#februarydwc2024

[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: #februarydwc2024,  #februarydayX2024 (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 MAY 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 - February 18 Casualty, Flirt

Day 2 - February 19 Suppress, Pastel Day 3 - February 20 Bargain, Myth

Day 4 - February 21 Vengeance, Satisfaction Day 5 - February 22 Notorious, Altruistic Day 6 - February 23 Vanity, Feelings Day 7 - February 24 Rumor, Discovery

[kharrisdawndancer]

DWC Feb 2024 - Day 1 - Flirt/Casualty - Braedyn

"Notes"

Ruecien was asleep when I got here, enjoying  the last rays of sunlight. Did I only dream he was a poet?

Junarra flirts, in her way, with everyone. That ‘Trade Princess’ charm. She’s an asset, whether she knows it or not. I’m grateful she is here, for the quiet ones.

Kerrana keeps her expressions close, and I see a glimpse of myself a few years down the road.

Khidell is passionate about his pleasures. From chocolate cake to Hearthstone to thistle. He is not a frequent guest, but he reminds me to pay attention to the moment.

Onyx had been a surprise; but wasn’t she always? I am never sure how to take her bombastic declarations. The coffee is a casualty of her capricious nature. Would she really dump it in  someone’s lap? … Or was it just a comment meant to shock us into thinking about her? Vixannya slides through the evening like smoke curling from a candle. Her confidence is alluring.

Kaisina was finding her place. Sharing was a double edged sword for her and she danced, trying to find the balance between opening her heart and pressing against boundaries. The dragon racer, Hylcind, had a rough and tumble look about her; a life well-lived, and a heart that remembered it, apparently. Ruecien had felt badly for not knowing, I think, but she seemed to take it as a gift that someone else remembered her late husband. Gracious in a way most might envy.

Sana had become sweeter through the years, though still so guarded. Her efforts were steady. I feel she’s doing better for herself, but I am also sure I would never know if I was wrong.

Andaeros always teases, but it’s never too sharp and does not cut the way others do. He brings  smiles and warmth with him frequently. He rounds many of our edges, I think.

@daily-writing-challenge

mentions: @ruecien Junara B. Gogo @the-man-with-the-mohawk 's Khidell @laceandhalos 's Onyx, @vixannya, @kaisinasunblade , Hylcind , @twosidedsana, @andaerosdawnflare

[jacelandon]

February DWC Day 3 - Bargain/Myth

There were many myths and rumors surrounding the Darkmoon Island forest, and the warning was given to all who entered the Faire itself: ‘People have disappeared into those woods, never to return.’ There were always a handful of ‘tough guys’ that liked to test the theory, and while some did return with no grand stories to tell, the odds were never in anyone’s favor. Just as the warning clearly states, many people had, truthfully, never returned. 

By the carnie’s count, it was about a 50/50 chance of going missing at this point. They kept tally in their common area, because of course they did. People were, in general, quite stupid and took every chance to prove that fact to the workers of Darkmoon Island. Bets were eagerly placed, and someone tried to have eyes on the edge of the forest at all times to report back the results, or the newest victim to add to the board. It had become a favored pastime at this point.

No one could be for certain what happened out in that forest at any given moment, not even the carnies themselves were completely aware. It was safe to assume that some of them may have taken matters into their own hands in order to ensure a winning bet, but that wasn’t always the case. Some wanderers had disappeared without a trace, others were found along the outskirts of the trees mangled by animals or by something unknown. Some came out with stories of being hunted or haunted, others were driven insane by what they had witnessed and spoke in riddles or in foreign tongues.

Whatever the case, it was best for all to simply follow the warnings given.

Jace worked with the Darkmoon Faire prior to their acquisition of Darkmoon Island, so naturally he was one of the first to set foot on the new land. The rumors regarding the forests started early on after the disappearance of a few of the workers seeking locations to build their homes. He set up his vardo among the others; safety in numbers seemed key in a place where a lot of unexplained things tended to happen. After all, shady bargains had been made for them to obtain this island in the first place and most of them knew very little about it.

The first few nights had been uneventful and were spent drinking and partying all together as a family, but it was just short of a week when Jace had started noticing a few peculiarities.

On the sixth night, he woke up with his door wide open when he was typically very good at keeping it locked and bolted. They were all family, but that didn’t always stop sticky fingers.

On the eighth morning he discovered his feet were covered in dirt after waking up in his bed. He thought he had gotten past his sleepwalking phase when he was a young child, but perhaps the new location was stirring up some past memories. This continued for a good week or so, but no one else in the camp reported anything similar happening to them, nor had they seen him leave or return to his vardo.

