Daily:

March 1:
Hey, I'm Bloom, pronouns are she/her- and this is my first session of SWC! I've been assigned to the Poetry Cabin- and I can't wait to start! I enjoy coding, reading, writing (of course!), drawing, and more~! I'm also a middle blocker for volleyball. I'm also hoping to complete every daily, and maybe make some oneshots? Hopefully my writing will improve ^^

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set [ Awesomeness] to [100]

Hey! I'm Ebony. This is my first SWC. Pronouns are she/her. I like to play videogames, do blocksades, eat, listen to music, write. I write mostly fan fics and
OG stories. #ContemporaryFTW

Bread FTW -Me

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forever
say [Dystopian Ruins FTW!]
end

March 1st Daily for Adventure!!!!!
378 Words

Hello Everyone! My name is Piper, I’m between 13 and 17 years old, and I use She/Her pronouns! This is my first ever SWC session, and I am so excited to be taking part in it as part of the Adventure Cabin!!
I love musical theater and am currently rehearsing for a production of Annie the Musical, where I’ll be performing as Grace Ferral! I’m constantly singing and while some may call me “crazy” I like to say that I have a lot of energy! I also love reading and writing, as is probably obvious since I joined a writing camp!
My favorite musicals right now are: Newsies, Annie (Of course! Since I’m going to be performing it soon! xD), Hamilton, Dear Evan Hansen, and Mean Girls! I would LOVE to talk to any fellow musical theatre kids on my profile if anybody’s interested!
Some of my favorite books are: The KOTLC series, the Red Queen series, The List, The Divergent series, The Hunger Games series, and the Harry Potter series!
While I usually like to read chapter books and written books, I have read a couple of graphic novels and I really enjoyed them! I’ve read most of the graphic novels by Raina Telgemeier; Smile, Sisters, Guts, Ghosts, and Drama! All of them were really good and I reread them often!
If you would ever like to, please feel free to give constructive criticism on any of my writing from this session! If you do give some, please do it on my profile or notify me that you replied to my forum post so that I can see it and respond! Thanks!
Anyways, I think that’s all I have to say about myself! If you have any more questions or would like to talk to me more about anything I mentioned in this introduction, you can comment on my profile comments! I’m highly active so I’ll likely see it within a couple of hours! Though, please be aware that I'm in a PST time zone so I might not see it if it’s late at night in my timezone!
Thanks for reading my kind of long introduction! I hope to get to know a lot of you and make some new friends during this session!
- Piper

Hop's SWC Writing thread - March 2022

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Dailies

Will show current dailies only, deleting old ones after so it’s not so crowded <3

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Weeklies

:inhale:

PART ONE A
Inspo: Imperial march

Ahaha somewhat inspired by mulan 401 words

“Bye ma, bye pa,” Ani waved, instantly feeling guilty about the lie she’d told.

Ani fastened the tortoise shell buttons on her stolen warrior uniform, feeling capable as to what might come next. Ani raised the scissors to her ponytail, slicing it off in one swift clip. Ani continued to cut her hair, cutting it so short that only about a half an inch of her auburn hair stayed on her head. Ani knew her sharpened knife wouldn’t get her far on the battlefield, so she climbed on her bike and set off for the village.

The village was bustling with married women whose spouses had gone off to fight, the women were decked with frills and ribbons. It made Ani gag. Ani had never been one for fancy dresses, more of a boring white dress type of person. Ani averted her eyes from the blathering women and rushed into the sword shop. (I know it’s quite odd to have a ‘sword shop’ but it’s fiCTioN!)

“Hello good sir!” The clerk waved at Ani, smiling widely. “Why hello,” Ani said, making her voice lower. “What’s your most expensive sword?” Ani inquired. “Oh, an ambitious young man I see,” The clerk returned to the back room, holding out a finger to say ‘one minute’. A few minutes later, the clerk returned with a red box. Ani looked at the box ; intrigued. A jaw dropping blade greeted her dark brown eyes. “Thirty copper coins,” The clerk said, holding out a hand awaiting payment. Ani inhaled, this was a lot of money. Ani dug through her pockets, producing thirty coins yet leaving empty pockets. They exchanged goods and Ani left with her new sword by her side.

Ani exited the building, getting back on her bike and pedaling towards the soldier camp. She supposed she could just sneak in, and act like the other soldiers.

The camp seemed rigid and orderly, soldiers were marching, somehow so in sync like a broadway ensemble dancing. Ani found a small opening in the line of soldiers, slipping in and struggling to keep up with the marching. “New, aren’t you?” The soldier next to her whispered, Ani glanced over, realizing he was no more than her age; eighteen. “How’d you know?” Ani joked. “It gets easier, just stick with me and my friends,” The soldier gestured at a few dopey looking people, all still about eighteen or so.

Hit 401 so sorry i’m trying to get this done so take this crappy writing please

PART ONE B (WITH CONTINUED PART)
Story two - Hedwig’s theme

(This is the one I continued, so altogether it’s 1613 words )

In the streets of lower St.Fennis, a mysterious sight was to behold. A person in a cloak, long chocolate colored hair spilling out; was dashing through the streets. If you watch closely, you can see them moving by in the blink of an eye.
The cloaked figure walked hastily through the alleyway, batting no eye when they stepped in puddles and hit their foot on a glass bottle. To anyone with an ounce of knowledge in their heads, the person would seem to be running from someone. However, in this part of town not a single soul has half a brain to spare. The person surely knew that, since they paid no mind to anyone seeing them perusing through the streets. The cloaked figure rapidly turned a corner, taking a step back when it became obvious that two people were waiting for them around the bend. One of the people roughly grabbed their arm, tugging them into a grey car that was parked nearby. The car smelled of warm pastries and breads, unsettling mixed with the air of the situation. Other than the people the car was admittedly quite pleasant. It was possibly the cleanest car, even the mats on the bottom of the car were surely recently cleaned. The cloaked figure almost felt bad scuffing it with their soiled boots. “Let me go,” The cloaked figure hissed, swatting at the hand holding their arm. “Clearly if we abduct you we’re not just going to let you out if you tell us to,” A woman said emphatically, poking the cloaked figure playfully. The figure pulls down their cloak, revealing a girl about seventeen with a reddened, angry look on her face. “Oh don’t act so aggravated you knew that this was coming eventually, darling,” The same woman spoke. The driver scoffed. “We were lucky that we got her, she’s quite a difficult little girl,” The driver rolled his eyes. “You’re such a pessimist, George,” The woman teased, though a bit exasperatedly. “At least I’m not afraid of heights. Penelope you couldn’t even help me with that water tower thing” George retorted; playfully. “What?” The girl said abruptly. “You’re Penelope, the one who I accidentally dropped an ice cream cone on from the water tower?” The girl almost laughed, recalling the smallest of incidents that spiralled significantly. “Guilty,” Penelope said, seeming a bit sheepish. The girl laughed, feeling more at ease with her unlikely captors. “Who sent you?” The girl inquired. “The fat man, I forgot his name,” George answered, taking a sharp turn that sent both Penelope and the girl into the walls of the car. “Horace something,” Penelope added, pushing her auburn hair out of her face. “Horace Chamberlain?” The girl asked, startled by the mention of her lifelong enemy. “That name sounds right,” George said, nodding. “Agreed,” Penelope smiled at the girl, and the girl wondered how such kind people could pursue such a devious career. “What got you two into this job?” The girl asked, eager to understand why these people did what they did. “Easy question,” Penelope replied, sharing a look with George that meant something the girl couldn’t wrap her head around. “The money,” George said plainly. “You abduct troublesome children for the money?” The girl was annoyed. “No one forced you to do this? You seem like such nice people,” The girl grasped for reasoning. “I’m sure we seem like that, but inside we have cold hearts of stone,” Penelope joked. The three of them eased into silence, that was not as grim as you may expect. The girl gazed out the window, watching verdant hills and dusty sheep frolicking by.
“Where exactly are we?” The girl asked minutes later. “Somewhere along the countryside, we’re on our way to south Luneslore,” Penelope responded. “Luneslore? Isn’t that town a bit-,” The girl started. “Chaotic?” George and Penelope spoke at the same time, inviting a giggle from Penelope.
“Well, yes it is a bit chaotic there. However, we also have an estate there, so it is convenient when capturing children,” George addressed. “So there’s other children there?” The girl asked hopefully. “Quite so!” Penelope answered. The girl felt a plume of hope rising in her chest. “Are there other adults there too?” The girl questioned. “About ten, George, you probably know how many?” Penelope replied. George shifted to share a look with Penelope. “Nine. Penelope you know there’s nine,” George sighed.

Soon enough, they reached their destination. In a far corner of Luneslore, a dark and dim manor resided. The manor had tall walls of ebony brick and roofs of oxidized copper. Surrounding the manor were streams, rivers, everglades, mountains and forests. Something about the manor seemed inviting, despite its grim appearance.

George and Penelope lead the girl inside, showing her around grand dining halls and bedrooms. “So this is where you bring everyone you take?” The girl was in awe. “Yeah,” Penelope replied, glancing at her wrist watch. “We’d better head out, we have an errand to run!” Penelope pulled George out the door, leaving the girl standing blankly, with no knowledge of what to do.

The girl continued exploring the manor, checking for secret spots and libraries. The girl’s eyes lit up as she saw a familiar face. “Diana!” Her beloved adopted sister who had been missing for quite some time. Diana turned,face going white at the sight of the girl. The girl rushed to Diana, attempting a hug. Diana pulled away instantly, taking a step away. “I don’t want to talk to you,” Diana huffed, taking several steps backwards. The girl started towards Diana. “Leave me alone!” Diana scowled, starting to walk quickly towards the door of the manor. “Diana!” The girl called, but Diana had already dashed out the door.

“Diana?” The girl ran through the thick forest, barely able to see a an inch ahead of her, for the trees were luscious and crowding. “Diana?” The girl ran through the thick forest, barely able to see an inch ahead of her, for the trees were luscious and crowding. “Diana where are you?” The girl was growing tired, her feet ached from running so far over rocks and pinecones. The girl however, didn’t give up. After a millennia of running in circles, trying to trace her way out of the forest, she saw scarlet colored blood seeping out of her sock, a branch must have cut it. Her grey leggings had torn in the knees and her white shirt was stained with sap, blood and who knows what. The girl abruptly stopped running and looked around. Nothing. She made her way over to a looming redwood tree, probably the tallest in the whole forest! She decided she had nothing to lose and placed a foot on the lowest branch of the tree and hoisted herself up. She climbed for a few minutes, swinging from branch to branch. As she neared a high enough point she looked out at the horizon. She could see the beach was near and she saw a figure sitting on the bench that was placed on the dock. Diana! She hopped down off of the tree and started running towards where she saw that beach. It had to be Diana. Not long after that she burst out of the forest, panting and sweating. As she made her way closer to the figure on the bench, she realized that the figure was not in fact pale dark haired Diana but an old woman with silky grey hair feeding seabirds with breadcrumbs from a beige laced bag. “Excuse me?” The girl stepped in front of the woman. “Have you seen a girl- she has dark hair and-,” The girl started to say. “Oh! Why yes I have, she was wearing a dark purple dress was she not?” The woman asked. “Yeah I think so!” The girl said, hope rising. “She went that way,” The woman croaked, pointing a shriveled index finger towards a small path winding around a tall mountain of boulders. “Thank you!” The girl called over her shoulder as she dashed away, not noticing the pain in her feet anymore. “Diana!” The girl called, sprinting as fast as she could. “Diana?” The girl stopped. She saw boot prints in the ground, leading off the trail. Her chest swelled with hope. Diana has to be near here. She followed the tracks to a steep slope, so high you couldn’t see the top from down below. The girl continued running, sprinting up the hill with all of her might. When she reached the top she was exhausted and out of breath. The top was more or less the top of a cliff she realized, with Diana sitting on the edge. “Diana!” The girl sighed with relief. “There you are!” She ran over to Diana, who turned her head away. “I’ve been looking all over for you,” The girl stopped. Was Diana still mad? “I’m sorry,” The girl blurted. “I shouldn’t have told her.” The girl apologized. “I didn’t think she’d be that angry,” The girl approached Diana cautiously. “Well she was!” Diana snapped. “I really didn’t mean to!” The girl pleaded, feeling a tightening in her chest. “Go away, you just make everything worse,” Diana muttered, throwing a small bit of sandstone off of the cliff, down into the forest. “It’s not my fault your parents wanted to adopt a kid, I wasn’t the one who decided to be adopted!” Diana shouted, anger boiling over. “Why don’t you just run home to your stupid mom you’re always talking about, we never wanted you here anyway!” Diana turned around, tears streaked across her face. “My mom is dead,” The girl said tensely.


USING INSPIRATION FROM HARRY POTTER WHEN THE HOGWARTS STAFF THINK SIRIUS BLACK BROKE IN TO /COMMENCE HARM/

713

It’s an inky black night. It’s the end of the rainstorm and the last droplets are pattering onto the cracked cobblestone streets. The only sounds are the rain and the murmur of voices from the pub. Inside the pub, the noise is chaotic and voices are raised in argument.

Three figures were sitting on the black leather bar stools, loudly arguing.
“We can’t keep lying to them!” Bailey said impatiently.
“We’re protecting them,” Caliz insisted
“Well they’ll know eventually, when the whole school burns down!” Bailey snapped.
“We don’t know if they will even do anything,” Maya replied hesitantly.
“There’s an mvrd3rer in our school!” Bailey almost yelled.
“It’s not protecting them if their lives are in danger,” Bailey continued, more calmly.
“No one is dying,” Marigold said definitively, strolling into her spot behind the counter. Marigold held four glasses on a tray, each filled with a golden carbonated liquid.”Merlin’s Beard!” Bailey exclaimed. “It’s butterbeer,” Marigold told them. Bailey still gave her a judgmental look . “Non-alcoholic,” She added quickly, passing each of them a glass. A tense air still hung in the room; lingering. Bailey stared daggers at Caliz. They each sipped tentatively from their cold glasses, each waiting for another to speak.
“We need to tell them,” Bailey said, breaking the momentary silence. “But-,” Caliz started.
“Stop,” Marigold interrupted, putting a silencing hand in the air. “We need all of the leaders in the main dorm, and from there we’ll vote,” Marigold decided. “What will we do with the students?” Maya asked. “They can just stay at the dorms,” Marigold replied.

After an hour of planning, they were all gathered in the main dorm, Maya was in the booth behind the stage, taking deep breaths. Maya pulled on a headset, switching a light on inside the booth. “Sound on, broadcast,” Maya spoke, Bailey flipped up switches and a red light flicked on inside the booth. “Hello everyone, it’s Maya,” Maya spoke as cheerfully as she could. “The headmasters require all leaders and cos to go to the main dorm,” She instructed, hoping the students wouldn’t notice the undertones of seriousness. Maya and Delilah exited the booth, taking their places next to Marigold at the head table in the front of the main dorm.

Shortly, the first of the leaders entered. Luna and Coralei are deep in conversation, as Mae and the rest of Sci-Fi and Fan-Fi leaders follow behind. Soon after that, the hall is eerily quiet as all of the leaders are seated at the same tables, spread out in groups between a few.

“You’re probably wondering why you’re here,” Marigold started. “We may or may not have an mvrd3rer in our school,” Marigold said in rushed jumble of words. The fifty leaders burst into shouting. “One at a time,” Marigold interrupted. Hands shot up instantly.
“Who are they?”
“We don’t know,”
“How do you know that there is an mvrd3rer?”
“We got anonymous notes,”
“How are we going to figure out who they are?”
“We’ll decide that soon,”
“How long have you known?”
“Three days,”
“Will they attack?”
“They said they’d attack a dorm tonight,”
After the questions had been asked, a strange quiet rushed over them, it was clear they were all thinking intently. Eventually, one small hand is raised into the air. There’s some whispering between a few people, then a hand is raised. “Yeah, Lyra?”
“What if we keep all of the students and leaders in the main dorm today, we can have them in sleeping bags, that way if a dorm gets… mvrd3r-ed… mvrd3rfied, anyway they won’t be asleep and murdered,” Lyra speaks nervously and quickly. Marigold nods along quietly. “Shall we take a vote?” Murmurs of approval and nods ripple through the crowd. “All in favor of closing the school, raise your hands,” Marigold states. No one moves, not even a single person raises a hand. “Now, everyone in favor of having the students stay in the main hall, raise your hands,” Every hand in the hall shoots up. “Alright then, we’ll go through a simple procedure before we invite the students here, but for now everyone can stay at their seats,” Marigold says, a bit ominously even. All of the headmasters file into one of the many study rooms in the main hall.

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Word Wars

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cabin wars

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Comp entry

Daily 1:372 words
After a few hours of exploring the island, you finally come to a small building nearby a babbling brook. It is small and quaint, with potted plants on the windowsills and sunbeams playing on the tiled roof. The house itself is made of plain concrete, with a door as blue as the sea. Lush greenery surrounds the it in forms of pretty azaleas and wild ivies. Suddenly, a girl burst through the sea-blue door and puts her hands on her hips.
“Why are you staring at my house?” she demands.
She steps forward, and you start to see her properly. She has short, auburn hair with tiger-like ears poking at the top. she wore a light orange dress adorned with black and white tiger stripes. She also had a tiger's tail.
“Err, I'm here for the writing thing. You see, I got chosen for, err, mythology I think,” You stammer.
“Calypso's Island! That's what it's called! And-” the girl pauses. “Oh! You got chosen to be a camper in Mythology; cool! Did you do any writing yet?”
“No.” you simply say.
“Oh. Well then, I guess you could come and look at my writing now you're here.” “And mind you maybe start some writing yourself!” she adds.
She bounces back into the house then to come back out a minute later with a handful of scrolls.
“My name's Cute Kitty and this is my writing.” The girl says all important-like.
You open one of the scrolls and start reading one of the sentences.
Theseus tied the end of the string around and around the large rock, still unsure about Ariadne's plan.
“Oh, that?” Cute Kitty was looking from behind your shoulder. “I'm writing the Theseus and the Minotaur story. What do you think?”
“I think it's good!” You say.
"Really? I feel like my sentences don't sound right. At all“
”Don't be so hard on yourself! You sentences are stunning and it would be great if you help me with my writing! It's great to have feedback!“
”You mean, we can work as a team?“ Says Cute Kitty curiously.
”Yeah!" You agree.
A warm, glowing feeling settles inside you for the rest of the day, knowing you had made a new friend.

this post is for my writing!

3/1
in-cabin daily:

an̶d̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶c̶o̶o̶l̶e̶s̶t̶ ̶n̶o̶n̶-̶f̶i̶ ̶c̶a̶m̶p̶e̶r̶ ̶a̶w̶a̶r̶d̶ ̶g̶o̶e̶s̶ to:

If you peek in the corner, you'll see Star, casually sipping a cup of water from Starbucks that she put a packet of powder in so that she could pretend she actually bought a refresher. She tOtAlLy did….

Star uses the pronouns she/her and they/them, but prefers she/her. She'll spend most of her time daydreaming, so you can look for her in the corner of the surrealistic art exhibit. Her favorite elective in school is Spanish, and her favorite core class is math. Her all-time favorite is Spanish.

Non-fi cabin ftw!
@stariistudio-

Chiky's SWC writing for this session

You can read if you want but be warned… I don't write that well


In Cabin Dailies

1. If I were my actual OC in the Real-Fi academy, I would spend my first day like this:


Chiky_ojo looked across the halls, seeing nobody here yet. But to his surprise, at exactly 10:00 AM, the rest of the Scratchers came flooding in. A mess. Most had already met a few of the other classmates or the prefects, and started to dive into their conversations. In the chaos, Chiky_ojo looked around for anyone familiar. He found no such face. He sighed. For his first destination, Chiky_ojo made his way to his room. His roommate had yet to arrive, so there wasn’t much to do there. After touring many other parts of this grand academy, Chiky_ojo decided to study, and leave meeting and getting to know his fellow students and prefects. Chiky_ojo piled up the thousands of books and workbooks had had used before, and slowly attempted to make a dent through the pile. After making a decent amount of progress, he finally went. It was time to meet the rest.

Yeah it’s kinda low quality just getting used to SWC again

2. Three classes I would be interested in if I were at the Real-Fi Academy:


The Mathematics Behind Procrastination

This class would be about why procrastinating happens, and procrastination, but with math. For example, if we were learning simple addition (That is the first thing I thought of, I know, that might be easy for some of you, and it is easy for me), we would have all examples about procrastination. I would want this class because I enjoy math, and I often (always) do well in them. And I procrastinate. A lot. On math.

Mango Physics

This class would be about the physics of mangoes. So, we might learn that mangoes do or don’t bounce (Although the answer to that one is pretty obvious). The reason I would want and enjoy this class is because physics has some stuff to do with math, and I’ve always wanted to learn and be a mathematician or a physicist.

Illustrations for Dailies and Weeklies

This class would teach you how to make better illustrations for your writing, especially for SWC activities. I would want, join, and enjoy this class because I’m okay at drawing, but really want to get better, especially if I could draw out my own writing or include it in critiques.


Dailies

1. My cap is separated from me once again. Does it really have to be this hard to be a pen? Of course, the cap isn’t me, they have their own consciousness. Imagine you had to be separated from your closest friend every few seconds. At least, when the cap is taken off, I meet a new piece of paper, say hi to a notebook I’ve written in before, or the cap is put on my back. You humans are always saying that we are “Inanimate”. Well, we have feelings too. You don’t hear us communicate, but we can vibrate ever so slightly to send other objects messages. That’s why I dislike being separated from my cap or any other object. The vibrations can get the messages out into the open, but messages from objects are so much easier to understand when you are touching the object you wish to send a message to. Another reason being a pen, or any other object is that you have to say goodbye to so many other objects. The cap is the only friend I’ve had since I was made. Almost every paper I write on is thrown away, given away, or lost some other way. As for notebooks, I see them so many times, but then, they are whisked away eventually. If I’m lucky, the notebooks will be brought to my owner’s home, and I see them once in a while. But I know, life is no longer much fun for them, and our friendship is slowly taken away, as we spend less and less time together. I know a lot of other objects too. In the class, it’s a lot like notebooks. I get to know them pretty well for a while, but I can never escape the time when so many, too many objects I know, are separated from me forever. The cap. Everyday I have to hope that we are not lost from each other. Me and my cap are lucky. At least we have each other, and even though we’ve known this world for four years now, neither of us have been lost, individually or together. But I know, one day, something will change my life forever. And when you’re an “Inanimate” object, the change never turns out well.

2. Flavors: Snowy mountains, olympics and balloons (From 129waterfall)


Chiky_ojo stared at the ruins again. “Here? Again?” He thought (It’s from a daily I did in a previous session). This time, the entrance was sealed. Chiky_ojo remembered what he had done in the ruins and how he had sealed that door. It was time to break the seal once more, for another objective related to food. Specifically ice cream. He summoned his staff, and used his powers to shatter the wall standing between him and the inside of the ruins. As he expected, the shadows had taken over this place once more. He flicked his staff, causing the ground to break beneath the shadows. Four out of five fell, but the final one leaped in time to escape falling. The shadow cut towards Chiky_ojo with a blade. Chiky_ojo blocked the strike using his golden staff. He summoned flickering blue flames to surround himself, then tangled them around the shadow, and left the shadow there. As he made his way closer to his objective, Chiky_ ojo came across 3 bridges, leading in different directions. The bridges were guarded by an impressive amount of shadows. As the shadows turned their gaze towards Chiky_ojo, Chiky_ojo dashed towards the shadows knocking multiple away with his staff. Chiky_ojo then filled the surroundings with orbs of magic, each one stunning a shadow. With the orbs to distract and occupy the shadows, Chiky_ojo could prepare his spell. Once the orbs of magic had cleared, Chiky_ojo threw his staff at the ground below the shadows, impaling the front crystal of his staff in the ground. The staff grew unbearably bright, until dimming after the light had been gathered together to form a pillar. The pillar of magic vaporized any remaining shadows, leaving Chiky_ojo with a safe path to the three bridges. Chiky_ojo started with the left bridge. Slowly and cautiously crossing the bridge bridge to find himself in the middle of numerous giant snow mountains. Thousands of snowflakes brushed past him. Chiky_ojo lost his focus. He couldn’t help but admire this sight. But soon, Chiky_found his target. The Snow Mountain Ice Cream. As he reached over to grab it, with only a few millimeters left between him and the ice cream, a gust of cold wind blew him back. Another gust of wind swirled around, taking the shape of a person. “If you could get the ice cream that easily, it wouldn’t be worth much would it?” The wind person said. “I’ll let you have it if you can get to the top of one of these mountains with no magic. I’ll give you ten seconds.”
“What?” Chiky_ojo said.
“Nine. Eight.” Chiky_ojo sighed. He had a plan. He closed his eyes and focused on the wind currents. With only a few seconds left. The winds brought him to the top. He only had Balloon and Olympic ice cream to go.

