#daily-writing-challenge

[daily-writing-challenge]

DAILY WRITING CHALLENGE 2024 IS BACK!

YOU DO NOT HAVE TO USE THE ACTUAL WORD FOR THIS CHALLENGE, YOU MAY SIMPLY BASE YOUR STORY AROUND ONE OF THESE IDEAS!

Choose one or both words/IDEAS and write a story, drabble, poem, or anything else once a day, every day, for a week!

Tag @daily-writing-challenge so we can reblog your stories.

Write the number day/challenge somewhere on your story.

LIST CONTENT WARNINGS VISIBLY ABOVE STORY! (Use a ‘read more’ line if content gets too graphic.)

Tags that will be used: #augustdwc2024,  #augustdayX2024 (X=whatever number day you’re writing for), #yourtumblrurl

There will be no optional challenges for the weekly DWC’s, but please feel free to make up some of your own challenges!

The next writing challenge will be in NOVEMBER 2024 and last one week!

CLICK HERE FOR OTHER IMPORTANT INFORMATION!

Good luck and more importantly, HAVE FUN! Encourage your fellow writers and show them some love and support with likes/reblogs/comments!

We look forward to reading some amazing writing!

((Written word list below the cut))

Day 1 - August 11 Melee, Tournament

Day 2 - August 12 Violence, Tenderness Day 3 - August 13 Fatality, Journey

Day 4 - August 14 Ego, Coincidence Day 5 - August 15 Mistake, Wild Day 6 - August 16 Corruption, Fulfillment Day 7 - August 17 Enigma, Victory

[pyraelia]

November 26 - Day 1  Party / Chills

One of her favorite elements of attending Vixannya’s gallery openings was the people watching. The scenes around each painting became their own little vignettes that often enhanced the artwork and elevated it beyond decoration, and how each group of people — usually from across diverse enough parts of society — interacted with the subject matters was fascinating. 

Fiorenze wasn’t going to make it this time, and that was fine. Pyraelia understood the desire to devote focus to something, even if she didn’t quite understand why The Dream or the Tree; Her sister had always had a love of green spaces, but they were magi from a family of arcanists that spanned back millennia and that realm was certainly not for them. 

Her favorite painting, if one could call a painting of a dead person a 'favorite', this time around was a fairly simple portrait of an unfamiliar woman laying dead in a dark room surrounded by mirrors, each reflection capturing a different angle of her body. There was so much pride in the still, beautiful figure, but there was a subtle covetousness in the reflection of the mirrors that flirted with envy, too — years ago she would have missed it, but their family had been through so much in five years alone, not to mention the decade. Had the woman had a moment to be jealous that her reflection had seconds more life left? So much time could be suspended in a fraction of a moment, caught at the end of a brush stroke. 

Even now, month to month, day to day, their family dynamics were still shifting. Considering how February had gone, and Fiorenze's plans to try and lock her own soul away into an enchanted glass, it could've just as easily been her painted there.

Was she, Pyraelia herself, envious that her sister had new opportunities since Fiorenze's plans had all fallen brutally through? Keranna had said something that had stuck in the back of her mind like a thorn while she had been pinning her lavender hair up into a delicate, wispy chignon for the soiree, mostly meant to silence her petty complaining that her sister had stayed away.

“Do you think your parents would have let Fiorenze walk any other path than the one they put her on as the first daughter?” 

Unlikely. 

Pyraelia had never faced the same burden of expectation — her parents' pride in her had been organic and true, she had inherited her mother’s excellence in the arcane arts in a way that Fiorenze hadn’t, but she was still just the second daughter. 

She frowned as she looked back up at the painting, a new sense of judgment from the painted stranger’s flat, outward gaze that sent a slight chill down her spine. Perhaps there was more to her sister’s strange new wayward roots, and perhaps it was time to be a bit kinder. 

As she shuffled on in her own introspection, she hoped that her momentary interlude had done for someone else what so many of the other gallery attendees had done for her: shift the perspective, if for only a moment.

