post your save codes for the fourth weekly here!
if you need to find the post with your save code, use this page

I FOUND THIS POST MADE MONTHS AGO AND I'M USING IT FOR CABIN WARS MARCH 2023 B))


2;5;16;5;1/;2;

zura's post will include each prompt and save code - 3754 words

begin story with 100 words :)

My breath exhales, pools of droplets entering my eyes. It doesn't cut easy, but jagged scars interlace upon each other with a sharp edge. My skin is smooth and placid, half of it almost able to hold water that dances upon the cheekbones. Sometimes, I do want to take my breath away, with a beautiful sunset (a sun that rises every day because that's what it will do– rise in a continuous motion). I feel the sun kiss against my neck in a way that burns yet brings warmth beneath my chin-line. If the sun could only rise every day.

host shrine prompt: 300 words of breaking the fourth wall.

I know you think I'm happy, or at least think I should. But the pain seeps into my bare arms that cuts like sandpaper. I hate the way the motion burns in disgust, and you wouldn't either. I sigh, the heat waves overwhelming my skin. The blistering sun that spills hot white spreads down on the floor. There is nowhere to hide from their wrath, not even the trees that dance and sway above us. Only under shadows, we are aware of the blaring contrast between hot and cold. I wish Patricia didn't try to invite me out in this weather, and the resentment settles in my chest. It can only float like a light brooding cloud that doesn't yet grow into a storm. The desire of wishing the sun would fade and instead explode is intruding upon me.

I pull out my phone and call her. It's definitely annoying when friends leave the phone signal for too long, isn't it? The phone buzzes for a long period of time, bleeping in a myriad of notes that are strung together. Sweat lines are threaded on my forehead, twisting against my hair. I don't like how it feels (and frankly, wish they could just pick up). The voice, jubilant and high-pitched, travels through the phone.

“When are you coming?” My voice is quick and sharp. She better respond soon.

“Oh oh! Sorry, um I forgot today!” Her guilty laugh is transmitted. “Um so would it be a good idea if you held up that plan? I can go tomorrow-”

I interrupt her. “Sorry, but I've been waiting outside in this heatwave for minutes.”

I hear the slurping through the phone. She needs to keep it down. Have some manners.

“Oh,” her voice goes high-pitched again. “Was why I couldn't go today.”

SABOTAGE PROMPT: thanking people: thanked alyelle, birdi, robin, daily team members, moss, and re

chosen one prompt (200 words)

I sigh in disappointment with her news, and a mix of anger. I walk inside to the comfortable house that's stacked with puffy furniture. A small buzz erupts on my phone, and I frown, hoping it isn't a text from Patricia. But the text is colored in a holographic blue, in a way that sticks out from the rest.

“Scam,” I mutter, but I can't resist the urge to swipe it. And after sitting around for five minutes, I click onto the text message.

“Welcome,” the screen begins speaking in a feminine voice. “I believe you are the chosen one.”

I stare in disbelief. “What?” I watch the heat waves ripple back and forth, and being a chosen one is the last thing on my mind.

“Yes, but let me introduce myself. My name is Ciara Brown, and I am on behalf of the Agents of Eri to inform me there has been an interruption. The Earth is facing high temperatures at the moment, and we have detected the extreme motions. However, don't fret. We will give you the details.”

The amount of words don't initially register. “What, excuse me?”

“I will explain later.” she is brief. “Consider it, please.”

SABOTAGE PROMPT: do nothing for 15 minutes (until 9:03 est)- designed posts

judge room: motives is attention for 200 words


I think twice. Maybe if I do this, I can have respect and Patricia wouldn't ditch me anymore. The plan seems perfect, etched into stone. If I do save the world, I will be showered in fame and people will never walk past me, but look at me in wonder!

I quickly swipe up towards the notification of my phone. The reply button sticks in front of me, and I press it. ‘Ah, where do I find more information?’

The woman on the holographic screen is translucent. “Oh, so you do want to help.”