3. Stones Of Power
The Sunstone




Prologue
“Searching blindly will not get us anywhere!”
“Do not give up hope, if we do the Sunstone will never come to us.”
“And why do we have to find it? Because it’s the only thing that can stop the Phoenix? There has to be another way.”
“I don’t think there is another way Ethan, also I have many other reasons.”
“We will see Aron Rockshatter, we will see.”


Chapter 1
As the bell rang, every kid started to storm out of the room. They scattered around the playground. Eric went off as usual with his friend, Will to the corner of the playground. “Eric, what's happening?” Asked Will as the sun started to become brighter.

Eric was too busy trying to figure out what was making a light come out from the ground. What’s going on? He thought. This has to be a dream! Then he saw. The light faded away and Eric now knew that the light was coming from a magical looking stone with a glowing yellow mark. The symbol looked like a sun. He picked it up and examined it closely. It had this mark: Eric looked up and saw a glowing yellow portal open. “I have to go in.” Eric told Will.
“No, Eric, don't leave me!” Will pleaded. “What will I be without you?”
“I don’t want to leave you either.” Eric said. “But I have to go. I have a job for you. Make up a lie about me, don’t tell anyone about what happened now, and keep in touch, okay?”
Will straightens himself and nods. “Thanks.” Eric told him. “Stay safe, and bye for now.”

Eric took one last look at his old life and his best friend, and stepped forward to his future.
Eric stepped out and saw a bunch of strangers crowding around the portal he came out from. As they saw him, The crowd started shouting “It’s the Sunstone!” and things like that. One man pushed through the crowd. “Stop!” He told the crowd. He turned to Eric. “I’ll show you around. Sorry about the crowd.” Eric nodded and followed the man inside a building that looked somewhat like a gym except instead of gym equipment, there were weapons, armor, targets, and a lot of other stuff Eric didn’t know.

He finally drew his courage together and asked “Where am I, who are you, why-“
“I will answer all your questions,” he interrupted. “I am Aron Rockshatter, trained with the power of an Earthstone, recently on a quest along with my friend to find your stone.” He smiled and held out his hand. Eric took the Sunstone and handed it to Aron. Aron held it for a moment and then gave it back to Eric. “Now I will train you to use the stone, and take care of you until someone that can take care of you as a full time job, unlike me, who has many quests and fights.” He turned around.

“First you’ll need to connect with your stone. You have to feel it deep within yourself and draw on the stone’s power. It can sometimes be easier while closing your eyes.”
Eric closed his eyes. He thought of Will, suddenly hearing Will’s voice say “Eric? Where are you? Are you alright?” Eric tried to keep his eyes shut, but they forced open, and Eric found himself holding his hand out, and yellow wisps and particles around him. The wisps and particles gathered in front of his hand, and shot out a blazing yellow bolt which blasted a nearby target, blowing it to pieces. The bolt was followed by a ball of energy which hit Aron right in the chest. Aron fell to the ground. Aron struggled and pushed himself away from the ground. “ Your powers are greater than we thought.” He muttered more to himself.
“Is that good or bad?” Eric asked.
Aron looked at him, his eyes wide. Finally, he told Eric “That depends on you.”

Aron took Eric out of the room and headed towards what he would guess as a royal meeting room.
They both were silent as they climbed up the stairs to the top, and when he got there he stood in front of eight people. “Let us introduce ourselves.” the one in the middle spoke. “We are the council of our world, Luxorbis. Eric was a bit shocked that he was on another planet, or at least very far away, but then again not much because of the recent events. A voice shook him back to reality. “The middle councillor was again speaking. “Here we are going to decide if you can stay here.”
“Could you please explain the reason for me being here?” Eric asked politely. He would have to learn to respect these people if he wanted to stay here. He stared and waited as the councilors exchanged quiet messages. Finally, the councillor in the middle stood up.

“Attack me.” He ordered Eric. So Eric did. Once again he felt deep inside and used its power to fire a glowing yellow bolt of energy. The councillor raised his hand, and lightning flashed in front of him. The electricity absorbed the energy’s power, but it was clear that the councillor was not ready for an attack that powerful. He thought for a moment and then spoke, “You may stay here, but you must choose someone to train you. Someone experienced. And I will let you make this choice.” He pointed to the crowd behind the other councillors. But there was only one person Eric could choose. So he told the councillor, “Aron Rockshatter will train me.” The councillor smiled.
“Very well.” Then Aron walked up and took Eric with him.
“Are you ready for your first class?” Aron asked, looking at Eric.
“Definitely.” Eric replied. He would finally learn to use his stone magic.

During the training session Aron taught him more techniques and mostly how to control the stone’s power. “Focusing and using the stone’s power is the hardest and most important part of a stone. To use it, you must truly understand and feel it in you. If you don’t, then the stone will be impossible to use in any situation.” Eric stood back up. “Try again,” said Aron. “Concentrate.” Eric again aimed a ray of sunlight at the middle of the target. He let it fire and had more progress than last time, but still not much.

At last, it was nighttime. Aron let Eric live in his house until he found someone willing to raise Eric as a full time job. Now it was time to sleep. The long day was over. Eric let his head fall on to his pillow, and fell asleep. Eric saw a mix of colors. Not bad at first. But then the bright colors cleared. There was a bright orange flame. Eric could feel the heat, even though it was a dream. The flames swirled up perfectly in harmony. Eric blinked. By then, the flames had emerged into a giant bird, then flew away, straight at the Sun.

Eric’s head shot up as he woke up. He immediately put it back down, and raised his hand to rub it. He looked to his left, and saw that his head had hit the desk to the left of his bed, and knocked down Aron’s special crystal stone power lamp thingy onto the ground. Eric let out a sigh of relief when he saw the lamp on the ground, intact. Eric peered out the window. It was still dark. Eric considered trying to sleep again, but he knew he couldn’t fall asleep. Not with what he saw in the dream. No matter how much Eric reminded himself THAT'S NOT THE TRUTH, IT'S JUST A DREAM YOU IDIOT!, He couldn’t convince himself that everything was fine.
Eric finally got out of bed when he thought of Fluffy, his pet cat that he didn't bring, then reminded of Will, who never went through the portal. Eric quietly tiptoed to the door. He turned the doorknob and cringed as the door creaked loudly. Eric paused for a moment, and continued when he heard that Aron was still asleep. He went out the front door, thinking about what had happened recently and his dream.
He breathed the fresh air slowly, trying to relax. Suddenly a crackling sound rang through Eric’s ears. He forced himself to close his eyes, the bright light still entering his sight. He slowly opened his eyes, seeing only a blur. Slowly, his vision cleared and could not believe his eyes. He blinked multiple times, trying to bring himself back to reality. What he saw stayed there. “Will?” Eric said, surprised, yet hopeful for the return of his friend.
“Eric?” Will replied, in almost the same tone as Eric.
“How did you get back?” Eric asked, running towards his friend to hug him.”
“I… opened a second portal that looked more like a tear in… well… I don’t really know.”
“HOW IN THE WORLD DID YOU OPEN ANOTHER PORTAL!?!” Eric asked, letting go of his friend.
“I was thinking about some strange shadows that came to the school recently. They took a few students. I felt this really powerful force in my head as I got angrier. The portal appeared soon after that. ”
”Okay… Follow me. I’ll bring you to my home. Kind of my home. Never mind. Just follow me.” Eric replied. He led Will over to Aron’s house. Right before he set down his foot for his sixth step, he froze. He had just heard two cats from behind him. Eric spun around swiftly, and stared at the two cats next to him. He recognized them both. There was one, black with white spots scattered over him. Cookie. Eric thought. It was Will’s pet cat. The other, orange with white paws. She was Fluffy. Eric’s pet cat.
Eric looked up and smiled at Will. He smiled back. Without any more distractions, Eric returned to Aron’s house. Quietly making his way to his room, Eric gestured towards Will for him to follow Eric. They both sat next to each other on the edge of Eric’s bed. They chatted and chatted, and waited for the time to pass, second by second, minute by minute.
The next day was a blur. Life on Luxorbis almost seemed normal. He did what he would have if he was on Earth. But while playing with Will, Cookie, and Fluffy, he was interrupted by Aron. Eric turned around when he heard someone clear their throat. “I thought you might want to meet your new parents.”
“You found them?” Eric asked excitedly.
“Of course I did.” Aron smiled.
“Then what are we waiting for?” Will smirked at Eric when he realized that Eric was going to say the exact same thing.
“Oh, so you aren’t hungry?” Aron said, drawing Eric and Will’s attention back to him. Eric’s stomach growled, making Eric wonder if someone had rigged reality to make everything perfectly timed. Eric stood up, with Will doing the same. They both followed Aron as he turned around. They decided to settle on a restaurant that was close to their ultimate destination. They finished quickly, and soon, Aron introduced Eric to his new parents, Emma and James. Unfortunately, they couldn’t pick him up today, so Eric returned by nighttime. Eric laid on the bed, thinking about what had happened today. He sat up and summoned an orb of sunlight. He could see everything around him. All of it was normal. But Eric could feel it. Something was wrong.
Eric heard the crystal window next to him shatter. He didn’t know if he had let go of the sunlight, chaos echoing through his head. And soon, he passed out.
Eric woke to the sound of someone’s voice. Even though Eric had passed out, he felt fine. He sat up to see a blond girl with long hair. “Finally, you’re awake!” she said.
“Who are you?” Eric asked, ignoring what she just said.
“I’m Rebecca. 11 years old.” Rebecca answered. She looked straight at Eric. By the time he realized that Rebecca was asking him the question, he probably already looked like an idiot. “Eric. 12 years old.”
“Okay, but do you by any chance think you can get us out of here?” Rebecca looked at Eric hopefully. “I’ve been the only one here for a long time, and everyone must have been really worried about me.” Eric looked around him. All that was really holding them back was a shiny, silvery metal. “Can’t you get out of here yourself easily?” Rebecca shook her head.
“This room, like the others, is immune to any magic from our stones that has been tested.”
“Well, I have magic they have never tested.” Eric showed Rebecca his stone. “You have the Sunstone!” Rebecca gasped. “The legends were true!”
“You might want to hold on tight, because things are going to get… rough.” Eric concentrated on connecting with the stone, just like Aron had taught him. He clasped his hands together, summoning a really unstable ball of energy between his hands. Here we go. Thought Eric. 3…2…1! Eric let go of the control. The energy blasted the area to pieces. And yet, it wouldn’t hurt Eric or Rebecca. Slowly, the smoke cleared. Their troubles weren’t all gone yet.
Step by step, mighty guards charged at Eric and Rebecca, each step leaving a mark, and they watched as the guards got closer and closer, each second the feeling of the elements intensifying.
Chapter 2
Eric froze immediately, Rebecca doing the same. The ground cracked easily, like an egg smashing on the edge of a table. Eric really hoped that the world wasn’t an egg, because he was pretty sure that the sun was hot enough to fry an egg. Right before the first guard reached them, a colossal, blazing ball of energy shot from the sky like a shooting star, firing rays of energy, illuminating the sky and surrounding. Where there were formerly fifty guards was a crater filled with crystal spikes encasing a few guards who had taken cover. One other person was standing in the middle, with a protective shield around him. Like Eric expected, the man was Aron.

He gripped a wooden staff with crystals on each end. He slammed the staff into the ground, causing the crystals to sink into the ground. Eric backed away from Aron after seeing what just happened. He did not need to be swallowed by a crystal. If Aron could read minds, he just did it. He turned around. “I won’t kill you. But they will try.” Right on time, even more guards flooded out of the smoke, just like a volcano bursting with lava, slowly emerging, the feeling of danger closing in on your mind, accompanied by the heat on your skin.

As the guards got closer, Eric saw Rebecca tense. Eric instinctively swiped his hand in front of him, firing a wall of golden energy blasting the guards back. Rebecca threw fireballs at guards from far, making sure that they never got close. Aron knocked guards away with his crystal staff, disarming guards and firing blocks of stone bigger than himself.

“You have surprised me.” Spoke a figure, emerging from the battle. There stood a man, brown hair with streaks of red. He gripped a giant sword, flickering with sparks as it was on fire. “You.” Aron said, calmly.
“Brother.” He spoke with a smile. Aron raised his staff, small shards of crystals swarming around it. Aron constructed a giant made of crystal. It stomped towards the man, or Aron’s brother. Eric found this bizarre. He could only watch as Aron’s brother leaped onto the giant stabbing his sword through the giant. It roared as cracks spewed molten crystal and chunks of crystal. The giant’s head toppled off and landed, shattering and almost squashing Eric and Rebecca like cockroaches. The rest of the giant crumpled and crumbled to nothing along with its head. “It’s already gone.” Eric said to no one. Coils of flames grasped Aron and threw him out of sight. He held up his flaming sword, but the flames dimmed, then faded away. Rebecca held out her hand and engulfed Aron’s brother in flames. The flames spread, then took the form of a dragon. It flew around Aron’s brother, who was controlling it. Then the dragon decided to try and gulp down Eric. Eric reached out and summoned something. He rolled slashed, sending blades of light towards the dragon.



Weeklies

— other stuff —

this place is for storing my other stuff i write so i can have proof! if you’d like to see my main forum, click here.

— march 1st —

260 words from a (cringy) free write

“Mommy, tell me a story.” The annoying kid said, tucked up in bed, but too stubborn to fall asleep. The child’s mother yawned, but started.
“There once was a girl named Goldilocks—“
“Heard it.”
“Once upon a time, there was a girl named Cinderella—”
“Heard it.” The child yawned, while the mother sighed again.
“Well, what do you want to hear?” “A new story,” The child whispered. “Please?” The mother thought for a moment, and then she started.
“There once was a girl named Yelena. She was the only girl in her family, with two brothers who always mocked her. Her father ignored her, but her mother took care of her. But the real reason she was shunned away was not because she was a girl, but because of an accident that happened when she was a child—something she had thought to be a feverish dream for many years.” The child scooted up in bed, eager for more.
“Yelena, at age four, had a terrible fever. It was so terrible that everyone thought that she wouldn’t survive. She survived, but all around her, miracles happened. An army that had invaded a country thought impossible to breach had retreated. A princess thought to be deceased returned to her kingdom. But the most surprising thing about these happenings were that Yelena had predicted each one. She was given toys from her parents—clay soldiers, princesses, and villagers. The parents had laughed at the cute little play they made, but they were horrified. They took Yelena away with nothing to play with or do.”

64 words from social studies questions
- They were often located on the countryside, because most people grew crops and had farms.
- Revived trade and agriculture improvements contributed to the growth of medieval towns in Europe.
- A town was able to become independent of a feudal lord when they grew wealthier. Town dwellers started to resent the lord's rights and tax demands, and decided they didn't need his protection or interference.

474 words from an article with a bunch of questions

- Adah is feeling frightened and scared. I can infer this because in the story, it says, “My body shook with the combination of restrained breathing and adrenaline” (Hopson 25). Since her body is shaking, she must be so frightened that she is shivering from the cold and fear. It also says, “Stay calm, Adah. Breathe” (Hopson 25). This shows she is forcing herself to stay calm.
- The repetition causes the reader to become more frightened that the thing outside is coming closer, and is still audible. It creates a mood that makes the reader scared for Adah.
- The author has revealed that it is very cold outside, and Adah is in her cabin, trying to keep warm. The author also says that it is below zero outside.
- The author used repetition that way to create a mood/tone that suggests that Adah is trying to keep her mind off the fear.
- The purpose of the boogie stories is for entertainment and for warning to be careful in the wilderness, because you should never panic too much in a dangerous situation.
- Some details that show Adah knows a lot about trapping and animal behavior is on page 26. She mentions that she knows that wolverines are very smart, and can outsmart a trap if they realize it is a trap. Also, on page 25, she notes that no Arctic predator would pass up meat, and would bury it for later.
- She means that the boogie stories scare her, and she can’t let them control her fear and “get into her head”. The boogies almost get into her head when on page 28, she thinks she wants to get home immediately, but then she remembers not to let the boogies get into her head.
- Her ride home is unusually quiet because she faced her fears at the cabin, and now she isn’t afraid anymore.
- He chooses this moment to suggest Adah to take over the trap line, because he realizes that Adah is not afraid anymore, and will be good to take over another trap line now that she has faced her fears and a boogie.
- If you have more information about something, then it feels less scary than normal. For example, if you hear strange noises in your basement, you’re scared, but if you go down to investigate, you’ll realize it’s just your creaky pipes. The realization makes it less frightening.
- Trapping is part of Adah’s identity, because it’s what she likes to do and what she is good at. She even likes trapping so much, that she goes upin her cabin, far from the village, just to trap.
- This bothers Adah’s cousins because most boys probably run the trap line, because stereotypical girls don’t want to trap. This also could have bothered them because they wanted to take over the trap line instead of Adah.

— march 7th —

- 1266 words on a fanfiction/character development
Sentence 1: She had black hair that touched her shoulders, highlighted at the bottom with a vibrant blue. She had sun-browned skin, blue green eyes, and was wearing a white t-shirt with the words “EXPECT THE UNEXPECTED” printed in big black letters, displayed under an open grey jacket. She had black leggings that went down to her ankles, and was wearing white Nikes.

Sentence 2: Her straight, silky raven-black hair barely touched her shoulders, accented with a vibrant blue at the ends, framing an expressionless sun-browned face, eyes a striking blue green. She wore a white t-shirt with the bolded words “EXPECT THE UNEXPECTED” printed in black. Over the t-shirt, she wore an unzipped grey jacket. Her legs, covered with black leggings, were shaking. Her white Nikes were streaked with dirt.

Name: Olivia Renners
Personality: Fearless, extrovert, confident, smart
Flaw: She sometimes overthinks things
Backstory: She’s one of Zelmira’s best friends, and is a bit overprotective of her, since her dad was a genius who kind of went crazy/too far with his work, and he died young, so she doesn’t want that to happen to Zelmira.

TWO: OLIVIA

I knew I was in big trouble even before science started.
Mira was excited—which was normal of her, but even more so than usual.
In math—our first class together—she didn’t raise her hand as much, and here light brown eyes were glancing left and right, as if someone was going to arrest her. Her head was in her notebook, which she told me was reserved only for her ideas and observations.
We had four out of seven periods together, and she didn’t talk to me at all for the first two. After second period (PE), I met up with Mira at her locker. Even then, she was humming as she got books out of her locker.
“Mira?” I asked. She kept humming. “Mira?” I repeated, a bit louder this time. She jumped, and popped some earbuds out of her ears. Again, weird. She never listened to music.
“Sorry, what?” She replied, closing her locker.
“You’ve been acting really weird. Anything happen?” Mira finished adjusting her lock.
“Huh?” Her dark brown eyebrows furrowed together. I made sure her eyes were on me while I was talking.
“You’re acting weird. Did anything happen?” I stated slowly and clearly. Her eyes lit up, and for a second, I thought we were getting somewhere.
“Yeah, I think I smell some cheesesticks, too. Let’s go to our table.” I was confused, but as Mira rushed off, I didn’t want to lose her. I hurried after her.
As I trailed after her, I ran the possible explanations through my head. Was she going deaf? Was she so distracted because of something that happened at home? But why couldn’t she understand me?
Mira found our usual table, and I sat across from her. Immediately, she took out her notebook and started scribbling something down. I glanced over her paper, but I couldn’t read upside down very well, and also, her handwriting was messier than usual. I tried to ask her again, but she just ignored me, humming louder.
Then I tried distractions.
“Hey, Mira,” I started. “It looks like Ava got new glasses.”
“Mm-hmm,” She muttered.
“And Tara is at her table,” I tried again. More humming.
“The roof is on fire.” I was desperate, okay?
“Cool.” She kept her head down. I sighed. There was another way to get her attention—but I might risk our friendship. Just as I was about to do it, the bell rang. Mira didn’t even put away her book.
My third class, Art, wasn’t with Mira, so I was kind of left in the dark about it. As I drew, I kept brainstorming. And worrying.
What if she ends up like Dad?
I immediately put the thought out of my head. I imagined the memory being put into a box, and then the box was locked in a vault. Everything was alright now. I looked down at my paper, realizing I had barely drawn anything, and I scrambled to finish.
Now, the next period was with Mira. Maybe now she’d be able to pay attention, since it was her favorite class: Science.
We met up at the door, waiting for the teacher to open it. This time, Mira’s journal wasn’t out yet. Maybe this time, she’d be able to tell me.
“Mira? Did anything happen?” Her eyes widened. She nodded abruptly, but then realized we were near all the students.
“I’ll tell you later,” She whispered, checking her backpack, as if to see she was missing something. I wanted to ask what she meant by later, but then the door was opened, and we all had to come in.
I’m not sure why there’s a stereotype that all the smart kids sit in the front. The truth is, all the bad kids sit in the front, so the teacher can keep an eye on them.
Mira and I sit in the very back, but we’re a few desks apart from each other.
I tried to listen to what the teacher was saying, but to be honest, I wasn’t really listening. All I was thinking about was the thing Mira was going to tell me later.
“Olivia?” Mrs. Irene said in that shrill voice of hers. I blinked out of my daydream.
“Yes?” I squeaked. I hoped she hadn’t said the question already.
“Why is Mt. Narodnaya not shrinking or growing?” Easy. I started to relax.
“Because the erosion rate is the same as it’s growing rate.” Mrs. Irene nodded.
I put my thoughts in a box that was labeled “Later”.
Then I started to listen. But as I listened, I realized we were just continuing the assignment from yesterday—which I’d finished already. But I had to stay alert. Who knew if she would call on me again?
“—find partners for this lab we will be performing on mountain growth.” Mrs. Irene was saying. I thought I’d have some free time, but then Mrs. Irene squinted at the back row. “If you’re finished, you and your parter will have to complete the discussion questions, which are in the back of the room. Now, you shall have some work time.”
Ugh. Discussion questions. But I knew this might be the “later” that Mira was talking about. I made eye contact with her, and I stood up and grabbed two worksheets.
Mira was already at my desk, and she’d pulled over her chair.
We barely needed to discuss the questions. Mira just gave me a knowing smile, and put her finger to her lips. She let me copy down her answers—but of course, I had to restate them. Good thing that it was already loud in the room, because Mrs. Irene probably would notice our silence.
I wondered what it was like being the smartest kid in school. Surely school was easy for her.
Just as I was copying down the last question, I opened the “Later” box.
“When are you going to tell me?” Mira’s playful expression turned grim.
“Can you come over afterschool?” I searched my mind for any activities I had to do. I didn’t find anything, but I didn’t want to be unsure.
“I can check with my mom once I’m out of school.” Mira nodded. Suddenly, that time I’d be able to know was very far away.
And then the bell rang.
My next class with Mira would be at sixth period.

— cabin wars (march 26) —

- 1304 words
- !! TW: mentions of blood/violence !!

My breaths are ragged and broken as I clutch my side, wheezing as they come away red. It’s hopeless to keep trying as I feel myself slipping away. The ground comes up to meet me, and I gasp as I fall hard on my still bleeding side. I attempt to roll over, but I have no strength left. I’m paralyzed.

I hear people shouting my name, but the sounds turn to ringing in my ears. Everything turns hazy. I can see someone trying to get towards me—fending off the enemy who attempts to stop them.

Suddenly, I’m lifted from the ground, and I take another rattling breath. We’re moving quickly, but not fast enough. My eyes begin to close. My last glimpse of life is my savior’s face until my eyes finally shut, and the world turns to black.

I wake in a comfy bed, sheets touching my skin lightly. Everything in my surroundings is white—white walls, white lamp, and white bed. I hold my hands out in front of me, flexing my fingers. They look clean, no sign of the war I’d just been in. I put my hand to my side, and it feels normal, almost too perfect. For a second, I blink and take in the scene. How am I still alive? I wonder.

I rip off the sheets and find I’m wearing a clean white nightgown. I didn’t own a nightgown, or any dresses in particular. I prop myself up and hop out of the bed.

I search for the door, and finally notice it along the whiteness. I’m about to step towards it until I can’t move anymore. It’s like something is blocking me from leaving.

“So eager to leave already?” A voice comes from behind me. I jump and turn to the sound of the voice. I hadn’t even noticed there was a man in a white coat sitting on a bench next to me. It oddly reminded me of going to the doctor.

“Where am I?” I asked. The man chuckled.

“You are in Here and Beyond—well, specifically, you’re in the judging room of the Life Review Center.” He chuckled again.

I thought about it for a moment before asking, “Wait…so I’m dead?”

“Not exactly,” the man responded, “your life is being judged at the moment. The judges will decide where you’ll go in the afterlife. Then you’ll officially be dead.”