@daily-writing-challenge / @vixannya

[fio-renze]

November 28 - Day 3 Inspiration/Unresolved

Continuation of Day 2 

“Is one of those choices my freedom?” She knew it was foolish to even ask, but it was a barb worth throwing out. 

The Grand Magister gestured toward the small dining table in the Perfect Penthouse spell’s kitchen, “Yes, though I doubt you’d know what to do with it.” 

Surprising. Not incorrect. Still, Fiorenze had no rebuke for it — she hadn’t anticipated an actual yes. She regarded him warily as she took the dictated seat, “Really?” 

He sat across from her, as they would have if this meeting had instead been hosted in his office in the Court of the Sun, “Your service to the Regency these many years has, even under bond, been laudable. You can be entirely free of your obligation and do what you will with the rest of your years as a regular citizen, or you can continue to work for Magistry Intelligence.” 

“What more is there for me to do in Magistry Intelligence? I can’t work in the noble Court anymore,” she leaned back in the plain chair, her thoughts shifting between the options as she attempted to glean his next move before he made it. 

Rommath remained as unreadable as ever, and content to make her wait in unresolved tension as he considered the overall play. She was about to start in again as he held up a hand, “There’s more to the job than just the Court; the greater push among the nations for ��unity” means that we’ll all be gathering information on each other again. There are open ambassadorships and other jobs of state you could be seated into, or you could continue field work — though I think that’s a waste of your talent.” 

Her ears flicked up a bit, “I don’t think it’s a waste of my talent at all; mercenaries get to go everywhere and with far less scrutiny, especially those considered neutral. But, I can see the need to have “trusted”, known entities in visible positions of power, too. Do you think the Director could be inspired to have a bit of a wildcard?” 

A quiet, amused hum resonated from just beyond the scarlet cowl that hid most of his face, “They’re interested in retiring in the next decade, I imagine they could be inspired to do quite a bit if it ensures an airtight succession.” 

There had been rumors, but that was certainly news. She kept her own expression as unreadable as possible, “Are you setting me up for that position?” 

“You and a few others,” he set the hook as easily as it had been cast, “Farstrider Intelligence and the Blood Knights obviously have their own candidates within the Magistry they would like to have in that role.” 

What else was new. On the surface they all worked together well, but the internal politics between the various levers of the Sin’dorei state had always been a deadly mire. 

“Do you need a decision now?” She knew better than to accept outright, these offers were worth turning over again and again until the sharp edges of them had worn into a more comfortable understanding. 

“No; you have some time. Settle your business here and consider the kind of freedom your ambition truly wants,” he waved a hand idly and conjured a wine bottle and a couple of glasses onto the table, warping her Penthouse a bit to fit his own needs, “Before I go, I hope you’ll indulge me on what you’ve learned here so far.” 

Fiorenze smiled sharply, the subtle flex of his own arcane skill not lost on her, “As you wish.”

@daily-writing-challenge

[thecozykirin]

Mid Autumn Chills

( Daily Writing Challenge Day 1 ) Soo-ha had always loved the Mid Autumn festival growing up. The monastery had not done much in terms of decoration or celebration, but her papa had always taken the time to take her on a trip down to the closest village where she'd stuff her cheeks full of moon cakes until her little cheeks popped out.

She remembered sitting cross-legged, listening to her papa retell the story of Zao Sunseeker and his wife, Cheng'e with the rest of the village cubs, the stars in her eyes growing brighter and brighter each year as the thought of a love that could transcend the distance between Azeroth's little moon and Pandaria grew more and more appealing to her young heart. It was these times she preferred to focus on, before the joy of the holiday was tainted and in one night, those stars in her eyes were snuffed out like an opposing thumb over a dying candle.