On the thirteenth morning, along with the dirt-covered feet and now hands as well, he had noticed a few small scratches on his ankles.

On the fourteenth night, he had someone lock him in from the outside, yet he still seemingly managed to break free, return, and lock himself back inside.

On the fifteenth night, he had someone watch his vardo the entire night, and nothing happened. Of course he wasn’t going to make that request of someone every single night. He would just have to live with the bizarre sleepwalking and perhaps assume there were some playful spirits about. The idea wasn’t that far-fetched. 

It wasn’t until the twenty-fifth morning that things suddenly took a major turn.

“Jace? Jace, are you okay?” The voice sounded far away, although the gentle shake of his arm suggested otherwise. Petrichor was a welcome scent, but the chill of the brisk air he felt against bare flesh was unpleasant. Eyes cracked open to reveal a blur of colors. “Jace!” A rougher shove was given to his side. He grunted and blinked a few times, clearing the haze to focus on the goblin kneeling next to him. “Whe-...?” His voice caught in his extremely dry throat. He sat up and looked around, attempting to gain some moisture in his mouth before realizing he was laying directly on the edge of the forest. “How did I get here?” “Heck if I know, just found ya sprawled out here.” Gelvas tilted his head, taking a few steps back. “You don’t remember? Looks like ya came from the forest.” He pointed towards the footprints walking away from the trees. “Should prolly go an’ see the doctor, kid. Y’ain’t looking too great.” He tossed a blanket to Jace, squinting suspiciously,. “Gonna be ok? Need help getting back?” Jace glanced towards where the goblin had gestured before looking down at his scratched and bloodied bare arms. He had zero recollection of how any of this happened. Had he been sleepwalking in the forest? What happened to him last night? The scratches didn’t seem bestial in nature. He took the blanket and wrapped it around himself with a shiver before wobbling up to his feet. “No…I’m…no. Thanks, Gelvas.” There was something peculiar about how Gelvas was acting, he seemed almost wary as he briskly walked away without even once glancing back. Of course, that could just be due to their proximity to the forest, it was unsettling for many of the carnies. It was then his gaze caught the glint of gold pressed into the earth where he had once been laying. Leaning down, he plucked out the gold chain from the dirt, lifting it until it revealed the evil eye charm attached to it. This belonged to him. He had never seen it nor worn it before in his life, but he somehow knew it was his. He fastened the necklace in place and pressed a palm against the charm with a smile. Despite his current predicament and his disheveled appearance, he felt the best he had in some time.

@daily-writing-challenge

[themidnightleo]

Full Circle

DWC- Day 2- Suppress/Pastel

Another day dawned upon Stormwind, and Leo found himself navigating its streets with caution. The past few months had seen him keeping a low profile, laying low and hidden from the limelight, all thanks to a daring heist he had orchestrated against a renowned tavern within the city walls. Now, tentatively stepping onto the cobblestone pathways, he couldn't help but notice the lackluster ambiance that surrounded him, despite the city's usual bustle.

As he wandered through the maze of canals and districts, his journey led him to Lion's Rest, where a familiar figure caught his eye amidst the crowd—a certain ginger-haired dame.

GiGi Fiske.

GiGi had always been more than just a friend to Leo; she was his confidant, the one person with whom he shared his deepest secrets—something he couldn't bring himself to do with anyone else, not even his former partner in crime. Approaching her, Leo was serenaded by the gentle strains of a lute, played skillfully by a magenta-haired elf standing nearby—a sight and sound he had sorely missed.

After exchanging greetings with GiGi, Leo's attention was drawn back to the bard, whom she introduced as Trist'Ayran Ambrosio-Autumnrayne—a name that sparked recognition within him.

Trist'Ayran Ambrosio-Autumnrayne was his name.

Gif by Kotlass on YCH.Commishes

There was an undeniable allure to the lute player, a stark contrast to Leo's own demeanor. Clad in vibrant teal hues, the elf's attire screamed of brightness, his hair a striking color that caught Leo's eye. Despite the exuberance in his appearance, a somberness hung in the air as the lute's melancholic melody filled the space. Leo stood at a distance, observing the bard with keen interest. He noted the fluid movements, the subtle flicks of wrists and ankles that set the bells adorning Trist into motion, adding depth to the sorrowful tunes. Everything about the bard seemed to radiate sadness to those who paid attention.