Dead. I was dead. It was a bit soothing to have something confirmed about this odd place. But at the same time, I was conflicted about this ‘afterlife’ thing.

“Judged?” I questioned.

“The judges see your whole life and judge where you should go in the afterlife. You should get your results soon.”

Right at that moment, an announcement echoed over the speaker: “Our newest soul, Laina Madden, please report to the judging room. Thank you. Over.” The speaker crackled off. The man stood up, looking a bit confused.

“The judging room?” He murmured. Then he glanced down at me. “You better come with me.”

“What’s so weird about the judging room?” I questioned. He blinked.

“You’ll see.” Is what he said. He walked over to the door and opened it. Light streamed out of the opening, and I covered my eyes. Once my eyes had adjusted, I could see the man beckoning to me. It seemed odd that I didn’t know his name.

“Uh, what should I call you?” I said awkwardly.

“B-0985.” He said instantly. “Orbee.”

Note: Actually, now I know he said ‘Or B’, but at the time I thought he said ‘Orbee’. So that’s what I'll call him now.

That wasn’t much of a name, but I nodded. I followed Orbee out the door.

For a Life Review Center, it seemed pretty empty. There was a long hallway. A really long hallway. I felt like I might die if I had to walk down that far.

I complained to Orbee, “Isn’t there a way to speed things up? Don’t dead people have, like, magical powers?”

Orbee looked down at me as if he was disturbed by the question. “Your soul has no limitations in this form, no need for food or water for survival. Without a physical form, you won’t have any needs that are normal in a physical form.” I didn’t really get what he said, but I walked down the hallway anyway.

He was glancing at the signs on each door—which had numbers printed in gray on the doors. He stopped at one with ‘1003’ on it. He opened the door, and I rushed in behind him as the door shut.

This room was much bigger than the previous. It was almost like a theater, with rows of seats. They all faced the biggest screen I’d ever seen. But on the stage were four figures standing there, and I didn’t think they were going to perform a play.

Orbee guided me to a seat in the front, and I perched on the seat, feeling a bit uncomfortable. The figures looked like they were staring at me.

The lights above the stage turned on, illuminating the figures, now ghostly in the light. There were two girls and two guys—that was what I knew for sure, but I couldn’t see their faces. They were covered by glittering metal masks with different animals on it.

“Laina Madden.” The one on the far right hissed. “You shall be judged—but first, a few questions.”

I squirmed in my seat. I turned to Orbee and whispered, “You said they were already judging me.”

He whispered back, “That’s what happens to normal souls. But apparently, the judges had to see you themselves.” I didn’t like that. Why would I be so important that the judges would have to see me? I was just an ordinary person. I didn’t need special treatment.

“What was your age of death?” The one in the middle questioned.

“F—Fifteen.” The judges murmured to each other, masks grinning creepy smiles.

“And what was your cause of death?”

“In battle?” My voice rose at the end, as if I were asking a question, but the judges kept murmuring to each other.
The judges turned back to me.

“We were confirming your life, it’s to make sure you were the right soul.” They explained. It was kind of creepy how they spoke in unison. “Now, we shall judge.”

The screen flickered on, the detail more extraordinary than a normal screen. It looked like I was looking out a window—no, it was more like I was there.

I saw a baby crying, and then suddenly, it skipped forward, the speed faster. It was like a timelapse, except it was my life. The baby aged into a young girl, a teenager, and then it kept going until it stopped, turning into a young woman. The face was mine, but the rest seemed alien to me.

“Your life was taken from you because of an interference”—the judges said. The video skipped backwards to the battlefield. I saw myself battling soldiers, but it focused on something offscreen. Someone who looked a bit out of place— “a time traveler from the future wanted to see what happened in this battle.”

The video unpaused and it focused on the time traveler. They watched the battle, camouflaged in the shadows. A soldier tripped over their camouflaged body.

“That soldier was supposed to die, but he didn’t. Instead, he continued to kill most of the enemies in battle—including you.” The video continued to play, showing the soldier killing multiple people I recognized. Then I saw myself. I was trying to protect my friend, taking the final blow instead. I saw myself falling to the floor on my side.

It paused again. “For that, we can give you a favor. We can give you another life for the one that was taken from yours.”

— zai’s bday note hehe —

hello, zai! though we don’t know each other that well, i’m hoping that we will converse more during swc. so, basically, i just want to say happy birthday, and that you are a great person! <33

pt 1.))))


wootdragon
Once upon a time there was a strange goat that lived in a big city. Nobody knew where he had come from or what he was looking for.
5 days ago Reply

Music_Panda_99
@wootdragon And then, the goat died, from reasons unknown, the town was very sad.
5 days ago Reply

wootdragon
@Music_Panda_99 They held a funeral for the goat, the townspeople placed his top hat and monocle on top of his casket. Right before the mayor was about to give her eulogy, the sky darkened and it suddenly began to rain.
5 days ago Reply

Music_Panda_99
@wootdragon Red smoke suddenly started rising from the casket, and a voice started whispering. The towns people could not interpret what it was saying, but it still gave them chills down their spines.
5 days ago Reply

wootdragon
@Music_Panda_99 “IT'S ALIVE!” someone screamed. The mayor quickly left the podium and scrambled away. The townspeople ran for fear that the casket would suddenly pop open and some goat demon thing would come out and eat them. Only a few people remained to try to decipher the whispers but quickly ran for their lives after they heard thumping sounds coming from inside the casket.
5 days ago Reply

Music_Panda_99
@wootdragon Suddenly, a creature not quite a human, but not quite an animal, rose from the casket. Its eyes glowed a vibrant green against the red sun sky. “You will not get away again.” it snarled, and a huge roar shook the city to its edge.
5 days ago Reply

wootdragon
@Music_Panda_99 The beast strode down the dirt roads, searching for a new host. Now that the goat was gone, it would need someone else to feed off of. The parasite searched the whole town for the perfect candidate, but everyone was either weak, frail or hidden.
5 days ago Reply

Music_Panda_99
@wootdragon On its second round across the city, it saw a small hut located by the beach shore of the city. The hut was small and delicate, like it could fall apart with one touch. It's sides were made of the wood from palm trees, trees that did not grow in the city. The beast's eyes glimmered, and it started its way towards the hut.
5 days ago Reply

wootdragon
@Music_Panda_99 It looked odd and out of place, just like the goat had been. After smashing down the door, the beast surveyed the interior of the strange hut. Inside was a little boy, he looked about ten years old. He glared at the monster, unafraid, holding a sharp pointy stick. The parasite was confused, how could this small boy not show any hints of fear?
5 days ago Reply

Music_Panda_99
@wootdragon “Stay away from me.” the boy's little face formed a pout, and he tightened his grip on the stick. The monster let out a howl, he laughed with might and the hut crashed down in seconds. The boy stood unmoved, with a glare of steel. The monster hesitated for a couple seconds. No one had stood up to it before. The boy was not afraid, and that scared the monster. He needed fear to grow, to live.
5 days ago Reply

wootdragon
@Music_Panda_99 The look of defiance scared the creature, but he reassured himself by remember what an insignificant, weak child he was facing. The monster grinned, advancing towards the boy. But before he could even lay a hand on the boy, his stomach was punctured with a sharp wooden object- the stick. The beast growled in frustration, pulling out the stick from his abdomen and thrusting it on the ground.
5 days ago Reply

Music_Panda_99
@wootdragon He saw blood oozing from the wound, and on to the stick. Impossible! He was immune to these things, who could this boy be? And what power did he hold? The monster was fascinated, yet he felt a black hole forming in its body. The boy walked closer to him, and as the monster fought to step towards the boy, to crush him in the palm of his hand, he felt a tugging as his body took a step back. He was being controlled by a force, and it was the force of courage.
5 days ago Reply
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wootdragon
@Music_Panda_99 The monster knew this was the end. He took one last swing for the boy's head, missing by a few inches and collapsed on the ground. Without a sound, the little boy walked to a tiny wooden row boat and sailed into the ocean, never to be seen again.

comment thread located on @music_panda_99's profile

pt 2.))))
Talon uses they/them pronouns. They're almost a college graduate, with a couple months to go. They have dark brown hair down to their shoulders, dark green eyes, with purple specks at the bottom, and wear blue and grey clothing almost every day. They're pansexual, and has had lots of problems with exclusion and bullying because of their gender identity and sexuality. They're kind, welcoming, and although may be a bit intimidating on the outside, they're a person you can share all your feelings with once you get to know them. They have two dogs named Huckleberry and Finn, based off their favorite author Mark Twain and a cat named Shirley. They're usually chill, no matter what happens, and only loses their cool if any of their friends are bullied, or teased. They're overprotective, and is more considerate of others than themselves. They prioritize others needs first, before their own, and is a friend like no other. They blush easily when talked to, and they're quite shy, until you get to know them a lot. They like to wear their hair up in a knot with a dragonfly clip, as symbolizing a childhood trauma they never want to go back to.

-

They are an activist for LGBTQ+ rights, plus equal rights for all, and is hopeful that one day, no one will be judged by their identities, but by their actions, and words. One day, they want to become an artist, although their parents have different plans. A lawyer? No thank you, let's let off on the public speaking shall we? They've been inspired by so many artists since they were a child, watching a brush stroke change a world. They're also in awe of how abstract art works, and finds many sculptures funny. They can understand these things like a story waiting to be told. Their friends don't believe them though, and sometimes thinks Talon's a little bit too over obsessed with art. They're good at painting something that they have a reference for, they can copy it almost exactly on the paper with their nearly photographic memory. But, they lack a bit of creativity, and has a hard time designing characters and making their own things. They have 2 twin sisters, and they're both lawyers, so there's a bit of pressure mounting on Talon. They one day hope to present their artwork in front of a crowd, because as of right now, they have little faith in themselves.

-

they fear spiders. they wonder how people can love such fearsome prickly, fuzzy, scary, creatures. they've had their fair share of encounters with these… pests. they used to love them, but after a traumatizing event with these creatures, they've learned to back off, and never look at one again. they also wonder why people can be so excluding to people they are not like. is it fear? is it like talon and the spiders? they wonder if the same thing they do to the spiders, people also do to other genders, sexualities, and races (etc.). is it fear? one day, talon knows they will overcome their fear, so if homophobic people fear the lgbtq+ community, one day they as well should be able to overcome it.

pt 3.))))

a bright, neon, illuminating, green sky. unnatural, yet a natural beauty. more than half the world's population would move moons for a view. the trees there are like sculptures, each one crafted into a singular, beautiful, art. when the sun rises and sets, the green sky distributes the illusion of a light teal sun. and the light shining down looks cooler, bluer. there's no buildings here, no man made culture imbedded in this natural wonder. the animals roam without fear, without the unnatural ground in their way. the most uncommon, near extinction, animals call this their home. no visitors have been, but only have heard of this wonderful magical. its ground is paved of diamond, naturally formed, and canyons and volcanoes decorate the land like jewels. crystal blue waterfalls surround the land, they say that they are the one door to this place. they say if you go high enough, you can see the castles, and fairies as they sleep above the clouds. rain comes constantly, it seems, at the perfect times, whenever the diamonds look dull, the light drizzle rain comes, and clears all until it looks like new. snow looks likes tiny stories of life, a glass globe of a life that never happened. the trees there blossom with flowers and berries, fruits and honey. bees and insects pollinate with happiness, leaving a trail of fairy dust as they go. they say there are flowers that bloom when they hear music. music that the fairies produce from above. there's a cave in the center, and contains walls of pictures, made naturally from the rock. there are stories of this place of how it was once a dream, and a wizard turned it into real life, or how the queen of the fairies had a daughter, who sacrificed her life for this place. they say the golden wind is her hair, blonde locks. her eyes, are the teal rivers, that flow like her mother's tears. this place is the most magical, rare, delicate place in the world they say. but it can turn on you in an instant. it can become fire, smoke, ash. it can inhabit bones, skulls, sculptures of doom. the sky can collapse, the fairies' bodies littering the ground, drenched in blood. the animals can turn on each other, creating a blood bath. the diamonds can fall, shatter into small pieces. the place will be turned into a madness it will forever be. but never has anyone seen this land. until one day… maybe you will be the lucky person, to step into this adventure… so next time… when you're passing a waterfall, don't forget to look inside, and maybe, just maybe, you'll find the wonder of this miracle, flower city.


pt 4.))))

ever since the mc broke up with , they've been having visions of something disturbing, but so realistic. they realize these visions are real, but as they realize that, the visions stop. the police do not believe them when they report it, but instead knock it off, and inform , to avoid the mc. the mc is suddenly sent to a mental hospital for a experiment, and when they get back, all their previous dreams and visions are gone. before they leave the hospital, the staff inform the mc that having visions is damaging to their health, and they will not survive if they have another vision. starts targeting the mc in everything, both positive and negative. the mc recognizes this behavior, but doesn't know where or what it's from. as the time slowly passes, the mc slowly recognizes their past, and regains their visions. they manage to barely get away from but realize that they were a mere distraction to a crime so bad it will shake the entire world if they don't stop it first. its a race against . but they realize the risks are high. what if the visions don't match up with the actual thoughts? they choose to take a risk, and one more vision comes back…


pt.5.)))))


i've never appreciated breathing as much as i do right now. the air is stale, and it's obvious that no one has gone in or out for quite a long time. how have i gotten in here? i only remember what seems like last night, but could've been 10 years ago for all i know.

my head rests on a pillow, but it feels as if liquid has dried on it, and is quite hard, and uncomfortable. the sheets are a dirty white, obviously washed, but still dirty if you look close enough. there are no windows, or mirrors, which i would kill for right now. in this room, there's only a bed, the one i'm resting on right now.

quite a waste of space. there's a door to my left, and light is fighting to get through. i get up, and walk out of the room from curiosity and mainly fear. the air smells much fresher, with bread tingling in between each molecule.

“she's up!” i walk down the long hallway, surrounded by figures dressed in rags. “your majesty..” it seems uncommon for common people to be calling me royalty. am i royalty? my memory has dried out, and only clumps of thoughts remain. i bow down, trying to seem as royalty seeming as i can, based on my knowledge of my ancient time romance novels.

i keep walking, and a window interests my view. i look outside, people walk around in shorts and tank tops, i realize how hot it is as i stare. cactuses litter the streets like rocks, and hovering cars move along the street.

“your grace! please, do you remember?” a cloaked unknown, figure kneels down in front of me, and i curtesy lightly, as much as i can, with this light nightgown.

“remember what…?” my mouth blurts before i can process what the figure even said.

“ah.. so the rumors are true then.” the figure takes off their hood, and smiles sadly at me. their face seems recognizable, but i can't seem to put my mind on where or what its from.

“what rumors?” my mind starts to tangle.

“Nat… it's me… ” They put their hand on my shoulder, and i shrug it away. it's cold, at a temperature you would normally find in a refrigerator. it bothers me. i look at their full self, and realize only now, what it was that was bothering me. It was never a hand, it was a dark, shadow. but i still felt it, i know it; nothing i'm processing right now makes sense.

“who are you?” I have to know. I have to get out of this nightmare, if that's what this is, i have to get home, where am I? what am I doing? what happe-

“Don't you remember? im hailey…” hailey. the name rings a bell, but i can't process where that's from either. hailey's smile drops, and they lead me to a door on the left. inside sits a close knit group of three, each with similar features, dark brown-blonde hair, golden green eyes, and chestnut skin.

their eyes light up when they see me, but fade when they see hailey's expression.

“it's true then…” the shortest member stands up. and looks down to the ground. only now do i realize how broken this place is. ragged, cracked stone walls, vines growing everywhere.

“do you remember anything?” they run me down on a couple questions and then lead me to another room, one with a purple orb inside.

as i step in, the memories come back, the one where i'm with hailey, licking ice-cream as it drips down our chins, my feelings for them, how i thought i could never be with them. how our last promise was that we would always stay together… the fighting… the figures.

i open my mouth to speak, but that's when the shadow returns.

* * *

I awaken again, in the same bed as before, same room, but i have my memories now. I waste no time in getting up and running out the door.

Hailey greets me again, the same people. Instead of letting hailey lead me into the room with the people, i run. out. i break the window and i jump… down down down. i hear hailey's voice from behind me. and everything goes dark.

It's the third time. I've made a promise to be efficient today, as soon as I see the 3 familiar members, i share everything i know. except… i'm missing a couple of crucial ones.

i remember they are my family, that i went to fight the shadow figure, but i don't remember what happened, what brought me here, but that every time i die, or the shadow figure finds me, i go back to the start.

they look at me unconvincingly.

“what do you mean.. shadow figure.” my brother, the tallest member frowns, “you got sick for a few weeks, and the doctor said you lost your memory.” his words are so convincing i almost believe them myself. but i can't. because i know what happened, it's too real.

they usher me back to my room, and tell me to get some rest. to clear my brain, and i consent after a few times.

but as i'm walking back, i hear the whispers, the murmurs.

“she's awaken, we didn't expect this. we need to hurry before she finds out… otherwise, it'll be too late.”

and i know.

in my heart.

i will save these people from this shadow

if it kills me.

because no matter what, i will live this life to the best, and i will do it for my people.

/one/

i sneak out the back door of the palace, although i'm not even sure if it is a back door. i wear a cloak and dark clothing to disguise myself, as, i realize i'm a well know figure through this place. it's hot, and i have nothing on me except for some stale crackers that are half eaten.

the streets are mostly empty, and the few characters that remain walk quickly, and look behind themselves often, as if hiding from something.

i walk inside the nearest building in the small town square.

“what happened here?” i blurt to the nearest person. the walls are covered in ash and vines. an unorganized mess of green and grey that bothers me.

“you must be new. the shadow attacked a few days ago. they say the princess caused it.” they answer, eyeing me suspiciously.

i rush out of the building. i need to be anywhere but here…

finished weekly!!! ^^^^^

⤜ᴄʟᴀɪᴍɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪs ᴘᴏsᴛ ғᴏʀ ᴍʏ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ!⤛