"Little bell?" Her husband's words caused her to snap from her rumination, and her head turned just in time to catch the behemoth of a Pandaren slip within the warm confines of their caravan. "Are you alright?" Soo-ha quickly wiped her eyes, nodding her head and bringing her paws up to sign. 'Oh, yes! I'm just...a bit tired this evening.' Yasashi's eye swept over his wife, gaze narrowed only slightly in thought. He would not pry, he already knew. "Is Kimiko asleep?" Yasashi shot an up nod towards the loft in the wagon. The edges of Soo-ha's lips twitched upwards briefly, and she nodded. 'Yes...she went down easy tonight.' A soft, ursine chuff left her husband and his gaze dropped down to her. A single gray eye who held the coldness of wintry steel always softened like fresh fowl down when it rested on her. "How tired are you?" Soo-ha pursed her bottom lip out at the question. 'Just a bit, why do you ask?'

Yasashi let out a soft chuff, extending a large paw that so easily dwarfed her own. "I'd like to show you something." Soo-ha quirked her brow, instinctively placing her paw in his, her gaze conveyed her interest, quietly ushering him to continue.

With a grin, he pulled the smaller Pandaren gently onto her feet and brought her outside. "Careful." he warned her gently. "The snow is still soft and the bottom step is slippery." Helping her where she needed it, Yasashi ushered her behind the caravan, but not before he slipped a paw over her eyes until he led her to the right spot. "Alright, ready?" Soo-ha let out a soft snort in response. Had she the voice, she would've tried to reply with a witty response before he removed his paw...and her breath left her in a quiet squeak and a puff of hot air.

The moon was nice and round and the surrounding snow drank in her light, producing an ethereal glow. In the center, was a round thick blanket placed within a spot where a circle had been scorched into the snow and upon this blanket was a tray with two glasses, a bottle of some sort and a plate of golden brown moon cakes.

"I...." Yasashi's voice drew off and while Soo-ha was transfixed on the sight, she heard him sigh. "I know that this time of year is hard for you, but I also know how much you used to enjoy it...I was hoping that I could help make this time different, start making some new good memories from here on out."

Soo-ha didn't respond.

"But...if you don't like it, I understand." Soo-ha looked up at Yasashi, and the sight of the tears in her eyes sent him into a panic. Lowering himself onto his knees, he cradled her face between his paws. "I-I'm sorry, Little bell. I hadn't meant to upset you! I just...I know how much you used to enjoy the festival and I --" Soo-ha halted the large male's rambling by gently pressing both of her paws against his muzzle, a smile on her own. Removing her paws from her lips to sign, she flicked her head towards the direction of the blanket. 'Will you sit with me?'

Yasashi's panic washed free from him with a sag of his shoulders. Craning his neck down, he pressed a kiss to the center of her forehead. "Of course." The chill in the air was biting but it could hardly nip through the thick pelt both of them were blessed with. Even as it made her nose run, Soo-ha relished in it because it dimmed the chill she felt in her soul year after year. Side by side with her mate, she stuffed her cheeks full of moon cakes and for the first time in a while, those stars returned to her eyes...full and whole.

[violetraye]

Day 2: Cage

The walls loomed around me, not made of bars but of unyielding expectations and suffocating routines, each day blurring into the next. It was the days that I spent in the woods of Eversong, where the trees and wind evoked a sense of unbounded nature, where the rustling leaves, a family of dragonhawks cooing their hatchlings, and gentle sea breezes symbolized liberation and the beauty of the wild. It felt free. It hinted at a connection to the environment that fostered a feeling of release from societal constraints, allowing myself to embrace the peace and joy found in the simplicity of life among nature. This freedom - I once cherished. Now? A distant memory, replaced by the weight of monotony and fear - Fear that I’ll step beyond the invisible boundaries that confined my spirit. Fear that I’ll become what those confines were meant to hold. Though, I soon realized, it was a reminder that sometimes, sometimes, the most confining enclosures are the ones we create ourselves; what broke that cage were the flames that I could no longer snuff inside me.

Untrained. Unruly. Unnatural.