Yet, as people passed by, smiles adorned their faces, greetings and compliments showered upon Trist for his masterful performance. It was indeed a captivating display, but they failed to grasp the pain concealed behind his façade.

Approaching the bard, Leo engaged him in conversation, each word tinged with a sense of desolation. The adeptness with which Trist crafted a façade of beauty to mask his inner torment intrigued Leo deeply. He felt compelled to delve further into the enigma that was the bard.

No, he NEEDED to unravel the mysteries veiled beneath Trist's cheerful exterior.

@daily-writing-challenge

[rylandfalkov]

FEBRUARY DWC 2024 DAY 2 - SUPPRESS

((Since my time to write for WoW is extremely limited right now, here's my show from Succulent Tart's Glitter is in the Air since it uses one of the words for this day!))

Ryland steps onto the stage with acoustic guitar in hand, donning completely casual clothing tonight: Tank top, slacks, boots, and the only thing that really stands out, a crown of red and white geraniums. Those familiar with his previous Glitter is in the Air performances may recognize the flowers as a staple of this particular show for him.

He flashes the crowd that charming, dimpled smirk he’s known for as he steps up to the microphone to speak:

"I know some of you may expect me to continue the story I’ve been telling over the years at this performance; with the aerial hoops, ballet, and usually making a good handful of you break down in tears. Taking a break this year to do a little something different. Don’t worry, the aerial contraptions and ballet will be coming back. Probably a little pole dancing for the show in April."

Wink wink nudge nudge.

"I sang on this very stage for my very first show ever with the Tarts years ago. It’s not something I do very often as I feel oddly more vulnerable singing than I do with dancing. However, I’m gonna sing something for you all tonight! This song can be interpreted in different ways for different people, and that’s the great thing about music yeah? You hear whatever you want or whatever you need in it. Whether this is about unrequited love, a forbidden relationship, what happens when you have a strong attraction to someone that isn’t necessarily good for you, or whatever else.

I’ll let you all feel what you need to feel for it, and assume what you’d like to assume as to why I’m singing it for you tonight."

Ryland steps back from the microphone and clears his throat as he slightly adjusts his guitar into position. After a few silent moments, he begins to strum a tune that is likely fairly recognizable to many. Leaning closer to the microphone, he begins to sing; his vocals breathy and fluid, delicately suppressed yet commanding and immediately captivating, “No, dah-oooooo, ohh-ohh-ohh. No, dah-ooooo…”  Eyes close and brows raise briefly as he switches from chest to a gentle head voice with ease, adding a bit of modest vibrato onto the back end of the lingering notes.

His eyes flutter open, making and holding eye contact with various members of the audience, “The world was on fire and no one could save me but you.” There’s a dreamy quality to the surroundings and to the song itself; sweet, sultry, and even a touch haunting at times. “Well It's strange what desire will make foolish people do.” There’s something almost hypnotic about those impassioned lyrics and that enticing gaze, beckoning and bewitching all. One corner of his lips draws upwards into a lopsided, alluring grin, flashing those pearly whites beneath as his voice easily lifts to reach the higher notes, “No I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you. No, I never dreamed that I'd love somebody like you.” He takes a sharp breath, maintaining the same euphonic quality for the chorus, “No, I don’t wanna fall in love.” The mellifluous timbre of his vocals fluently ease into his falsetto range without strain nor hitch, making the difficult song sound effortless, “No, I don't wanna fall in love.” There’s an etherealness to his intonation that makes the song sound more romantic than the words actually lend, “With you, ohhhhhh, no no no, mmmm”. He looks back down at his guitar with a tender smile, “No, Da-Ooooo…” He allows the vibrato trail off into silence naturally as his gaze greets the audience again. Ryland falls back into his natural register as he scans the crowd with a slight intensity in both gaze and voice. His upper lip twitches, baring his teeth more as he sings the next lines, “What a wicked game to play, to make me feel this way. What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you.” While he never mentioned what the song meant to him, it certainly holds some meaning given the absolute heart and emotion he puts into the lyrics, gracefully crescendoing as he continues, “What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way. What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you.” He doesn’t even stop to breathe as he reaches the chorus once more, nurturing the delicate balance between strength and fragility, “No, I don’t wanna fall in love. No, I don’t wanna fall in love.” Eyes shut as he nearly smiles, the song certainly brings out a full range of emotion, “With you, ohhhhhh, no no no, mmmm. No, Da-Ooooo..” He continues to extend the note with the faintest hints of vibrato, readily raising the pitch and sliding the held note around at his whim before allowing it to fade.