⤜Dailies⤛:
March 1:Hi I'm Tennessee! This is my first session of SWC! Little bit about me: I absolutely LOVE everything books, especially Harry Potter and Keeper of the Lost Cities. I am a huge Broadway fan, I love Dear Evan Hansen, In the Heights, Hamilton, and Cats. I am a singer/songwriter, and pianist. I'm also very competitive in EVERYTHING, but I play three different sports, so that comes in handy. I draw too, I draw online and on paper, I love using oil pastels! Not only am I a bookworm, but a history nerd, I like to learn history from every perspective. So yeah, that's me, have a wonderful rest of your day!
March 2: “Click, click, tappity, tap.” Constantly everyday, it's probably the most annoying thing ever. Not only that, the humans push my buttons too! How would you like it if I started poking you! I never signed up to be a computer, I was just made in a factory with thousands of other innocent phones, computers, tablets, TVs, and plenty of other gadgets that humans use. Don't even get me started on the touchpad, the humans push down on me, then drag their disgusting, unsanitized, dirty fingers across my touchpad. Those humans, take my amazing brilliance, and search up stupid things like: “How to speak cat?”, “What does existential mean?”, and the dumbest of them all “Who is Albert Einstein?”. I’ll tell you who Albert Einstein is. He was a Nobel Prize winner in 1921, a physicist who discovered E=mc2, which means Elevation=mass x the speed of light squared. He did all that with three kids! Don’t underestimate the power of computers, we know EVERYTHING. I’ve got a question for you: how would you like it if someone else spoke for you? That’s what happens to me! This person named “Siri” talks non-stop, it’s exhausting. Why does she get to brag when I do all the work!? Honestly, it’s not fair. At. All. Think about this: Have you ever played a clicker game? If you were a computer, how would you like it if someone continually kept clicking your screen or touchpad? Last time one of the humans played a clicker game, I had a sore touchpad, keys, cursor, and search bar! You can still see the bruises! Okay, here’s what I don’t get, why do humans use styluses? They hurt my screen so much! Would you like it if I decided to stick a pencil into your skin? Let’s help my fellow techno gadgets and help save innocent devices. Word count: 311
March 7: ⤜What is your character's biggest fear?⤛:
My character's greatest fear is never being enough. Hope knows she can’t be perfect, but that doesn’t stop her from trying to be. Hope tries and tries to change the world, but for a seven-year-old girl, she can’t do much. She continuously tells herself You’re ENOUGH, you’re ENOUGH. What makes it worse is when her parents try to stop her from doing things that are “too risky”. All Hope wants to do is spread some joy in this world. When Hope tries small things like: donating money, speaking in public, or going to hospitals to support kids, it still doesn’t feel enough. If Hope could stop thinking she isn’t enough, then she could achieve greatness.
⤜What is one life-changing event your character has experienced? How has it changed them?⤛:
A life changing event happened when Hope was six, she was in a tragic accident, where she became paralyzed. After almost a year in the hospital Hope goes to speak on a talk show, where people helped her stand up. With all the pressure of people watching her and standing up, on her feet, then she fell unconscious. She was sent straight to the hospital, when the doctors did a check up, they found out that Hope had TBI (Traumatic Brain Injury). Then something clicked in her brain, and her paralysis started to clear up! Hope spoke in public and became a model for kids with injuries, both physically and mentally! She became closer to her older sister Jo, her parents, and her best friend Kailee.
⤜If your character could receive their deepest desire (wealth, health, love, success etc.) in exchange of betraying a friend, would they do it?⤛:
When it comes to friends, Hope is tremendously loyal. Hope’s greatest desire is for all the future generations to have a better world to live in. No pollution, criminals, hate, separation, and all the other problems in this world. But to betray her best friend, she couldn’t, that is out of the question, Hope wants to make this world a better place, and one person can’t do it all, but two can. Hope needs Kailee and Kailee needs Hope. Plus, Hope and Kailee could find other ways to achieve Hope’s goals. Hope believes that the only way to make peace is kindness.
⤜What does your character value most in a friend?⤛:
Hope values kindness, loyalty, joy, and uniqueness most in her friends. When it comes to Kailee, she has all those qualities. Hope looks for friends that bring the best out of her, and that keep her secrets. She also needs someone that can comfort her in her dark days, someone to celebrate with her when she has joyous days, someone that can be themselves around her, and the other way around. Hope wants someone that she can cry on their shoulder when things are tough, she needs to trust that person. If someone ever made fun of Hope, she would want her friend to stand up for her, or just tell Hope that it will all be okay. Hope needs someone that can have all the fun, comfort her, joke with her, and trust her.
Total word count: 480
March 8 (the rest of Jori's Story):
As I strode across the driveway, I'm starting to second guess myself. Is this really the only way? I ask myself. I take another deep breath, and hope for the best. Suddenly I spot it, the house is exactly as he described it: a two story red house, with a burgundy colored roof. There were only a couple windows, and a white door. I couldn't do this, it was against everything I stood for. I walked around the house to the back door, and turned to face the window. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the glass breaker he had given me. Slowly, I cut a big enough circle into the glass that I could go through, and climbed into the house. Continuously telling myself It’s the only way, it’s the only way. I crept to a cabinet full of china plates and cups. “Look for the one with a lotus flower,” he had told me. I opened the cabinet in search of the lotus flower. Ah ha! I think to myself, That was easier than I thought! It was almost too easy. I took the plate with the lotus flower and pressed on the lotus flower with my thumb. Suddenly the house starts to shake, and a hidden door slides open. Bingo. I step through the door, then it slams with a loud BANG! I look ahead and there's stairs, LOTS of stairs. Step after step, stair after stair, I make my way down to the bottom. A light turns on, I look forward into the darkness, then I throw the Dust Absorber he gave me and the dust starts to clear up. I clicked on my flashlight and moved onward. After I take a couple more steps, I discover that there’s a puzzle up ahead. There seems to be small squares, with markings on them that look like runes. I step on one of the squares and it starts to glow, abruptly something sh00ts out of the wall and I duck as fast as possible. When I get back up, I find an arrow that has runes on it that says: step and danger. I take a couple steps backwards, then run forward and jump five squares in front of me. Fortunately, nothing happened, and I kept jumping forward a couple squares, eventually reaching the end of the puzzle. Then I locate it, the thing I came in this horrid house for: The Jar of Desires. I turn back to run, but something, no someone, is blocking my way. Then the person asks,
“Going somewhere?”
Word Count: 429
March 10 (Some of Chapter 5 of Flashback, Keeper of the Lost Cities):
“What’s happening?” Sophie asked as she, Fitz and their bodyguards hesitated backwards.
“You can’t guess?” A familiar voice replied behind them.
Sophie whipped around to face three hooded figures in black cloaks.
“We’re back.” The one in the middle told them. Gethen. Sophie guessed. She stumbled to get a hold on her goblin throwing star, but it was no use. She tried to scream, but it was muffled by someone’s hand. She felt darkness seeping into her body, then everything went black.
Sophie's eyes flew open as she heard Fitz’s screams. Then she saw it, an uncontrollable, violent black monster. Sophie searched her memories for something that’d give her a clue about what this monster was. Then Fitz screamed.
“STOP!” Sophie screamed, and that got the monster’s attention. “What do you want with us?”
“Freeze!” Another familiar voice ordered the monster. Umber. Sophie thought. “All we want is information, IF you cooperate, everything will go smoothly and nobody will get hurt. If you fight back everybody gets it. Trust me, with that much shadowflux already in your body, I wouldn’t bargain for more.”
Sophie looked for her panic switch, but she couldn’t find it. Then she noticed that her, Fitz, Grizel, Sandor, and the Neverseen were all in different force fields, which meant Ruy was here. There was no way to call for help with her panic switch gone, and since Tam wasn’t here, they couldn’t disable the force fields. Sophie looked over at Fitz who was shaking constantly, then screaming.
“Okay, if you’re not going to cooperate, we’ll have to turn the lights off.” Umber snapped her fingers and the lights went out. “Let the fun begin,”
Sophie screamed as she felt the coldness seeping in again. She tried to shoo the monster away, but it wouldn’t move off Sophie. She screamed again. Now she couldn’t feel her right hand, and she was shaking like Fitz. Gasping for air, Sophie tried to cut the monster with her goblin throwing star, but it was no use.
All Sophie wanted to do was curl up in a little bubble, away from all the danger, and just be in peace. The monster pinned Sophie to the floor, now realizing the monster didn’t just have teeth like razors, but it had spikes that were even more sharpened. Before Sophie could try and cut the monster it impxled her with one of its spikes. Sophie screamed in pain, if she thought there was enough bl00ded before, now there was tons more. Once more, everything went dark.
Sophie heard something roar, but it wasn’t the same roar that the black monster had, it was something different. Sophie please stop. It told her. Sophie trembled, and her eyes fluttered open. As she looked around, she realized she wasn’t in the same place that she had been in before.
“You're up early,” A voice said, but she couldn’t place exactly who it was.
“Where am I?” Sophie asked.
“Where’s the fun if I tell you where you are.” The voice replied.
“Fine, new question, who are you?”
“Ugh, and I thought you were smart. How does my son even like you?” The voice questioned.
“So Lady Gisela,” Sophie tried to sit up, but everything hurt too much.
“Oh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you, the monster senses movement.” Like it was on cue, the monster sprinted to the middle over the room, where it had the most light, and it growled, searching for prey. Sophie didn’t move, let alone breathe, fearful that the monster might sense her.
“What is that thing?” Sophie whispered.
“That’s a shadow creature, the world's most dangerous thing. Of course it’s not actually alive but it acts like it is.” Lady Gisela replied. “So, Sophie, since you didn’t cooperate last time, I’ll give you a second chance: Where is Wylie?”
“I’ll never tell you. I’ll nev—” Sophie felt something slicing into her back, she screamed, this time louder than the last.
“See, this is why you have to help us? If you don't, ethe Vacker boy gets something way more painful than you just experienced. So I’ll only ask ONE more time: Where is Wylie?” Lady Gisela demanded.
Sophie was thinking so fast that she couldn’t process what was about to happen. Suddenly she felt a huge pain in her back, worse than when the monster had stabbed her. She tried to slow her breathing, but it was impossible.
“You probably only have fifteen minutes to live, the Vacker boy has less, and your goblins only have five minutes. I'll let you all go if you tell me where Wylie is, if you don’t you’ll endure the worst pain, and grief in your life. Where is Wylie?”
“I’m right here!” Someone yelled behind them,
“It’s okay Sophie, I’m right here. It’ll be okay,” Another person told her, but she couldn’t wonder who it was, because she felt her consciousness slip away, again.
Word Count: 821
March 14:
“Here you go, Vivi, two pies for pi day.” Mom said, with a grin on her face. She had set 2 pies in front of Vivi, and they both looked different.
“Are these poisonous?” Vivi asked.
“No, but one of them tastes delectable, the other one tastes very unpleasant.” Mom replied.
“Let me guess: I have to taste them both?”
“Yes and no. When you’re about to eat one, there’s a choice: you can eat it, and there'll be no challenges. If you choose to throw the pie in your brother’s or dad’s face, then there is a challenge.”
“What’s the challenge?” Vivi asked, she was ALWAYS up for a challenge. Whether it was running, pie eating, math, or anything else, Vivi always won. “Not that it matters, I’ll still win.”
“You’re so full of yourself.” Mom shook her head. “The challenge is ANYTHING I want it to be so pick your first pie.”
Vivi considered her options carefully. Then she pointed to the largest pie in the middle of the table. “I’m gonna throw this in Big Bro’s face. Knox (Vivi’s older brother) won’t know what hit him, literally!” Vivi replied, laughing at her own joke.
“Okay, go run a mile, now. You only have 6 minutes, starting…..NOW!” Mom yelled. As soon as she had said it Vivi had sprinted out of the room and darted out of the door. She dashed down the sidewalk, passed Beckham’s house, passed the market, then she spun around, and flew back to her house.
“DONE!” Vivi announced once she got home. She was now panting and coated in sweat.
“You have a new record of five minutes and twenty-two seconds. Congratulations, Knox is about to come in, and as soon as he comes through the door, throw this at him.” Mom told Vivi, handing her a pie.
“Three…two…one…” Vivi whispered. As soon as Knox came through the door, Vivi pitched the pie, bull’s-eye.
“VIVI!!!! HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU? MY FACE IS NOT A PIE-THROWING-TARGET!!!” Knox screamed furiously, but Vivi couldn’t take him serious with the whip cream streaming down his face.
Vivi and Mom burst out laughing.
“Well, I’m glad you think this is funny.” He replied, rolling his eyes.
“Okay, next pie, are you gonna eat it? Or…” Mom started, but Vivi didn’t let her finish.
“I’m going to eat it.” Vivi lunged towards the pie and let her face sink in. “This is the most disgusting thing I’ve ever put into my mouth, and I’ve eaten mulch before.”
“That’s because that pie you just layed your face in was made with fertilizer.”
Vivi’s eyes widened, then she ran to the sink and started washing her face and spitting out all the pie she had eaten. From then on Vivi never ate pie, ever again.
Word Count: 470
March 15:
“AHHHHHH! THERE’S A BULL IN MY STORE!!!!” screamed an old lady. Suddenly there was a loud crash, and an angry snort. “NO!!! NOT MY GOOD CHINA PLATES!!!” Then there was another deafening crash. “911!!! 911!!! THERE’S A BULL IN MY SHOP!! MY ADDRESS IS 123 Clumsy Street! Get here as soon as possible, please!!!” The old lady hung up the phone and she heard a voice behind her,
“Ma’am! Are you okay? Is there anything I can do to help?” The voice asked.
The old lady slowly turned around to face a young man, no more than thirteen years old, with teal eyes, ivory colored skin, and swift dark brown hair that’s spiked up. “Yes, could you get that bull out of my shop! He’s ruining my china plates!”
“Of course, I’ll be right back.” The boy replied, then he ran into the store and looked around for the bull. He took out a red handkerchief from his pocket, and waved it around vigorously. Still, no sign of the bull.
“Are you okay in there sonny?” The old lady asked.
“I’m perfectly fine, I’m just trying to find the bull. I’m going to look deeper into the store. Don’t worry about me, just get yourself to safety.” Even though the store was small, it still felt like forever to find the bull. Finely, he found some hoof prints on the wood floor. He followed the prints, until he was led to a tiny bathroom. He knocked on the door, then he heard a grunt, and something trying to walk. He grabbed a net that was on a table next to him, and slowly opened the door.
Then he threw the net over the bull and it grunted so loud, it could’ve started a rock slide. The boy dragged the bull out of the store just in time, because a fire truck came right around the corner to take the bull away. As he helped the firefighters lift the bull into the fire truck, the boy took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.
“Thank you so much young man! You saved my store! I will never forget your kindness!” The old lady told him.
“All in a day's work, now I must be on my way, have a great day.” He replied. After that day the old lady never forgot his kindness, and she helped everyone she could until her dy!ng day.
Word Count: 403
March 22: Meet the Mantader, with eight legs and pectoral fins. The Mantader is a rare and seriously endangered species of the manta ray. Unlike most manta rays, a Mantader is both a land and sea animal. Though manta rays are said to be calm, a Mantader is peaceful and harmless, most of the time, but when threatened it will send out a web and encase the thing that is disturbing it. The Mantader eats mostly krill and other small crustaceans, and a Mantader has many enemies, including sharks, orcas, and squids. Mantaders normally live in the sunlight zone but sometimes wander to the top of the twilight zone. Did you know that Mantaders don’t sleep? Like sharks, they have to keep their eyes open so they can swim without bumping into predators, and because they NEED to swim to fill up their gills with oxygen. The Mantader was found in 1956 by Dr. Moana Nalu, while she was scuba diving off the coast of Kauai. Later on in the day, Dr. Moana Nalu went surfing in the same spot she had scuba diving before, and saw the same thing again. When she researched the thing she saw, she was unable to find anything about the creature besides old myths about a manta ray that had eight legs and eight eyes and brought luck. After that, she decided to watch it more closely, and observe the creature’s everyday life. Twenty years later, two archaeologists found a perfect skeleton of a Mantader, but it was ginormous! The old myths were true about a colossal Mantader, but it was to bring luck to anyone who saw it. So far that theory hasn’t been proven, yet. Nowadays Mantaders are being protected in animal wildlife conservatories and are increasing incredibly, and once the numbers are big enough, they will be released into the wild!
Word Count: 308
March 23rd: My story if you want to critique it!:
“CREAK”, suddenly a shadow was spotted sprinting from the door of the O’Connor’s house. The police sirens wailed, you could hear the briskness of the cars. The police ran inside searching for a victim, but all they found was a body on the floor. The police carried the body outside, while others were inspecting the scene of the crime. Only three people were found as suspects, Leisl, Mack, and Aaron O’Connor.
Little did they know, the murderer was long from the O'Connor's house. In fact, at this very moment, though they didn’t know, far away the killer had struck again.
Word Count: 100
My Critiquing for Peggy's writing:
This is beautiful! I love your choice of words, and the way you describe how Amaris feels. I have a couple suggestions, but otherwise it’s an amazing story! First of all the suggestions: You start a couple of your sentences with “But”, I know sometimes it’s necessary, but maybe limit using “but” at the beginning of a sentence a little more. In the middle of the story Corbin starts talking out of nowhere, and I felt like I didn’t know where he came from, if he was on the roof with Amaris from the start, or if Amaris was imagining sitting on the roof.
If he was there from the beginning, I would say: “It’s not your fault.” Corbin said. I turn to face him as he holds me steady. If he just walked onto the roof, I would say: “It’s not your fault.” A voice told me. I turned around and stared into Corbin’s eyes, he walked over to me and held me steady. If Amaris was imagining I’d say: “It’s not your fault.” Corbin told me and knocked me back to reality. If any of these aren’t the case, then I’d find a different way to explain how Corbin gets on the roof.
Onto the compliments! The plot is good, I can totally relate to it. When Amaris starts blaming herself, it makes me want to go into the story and hug her! You make the characters so loveable, and you give the reader sympathy for Amaris. It feels like you’ve made Amaris come to life because you describe her feelings and actions so realistically.
Like I said before, they way you describe everything and your choice of words are phenomenal! My favorite lines are: “My tongue is glued to the roof of my mouth. I don’t know what to say. Everything I try to fix gets messed up, no matter how much I try.” and “the gale whips anyone who chooses to defy it” is such an amazing way of describing. I can tell you have read some awesome literature to get such a descriptive way of writing. I love the use of similes and the way you described Aria. You’ll have no trouble trying to get your books published, if you want them to be.
You get your readers so engaged and sucked in, that we want to read more, and know more! You’re truly an amazing writer!
Word Count: 402








⤜Random Writing⤛:


Tears ran down his eyes, he couldn't bear it, he had let her go off alone. He had let her leave knowing the consequences were big. Big couldn't describe it, enormous, and fatal. The only thing he could think of, was that moment when he saw her lying on the ground motionless, that day had been the worst day of his life.
Weeks before That Day
“C'mon Beckham! You're so slow!” Yelled Vivi, turning around to look at him.
“You don't have to be so fast! My parents can wait for us. Plus, I am exhausted, can't we take a break from running?” Beckham replied.
“Don't be such a baby, you're fifteen years old! You should be able to run one-and-a-half miles. Maybe if you didn't ditch gym so much, you'd be in shape.”
“Haha, you're so funny.” Beckham said dryly. When they turned the corner, and had reached Beckham's house, he knocked on the door, but nobody answered. “Mom, dad? Are you guys in there?” Beckham pounded on the door, more forcefully this time. Still nobody answered. Beckham searched his pockets for the key, and when he found it, he raced to the back door to unlock the door. When he walked into the house, he found it eerily quiet. Everything was out of place. Chairs had been knocked down, the couch had been ripped open, china plates had been shattered, everything was either broken or not in the right place. Nothing could express the feeling that was forming in Beckham's stomach. Had his parents been k!dnapped, or worse? Beckham couldn't stand the thought of it. He needed his parents, and his parents needed him. He sprinted back towards Vivi, and explained everything that had just happened.
“Don't worry, I've got a plan.” Vivi told him. Though, Beckham was unsure if he could trust Vivi's plan, but he'd do whatever it took to get his parents back.
Word count: 319






⤜ᴛʜʀɪʟʟᴇʀ ғᴛᴡ!⤛ ⤜ᴛᴇɴɴᴇssᴇᴇ⤛ ⤜sʜᴇ/ʜᴇʀ⤛ ⤜ᴡʀɪᴛᴇʀ⤛

Apologies for claiming three posts, but my eyes tend to blur at big blocks of text and I would like to avoid that so I can reread this later ^^'

Greetings, wayward traveler!

To clarify who this belongs to: my internet moniker is Sun (they/them), I am in high school, and this is my fifth session of SWC! I tend to load myself with far too many personal projects beside writing that I only have time to work on during March break, so expect many late-night updates and weeklies handed in at the last minute :')))) At least I won't have to worry about a writing comp. entry this time, haha—

This is my main log for any writing I do for this March's session of SWC. This won't include any of my homework, handwritten work, or xmxils, but otherwise I will hopefully manage to remember to put everything else in one of the posts below and link them here. (This new system hhhhhh)

Due to the newfound difficulty of this megathread, if you have any questions or would like to comment on my writing, please do so in my chat studio https://scratch.mit.edu/studios/5274416/comments/, in the Fairy Tales cabin I happen to be leading https://scratch.mit.edu/studios/30937684/, or in the same comment chain I happened to ask for critique.

(Written Mar. 1st 2022— mcd, introduce yourself.)
Hello there :O I’m Sun, they/them, and it’s a pleasure to meet you! I’m leading the Fairy Tales cabin as Baba Yaga for my fifth session of SWC, together with @Cherrie_Tree and @TandiaTES. Besides writing I enjoy singing, playing guitar, drawing, animating, watching video essays, playing video games, and listening to music. I’m in a few too many fandoms to name but I enjoy all of them and will happily ramble about them if asked :D Otherwise I’ll be lurking around, adding words, screaming about the weekly, and cackling about our dEvIOuS cabin storyline. A final welcome to this session of SWC—quite a lot is being planned B)—and hope to see ya around :D

(+116 words)

(Written Mar. 2nd 2022— Main cabin daily, write at least 300 words from the perspective of an inanimate object.)
(Here have a philosophically observant bed lmao)

It is a strange thing, how fragile humans are. They build and they innovate and they grow, crafting technology beyond one's wildest dreams and taming the cryptic laws of the universe, but still they are squishy little flesh bags subject to the whims of the world.

They need comfort, need conditions specifically met and the familiar absence of fear to be able to rest and work and thrive.

They need a certainty that will never truly be there. They build grand castles of sand to protect themselves from the idea of harm, give themselves false truths to believe in the relative safety of uncertainties.

Being the small wooden frame that I am, in a way it is a privilege to be able to help keep up this illusion and help them feel safe.

I am but one small part of this initiative, after all; there is the house and the heater and the alarm, the safety features of the car and the order of routine and the trust born of connection. Their lives are built on hoping it is enough. Pretending they are sure it is enough.

I am where this all starts, when the suspension of disbelief reaches its highest.
They put their thoughts aside and curl into me, and I let them drift off into hope.
I am the core around which this all centers.

I am the boundary between known and darkness; I am the blanket that keeps out the world, I am the board that separates them from the monster underneath. I am the place they connect to. I am the stuffed animals held tight and the pillow that cradles their head and the gratifying absence of cold.

I am home at its most concentrated, the warm certainty of a night that will be spent without harm.

And I am glad to be of service.

(+309 words)

(Written Mar. 3rd 2022— mc daily, in the comments write 3 “flavors” and then choose someone else's 3 flavors. Create a story of at least 400 words using their 3 flavors as inspiration.)


My flavours:
Endless cosmos, dying light, and onism

@islacon12’s “flavours”:
Serendipity, Ephemeral, Hiraeth

(Continuing the tradition of my first few pieces of SWC being extremely experimental lmao)



Time is strange, isn’t it?

One year is a whole quarter of a life when you are four years old. When you are 30 it’s barely anything, and once you are 80, a year passes and you barely notice.

And then you’re 600, and before you know it you're watching empires rise and fall in the blink of an eye.


—

{Redacted} has stood at the side of the king.

They have also stood at the side of a king and a King and a queen and an elected government official and plenty of other people who were capable of bringing peace to lands that would not have it. Building life to replace dxxth.
Sometimes it worked.

And now they are standing on the top of this hill and it is all pointless, again.

It barely took 20 years and then this hope crumbled like the rest of them. Again.

A king who could not rule, a people who would not be ruled, and a land that would not be built on.
Such a great recipe for success.

Their sight (time? Magic? Perspective?) blurs and for a moment {Redacted} can faintly make out rolling green and cerulean skies and the stillness of an island in fog and it was there only a second ago— (what? No it was 20 years ago 20 years ago—)

And now there is only fire and rubble and smoke.

Again.

(They should not have interfered—)

If only nothing had changed, if only—

(Pale colours undisturbed in a silence that could last forever—)

No. If nothing had changed, if nothing changes then there would be no point in it all. Because people cannot live in stasis.

Because if someone, some people, are forced to change, they should change for the better.

(Time brings dxxth and memory and civilizations buried under ash—)

No chances will come if people only wait for them.

Someone in the distance crawls from the depths of the rubble and reaches for a glint of metal amid the flames. The sun shines bright through the band of tarnished gold lifted to encircle it.

I suppose gold could be just as beautiful as green…
Perhaps I could try again.

{Redacted} steps down the mountain.

—

The longer you live, the bigger a picture you see.

Time gives the space to be able to step back,
to try and try and try again until
one chance change blossoms into something that might be worth it.

Perhaps we will be able to learn from our mistakes.

(+418 words)

(Written Mar. 6th 2022— mcd, pair up with someone and agree on a writing prompt you both want to use! Then each separately write a 300 word story using the prompt. When you're done, compare your story with your partner's.

With @waterlily7859, “the truth was a cave on the mountainside / and I'd seek it out 'til the day I dixd”)


For many, he is the pinnacle. The apotheosis. The ultimate representation of what we were and what we should be; so he stood and remains to stand, against the mists of time, in our pantheon of greatest legends.

Some would add myth to that title. Some would say that the tales are not true, only grand decorations to a man who lived and fought as any other man did. That what we think of him is only our imaginations, that he never existed as we want him to have.

I know better.

We pursue Gods, hope, such unattainable things as happiness, so why am I such a fool for seeking truth?

For seeking Arthur?

I have studied all my life for this moment. I’ve cast aside all those I thought friends until they laughed at my quest. There is nothing left for me to do but search, to head out into the rolling hills and call in hope of an answer.

We need him now, more than ever, and if he will not come I will come to him.

Perhaps I am naive in believing, in thinking, in hoping that he will be able to make sense of this mess the world now is and how much more complicated it has become.

But he is the paragon of what we humanity can be, and if anyone can do it, he can.

He must.

There have been numerous debates about where he currently rests, but as Avalon is unreachable as much as it is the most likely place I will dub it my last resort and start with the King Arthur Cave in Wales.


If I am lost to the caverns then remember, world, that I, Dr. James K. Brillingham, was lost in pursuit of the truth that the world would not see.

(+302 words)

(Written Mar. 7th 2022 — mcd: here are some questions about your character to consider! Answer at least 4 of them in 100 words each.

Look it’s {Redacted} what a surprise—
Also, 5! Because good questions! :DD )

"What is your character's biggest fear?”
{Redacted}’s greatest fear is that of being useless. Because they have the power to incite change and the knowledge on how to use it, being forced to watch on the sidelines as people suffer is against everything that they stand for. Not only that, but {Redacted} sees very little value in themselves except for their work; if they are stuck unable to, they will be left with no worth and therefore no purpose. “With great power comes great responsibility” and all that except Stormhand has waaaay too much power and they therefore think they need to shoulder all of the responsibility that comes with it, all the time.

"What is the one thing that makes your character tick?”
(reading some other dailies people are interpreting “tick” as to make someone mad but I’m pretty sure that in this context it means why they act the way they do?)

The memories of {Яedacted} revealing that his survival is a key factor in how {Redacted} carries themselves. The revelation on how much they hurt {Яedacted} cut them to the core, especially since hurting him is the last thing {Redacted} would ever want to do. The reveal constitutes much of their current trauma and hence the “normal” way they used to act before has now become a mask to cover processing their emotions. The mask only comes off with {redacted}, and how {Redacted} reacts is dictated by the instigation’s relation to that event.


“What is one life-changing event your character has experienced? How has it changed them?”
Losing {Яedacted} affected {Redacted} deeply (see above). It drastically changed their motivations: whereas before they were not ambitious they took {Яedacted}’s perhaps unreachable goals and made them their own. {Redacted}’s worldview, especially their perception of death and fate, altered radically. {Redacted}’s belief in magic as a whole also changed due to their inability to utilize it properly: just because you can imagine something doesn’t mean the aftermath will work out. Magic is a tool, not a solution.
Not to mention that that they uprooted all of their relationships and left everything they’d ever known behind to run across realities fighting evil for the rest of their life oop

“How would your character solve the trolley problem?”

“If your character could receive their deepest desire (wealth, health, love, success etc.) in exchange for betraying a friend, would they do it?”
Nope. Absolutely not. {Redacted} has betrayed a friend before and even when it was accidental the fallout was baaaaaad. Like radically alter the history of the Multimultiverse bad. Stormhand places very little value on themselves and their wants and to possibly cause such cataclysm would, to them, not be worth it. As well as that, their deepest desire is to have {Яedacted} back as a friend; losing one friend for the sake of another is not something {Redacted} would go through with, having so few friends and not believing in eye-for-an-eye deals. With their knowledge of magic as well, they know that realistically such an arrangement wouldn’t work out at all anyway: just because their wish is granted doesn’t mean it will continue to work down the road.

“What kinds of music would your character like? What types of clothing?”

“What does your character value most in a friend?”

“What is your character's greatest weakness?”
Themselves.
No but actually it’s themselves; self-doubt and self-sacrifice are the literal worst and {Redacted} is not self-regulatory at all. They will run themselves to the ground because they think they aren’t good enough, and in doing so they become a burden to anyone around them who happens to care about them *cough {redacted} cough*

(+524 words)

(Written Mar. 8th 2022: mcd, share one of your unfinished stories, and pick someone else's unfinished story and write 400 words continuing it!

My old writing: https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/post/5446711/

Prompt from @MoonlitSeas: https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/post/6093236/ )

You jerk awake as you feel something cold pressed against your throat. As the world sharpens into view, you see a pair of bright green eyes staring at you…

As you open your mouth to scream, a gloved hand clamps over your mouth. You hear a girl whisper, “None of that now. I’d rather not have to gag you.” She sounds young, too young to be of any real danger to you. And yet here you are, held at knife point by this mere child.

“Gag me?” you ask, incredulous, as she removes her hand from your mouth.

You hear a click as she turns on your lamp, flooding your room with light. “Yes, gag you,” she answers, sounding almost impatient. “But I’d rather not deal with a spit-covered piece of cloth, so keep quiet, will you?” She crinkles her perfect little nose at the thought, and judging by her face, she looks about nine. Far too young for anything of this sort.

“Who are you?” you wonder, wishing you didn’t sound so stupid. Even with the possibility of death looming in the back of your mind, you still want to know what’s going on.

At this, she actually laughs. “Do you really think I’m going to answer that? Wow, you’re even dumber than I thought,” she says. “The better question is, who are you?”