The flames that once flickered quietly and tickled my inner core - began to leap and roar, consuming every ounce of restraint I had left, leaving behind a voracious hunger to let go. Each spark ignited what is now a lingering memory, now too potent to be contained, urging me to confront the truths I’d buried deep within. Urging me to surrender to the inferno that bid to shape my path forward. Compelled, I was, in confronting my barriers, to explore this vulnerability that was shielded from the world.

Untrained. Unruly. Unnatural.

As I let go, the fire surged - Spiraling sporadically through the streets outside Rayvenflame Manor, streets I once called home. I watched the flames dance, fueled by a fierce and primal energy. It was beautiful. Wild. Untamed - It was me and I had been waiting to spread my wings and fly. It was when the fire crackled and roared, a terrifying sound, as it spread through the woods and almost lit the south western part of Silvermoon ablaze, that I realized, sometimes, the most confining enclosures are the ones we create ourselves… But now, I am free.

Beautiful. Wild. Untamed.

[daily-dragon-drawing]

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

[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?"

[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

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[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-writing-challenge]

COMING SOON

For more information, please see our FAQ page —> HERE!

It’s our fourth challenge of the year! We’re looking forward to writing with you all again, learning more about your OCs and reading your stories!

See you with a word list soon!

[fio-renze]

November 29 - Day 4 Attention

<<It would be monumentally stupid to accept any offer but the one that releases you from your obligation to the Magistry entirely if you want to make good on your apology to X.>>

The words were just text on her comm’s screen but they dripped with Keranna’s disappointment nonetheless. 

Did she want to make good on her apology to Xylaes? He’d put so much distance between them since the last time they’d really talked in person. Everything at camp had been polite, but mostly glancing. His focus so beyond her, even after that apology earlier in the spring, that she might as well not exist even though they were working in the same camp and fighting toward the same goal. 

Except sometimes he did put that focus back for a moment. Traded shirts, shallow conversation, her favorite flowers left outside her tent, a pretty seed as a belated birthday gift. 

She wanted to grab him by his stupid shirt, shake him and ask him what the fuck was up with all of that. It would be an outright lie to herself to say she wasn’t craving some attention. Affection. Anything more than a shallow hi, how are you. 

Fiorenze huffed and rolled over in the grass to stare up at the boughs of the great tree, the heavy silk of her outer robe protecting her from the dewy grass. She shoved a hand into the pocket and clenched her fist around that stupid seed. 

What would her life be without the Magistry anyway? She’d never been one of those people who could do fuck all. Her life had been meticulously planned from the moment she was born, set on one path to achieve extremely specific milestones and markers of “success”. The last year had seen that all start to unravel, of course it made sense to want to correct back to a known element rather than face the looming bigness of the unpredictable unknown. 

She plucked the seed out of her pocket and held it up between her fingers, letting the sunlight hit it. What did a seed care for the unknown? All it wanted to do was grow. There was an infuriating lesson there that she knew she didn’t want to peer too deeply into right now. It was easier to be grouchy about the state of things. 

And yet. 

She huffed and let her hand fall back to the ground, petulant. Whatever grew from it was probably going to be beautiful. 

The fingers of her free hand dug down into the dirt at her side, and she closed her eyes. There was plenty of arcane magic to commune with here in the Dream — some of the Druids used it, even — but that wouldn’t grow anything. Part of her felt foolish trying to reach for anything else, but she was a fool, and what could it hurt anyway? 

A warm, familiar thrum rose up to meet her. It was the first bite of an Eversong Peach plucked off a tree in one of the Glimmerglen orchards. Dirt under her nails from repotting plants in the Sunmote Tower conservatory. Bright laughter as her freshly bloomed roses seemed to get more vibrant between her palms. 

The seed in her hand, kissed by the sun, sprouted. 

<<You are not monumentally stupid.>>

@daily-writing-challenge / @xylaes

[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

[daily-basil]

Been busy so have a trad doodle

[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.”