with her bag draped around herself.

'Don't worry, baba.' she had signed to him. 'It will only be a short walk.'

She hadn't been feeling well that day...and she was so small compared to the rest of their kin, that he had worried for her.

'I'll be fine.' Soo-ha had signed. 'I promise.'

"Alright, Inkspot." U-Jinn had smiled. "Just be careful, I love you."

The ending of that exchange hadn't struck U-Jinn as odd at the time, but the more he thought on it, the more he wondered...the expression on his daughter's face twitched ever so slightly, a flicker of what he now saw as grief dancing behind her eyes but she pushed it all down with a smile and as quickly as she could, she had slipped out. Was there something bothering her? Why hadn't he noticed sooner? Why didn't she tell him?

U-Jinn found himself outside by the time he had pulled himself from his thoughts, seated on the snow swept steps as he fixed his eyes upon the path. Like many years before, he knew nothing would come out of it...but he told himself that perhaps, this year, she would come home. He'd see her again, as she was the day she had left.

'I'm sorry, baba!' she'd sign. 'I don't know where the time had gone, I hope you didn't worry much.'

And in response, he would hug her and tell her to come in and warm up by the fire.

It was a lie, yes.

But it was one that made him feel better. If only, for a moment.

@daily-writing-challenge

[theotherwoman-emily]

“Is that really what you want?”

“To have me, one of the most powerful men in Manhattan, on my knees before you, begging?”

“Yes.”

[serenas-dawnsinger]

Daily Writing Challenge (May 2025) 5/26, Day 2 Placate / Graceful

(Warning for manipulation, mild gaslighting via shadow magic I suppose?)

Morning found Serenas entering the Sojourn’s walking gardens as she usually did to meet her young guide, Seon. A thread of nervousness made her heart flutter in approach, but she had long learned how to mask her nerves with composed grace and elegant stature around a table of judging nobility. She strode to the humble mistweaver with the same trained presentation, smiled as the fuzzy face turned to greet her.

“Are we ready to take this show on the road?!” Seon asked with his typical charged energy. He’d been tasked with accompanying her around Pandaria, and they had made quite the adventurous pair. But the writer desired a different outcome today, and she gently turned his words in on him.

“Ah, but Seon, I think you have forgotten. I’ll be going to the Market on my own today,” Serenas blinked innocently into her own charade, feigning surprise.

“…huh?” The pandaren seemed minutely confused. Then skeptical. “Really?” He chuckled. “So when did the plan change, Miss Serra?”

The gentle smile curved her lips, placating his confusion, the skepticism. “Oh, I know we’ve gotten ourselves into a little habit,” she replied with a cant of the head in respectful apology, and continued to let her words flow with soft intention. A melliflous shift of tone, every word fed as suggestion to touch the mind with the shaded delicacy of a swallow’s wing. “But mother mentioned it just yesterday, do you remember? She said you needn’t take me to the Market this time. I do know my way after all.”

The mistweaver’s eyes clouded over with the mental nudge, smiling dazedly under the swaying thrall. “Oh, yeah…” It made all the sense, after all. Serenas certainly knew her way to the markets.

A soft blink of dark lashes, and she gently released Seon from the enthrallment, and further placated any rise of doubt with an offering. “But tomorrow maybe you would like to take me to the ruins you spoke of before? In the mountain here? We can talk to mother about it tonight and see what she thinks?” She gasped softly, sweeping him into the idea. “Let me surprise you with something from the Market in the meantime!”

“Heh!” Seon was fully on board, and waved the little writer in farewell as she started her exit from the walking gardens. “Sounds awesome!”

As Serenas made her way to the Tavern of the Mists by herself, she bit into her lip to contain the flutter of excited laughter. She had used the Shadow. She had actually done it. The Dawnsingers had always forbade the use of the Shadow, and she had lived in fear of their horror stories all of her life. But Nia was right: the Shadow was only the other side of the Light, and her draenic friend had all the faith in her that no Priest of the Living Flame had ever shown. It had been easy as carrying a melody to tell it true, to shade Seon’s mind and implant the false memory. A harmless veil, really. In the evening, he’d think nothing of it when she would guide him into conversation with her mother. Thoughts moved on. At least when they were not penned to paper.

Serenas could not wait to meet Nia as planned, and tell her everything.

{ @daily-writing-challenge }

[quietdeparturesarchive]

✧ writing challenge

I've been struggling with writing for a while now, never really knowing what exactly to write about. So let's start a new daily project.

you're welcome to join me with the tag: #quietdeparturesdailywriting*.｡

day 1. describe your personality

day 2. a quote you try to live by

day 3. your idea of love

day 4. a memory

day 5. favorite movie

day 6. someone you miss

day 7. fav tv series

day 8. ways to win your heart

day 9. the first place you’ve ever called home

day 10. close friends or friends in general

day 11. first love

day 12. the power of music

day 13. a letter to anyone

day 14. your imaginary life

day 15. your celebrity crush

day 16. what are you scared of?

day 17. your horoscope/zodiac sign and if it fits your personality

day 18. someone you don’t regret meeting

day 19. thoughts on soulmates

day 20. something that makes you cry

day 21. something you’re passionate about

day 22. something you want to do but can’t

day 23. favorite time of the day

day 24. favorite song/s

day 25. favorite artist/s

day 26. places you want to go to

day 27. write a letter to a close friend that you lost contact with

day 28. the most pain you’ve been in

day 29. “dear future me”

day 30. write about your childhood ambition

xoxo, sally <3

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