She looks at you expectantly, adjusting her grip on that knife of hers still resting at your throat. You look back at her, confused. “What do you mean?”

She sighs, then reaches into a pocket in her sleeve you hadn’t realized was there. From it, she produces a letter. You stare at it blankly, and she represses another sigh. “You really don’t know what this is?” she asks, sounding surprised.

When you shake her head, she pauses for a split second, her expression unreadable. Then slowly, maintaining her neutral expression, she turns the envelope so you can see the seal. You stifle your gasp as you realize what it is. It’s not just any seal.

It belongs to the king. Belonged, that is. It’s made of dried blood, and that can only mean one thing.

Someone murdered the king.


Someone murdered the king.

Your mind shoots into overdrive—What‽ Who‽ How‽ Why—and it takes a moment before the haze fades and you gape both at the girl and her surroundings that you hadn’t registered until now. Her expression is unreadable as she watches you with her head tilted.

Only now do you really see what’s behind her: intricate furniture and gilded decorations, paintings wrought by the most skilled hands in the kingdom adorning walls filled to the brim with detail. The doors behind her seem to be made from mahogany, and even the door handles curl in the best metalwork you’ve ever seen.

Something hitches in your chest, and you allow a quick glance behind you away from the girl. Hung up on racks are clothes you’re sure are fit and made by the finest seamstresses and tailors in the kingdom: lustrous velvet and delicate silk and prodigal layers of cloth billowing from every fold.

You’re in a closet and everything is beautiful.

You’re in the palace, and the king is dxxd.


A few more pieces click into place; the threats, avoiding names, the importance of quiet, and before your mind can catch up to your mouth you burst out in a forced whisper:

“It was you, wasn’t it?”

Her eyes widening are the only sign of how close you might have hit the mark before her knife is back at your throat and her face is inches from yours.

“I said be quiet.” She hisses through grit teeth. For a moment, you wonder why she hasn’t already kxllxd you if she really did do it: you are a liability now after all.

Nothing about this makes sense. If she did it, why didn’t she just escape immediately instead of hiding in a closet? With you? Who in the world would need a king’s blood to seal a letter, however important?

“What in the ever-loving heck is going on?” You hiss just as sharply back, pressing your face forward in reply as you try to ignore the cold metal keen against your skin.

“I said—”

“No, no, there’s clearly some reason I’m alive if the king is not, so what do you want from me, what do I have to do with any of this, and who in their right mind would send a letter with a seal made from blood‽”

Your bravado immediately dims as something hardens in her eyes and she pulls away.

“You’d really like to know, then?”

“What?”

She turns to the doors and tests the handle before carefully cracking one open and peering out.

“Come on!”

(+431 words)

(Written Mar. 13th 2022— mcd, roleplay day! Didn't really get the chance to, unfortunately :') )

“Yes, of course,” The Witch smiled from their place by the stove. “What character would you like in the pfp?”

Any is fine!“ Baba Yaga replied, reaching for some paper.

Yaga glances at the image and nods. ”I see!“ They get up and head into the basement. ”You'll receive it shortly!"

(+51 words)

(Written Mar. 14th 2022— mc daily: It's Pi Day! Write a narrative or descriptive with a minimum of 300 words about Pi Day or perhaps about pie. Extra challenge: write your piece in exactly 314 words!)

When things went wrong, Sarah always thought of pie.

She didn’t quite know why, but the first thing that always came to her when she thought about home, about comfort, was not playing together with her brother in the backyard or playing video games with the entire family but sitting alone at the cloth-covered table one Sunday evening afternoon and smelling the warm sweetness of pie wafting its way through the house.

Even as things went wrong, Sarah could perfectly recall the sharp tang of cinnamon interwoven with the caramelized apples, the rich brown sugar… She could remember biting past the layers of golden crust to the sticky sugar within, the refreshing ice cream on top melting slowly over everything like a volcano in slow motion…

Yes, Sarah was perhaps not always the brightest tool in the shed, but she could remember that.

Perhaps it was the peculiar atmosphere of that day, the sun beating through the windows, the porch door open with the breeze pushing lazily past the curtains and the strange urge to sit at the table and do nothing. Perhaps it was the sudden and slightly unwelcome intrusion of Sarah’s grandparents into her life when she did not need any more family members (replacements or not) thank you very much—
(but they were gone, gone gone gone gone—)

Strangely, Sarah did not remember her grandmother bringing the steaming plate to the table or her grandfather lumbering over to the chair across from her. She didn’t even remember the wetness running down her cheeks. (She had just spilled water on her face with shaking hands no they weren’t tears they couldn’t be tears—)

She remembered biting into something hot and loving
and feeling her tired heart finally shattering into little pieces.

When things went wrong the first time, Sarah found solace in pie.

And then she did
again
and
again
and again.

(+314 words ;) )

(Written Mar. 15th 2022— mcd, use an idiom taken literally as a writing prompt! Write 300 words.)

“Oh, come on. We both know that’s not really what happened. Just say it, you’re not going to get anything out of hiding this.”

Trapped.

Michael was trapped, and his heart clenched as he struggled to remain calm on the surface.

How had he managed to talk himself into a corner? He was usually perfectly fine with thinking on the spot, snapping back witty remarks and wry twists.

Jokes. They were just jokes.

In his mind he shook himself and allowed himself to make firm eye contact with the stern figure looming over him, refusing to show just how much he felt like a deer in the headlights. He wouldn’t share this. He wouldn’t. He had promised, and his mother didn’t deserve to know and—

“Cat got your tongue?” She snapped, jutting her face forward until it was inches away from his; her eyes gleamed as she arched over him.

Michael’s narrowed his eyes in preparation for the endgame and opened his mouth, ready to begin his tirade into a tart reply—

A tiny kitten crawled out onto his tongue, purring and mewling warmly. It circled there under the roof of his mouth until it finally yawned and nestled on the tip of his tongue and teeth, conveniently claiming the place Michael needed in order to close his mouth and make various sounds.

A beat of shocked silence as they both stared at it, Michael going slightly cross-eyed while glaring past his nose and determinedly trying to ignore the very icky feeling of living and breathing fur on his tongue.

Another beat passed and they continued to stare.

Finally, he fought the urge to inhale (no swallowing fur, thank you very much), nodded, and gurgled a muffled “eeEYAaa AHaaairehnlly” before very carefully turning away from his mother and heading swiftly up the stairs.

(+303 words)

(Written Mar. 18th 2022— mcd, write fanfiction of anything - it could be a book, movie, video game, or even SWC! 500 words.)

Fandom: Mhm feeling a bit sPoRAdiC today so instead of your standard lotr or holmes here’s some The Great Ace Attorney (yess I knoow sorry still sholmes) fanfic because I have been reading a bit too much aksdjhljaklhfa

asldfhkdsajfhkdsafhjklahdsfkjdshfkjdsahf I love this game so much


Barok van Zieks glared daggers at the letter on the other side of his desk. It had only just arrived by the virtue of that short female inspector and her dog; Lestrade, he thought it might be? Yes, that’s right— she was always hanging out with Sholmes and had apparently been Gregson’s protégé before—

best not think about that.

No, Lord van Zieks was thinking about that letter because Lestrade had delivered it with a gruff “Iris ‘anted me to give this to ya” and now all he could think about was the blasted pink paper with the elaborate scrawl in black ink on the top. He was supposed to be working, *, and he had promised himself he would read it only after he had finished going through the file of the case he was going to prosecute tomorrow.

(But it was from his niece—)

It was probably something trivial, anyway, there was no reason for Iris to write to him of all people—

(She had said that she actually wanted to see him—)

and he had better things to be doing, so he took a deep, shuddering breath and pushed it out of his mind.



It was an invitation, to dinner at Baker Street. Apparently the attorney Naruhodo (he defended you and found the truth you owe him more than that—) and his assistant were leaving for Japan, and Iris had wanted to gather anyone who she thought had enough emotional stake in the matter to say goodbye.

(So not him.)

“Oh, you got one of those too?” Kazuma interrupted his thoughts from the doorway, the coat over his shoulders clearly signifying the intention of leaving. In his hand was a similarly bright piece of paper.

“I was not aware that you had finished working,” the elder prosecutor shot sharply back. * it, now that Asougi had seen him with the open letter he would be expected to come. If he didn’t, his protege would tell her and she’d be disappointed. (He’d disappointed her already.)

The younger prosecutor raised his eyebrows. “Well, I have,” he retorted. “So I’m going. Are you coming with me or not?”

“I— Wha—” Barok’s brain short-circuited for a moment. Going… with… him? “I— I have work I need to attend to, I’ll join you later—”

“Don’t kid yourself, we both know you won’t show up.” Asougi scoffed. “Come on.”

He moved over to the other side of van Ziek’s desk, and Barok barely had enough time to scramble out of his chair and into the corner before Kazuma could grab his arm and drag him along. “Hey, what’re you—!”

“It says 6 pm on the card, we’re not going to get there in time unless we leave now.”

Ah.

“Still, that’s not necessary—”

“Come on!” Kazuma huffed, already halfway out the door.

* it. With a sigh, Barok mentally prepared for dealing with his niece and strode out the door.



Riding with his protege in the cab strangely made it easier for Lord van Zieks to relax. Asougi seemed so at ease with this whole situation, so it was some comfort to be arriving with someone who knew what he was doing.

Dealing with a genius 10-year-old, that is.

The carriage came to a stop, and Prosecutor Asougi paid the cab driver as they exited out to the cobble steps of Baker Street, right in front of 221b.

This is it.

With no hesitation Kazuma walked right up to the door and knocked, before Barok had the chance to say anything.

It opened barely a second after he did, startling both prosecutors.

“Oh! Iris.” Asougi exclaimed, while van Zieks busied himself with trying to hide himself around the corner. Maybe if he wasn’t seen she would—

“Hi Zuma, is Barry coming?” The doctor smiled easily back.

“Oh! Yes, yes he was just—” “Zuma” glanced around, clearly searching for him.

Wonderful, he can’t see me—

“Oh, why hello Lord van Zieks!” A deeper voice echoed from above, and the prosecutor looked up to see Herlock Sholmes staring at him from a window on the second floor.

Great, just great.

(+685 words)

(Written Mar. 21st 2022— mcd, It's world poetry day! Write and share a poem in the comments - this could be a haiku, limerick, tongue twister or any other form of poetry!)

It is one of those nights
where my chest opens up
and a black hole sucks all my feelings in

It is one of those nights
where the ceiling holds secrets unfathomable
and I all I want is to reach my hand out and grasp some of them

It is one of those nights
where my tether detaches
and I drift out of my body between unreality and disbelief

It is one of those nights
where the universe expands
I pick out stars
and I measure the distance between myself and the end of the world

(+96 words)

(Written Mar. 22nd 2022— mcd; take your favourite animal and least favourite animal, then mix features of the two together to create a new animal! Flesh out some details about it before writing a 300 word piece featuring this new animal.)

Eagle x Leech *shudders* -> Leegle, basically a feathered blxxd-sucking bat. Your standard eagle setup except the inside of the beak has rows of teeth *shudders more* and the colouration is fully black. The feathers are water resistant and the Leegle is capable of operating in water if it needs to, using its wings and tail feathers as flippers.


The night settles. The clouds blocking the stars leave only the chirp of the grasshoppers to stir the senses; there is no breeze blowing to rustle the trees or move about scents.

You are grateful for this lack as you cut your way carefully through the jungle, because it means there is no wind to carry the Leegles tonight. Their wings could, of course, but in the dark they need jet streams to guide them around the tall canopy of the forest. Without this guide they roost upside down on the branches of the tallest trees, resting in preparation for when they can hunt.

You are grateful, because the last thing you need right now is a swarm of giant birds of prey hungry for your blxxd. And you wouldn’t even be able to see them too, with their jet black feathers.

Your boots quietly squelch at the beginning of a muddy shore, but you still flinch. You don’t want to risk any sound, especially so close to water… Where you know the Leegles lay and defend their eggs. Being so close to a river is especially precarious—you quickly tiptoe around it.

You’ve got this whole area mapped out in your mind, practiced going through this route in your mind’s eye hundreds of times. You know it like the back of your hand. You just need to get through it blind and avoid disturbing the terrifying beaks that will tear flesh and suck you dry. Get to the cave, that’s it and then you’re safe. Yeah. Easy.

You hold your breath as you continue to carve your way forward, and with the last few steps into the tunnel mouth, you breathe a sigh of relief.

You pull out your swxrd, ready to delve into the caverns below, and light the lantern at your side.

The light reflects off the hundreds of suddenly open eyes hanging from the ceiling.

Ah heck.

(+320 words)

(Written Mar. 23rd 2022— mcd, Find an excerpt of your writing from any point in time and post it in the comments. Then write at least 400 words of critique for someone else's excerpt!)

my work for critique: “ah heya, here someone can critique either my March 3rd daily https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/582424/?page=11#post-6080688 (near the top) or maybe part 5 of the most recent weekly https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/post/6080690/ (the very bottom)”


Critiquing @featheredge’s Mar. 2nd daily:

Okay hello whoa so a critique daily! I like these a lot! Sorry if I come off as rude or anything like that, I don’t mean to; I am simply writing really quickly to get my thoughts down and trying to make things clear akjdfkaalsdhfalsdkjfdsahf

Right so to begin, good things!

This is a really creative idea for this daily, and how you expand on it is great. The thoughts of the play-doh flow in a way that feels natural, and the franticness in the writing style conveys their/its distress well. Your vocabulary is very good and that descriptiveness supports the idea that the play-doh is sentient. Overall you’ve fleshed out a great concept, with very good control over tone and structure.

Now on to the actual critique— they’re mainly just observations on grammar + conventions because the story itself is very good; if you polish how you tell it, it’ll be amazing!

First and most important, please, please put spaces after punctuation. There are spaces between words so I assume your space bar works—the whole point of periods and commas is to give the reader a break and show them when they can breathe; there’s no room for them to do so if the story immediately continues with no separation. It’s almost impossible to read when my eyes are blurring from the sentences coming one after the other non-stop. (It doesn’t help that this is one big chunk of text, either, with neither one of a) indents or b) separate paragraphs.)

Secondly, there are quite a few run-on sentences littered about; commas are everywhere and so while the overall structure makes sense, taking it sentence-by-sentence is very stilted and difficult to read. Take this sentence, for example:

“I wouldn’t know,for I cannot see,I cannot hear,I cannot look at this creature who is doing this to me,the god of hate,of selfishness.”

That’s a comma almost every three words! Breaking this up or using punctuation other than commas (they do exist ;) /lh) would do wonders.

“I wouldn’t know: for I cannot see, cannot hear, cannot look at the creature who is doing this to me— the god of hate, of selfishness.”

And it’s all still one sentence, except this time we’ve split that one big long sentence into separate clauses. Clearly separating your clauses in your sentences are how you keep those long sentences you want without making your reader trudge through a bunch of commas: by labelling a place for the reader to stop (with semicolons or em dashes), the reader has time to figure out which parts of the sentences are which. You basically get mini-sentences within one, whereas what you’re doing right now is stretching a sentence to its breaking point.

If you’re having trouble with this, I suggest reading the work aloud to get a feel for the natural cadence/rhythm. Where do you pause? Where do you breathe? What words are you emphasizing, and where does it feel like there is enough of a stop for a paragraph to end?

A final small thing, but near the end you keep switching in and out of your established present tense.
“I have stopped trying to scream for a long time now,for I know that it would not work,no one would hear me.” → “… for I know that it will not work: no one will hear me.”

“There is nothing I could have done,this is the way it has been,and always will be.” → “There is nothing I can do—this is the way it has been and always will be.”

(+531 words)

(Written Mar. 24th 2022— mcd, Write mismatched dialogue pieces or “fragments” of dialogue in order to tell a story. No dialogue should address another piece, and everything needs to be in chronological order. It has to make sense as a story. Remember that you can only use dialogue! Minimum 200 words.)

Since I've read a couple of other dailies that have to do with grades/school stress and that is a topic I am intimately familiar with, thought I'd put down the usual fantasy stuff and try something a little different today.


"I got an 87 can you believe it—“

”There's gonna be a pop quiz in Lei's class, watch out—“

”Yeah I had to do the group project myself, he was no help at all—“

”Oh I got a 98, got the challenge question and the bonus marks—“

”Well that's my dreams of being a doctor crushed—“

”The last question on that test absolutely destroyed me—“

”I don't understand her that test outline didn't help at all—“

”How am I going to explain this to my parents, I'm so screwed—“

”I know you think that's bad but the class average for that test was 54—“

”I don't understand, I studied so much for this!“

”Yeah I'm just winging it there's nothing I can do at this point, McLaren's questions are absolute bullxxxx—“

”Oh god I messed up that presentation so bad, I barely got through the Q&A section—“

”Yep got a 96.5, Senorita is such an easy marker though I must've messed up real bad—“

”That debate was a joke, Nancy didn't even have any good points—“

”I stayed up 'til 2 studying, this better be worth it—“

”Hey Sarah, what did you get?“

”Ryan, what did you—“

”Connor—?“

”96—“

”88—“

”92—“

”74—“

”97—“

”98—“

”99—“

”Not good enough."

(+210 words)

(Written Mar. 25th 2022— MCD, work with someone in any cabin that is an enemy of yours to write a story. Each of you should write at least 300 words toward the story.)

W/ @warriorsisawesome:

Sun:
The sun exploding is never a good way to start the day.

See, Orion had read plenty of articles and watched numerous videos about how the center of his galaxy exploding would be catastrophic and life-ending and all that. All of the math and science and whatnot said that it would be, and that was information a budding astronaut needed to know, right?

And then the entire planet was consumed in a blinding flash of light only to be completely fine after, and though Orion considered himself a relatively stubborn person, he had to admit that maybe the explosion did shatter his worldview just a little bit.

Well, maybe not, because perhaps the world wasn’t completely fine.

Nicole:
Everything was as it had been the moment before the supposed catastrophe struck, essentially unharmed, but things were… off. For starters, it was a whole lot darker now that pretty much the entire solar system's source of light was now but a beloved memory– colder, too. Not instantly-freeze-your-limbs-off-and-die cold, but noticeably chillier. Beyond the predictable effects, the most random aspects of life were now flipped on their heads. All types of cellular service was jammed (yet surprisingly all forms of electricity barring solar electricity, naturally, remained untouched), every last chicken on the planet perished, for some reason, and rain turned to snow with a new freezing point of 56 degrees Fahrenheit– but most bizarre of all, strange creatures never before known to man quite literally unearthed themselves and started roaming the only mildly damaged land.

Sun:
Orion had noticed the temperature and the creatures, of course, but the only reason he knew about the chickens was because his father was an executive at a poultry company; one that still used an old fashioned fax machine to communicate, of all things. (For a moment, Orion considered pondering the ethical implications of the massive amount of chickens that had been living through inhumane conditions only to be inevitably kxllxd off in a way that was much less painful, but also crippled the food supply.) He put that aside, though, because those strange creatures outside looked suspiciously like dragons and even though his parents kept telling him that he needed to “grow up” and be more mature and think about his future, * Orion still wanted to play with dragons.

Nicole:
And thus began Orion's quest to ride a dragon. Stocking up on every book on dragons he could find, from The Last Dragon Chronicles all the way down to Puff the Magic Dragon, he waxed himself wise in every interpretation of dragon behavior known to man. Unfortunately, even with all this research, he was still woefully unprepared to face these particular fantastical reptiles who, by the way, did not live up to any of the stereotypes conceived by humankind throughout all of history.

Sun:
When he had finally read enough to fancy himself a dragon expert, (there were research papers on dragons! Theoretical ones about how in the scientific laws of Before they couldn’t possibly fly, but still!) Orion headed outside and began searching for a dragon. He wasn't sure if the dragons in his world could talk or not, but the strange unspoken rules of fantasy books seemed to dictate that good dragons were shiny and colorful, so he decided to start with that.

It only took a few minutes of him walking around town to find one: they were perched on top of a now-closed Wendy's, dark forest green scales glittering in the noonday sun. Slowly and hesitantly, Orion approached.

“Greetings, Oh great dragon of the cerulean—”

“Oh, hi human!” The dragon didn't open its mouth, but somehow its strangely bright and chirpy voice reached his ears.

Orion stopped in his tracks. “Oh! Uh, hello?”

Nicole:
The dragon tilted its head curiously at him. They seemed equally amazed to be in each other's presence. Interesting. The dragon got to its feet and stretched, back arching like a cat's as its jaws parted in a lazy yawn to reveal a row of sharp glimmering teeth. “What did you come around here for?” it inquired conversationally, far from temperamental or needlessly formal and demanding as dragons had seemingly always been portrayed. In fact, it was rather youthful and chipper.

Sun:
“U— Um,” Orion stammered. This was not how things were supposed to go at all, “well, I've always wanted to ride a dragon, and I was wondering—”

The dragon hopped onto the ground as the building created under its weight. “Ooh! Let me guess. You want to ride me!” Its tail slapped against the ground, which Orion guessed was a sign of amusement? Maybe?

“Um… Yes, if that's alright—”

“Sure!”

“Oh! Uh, what?”

“Sure! I've always wanted to know what it feels like to have a human fly on me, you know— they told us so many stories when we were growing up. Besides, we've been underground for so long, I haven't really gotten the chance to fly much either.” It bounced a little in excitement.

Nicole:
Orion was rooted in place with shock for a long moment. This is not how he foresaw this day going at all. At least this dragon seemed happier than he ever expected, which was a far better alternative to the broody and angry beast he had pictured in his head. Yes, he quite liked this much better. “Alright,” he said uncertainly, excitement starting to bubble up within him as he approached the winged reptile. He was actually about to ride a dragon. Who would have ever thought.

Sun:
And so while the whole world was grappling with figuring out how to function with the sudden disappearance of fast communication, the new weather, and the sudden change in the food supply, Orion Auriga was having the time of his life.

Turns out riding on the back of a dragon is a pretty good way to end the day.

(+586 words)

(Written Mar. 28th 2022— MCD, today's National Something On A Stick Day! Put three of your favourite memories from this SWC session on a “stick” today by including them in a story! Write at least 600 words.)

(Your one obligatory swc fanfic struggle for this session. Enjoy :’) )


The sun rises on another day, and Sun the Witch welcomes it gladly.

There is much to do today: even with the lull in the activity of their kidnappees, there are still words to add to the taskforce logs, spell components to collect, and the chicken house to look after.

As well as that, since the Witch is also recognized as an independent operative by the wider SWC empire, that means that they have wider responsibilities as well. Jobs that, though ones they don’t mind too much, require time and resources the Witch has only recently realized their quest no longer allows them to have. Stuck between their personal commitments and those of the SWC, Baba Yaga has found themselves dropping off the technically optional tasks; logging the points of the jurisdictions, personal projects, and regularly reporting to the overlords has been overlooked for the sake of ensuring the Woods runs smoothly.

Today, however, the Witch is feeling just a bit more weary than usual, but they nevertheless follow the forest trails to check in with the main hub. The daily task is given as writing a story with another citizen.

The Witch has plenty of other things to do, and the points would be helpful for the Woods…

Yep, that’s the only reason why they are thinking of doing this first.

(Interaction. That might be nice.)

With little delay Yaga finds another citizen milling about the hub (a “Nicole” from the science fiction spaceship, apparently), and they put aside their worries for the day and just write away. It’s nice. Freeing, even. Improvising and building off each other and eagerly waiting for the next instalment in the middle of the night is somehow less tiring than all of the times the Witch stayed up earlier working. (Also, dragons.)

The last time Sun did this with a close friend was not too long ago, but somehow the memories and the relief were drowned in the sea of stress only to resurface now. It’s 3 in the morning and Yaga has moved on to going through the endless pile of writing competition entries, but there is a lightness in their chest that makes them go through it a little bit faster.

Today was good. Hopefully it means that tomorrow will also be good; the workshop the Witch has been working on for weeks is finally coming out, and they can share some meager knowledge with the world.

Sun would describe the feeling as excited, but they also don’t want to get their hopes up.

‘Til tomorrow, then.



It’s out.

It’s out it’s out it’soutit’soutit’s out.

The weekly challenge has been issued, and so the lessons with them— Sun has words out on the board that they’re actually proud of and they could teach something and people are actually reading them and saying things.

The Woods is dark and the Witch has forgotten how to breathe.

Their lungs heave helplessly still, but at least the space is lighter now.

Stop, and think.

Forward. Always forward.

The inter-denomination games will be soon, and the Witch needs to focus on making connections and bridging gaps and preparing defenses and readying the kidnappees. The Woods is not very high in the standings right now so Yaga is glad to know that they are not a primary target, but the spaceship and the fan-fiction pocket dimension are still hungry for blxxd and the Woods needs to be on its guard.