Eyes crack open to focus on his guitar, leaning away from the microphone and continuing to strum the melodic rhythm with finesse. There’s a trace of genuine melancholy in his expression, alongside a raw sensuality with the way he wets his lips, inhales, and sways forward until lush lips just barely graze the microphone. “The world was on fire and no one could save me but you, well it’s strange what desire will make foolish people do.” His azure gaze confidently greets anyone willing to hold the intense stare, making it seem as if he’s singing just for them and them alone. “No, I never dreamed that I'd love somebody like you. No, I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you.” Both brows raise along with the tone, and one corner of his lips pulls into a bittersweet smile, allowing the heartfelt words and soulful melody to permeate throughout the entire performance space. He maintains a certain tenderness and restraint all throughout the otherwise heavy lyrics. “No, I don’t wanna fall in love. No, I don’t wanna fall in love.” Those honeyed vocals are meant to evoke feelings and daydreams of all varieties. It’s a combination of yearning and lust, of vulnerability and a loss of individuality, with an aftertaste of regret. “No, I….Oh no, I……” The high notes are masterfully held, gradually fading into a melodic exhale and swept away into the rhythmic strumming of his guitar. Ryland's lips brush the microphone, his shuddering breath audible, “With you, ohhhhhh, no no no, mmmm. No, Da-Ooooohhhh…” He strums the final chord, allowing both guitar and voice to fade to nothing. He stills in the silence for a few moments before lowering the instrument and stepping away from the microphone to take his final bow.

@succulent-tart @daily-writing-challenge

[yserina-starweaver]

February 18, 2024 Day 1 | Casualty/Flirt

Acrid smoke curled in lazy plumes from the bowl of her long stemmed Kaldorei pipe. Nine years later and the smell of it still reminded her of each refugee camp she’d visited. Teldrassil’s ashes had clung to the bodies of the people for weeks, sticking to their hair, clothes and haunting them all like a ghastly, looming specter. 

Her daughters and their families all remained physically unaccounted for, even after all this time. Elora’s wisp sometimes bobbed through the branches that crowned Yserina’s dwelling in Amirdrassil’s young wilds, which meant Ilalia’s was likely not far — she’d always followed in her older sister’s wake, even though she’d been centuries younger. 

Fiore, the Sin’dorei stray she’d found in the Dream, stumbled loudly out the door as she struggled with the heavy wash bucket. It was always hard to tell with the younger broods how old they actually were, but the girl’s aptitude with nature magic and ability to balance it with the arcane magic she’d been raised with reminded her of Elora’s youngest, Solarin. 

Yserina’s eyes narrowed as she considered her ward; it was clear that she’d only been raised with the necessary skills to catch a rich husband. There was a certain world where charm and flirtation were necessary for survival — she’d seen it herself in Zin-Azshari, and it had seemed as corrosive then as it did now. 

She’d originally only meant to give the girl a crash course on minding one’s own business and boundaries within the dreaming’s rambles, but days of being unable to cast the pathetic creature out turned into weeks, and then a month. The girl’s soft hands had blisters and calluses that had started to build up from daily labor. Part of her had started to get attached the way some people did with favorite baubles, and it had been nice to have someone else around again, as much as she hated to admit it.

If she wasn’t careful, she’d lose her reputation as a heartless hag. 

The thought made her laugh quietly to herself as she took another long drag off her ornate pipe before setting it down on its carved jade rest. Exhaling the poison out slowly, Yserina stood and let the smoke cascade behind her as she went to follow her little flower out to the pond. 

The amount of scented soap that had carried back on the wind was a portent of impending disaster for their skin and silks, and there had been more than enough casualties lately.

@daily-writing-challenge @fio-renze

[straightouttatheashes]

DAY 2 - SUPPRESS/PASTEL

DWC 2024 Day 2 - Suppress/Pastel

---

The first time a burst of fire erupted forth from her mouth was the result of a very unfortunate chilli eating contest. She’d taken on the hottest as a bet, and lost. Not even graciously. In the most humiliating way possible - her throat raw and eyes red and tear-filled as she’d plunged her entire face into a bowl of yoghurt to soothe her sudden predicament, proceeding to weep into it. It hadn’t been her finest moment, that’s for sure.

That incident had been a long time ago now, and she’d never dared to try the feat again. Pheonix wondered how she had managed it in the first place. She’d absorbed raw fire into herself, thrown kicks and punches laced with fire, shot fireballs, engulfed herself in a blazing tornado, power free to control as she saw fit…and yet…breathing fire was absolutely not one of the feats she’d managed. At least on purpose. Pheonix hadn’t been so eager to figure out the actual mechanics to it. Not until a few months ago.