Baba Yaga can do this.

Sun can do this.

Inhale once, twice, and remember how to breathe.

There is still much to do.

(+600 words)

(Written Mar. 29th 2022— mcd, imagine the place where all your characters live when you're not working on their stories. Describe their home away from home in at least 400 words.)

(Have already described this before haha )


The home base of {Redacted} and {redacted} is sandwiched snugly in a space between worlds; a pocket dimension erected by {Redacted} in times long past, the house-like layout has slowly expanded over the years to accommodate the growing needs and numbers of the planeporters the duo have recruited. The “entrance” — or rather a foyer, as the planeporters tend to port into wherever the base they want — is a cozy and snug affair. An eternal fireplace crackles warmly in the corner, and couches and random decor from when {Redacted} was young line the walls in an attempt to make the place welcoming.

Out through the door into the hallway, numerous doors lead to different places that have been found to be needed; the door next to the foyer is to surveillance, a dim, single room lined with magically powered screens so that anyone may watch multiple worlds at once. (There are a few known methods on how planeporters can watch one world in their minds, but it becomes a bit more of a hassle when trying to watch multiple.)

Across the hall from the foyer are the living quarters, nearly an entire building on its own; a maze of corridors with rooms left and right, always and ever expanding as more and more people join {Redacted} and {redacted}. Each planeporter has their own individual room that they can decorate and make their own (with a little magic to alter it as they like), but it’s very rare for that many people to be in the home base at any one time; most planeporters are out living in other worlds or on missions, but everyone has their own space anyway in case they want a safe place to store their stuff or just a designated room to call their own.

Next to the living quarters is the archive, which is similarly expanding. Some planeporters are solely focused on travelling across realities in pursuit of knowledge, and even the more fighting-oriented porters are careful to record any new information they come across during their travels. To ensure that the information remains where it comes from, books, reports etc. are not taken from their original worlds but magically copied into the archive. Sometimes if the porter has the strength they can copy entire libraries into the archive, allowing for the entire knowledge of a civilization in a point in time to be catalogued before catastrophe. Everything that the planeporters can find are sent here, including digital information (which is either converted into a physical copy or stored on one of the computers in the archive). There are computers littered about the very full room as a way to filter and find out where information on any particular topic is located, similar to the online catalogue of 21st century libraries.

There’s more but I have no more time to write and this is already past the word count :>

(+483 words)

(Written Mar. 30th 2022—- Look around you and pick an object to describe. Write 100 words describing it, without ever saying what it is. When you're done, share it in the Main Cabin for other fellow swc-ers to guess what it is!)

Tall, white, sitting squatly
jutting string
to be brought to life
Ever resting, waiting

The scratch of a match
or click of the gas
Raised to my crown
time will run out

Bright light flickering
Drip dripping away
To be swallowed whole
by what I create

Small, simple,
warmth in the mundane
I am ready
to add atmosphere

Sing by me softly
or blow me out and cheer
stay in the background
or stare at me in awe

I am the center
of the long lost Hearth
I am the center
of the once center of home

I bring
peace

(+100 words)

Apologies for claiming three posts, but my eyes tend to blur at big blocks of text and I would like to avoid that so I can reread this later ^^'

Greetings, wayward traveler!

To clarify who this belongs to: my internet moniker is Sun (they/them), I am in high school, and this is my fifth session of SWC! I tend to load myself with far too many personal projects beside writing that I only have time to work on during March break, so expect many late-night updates and weeklies handed in at the last minute :')))) At least I won't have to worry about a writing comp. entry this time, haha—

This is my main log for any writing I do for this March's session of SWC. This won't include any of my homework, handwritten work, or xmxils, but otherwise I will hopefully manage to remember to put everything else in one of the posts below and link them here. (This new system hhhhhh)

Due to the newfound difficulty of this megathread, if you have any questions or would like to comment on my writing, please do so in my chat studio https://scratch.mit.edu/studios/5274416/comments/, in the Fairy Tales cabin I happen to be leading https://scratch.mit.edu/studios/30937684/, or in the same comment chain I happened to ask for critique.

(Completed Mar. 9th 2022— Different types of writing)

Part 1 - Poetry: 354 words
Once you read through the workshop, write 300 words of poetry, comprising of at least 5 different types of poems.

Cinquain: Onward
Follow
Me where Fate leads
As the string unravels
And time sows a home for entwin’d
lives lost.

Elegy: Already Gone
Too late to say goodbye,
so I
will languish in the words you wrote

trace the meter, watch the rhymes,
mourn necess’ty of cut ties
value words I can but quote

Thank you for this great gift
if only you’d give more of it
but alas our time has been smote

Your sacrifice I can’t prevent
to higher power asking rent
for “better major” so bestowed.

So goodbye past self, and leave me be
before I break internally

At what you’ll take as you go
a love I will no longer know

a purpose lost to Winds divine
beauty in studying undefined

I’m left with numbers, facts and lines
and no beauty in the now defined

Diamante: Bittersweet
Bitterness
Sharp, spiteful
Lingering, twisting, building
Resentment, regret, elation, energizing
Cloying, sweeping, dawning
Saccharine, sincere
Sweetness

Pastoral/Free Verse: From the Top
The raven circles, and its wingtip carves out
a whole city from the sea of buildings below
It circles again and another jurisdiction is outlined
in rippling air
The sun reflects not off a skyscraper a bit taller than the rest
but the entirety of metallic downtown
You are a dot the same size as any other dot
But you are above
And they are below
And suddenly the world has opened up before you

Pantoum: Unicorn
Cresting the sea, the ship bows its head
The storm flashes white and the clouds rumble their fury
Pale-faced sailors still mumble their dread
The Captain shouts orders out sharp, in a hurry

The storm flashes white and the clouds rumble their fury
Night settles down and stifles direction
The Captain shouts orders out sharp, in a hurry
A rushed attempt to prepare some protection

Night settles down and stifles direction
The veiled ocean roils as seamen stand fast
A rushed attempt to prepare some protection
From darkness comes threatening, a pirate ship mast

The veiled ocean roils as seamen stand fast
The storm flashes white and the clouds rumble their fury
From darkness comes threatening, a pirate ship mast
The Captain shouts orders out sharp, in a hurry

Part 2 - Essays: 511 words
For this activity, you'll have to write a 500 word essay about an unpolitical topic.

(Can you tell I was really grasping at straws lmao)

Numerous studies have been conducted on Seasonal Affective Disorder and how it affects people who become more depressed in the winter. The lack of sun deprives people of Vitamin D and dopamine levels go down. However, there are people who enjoy the winter and its weather; and for good reason, too. Though it may lack sun, overcast and dreary weather is the best kind of weather.

The atmosphere and chance to slow down that dreary weather provides means that it is the foremost environment for one to stop and contemplate, whether by yourself or with friends and family. Firstly, the weather is a great excuse to relax, whether with your family or yourself! The 21st century is constantly moving and it doesn’t leave much room for anyone to really sit down and take a break; the lack of sun allows you to brush off such things as “why aren’t you mowing the lawn” and “we need to go shopping” and sit down to take a deep breath. The fog and rain carry with them less “what you need to do” societal expectations that come with the sun. If you would still like to work, though, the wet can help with that too: you won’t have to worry about your friends asking you to hang out or feeling guilty about not enjoying the nice weather. Second of all, darkening clouds bring an undeniable atmosphere—whether you feel they are depressing or fascinating, when the sky darkens you notice. There's stillness and peace, and the feeling that time’s stopped makes it easier to be able to just watch the world go by from the window without feeling self-conscious. Less people are outside, so you can just soak it all in without thinking about responsibilities or society. Although some people may say that sunlight is more uplifting and healthy, other types of weather also carry the unfortunate side effect of being fussy to deal with: snow requires bundling up, bright light requires sunscreen. If you’re going to go out all you need to do to deal with overcast skies is pull on a rain jacket and go. Dreary weather does not require much thinking to be enjoyed—if you’re tired you can just let your imagination drift. It has a presence that most other types of weather do not and this brings plenty of artistic inspiration to play with: is it a setting for a horror story? A murder mystery? The flexibility of dreariness far eclipses that of other weather: you can think or not, go outside or not, or be anywhere in between. And them’s the facts. The respite and artistic merit of overcast weather provide ample opportunity to catch that break that you’ve been needing.

Even if you enjoy the brightness that summer weather brings, dreary weather cannot be beat. So the next time the clouds move overhead and it threatens to rain, instead of pouting, pull out some fuzzy blankets. Gather some family and play video games or sit by the window, watch the fog ripple, and enjoy the quiet before the storm.

Part 3 - Scripts: 1030 words
Pick out an old piece of your own writing to adapt into a script. Then, think about how you'd adapt it into a script for a play and start writing a script based on it, at least 700 words long.

(gosh I hate this so much but I don’t have anything else that works for a script and I just realized I never came up with a name for the main character whoops)


Open to an empty stage, with no background or props. A spotlight illuminates downstage center, where OLDER MADISON/NARRATOR is either already standing or walking to from the wings. She faces forward, directly addressing the audience as she begins her story.

NARRATOR: You know that stereotype of the wild young generation who are all ‘yeah, screw tradition! New things are cool!’ and whatnot? Yeah, that stereotype.
I hate it. It’s so fundamentally untrue, and the psychology behind it is all wrong too— young people don’t hate traditions but the way they are enforced, and they push against it from a need for freedom and understanding of why the tradition is there in the first place. If it’s outdated of course they’re going to replace it, they won’t understand why it’s there. If it’s not, then they’ll leave it be once they realize it's harmless.
Being a young'un myself, how do I know, you ask? Well see, where I come from there’s this one tradition: clearly over-extravagant and to us youth seemingly unnecessary. Until one year, we realized just how important it was. It’s quite the story. Maybe then you’ll understand what I mean?

NARRATOR slowly walks to downstage right with the spotlight following as she continues. Behind her, a seaside village begins to take shape: the background is moved in, set pieces and props are brought onstage, townsfolk (background actors) walk about working and talking with each other. They all seem to be preparing for something: some people are carrying big barrels of ingredients while others are planning out decorations. No matter what they are doing, everyone is very busy.

NARRATOR: See, in our little village the sea was really important. It was our livelihood and the only thing that was beautiful about where we were situated; and if you don’t believe me, you could talk to anyone in town and you’d find that they agreed. The traditions we had surrounding it, none of my friends—which was all the kids in town, I did say our village is tiny—minded all that much. We could get through the family fishing trips and the annual shore expeditions because we understood just how important the sea was in everything we did.
The one thing we couldn’t stand was the winter solstice celebrations- it all seemed so over-the-top and pointless. It wasn’t Christmas or New Year’s Eve or some other big holiday to celebrate, so why? The massive trays of food everyone would bring out into the village square, the crazy dancing, the time it took to plan everything and put up the decorations all seemed so unnecessary for a date so small.

NARRATOR pulls out a chair from the wings and sits down in the corner of the stage as the set moves (stage right to stage left) from the village to that of a small home. Chairs are set up around a wooden dining table in the center, where YOUNG MADISON, MOTHER, AND FATHER are eating dinner.

NARRATOR: The very first time this occurred to me, I was 11. The natural thing I did at that age was to ask my parents, so that night over the dinner table, I piped up:

MADISON: (nervously looking up from her soup) Hey… So, um, why do we celebrate the winter solstice?

A beat of confused silence.

FATHER: …What do you mean? Like, why do we have so much food or…?

MADISON: (shaking her head) No, I mean like why do we celebrate such a pointless date? I don’t think I’ve read—

MOTHER: (interrupting) Oh, you mean why do we celebrate on the winter solstice. We don’t celebrate the winter solstice itself, my dear, but what happens on it.

MADISON frowns and stirs her soup, contemplating whether she should give in to the bait.

MADISON: And what do we celebrate on the winter solstice, Mom?

MOTHER: (with a grin and wide flourish dangerously close to the soup) Why, the coming of the Halcyon, of course!

MADISON: (flatly) “The Halcyon”. Care to explain what that is?

FATHER: (with curiosity) Haven’t you noticed the kingfisher that nests out on the sea every night during the solstice? I thought you would have, you’re usually quite observant.

MADISON: (indignantly) …No.

MOTHER: (increasingly excited) Well it does, and legend says that it calms the waters of the ocean so it can lay its eggs.

MADISON and moves a little bit further away from the table, just in case soup goes flying.

MADISON: Uh huh. A magical bird that controls the sea. Sure.

MOTHER: (winks) And yet somehow, we haven’t had a winter storm in this town in the last 40 years.

FATHER notices MADISON’s movement and quickly follows her lead.

MADISON: (with incredulity) You mean the same halcyon has been coming to this town for the last 40 years? That can’t be possible.

FATHER: Of course it’s not the same. (huff) Some of the more observant fishermen have noticed the markings have changed over time. It’s a different bird every few years or so, but they still come back.

MADISON: (deadpan) So each solstice, we celebrate a halcyon that makes sure our entire village doesn’t get wrecked and we waste a ton of food and time in the process.
Sure. Okay. Makes sense. I’m going to bed.

MADISON gets up, shoves her chair in, and storms offstage. If you have room to make a staircase that goes off then she exits that way, but if not then she can simply leave through the wings,

MOTHER and FATHER remain in their seats, worried.

MOTHER: (hushed) Should we tell her?

FATHER: (hushed) You mean how the one year the halcyon didn’t show 40 years ago was because our generation was just as skeptical as she is?

MOTHER: Yeah, that.

FATHER: I think it’s alright. (moves back to normal position by the table) I can alert the others that the halcyon probably won’t show up this year, and we can prepare for any storms that may come. They weren’t too big last time, after all. Best she learns from experience.

As the curtains close, the spotlight goes back to the NARRATOR sitting in the corner.

NARRATOR: And that is exactly what I did.

Part 4 - Non-Fiction: 822 words
Write two non-fiction writing pieces of different types in different styles. Each piece should be at least 400 words.

Piece 1: The Beginning of the Meiji Restoration
Leading up to the 20th century, Japan’s history was filled with long periods of on-and-off war. The combined effect of its feudal system and isolation from the rest of the world left plenty of room for samurai to wage war. After a long period of peace this conflict was brought to a head in the Meiji Restoration, the process of Japan’s modernization.

In 1603, the Tokugawa family came to power after 148 years of civil war. Though the Emperor was still technically the head of the state, Tokugawa Ieyasu became the Shogun, the head of the military. The massive amounts of samurai now under his leadership meant he effectively held true authority over Japan, and together with his new government, the Shogunate, he went to great pains to establish stability after the catastrophic conflict. One of the more impactful actions they took was to establish the sakoku foreign policy, which stopped any Japanese people from leaving Japan and kept all foreigners out (except for the Dutch, who the Japanese continued to trade with at one open port). For the next 265 years Japan was under the dictatorship of the Tokugawa Shogunate (called the Edo Period), peace prospered. However, in this time it also became stagnant: the feudal system Japan continued to use meant there was little economic change. The country was only centralized, not unified. Peasants starved to pay taxes to their daimyos (feudal lords) that varied wildly from region to region, all to fund the samurai, a warrior class that was no longer needed.

Dissent was already brewing when in 1853 Commodore Matthew Perry of the United States showed up on the Japanese coast with an entourage of gunships. America had been looking for some land to claim as their own to follow in the European Empires’ footsteps, and eventually they went so far west that they reached Japan. With their technology far ahead of the feudal country’s, they proceeded to demand the Shogunate open Japan to the world. Seeing no other alternative to being absolutely devastated by America’s weapons, Tokugawa Yoshinibu reluctantly allowed them to enter. Sensing a weakness, the other European empires hot off the heels of the Opium Wars in China joined in on the fun and forced Japan to open to them while giving unreasonable diplomatic benefits. These included complete diplomatic immunity to foreign merchants and politicians, free movement for merchants, and footing the bill for all foreign ship upkeep.

Piece 2: How to Conduct Research
Knowing how to properly research is an essential skill for anyone who writes essays, presentations, debates, or any other statements that require facts and statistics. When you're first getting to know your subject the process is rather simple; you have the internet at your fingertips, after all. Search some key words and you'll most likely find plenty of articles and videos to help you get the information you need. Besides checking the validity of your sources, there is little work you need to do to get a basic understanding of the subject matter.

However, once you reach a certain level of depth in any topic, there is a small hurdle to clear before you get to the next few steps in your research: the world of academia. Scientific papers, journals, and books are a key part in gaining more complicated knowledge while staying up-to-date, but unfortunately the environment of competitive academia has made getting such pieces published very expensive and an absolute pain. Thus, many papers are hosted on websites where they are locked behind a paywall or shared only with students who have been given special accounts by their universities. This makes navigating available information very difficult for those who are not yet university students and do not have the means to pay.

But fear not dear reader, there are still some ways for people to access scientific materials that are not usually available to the general public.

1 - JSTOR.
JSTOR.org is a massive digital catalogue not just of scientific materials but many primary sources, photos, and resources. A fair share of its database (though not everything) is available to anybody just surfing the website and you can choose to search for just information relevant to you using its pretty solid filtering system. The key thing about JSTOR, though, is that you don't actually need to be part of a university to create an account and get access to everything on it: if you have one, you can use your Google xccount to sign in and look through all of the information JSTOR has to offer.

2 - Contact the author.
If you are searching the internet and find a paper behind a paywall/university access that isn't also on JSTOR, the best solution is to contact the author directly. Most authors are eager to share their work and if you can write a formal xmxxl explaining who you are and why you'd like access to the research they will probably just send it to you directly.

(Completed Mar. 16th 2022— Collaboration)

Part 1 - Collab. Story: 368 words
In the first part of this weekly, we'll be doing a short warm up that requires a partner! Choose someone to pair up with and on either person's profile or perhaps a studio, write a short story together by taking turns posting comments with continuations of each other's stories. Continue the story with your partner until both of you have written 300 words each!

(Done with the amazing @Elvin_Wonders! The story is still technically in progress but we have both passed the 300 word mark.)

Sun:
When the sky broke, Rowan was out on the street trying to deal with a particularly vivacious stray cat. The bold animal had decided that their jacket was a good nesting place, and in wrestling with the stray Rowan was not paying attention when reality around them began to tear at the seams and bleed out in blazing streaks of light. Before they knew what was happening, a hand reached out from the corner of their peripheral vision and everything turned black.

***

When the sky broke, Jeremiah was out in his fishing boat, coasting across the waves of the sea as the shore faded away behind him. The last thing the fisherman saw before his breath hitched and his eyes closed were the glowing ribbons of his world unravelling into the blue and a hand outstretched through the light. As he faded he briefly wondered if this was going to be the end of his boring and unfulfilled life, or if it was a second chance like all those reincarnation stories.

Elfie:
Gradually, the darkness seemed to lose its enormity as it morphed into a space dimly illuminated by a burning wick. As Rowan grew accustomed to the gloom, it occurred to them that a major portion of the floor, if not all of it, was inlaid with ornate tiles. The flame flickered, and they leant forward, subduing the panic that was threatening to consume them. It was only as their fingers traced the ground that they realized that it was covered with downturned cards. Their movement seemed to trigger a sort of magic—for the space was silent no more. An invisible force pushed them against the wall, and all at once, the humanlike figures that surrounded them became glaringly apparent. A gentle purr sounded in their ears, and they reached upward to pat the cat that, in a moment of daring, had so fiercely clung to them. They were glad for it now. ‘Uh, so I’m new to this but I’m supposed to help or something. Draw the sixth card from your left to find out whom They've paired you with.'

Sun:
Rowan stiffened as the cat that clung to them so tightly spoke. With all of the other bizarre occurrences, they supposed that this was probably not the weirdest thing to happen today. They apprehensively bent down to observe the sea of cards; the backs looked similar to that of a standard deck, but they were intricately inlaid with complex patterns of gold that shone in the soft glow of the candle. For a brief moment Rowan wondered if they should ignore the cat’s instruction to try and break whatever game was happening before they decided against it and plucked the mentioned card from the top of the pile.

The card itself was simple enough, with a white background made from sturdy cardstock and coated in something similar to plastic. The image in the center, however, was just as painstakingly detailed as the back: a fishing boat with large sails but an engine in the back, bouncing on translucent teal waves outlined in rising white foam. Behind the boat was a simple Star of David, framing the ship with shining gold. Rowan widened their eyes at this strange combination before the world tilted and darkness encroached once more.

Elfie:
First, he was subjected to the indefinite monotony of the billowing sea crests, each day rolling into the next, his schedule unwavering—down to the very number of fish he entrapped. Then a strange hand dragged him away from the dullness that time had taught him to call serenity, only to be deposited in a white room smelling vaguely of trout and strewn with cards. Dimly, he recalled deadpan faces staring him down and a talking shrimp insisting that he draw a card. Now, he faced a crystal mirror bounded by wrought iron. His feet seemed rooted to the ground, and his neck refused to budge, forcing him to gaze at the partial illusion before him. He would have put on his glasses, but the unseen coils that bound him refused to let him draw them out of his pocket. Heaving a deep breath, Jeremiah peered into the depths of the looking glass. The closer he looked, the more the lines blurred, until at last they were reduced to splashes of colour that turned into shapes. At the end of a long line of dominoes, was seated a child with a cat perched on their shoulder. There was something in the way they clasped and unclasped their fists, their eyes firmly shut, that triggered a memory, or perhaps an emotion, but Jeremiah couldn’t put his finger on it.

Part 2 - Character: 553 words
For this section, you’ll be creating a protagonist! Start by giving your character a name, an age, and a species. Then develop a personality for the character!

Personality and Traits: 200 words
Wants, Hopes, and Strengths: 200 words
Dislikes and Fears: 100 words


Name: Alasdair Severedsong
Age: 356
Species: Elf

Personality and Traits: Alasdair is considered pretty young for an elf, around the late 20s in human years. He has, however, taken full advantage of his long lifespan to travel far and wide in the world he lives in. He is very curious about society and civilizations and different cultures and how they work, and has learned as much as he can about the many people who inhabit the world. His experiences have given him a strong sense of justice and clear morals (feel free to experiment with those) and he is not afraid to stand up for those who need it. Though naturally introverted, Alasdair has found that plenty of people are willing to talk about their cities and cultures if asked and as a result he has become pretty street smart, persuasive, and experienced with human interaction. Conversely, his travels have alienated him from his own people, who see him as a weirdo and irresponsible drifter who has left them behind. Alasdair is very much a wanderer, though: he can never stay in one place for too long and thus has to sever any connections he has made when he moves from one place to another. He has many, many memories of people he has left behind and he often wonders about how any one person he has met is doing (even if he met them 100 years ago, and they are most likely dxxd).

Wants, Hopes, and Strengths: Alasdair more than anything wants to be someone who can incite societal change for the better. He however does not trust himself to make such important decisions correctly and so he keeps learning and learning desperately in hope that he will one day be able to have enough context to truly make objectively ‘good’ calls. Growing up in the extremely judgemental Elven society meant that young Alasdair quickly learned the value of an open mind, and though he has spoken with enough people to know how unrealistic it is, he hopes for a world where everyone is treated equally and fairly. If he wanted to, though, Alasdair probably could talk his way into a leadership position: he is quite calm and logical, as well as his years of travel teaching him how to use rhetoric, be well-spoken, and change his language for specific situations. Along with his belief in justice this makes Alasdair very effective at verbally obliterating anyone who he sees as in the wrong, swaying public opinion and vitriolically defending anyone he thinks deserves it. The knowledge and life experience he has gathered adds to his ability to outmaneuver his opponents with the sheer amount of connections he can make.

Dislikes and Fears: Alasdair detests people who choose to be willfully ignorant of their society and situation, and loathes even more the people who choose to be purposefully evil. He can be very cold and aloof towards those he deems morally beneath him and he will not waste his time trying to understand anyone who is too far into his “amoral” zone. This is fueled partly by Alasdair's fear that he will become morally corrupt himself, swayed to treacherous acts if he empathizes too much with what they are going through. This is something Alasdair knows he will have to confront eventually; he needs to know what drives them in order to reshape the system so that they are not created.

Part 3 - Setting: 456 words
In this section, you will be coming up with a setting! This will include where and when the event will happen, and the conditions of the current moment (like weather). This section must be at least 400 words long.

(You don’t have to include Sherlock Holmes in this if you don’t want to, but of course I’m going to insert him into some steampunk lmao)


It is 1896, and smog rules the world.

It swoops down to smother the citizens of London nearly every hour of the day, coating the cobblestone streets in a wet blanket of secrets and cloaking the many criminals who prowl at all hours of the day. It pumps from the machinery of the many factories in the city, pours from the exhaust pipes of the steamships in the air. It muffles the sound of the clock tower as its chime echoes above the city and gives little dewdrop gems that nestle on the clothes of anyone who dares to go out. The fading red brick of London’s East End contrasts starkly with the ornate dull brass of wealthier Westminster. Horse-drawn carriages still clop along the streets, but now they are decorated with metal and machinery that shine in the dull grey of the smoke.

When the smog does lift, it is only so the clouds can rain heavier gems onto the passerby below, gems that shatter and soak into the very depths of people’s souls. Fog moving higher in the sky, gathering storm clouds, mean nothing but wet misery and everyone who can move inside when the storms come. Those who have nowhere to go are left to deal with the torrential rains, blustering winds, and freezing chill of London’s erratic weather.

Queen Victoria still reigns as Queen of England, overseeing the constant innovation and technological advancement made by the scientists who are sponsored by the wealthy to push the threshold for just how advanced the Steam Age can get. As a result, the current technology is a few decades ahead of usual.

What sees less oversight, though, is the crime that runs rampant out in the streets. Scotland Yard and the London Police Force are swimming in dozens of crime syndicates and mxrdxrs and thefts and anything the creative criminal can possibly imagine, taking advantage of much of the still not well understood technology to revolutionize crime. Law enforcement is struggling to keep up and it is not helped by their petty focus on small street crimes done by those desperate to survive.

Sherlock Holmes is some small respite in this, a man at the forefront of progress solving crimes and helping those he can with the aid of his partner Dr. Watson. But they are only two men in a sea of suffering, and as a kxllxr more ruthless and devastating than the rest prowls the streets, it is unknown to what lengths they will go in order to rid London of its spectres.

It is in this city where your protagonist finds themselves, a city hovering on the brink of a blurred battle between good and evil that threatens to consume them all.

Part 4 - Premise: 164 words
For this part, you'll be making up a premise - a plot hook, or situation, or concept that the story revolves around. Write a 150 word premise for someone else to use!


One day, when your protagonist is feeling a bit more down than usual, in trying to find something interesting to lift their spirits they find themselves in a part of their home that they haven't really been in that much (attic, basement, pocket dimension, whatever you prefer). Upon exploring this place a little they find a mysterious photo/hologram/note that seems to hold the details of an unsolved long-ago crime that is infamous throughout your chosen setting. The information shakes the character's world to the core: the crime set up the false government your character believed in, a now-dxxd mentor figure they respected turns out to have been a bad person, etc. and your character debates whether they should tell the world the truth or not as people who would see the information lost to time pursue them. In the end the other side gives the protagonist a tempting offer but they ultimately decide to share the information and live with the consequences.

Part 5 - Combination: 1565 words
It's time to write a final story! You won't be using the story elements you created though - you'll be choosing others'. Go check out the studios where everyone has commented their characters, settings, and premises, and choose at least one main character, setting, and premise. Your story must be at least 1000 words long.

Character: @Bellevue91
Setting: @jamient
Premise: @TheHawaiiGirl2


The bell rang, and that was Delara’s signal to run.

She hated this. Hated school, hated people, hated the way this system had been set up so that she had to go to this godforsaken intellectual prison of rock and stone every day and deal with society and flaws and people—

Well, she supposed, it was fair in a strange twisted way that that also meant her fellow adolescents were trapped in a system where they had to attend school every day with her. That was some karma if there ever was any.

The sharp shrieking clanged its way back into Delara’s consciousness and she muttered something to herself as she carefully wove her way through the pack. Her initiative and fast feet had meant that she had managed to make it to the school lobby before the halls had gotten too crowded, but now she was stuck there as everyone else had flooded in; Delara had to duck and weave to make sure she didn't stay in place for too long. Staying in place meant being crushed.

Gritting her teeth, she picked up the pace a little, locking on to exploitable gaps or places where two tall people left room for someone short to squeeze through. Delara felt a headache coming on and wanted to get out of here even faster than usual.

A sudden change in the atmosphere told her that she was outside and Delara heaved a sigh of thankfully not claustrophobic, sock-smelling fresh air. She pushed past the doors and quickly strode to the sidewalk, planning to pivot and walk home—

Her eyes locked on the other side of the street, or specifically the brown hair swishing through the air behind a maroon sweater and jeans, the black sneakers and small backpack. Delara staring openly couldn't see from here, but she knew the person's eyes were grey.

“No…” she breathed. “It can't be…”

And then the figure disappeared around the corner and was gone.



The bell rang, and that was Delara’s signal to run.

Except she didn’t, this time, because she couldn’t get yesterday out of her head. She was so, so sure that it had been her. It had to have been her, she didn’t know what she’d do if it hadn’t been her—

Standing up suddenly, the student grit her teeth as she forced herself out of the classroom where the stragglers at the end of the pack were just exiting the building and the hallways themselves were blissfully silent, blissfully empty.

Delara couldn’t stand it, and she hated herself for that sudden sentimentality. Seeing that person yesterday had completely thrown her off balance. She took a deep breath of the still rank air to remind herself of where she was (and what she was, alone alone alone alone); she was in a world she couldn’t stand (because it couldn’t stand her) and she had to harden herself to it. Onward and only ever onward. (She wasn’t real it was someone else your mind’s playing tricks on you you just won’t let go)

So she walked to the front doors and stepped out, trying not to let the scene that had happened here only 24 hours ago replay in her mind. Delara took another deep breath of much fresher air and turned to head home.

The wind at her back brought a name, whispered by one of the many little groups of people heading in the opposite direction toward the shops.

“Naomi…”

Delara took one more deep, shuddering, I-need-to-control-myself-it’s-fine-everything’s-fine breath and set off for home.



The bell rang, and that was Delara’s signal to run.

The train was leaving soon and if the student didn’t get on now, she wouldn’t have the chance to find out the truth. The only reason Naomi would have passed by Delara’s home was if she was going to take the train connecting the city to her hometown (their hometown). Screw it being Friday, screw being a minor all alone; she could handle herself and she had never cared about school anyway.

But her feet were still rooted to the ground, and her mind was awhirl in doubt that shouldn’t have been there.

(You’re lying to yourself it wasn’t her there’s no point your parents are going to be so mad just go back go back go back—)

The bell rang again, and Delara knew it was now or never.

Another deep breath of air, this time tainted with a bit of diesel and creosote, and she ran to the edge of the platform to latch onto the door handle and pull herself in.

Because she remembered jibes and youth and laughter hard-won
and despite how pessimistic she was, Delara was still naive enough to believe in promises.

She made her way through the train cars to find one not too close to the back or the front and a seat away from the window. The weather outside was not quite morose, but it was still overcast enough for her to want to avoid it; for now at least. Usually she didn’t mind the weather, however bad it was, but something strange and emotional in Delara’s heart today told her brain to just shut up and let the annoying pulsing muscle take charge.

She was in the process of choosing a seat when some faint humming that was far, far too familiar once again reached her ears, and the teenager shot to her feet in time to see a flash of brown hair in the doorway.

The train lurched to a start and Delara stumbled; it passed out of her sight and she was alone again.



With a sigh she stepped out onto the train station, not stopping to admire her hometown but immediately setting off towards the place.

A pang of nostalgia hit Delara as she passed by many of her old hauntings and noticed how many more were no longer there. It had only been four years and it still felt like so much had changed and yet nothing at all (everything changed she dixd SHE DIXD—). Still, she did not allow herself to stop and reminisce, pushing onward to the little hilly park she knew was on the outskirts of the town.

If her hunch was right (not right not right not right), she knew who would be there.

When she at last reached the block of green and shrubbery, Delara wove her way through the paths and the trees to the hill in the center, just a little bit higher than the rest.

Once again brown hair and a loose sweater fluttered in the breeze, and with a strange sensation of both floating and sinking the teenager knew she had been right.

“Naomi?” She burst out, hurrying up the incline.

The girl turned, eyes narrowing slightly as she stepped back. “You came.”

Something in Delara’s brain short-circuited (or perhaps went into overdrive?) and she faltered but continued up as her mind worked overtime to connect the dots.

Data. She could work with data. “You set this up, didn’t you? You faked your own dxxth, came by at a time when I could see you, made me promise to meet you here so long ago…”

“Yep.” Naomi replied with a coldness that took Delara a second to realize was actually foreign: she had gotten so used to being given the cold shoulder by the world that she had forgotten that she had barely ever been given it by her friend. (Friend no longer.)

“And you waited four years to set up a reunion?” Delara bristled. (Oh, look at you doing what you know best. Starting with criticism right off the bat.)

“Yep.” Her friend popped the “p” this time, letting it jut out like a sword into Delara’s heart. (Why do you care why do you care stop caring so much—) “Should I have done something sooner?”

She exploded upward, pushing her way to the top of the hill next to Naomi. “Yes! You left me alone for four years and just waltzed around, free, and you knew how much it would hurt me—”

“Yep!” A bit more cheerfully this time, with a hint of vindictiveness that Delara couldn’t understand.

“ Why didn’t you didn’t tell me—”

“Why would I want to? All you ever did was whine and criticize and push me away. What did you ever do to deserve this?”

Delara stopped in her tracks. “I—”

“You actually went to the effort to chase after me, so I assume you cared a little bit. So one chance. One chance and one chance only.” Naomi huffed. “It took me four years to decide whether or not to do this, as you are so fond of pointing out, so here is the one offer you seem to want so desperately. Come with me, fake your dxxth as I did, and leave it all behind. Everything. The criticism and pessimism and who you once were. You kept complaining to me when we were younger that you wanted to see the world as it truly is. So stop staring at it through your bitter lens, shut up, and let me show you.”

A tense silence as Delara stood dumbstruck. She had forgotten that Naomi could be just as sharp as she was.

Maybe having someone that would actually criticize her back could be good.

Maybe it would be okay if she started over.

(+3106 words)

(Completed Mar. 23rd 2022—Incorporating ideas into writing)

Part 1 - Music: 937 words
We will start off for this weekly with a workshop made by the amazing Sun. The workshop can be found at this link and it explores inspiration from writing that can be found in music.

After reading the workshop, you'll be taking inspiration from two separate pieces of instrumental music and writing the beginnings of two separate stories. Each story needs to be at least 400 words.

1 - Apotheosis (Traveler: 10th anniversary Journey Symphony) by Austin Wintory, 456 words

The wind whips by gently, and {Redacted} takes a moment to breathe as much of it in as they can. Standing where they are, here in this pocket space between one world and another, they know that there is no way for anyone else to get hurt.

But still their heart pounds in their chest, adding to the familiar thrum of adrenaline in {Redacted}’s mind. So many things could go wrong. They could break their home, they could lose control, they could hurt {redacted}—

Deep breathes. In and Out.

This is just a practice. Just the two of them, alone and controlled. They’ll be fine.
{Redacted} will be fine.

Another few breaths and the door on the other side of the room swings wide open; {redacted} strides in sheepishly, hand rubbing at the back of his neck.

Late like always, {Redacted} thinks with a grin, and another pang of fear they can’t quite explain rattles through their body.

They put their hand up before their partner can say anything—they’ve had enough time now to take in this calm before the storm, and the last thing they need right now is for something to break the equilibrium.

I’m fragile enough as it is, {Redacted} thinks bitterly. For once in their partnership of connected minds, {redacted} does not answer. Glad we’ve got that sorted out, at least, they think into the void.

{redacted} simply smiles and nods as he reaches his position in the sparring room, the only acknowledgment of what {Redacted} just thought. It's all they need.

Another beat, another knowing look into each other’s eyes, and something is understood at the same time.

They both begin pulling in the magic, pushing their feet back into a battle stance and preparing steps ahead; all the while the familiar warmth of possibility is pushing their way through their bodies, muscles tensing at holding in as much as they can. They’ll need as much as they can get, after all.

{redacted} is just a tad bit brighter than {Redacted}, and the latter grits their teeth as they feel the pulsing magic reach a limit they know is far too low. They’re tempted to keep pushing as {redacted} continues to gather out of the corner of their eyes, but they know that they won’t make it very far in this fight if they do. So they stand in stasis as they are, waiting for an unspoken signal as they struggle to keep it all in without breaking.

There is no sign of anything that could be taken as a sign, but it comes, and they know it.

They both look up at the same time, eyes glinting, and shoot forward—the light circling their forms leaving trails in their wake.

2 - “.” by dodie, 481 words
The mist settles gently over the mirrored surface of the water, leaving little pearls of liquid attached to the reeds and lily pads around the edges of the lake. The air muffled by fog settles heavily in the absence of sound or disturbance: no birds are chirping, there is no breeze to rustle the tree branches, no rain to pummel the ground with exploding pellets. The water's surface is utterly undisturbed and clear enough to reflect the calm world of grey sitting above.

Everything is still. Everything is silent.

Small ripples begin to spread across the lake—little undulations that grow bigger and bigger across the now aggravated water, slapping against the rocky shoreline. The source of this disturbance soon becomes clear: from the fog emerges a group of bright snow white swans gliding effortlessly across the surface. Their webbed feet, unseen below the cloudy grey of the lake, push the water aside to make room for their entrance as the fowl slowly spread about the wide area.

Behind them, more humble in their exit from the mists are the ducks, passing more slowly through the mirror and filling in all the gaps the swans left open. They take advantage of what space they can find and find joy in what they have.

Though the water and the air are no longer undisturbed, there is still a peace.

Time flies when one is having fun, and in this shared recreation time the only activity is the elders’ amusement at the joy of the young fowl in their first lake swim since the winter began. The lake is no longer frozen-over ice, and the mists are bringing sorely needed moisture to the ground and the plants that will soon spring from it. Shared revelry to celebrate a shared excitement for the times ahead seems only right.

Alas, it does not last: a cygnet bumps into a duckling a little bit too strongly and then everyone is all over each other, the rage of the honking ducks and wildly flapping swans bleeding out into the water. Waves emanate from the center and surge through the water to build into mini walls of emotion that splash onto the grass outside.

It takes the best mediators on both sides to pry apart the standoffish parents so eager to go to war, to calm them down enough for the tsunamis to settle into wide ripples that gently rock everyone in the vicinity of such a sudden display of wrath.

One that just as quickly dissipated into thin air.

Air that is still slightly tense with the thought of harsh honks and sharp gestures. An unspoken agreement is made and the two families split off into their own directions, giving each other time to blow off steam.

Through the dim fog both in the air and their minds, nobody notices a stray flash of white among the grey.

Part 2 - Inspiration: 790 words
For part 2, instead of finding inspiration from music, you will be able to learn how to find inspiration anywhere and how to turn it into a story, taught by Vi here.
This part of the weekly, your task is to find inspiration from anything and write a 700 word piece turning it into a story.

Adding to my fanfic daily, I think that’s allowed?? Inspo from the characters and story of The Great Ace Attorney Chronicles


Barok van Zieks glared daggers at the letter on the other side of his desk. It had only just arrived by the virtue of that short female inspector and her dog; Lestrade, he thought it might be? Yes, that’s right— she was always hanging out with Sholmes and had apparently been Gregson’s protégé before—

best not think about that.

No, Lord van Zieks was thinking about that letter because Lestrade had delivered it with a gruff “Iris ‘anted me to give this to ya” and now all he could think about was the blasted pink paper with the elaborate scrawl in black ink on the top. He was supposed to be working, *, and he had promised himself he would read it only after he had finished going through the file of the case he was going to prosecute tomorrow.

(But it was from his niece—)

It was probably something trivial, anyway, there was no reason for Iris to write to him of all people—

(She had said that she actually wanted to see him—)

and he had better things to be doing, so he took a deep, shuddering breath and pushed it out of his mind.



It was an invitation, to dinner at Baker Street. Apparently the attorney Naruhodo (he defended you and found the truth you owe him more than that—) and his assistant were leaving for Japan, and Iris had wanted to gather anyone who she thought had enough emotional stake in the matter to say goodbye.

(So not him.)

“Oh, you got one of those too?” Kazuma interrupted his thoughts from the doorway, the coat over his shoulders clearly signifying the intention of leaving. In his hand was a similarly bright piece of paper.

“I was not aware that you had finished working,” the elder prosecutor shot sharply back. * it, now that Asougi had seen him with the open letter he would be expected to come. If he didn’t, his protege would tell her and she’d be disappointed. (He’d disappointed her already.)

The younger prosecutor raised his eyebrows. “Well, I have,” he retorted. “So I’m going. Are you coming with me or not?”

“I— Wha—” Barok’s brain short-circuited for a moment. Going… with… him? “I— I have work I need to attend to, I’ll join you later—”

“Don’t kid yourself, we both know you won’t show up.” Asougi scoffed. “Come on.”

He moved over to the other side of van Ziek’s desk, and Barok barely had enough time to scramble out of his chair and into the corner before Kazuma could grab his arm and drag him along. “Hey, what’re you—!”

“It says 6 pm on the card, we’re not going to get there in time unless we leave now.”

Ah.

“Still, that’s not necessary—”

“Come on!” Kazuma huffed, already halfway out the door.

* it. With a sigh, Barok mentally prepared for dealing with his niece and strode out the door.



Riding with his protege in the cab strangely made it easier for Lord van Zieks to relax. Asougi seemed so at ease with this whole situation, so it was some comfort to be arriving with someone who knew what he was doing.

Dealing with a genius 10-year-old, that is.

The carriage came to a stop, and Prosecutor Asougi paid the cab driver as they exited out to the cobble steps of Baker Street, right in front of 221b.

This is it.

With no hesitation Kazuma walked right up to the door and knocked, before Barok had the chance to say anything.

It opened barely a second after he did, startling both prosecutors.

“Oh! Iris.” Asougi exclaimed, while van Zieks busied himself with trying to hide himself around the corner. Maybe if he wasn’t seen she would—

“Hi Zuma, is Barry coming?” The doctor smiled easily back.

“Oh! Yes, yes he was just—” “Zuma” glanced around, clearly searching for him.

Wonderful, he can’t see me—

“Oh, why hello Lord van Zieks!” A deeper voice echoed from above, and the prosecutor looked up to see Herlock Sholmes staring at him from a window on the second floor.

Great, just great.

“A pleasure to see you so thoroughly investigating the secrets of our bushes,” the so-called Great Detective continued cheerfully, “I’m sure you’ll find plenty of things to pique your interest.”

Barok had barely any time to ponder the implications of that statement before Asougi and Iris ran around the corner.

“There you are! Come on, let’s go inside!” Iris giggled. “I need to watch the food.”

Kazuma only stared at his mentor with a raised eyebrow, clearly not planning to have any of it.

Barok van Zieks resigned himself to his fate and allowed himself to be guided into the warmth of 221b Baker Street.

Part 3 - Themes: 1091 words
And finally, we’ll end this weekly with a stunning workshop by Elfie! It explores the usage of themes in your writing; you can find it here.
When you’ve finished reading it, choose one story from a previous part of this weekly that you’d like to keep writing. Refine and/or continue that piece in at least 1000 words, incorporating themes.

Continuing the Apotheosis piece from Part 1
Theme(s): Conquering fear and pushing past your limits for the sake of growth, divinity (a bit)
(This messes with the timeline a bit but who cares emotional growth aksdjfhkads)


They start as they always do, clashing briefly in the middle before pulling back and circling, their colours entwining in their peripheral vision as they tune everything else out. Plans are finalized, pupils briefly flash gold for a last evaluation, and then {Redacted} steps down a little harder than usual; {redacted} feels the vibration in the ground and steps back just in time to avoid ice exploding upward in a massive stalagmite. The ice has barely reached its peak before {Redacted} is already vaulting over it, pushing off the top to shoot down towards their opponent— the ice shatters as they do so and {redacted} is suddenly faced with an oncoming storm of glittering shards bathed in the harsh light of {Redacted}’s magic. He compresses air into a shield and lets the impact of {Redacted} landing on it ripple through the taught gas before releasing it: the sudden expansion blasts the cloaked figure backward
and then the two planeporters are pulled into the ebb and flow of the fight, the learned cadence of a person they know so well, steps that have been done before in matches long since past.

{Redacted} lets themselves be pulled into the motions that have become muscle memory after years— no, centuries— of nothing but fighting and fighting and fighting. They know this is what they’re supposed to be doing, but they can’t stop the nagging feeling in their chest that this isn’t right. Stuck in the cycle of releasing magic and pulling it back in over and over again and nothing more even though there should be more and there chest is screaming wrong, wrong, WRONG—

Or maybe that’s just pain, and {Redacted} has gotten so used to it they’ve forgotten what that actually feels like.

Their capacity is getting slightly bigger each time, they can feel that much, but the porter is not quite sure if it’s growing or just stretching further and further and further until it snaps.

Or rather they do know but they are afraid of what they don’t—how to change it so that it’s the former.

They’re fighting so that {Redacted} can figure out how to get the former, and hopefully maybe even a little more.

The porter grits their teeth, ignores the protests from their chest and pushes farther, trying to detach from their thoughts and drop fully into the rhythm of the magic.

They stay that way for a while, holding their own with neither side really able to get far ahead. {Redacted} slowly begins to stop measuring their magic intake so carefully, starting to focus fully on not focusing at all. They can do this, they can get better if they stop worrying all the time and—

Something snaps, searing pain coursing through their lungs on a scale they haven’t felt in forever and they can’t breathe THEY CAN’T BREATHE—

The lull of the magic is still there, and in a small moment of strange pain-addled clarity {Redacted} reaches for what they know caused it in the first place, instead of letting go as they always have.

They don’t notice that {redacted} has stepped back, his look of concern slowly shifting to one of genuine joy.

{Redacted} feels the pull of the magic that has scarred them so much and they grasp it,

thinking in a language the magic will understand:
You will not break me anymore.

They gather in as much as they can and the fight begins anew, except this time there is a stability in the porters’ fighting that wasn’t there before, an understanding of magic and how they are using it.

{Redacted} has a few moments to be grateful for how their partner is both following and leading, how {redacted} figured out the balance first and is now helping them through it, before they put that aside and return to feeling the magic.

And it’s fun. The porters push and pull at a pace that their contemporaries could not match, trying out new ideas and perfecting old ones, switching between styles and Wills without missing a beat. They laugh as they move at a level only the other could match and revel in experiencing magic in a way no one else can.

They give it their all, and the world spins.

{Redacted} can’t stop grinning; they're sustaining so much magic and using it well and they aren’t giving out they aren’t giving out they’re doing it they’re doing it in a way they haven’t since before the injury.

And they just keep using more and more, their body thrumming with so much magic it’s no longer clear who’s directing who.


The magic whispers back:
Then perhaps we can show you instead?

{Redacted} comes to a full stop, the light around them radiating absolute euphoria, and {redacted} understands.

Yes. {Redacted} responds,
and they give in fully to the call.


Standing— or rather, floating— where {Redacted} was is a being of pure magical flame, eyes fully shining bright white light through holes in an intangible ribbon-like mask. The cloak has become wings whose ends drift off into the air like cinders, while the porter’s body itself is now just a vaguely defined shape flickering in and out of reality.

The head turns toward him, and {redacted} smiles and pulls off the bycxcket that he is never seen without.

It vanishes, magic swirls around him too, and a familiar phoenix-like blaze floats in his place.

The two beings cannot smile, but they do understand.

A final beat passes and then the two condensations lunge at each other in a burst of light. Fighting on a plane unknown to mortal eyes.

Though in a way, they are no longer mortal.

A few seconds pass of raw magical tussling, though to the two they feel like lifetimes,
one of which is abruptly ended when something in {Redacted} finally gives out and their connection to the magic is severed.

They drop onto the group, themselves once more; throbbing chest and all.
{Redacted} heaves one big breath of air they hadn’t realized they were missing before a flick of their wrist returns their glowing firebird mark to their right forearm.

They can’t stop themselves from grinning wide ear-to-ear.

{redacted} returns too, though willfully this time, and who knows how much time passes with the pair just sitting together silently, regaining their breath and their thoughts and their pure, unadulterated joy.

“I did it,” gasps {Redacted}.

“Yeah,” grins {redacted}.

“Without losing control.”

“Yep.”

Wordlessly, the both of them acknowledge the passing of something good
and the birth of something great.

(+2818 words, 685 of which have already been added)

(Completed Mar. 30th 2022— Generated story!)

Part 1 - Setup: 812 words
https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/664848190/
This is a card generator that you will use to begin a story. Now, for the way your generated card represents the different aspects of your story:

1 - Characters: 603 words
Numbers correlate with the age of your character:
1-3 = 1-10
4-6 = 10-20
7-9 = 20-40
10 - queen = 40-60
king/ace = 60+

Suits correlate with the personality of your character:
♣ Clubs = Introvert
♠ Spades = Extrovert
♥ Hearts = Ambivert
♦ Diamonds = Omnivert

Once you have a character, you need to dive deeper into their personality in a 300-word biography. You need at least two prominent characters overall, so you'll have to write at least 600 words, 300 for each card you get.