She’d suppressed the urge to unleash her abilities to their full extent, as hard as it was. All she had to do was remember the burning of her throat as she felt the fire bubble up and boil over, and the excruciating pain that followed in it’s wake. Luckily, she hadn’t done damage to herself, but gods had she felt the aftermath. Here she needed control. It needed to flow from the pit of her stomach, a steady inhale and exhale. Fury could not be the driving force here, not for the outcome she desired and sought. 

Pheonix saw no result on the first day. She’d barely managed to even heat her own breath above the usual temperature. No embers. No little sparks - not that she thought she’d manage that, but it would have been cool to see. Nothing. Well.. Nothing but the pure state of calm she was in. It puzzled her. She didn’t expect to be able to breathe fire on her first conscious go, but she also expected herself to be in a state of frustration upon not being able to produce anything. Instead, she found herself at peace. Weird.

---

Despite going days without seeing much progress, Pheonix began to realize that these sessions she took for herself during the day had a therapeutic result on her. She felt calm, her emotions in control. Even the days where she’d been the angriest….her rage had subsided. She’d started to reach her ‘zen’, putting it in simpler terms. She noticed the use of her chi healing had improved - obviously not to the point where it’d do much else than be a bit of a glorified painkiller…but she wasn’t straining herself as much to use it. She wondered if she’d ever get the chance to show it to the person who had taught her.

By the end of the second week, she’d felt it. The air had warmed around her, and she’d even directed her breath closer into her palms to see if she wasn’t imagining things. Hot. There was no fire, but she’d noticed it. Progress. And her center was as calm as ever. She could feel the fire in her veins, but it wasn’t raging…there was no raw intensity to it. There was no reason for it to be that way. It felt different….yet welcoming at the same time.

---

Her hands gently held the teacup close as if it could break at any moment. She felt the bottom of the cup as it warmed up in her palms, the liquid inside gradually heating as she exhaled steadily. At first, she’d almost entirely began heating it with direction from her palms alone…but she’d regained her focus. She had been concentrating and concentrating hard. Redirecting the flame up her throat, to her mouth. A tiny exhale was all she needed. Tiny and steady. Tiny and steady. Focus.

Rays of sunlight broke through soft clouds drifting amongst a pastel sky. Picturesque, she’d thought. A fitting background for one of the most tranquil sessions she’d achieved. A sturdy teapot sat on the tray beside her as she lounged in the rattan chair, two cups laid out for herself and another. Both at perfect temperature. She wasn’t even an avid tea-drinker, but this called for a bit of an exception. 

“It’s a beautiful day, huh?” She smiled as Barry approached the veranda of the bungalow, gesturing to the free seat. “I made some tea.”

-- @disruptanddisturb for mentions @daily-writing-challenge

[kaisinasunblade]

Daily Writing Challenge | Day 1 | Casualty/Flirt

Kai watches Dice walk into the darkness after escorting her home from the show. Resting her head on the wooden beam next to her as she closes her eyes. "Why are you doing this to yourself?" Her thoughts causing her to groan. Pushing away from the beam, Kai gave one last look at the area Dice disappeared into. Her head was sayin', "Fool, forget him", but her heart is sayin', "Don't let go of hope."

When had she started falling for him? The depths of her heart had been so carefully kept under lock and key, guarded from the pain she knew love could cause. But some how Dice had managed to slowly break down those walls and slip with in. Walking down to the beach Kai looked up at the moon as waves washes over her feet.

"Fool!" The word nearly shouted into her thoughts, which caused Kai to tense up. "He will never love you! He will never want you! He's only being kind to you, because he feels only pity for you! Do you really think someone like you can be loved? Find happiness? Your mother thought that once, and look what happened to her. To you."

Even though she knew he was gone, her father's voice pierced her thoughts with harsh words. "You can't do anything right. Never could. That first dinner you had with him, remember how foolish you looked?! How could anyone ever want to be with someone like that?"

"STOP! ENOUGH!" Kai screams out into the wind as her whole body shook. She knew just how foolish she looks at this point, screaming at no one. But she did not care. She would not let her father win, not again.

With his kindness, his warmth, she felt safe with him. Some how in the year she had almost known him, he had slowly won her heart. She did not know if over time he would ever want her, or even love her like that.

Deep down inside her heart, she knew no matter what happened. He would hold a special place in her heart. Only time will ever tell what their paths will take.

@daily-writing-challenge

@dicenne for mentions