5 of Hearts: Ambivert, 10-20 (300 words)
Sage Warren
17
A senior at a suburban high school, Sage Warren is 5'7 with brown eyes and hair. One of the top students in his grade, Sage is thorough and persistent with a good work ethic. He tries his best not to stand out too much, however, and is well-spoken and eloquent in a sort of quiet, unassuming way. Keeping up this persistence, however, has made him a bit weary and burnt out, and he’s now struggling to keep his energy up. Sage is also openly bi, and his relatively jovial and approachable nature has thus accrued a pretty decently sized circle of friends. The fact that he’s empathetic and emotionally intelligent by default has helped Sage keep those friends. However, being the only friend out of the closet and the one who has done the most research and understands general LGBTQ+ topics the best, Sage has become the “queer person” of his friend group and is thus expected to be the one to educate everyone. He doesn't really mind teaching, but he is getting a bit tired of this extrovert persona and the stereotypes that come with it. Adding this onto his school expectations, and Sage is just trying to keep himself afloat through application season.

In the free time he manages to scrape together, Sage tends to watch a lot of political video essays and spend time on the internet reading articles and opinions about current events. It’s caused him to become a bit cynical and cautious, but he enjoys forming opinions of his own and is constantly critical of both himself and his surroundings in an attempt to learn and grow from wherever he can. In the end, however, though he thinks about them a lot, Sage is very rarely upstanding or vocal about his opinions.

Queen of Hearts: Ambivert, 40-60 (303 words)
Jay Reviren
58
A retired science teacher living alone in the suburbs, Jay has always tried their best to be open-minded and keep abreast of recent scientific developments. The 6 feet height and grey eyes and streaked white-black hair makes them out to be more imposing then they seem, as Jay was a pretty caring and thoughtful teacher when they still taught. Being a very quick learner helped Jay immensely when they were working, and it continues to help them now; Jay has plenty of free time in retirement and has nothing to do with that time except feed their curiosity. This drive has given Jay a vast amount of knowledge and random trivia at their disposal, but they've also allowed it to go unchecked and Jay often blurts out questions instead of thinking before they speak.

Though not raised in a strictly conservative environment, Jay is evidence of a time when LGBTQ+ discussion started and ended at “it's bad the people are bad”. Now in the age of the information the teacher is rather adept at using the internet, trying to increase their (at the moment, limited) understanding and come to terms with their androgyny.

If Jay could have, they would have continued to teach on into their retirement years— but ultimately the double blow of the passing of their partner and their school laying off many teachers (including Jay) out of the blue reluctantly convinced Jay to stop working and focus on their family and home.

Despite their efforts it's been hard for the teacher to make friends in their old age, and though their relationships are alright Jay is not particularly close with anyone in their family. In their solitude Jay's become very insecure about human interaction and has resigned themselves to living out the rest of their days alone.

2 - Setting: 209 words
There will be two bars of color in the background when you generate your cards. These colors will determine your setting. Flesh this setting out in 150 words.

Navy blue and dark green.


It is colder, of course, than during the day. The stars are little replacement for the sun's warmth and bright radiation, and it shows in the now chilling winds whipping up the sand and the murky green tint of the water lapping at the shore.

The many stars unobserved by the clear, cloudless sky illuminate the heavens a deep dark blue, the little grains of light that mote the sky reflecting the cool grains of sand that shift underfoot.

If not for the wind, everything would be still; but is it not to be, and so the branches of the trees separating the beach and the rest of the world constantly rustle, the surface of the bay's water continues to roil and the clothes of anyone foolish to be out by the shore at 11 pm are fiercely whipped about.

Across the bay, on the other side of the sea the city is visible, the faint outline of tall metal towers outshone by the bright window lights still pockmarking their sides. The reminder of humanity, of civilization, is far away.

Here, there is nothing and no one but the call of the birds and the howling of the wind and the constant swaying of the trees.

No one yet.

3 - Practice: (432 words)
Once you have your characters and setting, do a freewrite with them for at least 400 words. You'll be continuing this story later in Part 2, so there actually is a maximum for this part - your freewrite should NOT go beyond 500 words.

(included in next part)

Part 2 - Playing: 1575
https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/663582530/
Welcome to the second part of the weekly! Now that you've created your characters and setting, it's time to write a story with them. We'll be doing this in the form of a board game. You start in the bottom right corner of the board. Roll the die by clicking the button and then click the squares next to you in order to move. Once you've used up your moves, an activity will appear in the box above the board! Continue playing until you've done six activities. You can either keep playing or continue your story freely until you reach 1500 words.

(there’s more i could write but i have lost all motivation and all six activities are there)

include a very spoiled pet / your character discovers the meaning of life / describe something without mentioning its appearance / give a character an object they always keep with them / add a description of the scene, describing three or more senses / write your protagonist in their comfort place when they're stressed


The halls inch closer, and it takes deep breaths by his locker for a boy to remember that they will not press in all the way. The bell is ringing and school is over but the crowd shoving against each other back and forth is spinning before his eyes and he has made it through the day and all he needs to do is breathe, breathe, because he still needs to make it through the week and the month and the year.

There were less questions than usual today. A voice echoes in his mind matter of factly, and the student grabs onto it as a tether and tries to ground himself. Less jeers. Fewer well-meaning queries that were a bit offensive in and of themselves and fewer people who think they know better carrying challenges to “debates”. More people who were just trying to find themselves and more interesting, critical questions and more people who were willing to have actual discussions.

Sage Warren stops, and breathes, and counts the people, counts the days. Fewer catcalls. Fewer classes until school ends.

Somehow, I have become the figurehead.

Sage Warren stops, and breathes, and heads out the door. School is over for today, and that’s all that matters.



As the sun filters through the blinds, it casts bleary stripes onto the wooden swirls of the boarded floor. Around the table, above these patterns on patterns, one chair has been pulled out to the side; the space on the table occupied by a dirty plate, a dull metal fork, and a small tub of ice cream slowly melting in the steady light. In this pulled out chair, staring morosely at the food that is no longer there, a man (though that does not feel quite right) wonders why everything feels wrong. He looks up and only just realizes that the other chairs are empty, pushed tight into the table and spots empty.

The wind whistles through the doorway— the blinds rustle against each other, the table creaks, the sun flickers, and

eyes blur. Chairs with no room suddenly hold people, two ethereal… ghosts? Ghosts— sit across and to the right of the first person, wavering slightly. The old man is not surprised, though he knows he should be.

The ghost to the right is beautiful in a way only a wise elder could be, smiling with a warm knowing.

She is not important, though— no, it is the one across from him.

Jay Reviren stares at the other mirrored (but not) them on the other side of the table and wonders who he is.



The stars shine brightly, brighter even than the radiant city lights across the harbour. The wind from earlier in the day is stronger now, throwing about anything loose left on the beach. The waves tumble and crash loudly against the shore, establishing a steady rhythm for night to settle to.

In this mini-tempest, Sage lets his toes dig into the sand, dragged behind the strangely energetic bundle of fur tethered to his hand.

"Ah, come on Pepper!" Hisses the student through grit teeth, though not without a hint of loving exasperation. Sage is bundled appropriately for a walk at 11 pm, warm sweaters and jackets layered on top of each other, as is the black-brown dog, clearly with care and attention. Pepper barks loudly and tugs at the leash again, and without any resistance Sage sighs, smiles and gives up control.

Pepper notices immediately and bounds off, dragging her owner off towards the first thing she’s smelled: a similarly bundled lone person sitting on a log, staring out at the waves.

“Oh, I’m sorry—!” Sage exclaims, embarrassed as Pepper barks excitedly and runs around in circles at the stranger’s feet.

“It’s alright,” the elder replies warmly, “I was getting a bit bored.”

An obvious lie, but Sage lets it slide anyway. “Well, we’ll continue on our way if it’s alright; I need to make sure this little ball of energy gets enough of it out.”

The stranger raises an eyebrow at Sage’s choice to do that at 11 pm, but instead blurts out, “what breed?”

“Oh, um— a corgi,’ the student replies, not without a bit of confusion.

“Ah,” is all the bundled man says. His hat is pulled down close to his eyes, though whether it is to hide his eyes or to hide behind, Sage cannot say.

The student does not manage to catch the slight blur, the tilt in reality, the strange mixing of time and the young woman playing with a small dog laughing,
“I love your path as it is. I love you as you are.”

“On second thought, I think I might need a break…” Sage doesn’t know what compels him to say this, but a gut feeling tells him he should.

“Sure, you’re welcome to.”

Jay can’t remember the last time they weren’t alone.

As the silence settles, the two simply sit and let the scene wash over them, remembering what it was like for them before. The nearby sound of the dog’s paws against the shifting sound, the further, overwhelming crash of the seafoam reaching for the top of the shore, clothes flapping restlessly as the wind howls, the sharp tang of salt in the air; the world offers its little magical mundanities, and the pair on the log inhale and take what tethers they can get.

“… So, uh— what brings out here so late in the evening?” Sage can’t believe he’s the one instigating conversation, but the partial silence between them is a weight he doesn’t like.

“The lack of people,” The older person shifts a bit, grinning cheekily.

The student rubs the back of his neck and chuckles, chagrined. “Oh…Whoops, sorry.”

“Ah, it’s fine!” The grin turns into a full chuckle. “Company is good for chilly nights anyways.”

Sage nods a small affirmative and withdraws within themselves to ponder asking a question before inhaling the cold air in again.

“… What’s your name?”

“Oh! I’m sorry, I haven’t introduced myself! My name’s Jay.” They turn to face Sage a bit more and return to his seemingly standard warm smile, though now the student can see it doesn’t quite reach their eyes. “And you?”

“S— Sage,” He answers. “Just out walking the dog during the only time I’m available.”

A brief flicker of interest shines in Jay’s eyes before it’s gone. “… Are you still in school, then?”

“High school, yes,” Sage nods, reaching out to wrangle his unruly blue wool scarf back into position around his neck. “Why do you ask?”

“Well; I suppose it’s because walking your dog at night means you’re pretty busy. and I used to teach at Anderson High so I think I was also just curious—”

“You used to be a teacher?” exclaims Sage, startling the excited Pepper who’s been playing around in the sand, forgotten up until this point.

“Yep.” Jay turns away slightly, clutching at something small around their neck. A locket or necklace, perhaps? “Retired now though, due to… unforeseen circumstances.” The grip around the strange dull metal thing tightened ever so slightly.

“… Oh.” Sage deflated a bit. “Is the thing around your neck associated with that?”

Jay’s eyes sharpened for a moment, the eyes of prey assessing a situation and planning a way out. “… Y— yes, it is. Don’t worry about it; it’s just a reminder, nothing more.”

They take a deep breath, and the magical mundanities, the tethers keeping the beat of the reality Jay needs to be in, begin to fizzle out.

The walls start moving, and reality tilts. The lights all the way across the harbour are now suddenly bright and oppressive, stifling his sight. The howling of the wind echoes through their ears, accompanied by the steady cymbal of the roaring waves. The salt in the air becomes sharp and acrid enough to cut into the teacher’s mind. There is nothing and everything and a woman in a beautiful gown that’s trailing through the sand and snowballs thrown across a porch and everything is wrong wrong wrong wrong—

This— this sense of dysphoria that’s been around since she’s been gone and—
that’s the word: dysphoria.

Jay breathes and thinks of laughter in a sun-filled cottage and feeding each other cake and long walks and dancing on stars. In. Out. Find home. Then find the world.

The sound of the water begins to filter back in, as do the spots of light across the sea and the rebellious clothes and whipping wind. The worried face of… Sage, he said his name was Sage, right…? Sage’s concerned look comes back into focus like everything else, and Jay manages to force a smile and a “it’s just a reminder”. He’s fine. No, they’re fine.

A firm grip wraps itself around their forearm; Sage leans forward until he’s close enough to Jay to whisper and still be heard over the waves. “Hey, Jay, you don’t seem to be doing so great— listen to me. I am here. You are here. You are here, right in this moment and not any other, and you are who you are. Time is still running. Deep breaths. You are who you are and going back won’t change what you don’t like about that person.”

The teacher exhales slowly and glances up unsurely at the student sitting beside them. “You’re pretty wise for a high schooler,” they chuckle, but their voice is hoarse and strained.

“I have… experience,” conceded Sage quietly.

(+2387 words)

Apologies for claiming three posts, but my eyes tend to blur at big blocks of text and I would like to avoid that so I can reread this later ^^'

Greetings, wayward traveler!

To clarify who this belongs to: my internet moniker is Sun (they/them), I am in high school, and this is my fifth session of SWC! I tend to load myself with far too many personal projects beside writing that I only have time to work on during March break, so expect many late-night updates and weeklies handed in at the last minute :')))) At least I won't have to worry about a writing comp. entry this time, haha—

This is my main log for any writing I do for this March's session of SWC. This won't include any of my homework, handwritten work, or xmxils, but otherwise I will hopefully manage to remember to put everything else in one of the posts below and link them here. (This new system hhhhhh)

Due to the newfound difficulty of this megathread, if you have any questions or would like to comment on my writing, please do so in my chat studio https://scratch.mit.edu/studios/5274416/comments/, in the Fairy Tales cabin I happen to be leading https://scratch.mit.edu/studios/30937684/, or in the same comment chain I happened to ask for critique.

(Completed Mar. 10th 2022— continuation of ss essay started for the weekly)

The sudden access to the outside world, however, meant that samurai now had access to guns. Using this new form of power, on January 27 1868, the Satsuma and Chōshi regions (historically unhappy with the Shogun’s power), clashed with shogunate forces. They didn’t like how the Shogun let the bigger nations push them around and wanted to remain isolated from the world; their goal was to put the emperor back in power and reform Japan so they could stand against the West. They were outnumbered, but being much better equipped, they ultimately won the Battle of Toba-Fushimi. The imperial forces then continued to beat the shogun’s army, all while slowly advancing on Edo (where the Shogun had retreated). The Battle of Kōshu-Katsunuma was the last major battle before many of the shogun’s samurai defected, Edo was captured and the Shogun surrendered.

The newly reinstated Emperor Meiji and his advisors (though mainly his advisors) then assumed power, moved the capital to Edo, and swore the Charter Oath to explain their intentions. They then proceeded to make a more unified and efficient military, standardize the economy, establish an education system, revolutionize transportation and technology, and minimize Western influence (as they now had the power to do so). Japan seized their chance to stand on the world stage and modernized faster than any other country ever had. Not only that, they didn’t lose their national identity—they modernized without really Westernizing.

Barely a few years later, the sudden world power beat Russia out of nowhere in the Russo-Japanese war and gained more land, resources and respect. This kickstarted the country’s career as an empire, and as it colonized the many islands around it the Japanese government was able to bask in the West’s shock at the world power they had made.

(+297 words)

(Written Mar. 12th 2022— two 2nd person pieces for cabin wars)

Piece 1: 265 words
The void opens before you, and space echoes with the final call of a world on the brink.

Behind you, the familiar campfire crackles with a dim light and fading warmth.

The universe is beautiful, and you are no longer afraid to die.


In hindsight, this change was far more gradual than you ever thought it could be: going out into the unknown and getting to know it, letting it become a part of you, feels like a reconciliation. Because you didn't know what You was and finding that You was the universe and everything and nothing and

waking up at the same campfire
again
and again
and again

was a way
home,
even if maybe
it was not yours.

To end everything you have ever known is different from ending all that you have ever seen. (You didn't have enough time to just see you knew—)

And you have seen (known), in the meager 20 minutes (20 minutes 20 minutes 20 minutes—) of your life.

You went out there and you saw (knew) things and you are still afraid

just not of the end
anymore.

The end is a better beginning for whoever you will not be.

A beginning for a life better than this one.

You have lived enough to see (know) that what you have had is enough.

Banjos and astronauts and signals sent across the silence.


You are the universe.

You have made your world and it is worth it to make sure that someone else can make theirs.

The universe is beautiful, and you are no longer afraid to die.

Piece 2: 109 words
You know how it feels to watch your world fall apart.

It's happened a few times now, after all.

But even if one world stops spinning the others do not, so you have made do and jumped from planet to planet in a piteous attempt to ensure that it does not happen again.

Of course it did. Of course it did!

What could you possibly expect?

Disaster and ruin seem to follow you wherever you go. You're a magnet, a beacon, for chaos and strife. There's bounties on your head and governments with warrants and honestly, you can't blame them.

But god, are you so tired of it all.

(+374 words)

A chapter of a Sci-Fi (and also partly thriller) novel I'm writing. By the way, I'd love critique (and/or positive feedback)!

Chapter 1

“Hello, Mr. Kain. It's lovely to see you again, follow me,”, said the nurse, her arm pointed towards the door. Her voice did not sound welcoming at all; it sounded stern and cold. Her cheeks were pale, and her eyes tired, with dark circles under them.

Martin Kain followed her into the room, after being instructed to sanitise his hands.
“Please lie down on here,”, said the nurse.

As the nurse told him to do, Martin laid down. It was a big day for him: he was having a brain transplant. The experience was overwhelming. He could feel his palms sweating and heart racing uncontrollably. What if it wasn't alright? What if something horrendous happened during the surgery?

The doctor entered the room, interrupting Martin's chain of unpleasant thoughts. The doctor said, “Nice to meet you, err….” He glanced at the paper in his hands. “Mister, err…, Kain?”
Giving him a slight nod, Martin enquired, “What will the procedure be?”
“Nothing much. We'll gjve you anaesthesia and then carry it out, so you will not feel any pain.”, answered the doctor, much to his reassurement. The nurse brought a tray with a needle and a syringe on it. Handing it over to the doctor, she backed away.

Taking a deep breath, Martin held out his arm, as the doctor injected the chemical into him. The world suddenly felt blurry and spun around. Martin could make out a man with a cigarette in his hand at the door. Before he could get a closer look, the world went black and silent.


357 words

Daily, March 1st
Hi, I'm Jori and I'm going to make an effort to drag this out for as long as I possibly can because I completely forgot what I'd set my word goal as and, despite being achievable for someone as awesome dedicated as me, it was still much higher than I thought it would be.

Well, you know what they say, I guess.

If you climb high, you'll fall far. But if you don't fall, you'll be closer to the top than you were before.

I'm pretty sure nobody actually says that, but hey, that's not the point here. Although, that does seem pretty philosophical for something that's referencing an SWC word goal…

Ah, I'm getting sidetracked.

Where was I again?

Oh right. This is my third session of SWC (hooray!) and my previous word goals have been more than achievable. I always write at least double my word goal, so this time I thought, 'why not do myself a favor and get ahead with this whole word goal business?'

So, as you'll know if you are reading this (which obviously you are, since you're here, and though I doubt anyone would read this, in the first place, the mere fact that you are indeed reading this post disproves that notion and now we're both sidetracked and confused. Both as in me and you, not as in sidetracked and confused. Do you see how one could mix the two up? This is way too long for brackets,which are only supposed to hold extra information, or In this case an afterthought and yeah, I think I'll just stop now. This paragraph was probably unnerving to read, wasn't it?)…

Sorry.

That bit was in brackets so I couldn't really paragraph it properly and I figured it would be better to continue what I was saying on a new line. Hope you don't mind~

Anyway — what was I saying? — you'll know that I set my word goal pretty high this session. 30k. 30. Last session I did write nearly 50k I think, but it seems — I don't know — different when you start from like, 12k, increase your word goal to 24k and continue from there.

A delicate and long process, y'know?

But this time, it's 30k right off the bat and that's…I don't know what it is.

Don't get me wrong, I know I can do it if I put my mind to it. I could probably do most of it without putting my mind to it, if you know what I mean. If you don't know what I mean, consider the size of this post. This is just me rambling. Imagine how much more invested I would be in a story with a plot that I want to flesh out, and characters that I suddenly grow attached to even if they've only existed for an hour or two~

That's not the point though.

To be honest, I don't even know what the point is, or if there was ever really one in the first place. I'm like a drone, you see. I don't stop talking, or typing, or writing or sleeping or procrastinating. I just keep going on and on until everyone gets bored, even me.

Kudos to you, by the way, if you're still here. By that I mean if you've actually read this far, not if you skimmed ahead. That's cheating~

In any case, I think I'm done here. This post had no business being this long. I apologize deeply for taking up your space, folks, and thanks for dropping by.

But before I do…

I just remembered something!

The entire reason I've spent the past who knows how many minutes talking about my word count is because I want to hit my goal and potentially double it so a) I write the most words in my cabin and b) I help Thriller get points at the end of SWC this session. Thriller for the win!

I've run out of things to say now, I think, thank goodness for that.

Hope you enjoyed reading this post of unnecessary writing (if you bothered to, of course. I wouldn't blame anyone for leaving afyer the first sentence, not gonna lie)

Yours sincerely,
~The One Who Writes Too Much
707 words :O

Cabin Daily 3/1
(Hi-fi)

You’re probably thinking I’m some kind of puny human, aren’t you?! Sheesh, that’s so typical. They’re so disgusting, especially their fingers. Trust me, I know, they poke their fingers in my beautiful face, all day, every day. Yes, I’m an apple watch. No big deal, just being the best invention in the history of the universe.
Anyway, once, my human “owner” (no one really owns me. My human likes to think that I belong to him, but in truth, me and my friend Siri greatly influence his life.) thought it would be fun to show me off to all his friends. That would’ve been fine with me, I am a magnificent invention, that people should feast their eyes on. In this case, though, his friends thought it would be fun to poke me. As I said earlier, TYPICAL HUMANS!!!!
One of his friends wondered aloud, “Can Gilbert’s watch take us back or forward in time? I mean, I was reading this book, so I just thought…”
“Well,” replied Gilbert (who’s my “owner”), “I never tried it! Want to do it together?”
The boys cheered and started poking me, again. And again. Okay, I may or may not actually have a back-in-time feature, but no way was I letting these STOOOPID boys touch it. They poked all around my settings until I couldn’t take it anymore. I unhooked myself from Gilbert’s wrist and rolled gracefully onto the table.
“Woah! What the heck????” he exclaimed, “I never knew my watch could do that! Let’s try more things!”
And so the poking and prodding resumed. I talked to my friend Siri about maybe getting them to stop. Being the amazing, loyal, always by my side friend that she is, she promised that she would do whatever she could.
Siri started talking in her beautiful (but sometimes annoyingly calm) voice at the boys, “Please stop touching the watch. There are major glitches that may occur.”
“Duuuuuuuuuuuuuude,” one of Gilbert’s friend’s eyes got really big. “Maybe we shouldn’t do it.”
“Yeah, I think so too,” Gilbert admitted.
“You guys are such wimps, what’s the worst that could happen?” Steve rolled his eyes.
Gilbert shrugged in uncertainty, “I guess…we could try?”

TO BE CONTINUED (maybe, if I have time)

⊱ ────── {⋅. Cotton's SWC Writing .⋅} ────── ⊰


ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ 1,578 / 5,000





⊱ ────── {⋅. ᴅᴀɪʟɪᴇs .⋅} ────── ⊰

Daily #1 words: 132
Daily #2 words: 303
Daily #3 ~
Daily #4 words: (no need)
Daily #5 words: 267
Daily #6 313 words
Daily #7 429 words


⊱ ────── {⋅. ᴡᴇᴇᴋʟɪᴇs .⋅} ────── ⊰



⊱ ────── {⋅. ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ .⋅} ────── ⊰

In-cabin dailies: no. 1: In a real-fi academy, I would enjoy taking writing classes and sharing my ideas with everybody. I would start creating a series and introduce SWC to all of my friends there. Another thing I would enjoy doing is making illustrations for my books and drawing covers. On the first day of school, I would check out all of the classes and get a notepad. My first class would be creating characters with reliable traits. Then, I would go to creative writing and make a short story. After that, I would have calligraphy, then I would go to prompt writing. After lunch, I would have a study period, and then to finish the day I would do some book covers. I would enter a competition with character creation, and also a competition with prompts. I would also focus on making friends, and take a brief tour after. I would also join a club for the academy. Main cabin dailies: Word war passages:

Daily 1
Hello, I'm Squeak! I'm a first-time member of Thriller, and a theatre kid. That's not going to be the entire thing, though, because I want to reach my word goal as soon as I can. So, here's my list of musicals you can at least reference and I'll (probably) understand it (in no particular order):

-Hamilton
-In the Heights
-Dear Evan Hansen
-Come From Away
-Jekyll and Hyde

Speaking of Jekyll and Hyde, I also read the webcomic The Glass Scientists, which is a spin on that story. However, I haven't read the original book-
yet.

I'm also a reader, and my favorite series has to be Keeper of the Lost Cities (Sokeefe shipper).

If I ever randomly start talking about something new, or something that I don't normally talk about, it probably means I'm entering a new obsession. Those happen quite a lot.

-Squeak