I nod. Because helping others is helping myself, and I would love to have their faces adoring me. She grins and whispers, ‘come and meet me at the capitol tomorrow’. Because tomorrow there won't be a heat wave that leaves us dripped in sweat. I sit at my couch, legs crossed. The image of clout that I see fills me up, making me feel elated.

What if I become famous? I wonder, thinking about all of the things I would do after I did. Maybe I would go skydiving, or open a chocolate pool, or hire a servant. All fantasies that now drift closer to me.

SABOTAGE PROMPT: read someone's writing for 10 mins (until 9:24 est)- read starr's The Blue Jay story

prompt from fi: “would you die for me?” / “again?” (10 mins)


For some reason, an old memory seeps into my head.

“Would you die for me?” the question sounds innocent, yet I answered it at face value.

“WHat an interesting question, Patricia,” I half-grin, hoping she doesn't actually expect me to.

“Too bad, you're just,” she bounces, with a grimace. “Self centered.”

So now I'm self-centered? I grit my teeth, as I think about all of the things she called me behind my back: an attention seeking mole, because it stings. A person who leaves me in a heat wave should not say these to me.

I wait until nights cool, but they are hot (blazed in heavy sunlight). So I wait, looking at the cemented ceiling, for a hoot or a call that something (or someone exists, beyond my mind).

As my eyelids rest wearily against my eyes, I sigh. They're heavy, aren't they, so I twist and turn. Soon, what feels like five eternities, I awake from my sleep. Quite odd how that one piece of dialogue replayed in my mind, how Patricia was the main character. She shouldn't be though, for a person who invites me sparingly.

I remember Ciara Brown's words, but I don't know when exactly to actually meet her. I stop as I grab my phone to check the date, because I realize something. She must be testing me to see whether or not I am actually worthy of doing things.

A sheepish grin folds upon me, as I do remember the warmest time is usually between twelve and three, so likely at night. Straing outside, there is not a blazing sun but a mild one. I coat layers of sunscreen so I'm not sunkissed with burns, but wait till my timer does head out. I do the normal activities: blogging and studying for university, because those are important things to do.

“Will you die for me?” the voice keeps on popping. I try to shake it off but it keeps on popping into my brain.

“Please, just stop,” I beg, with a tightened look on my face. The voice repeats itself, again, again again, and my thoughts repeat the word ‘again’ multiple times.

I wonder if there's a way to stop these words, and I frown because of the annoyance it brings. I wish it wouldn't have existed as much, the thoughts that roam in our minds (which also float slightly above the floor with an invisible absence of gravity).

I wonder how much people would appreciate it if I couldn't think. Maybe that's how they deliberately avoid me like the moving doors that waver back and forth, and secretly whisper that I'm an attention seeker. To their credit, it's not entirely wrong. But I settle my hand on the desk as I wait for the next text.

SABOTAGE PROMPT: five achievements

1. Proud that I finished three weeklies so far.
2. Proud that I've done every point daily.
3. Proud that I have improved so much writing since coming back to SWC (which was two years ago).
4. Proud that I have managed a somewhat consistent routine.
5. Proud that I have studied during the summer.

aviary room: birds have a significance in setting (5 mins)



The text doesn't ring, but night falls, and I see a flock of birds that checker the sky. They only peak at night, because of the blazing heat accumulated.

“Hey,” I look up, trying to find Ciara Brown. She's feminine and the memories don't come into my mind, so I struggle with it. “Flock of birds,” I look at them above and smile. “What a nice sight to see.”

They are beautiful and rare, and I suppose the heat almost drives them to extinction. I don't see Agent Brown anywhere, but she could be hiding, in my sight. Do I want to ask?

A beep comes out of my phone, which has her holographic voice. She has a brown curly swirl on her bangs, and it's mostly curly hair that is short but neatly arranged.

“Your next task is to find me.”

I knew it, and that gives me immense pleasure. Would she be proud of me if I informed I did? I walk over towards the tree and the whirlpool. Many people swarm and sqeeze between each other (froming a large pact that almost resembles a mob). But she- aha!

I see the brown swirls and the top hat she holds on her head. It's a classy purple, and I grin looking at its beauty. To work with such high-fashion people, must be such an honor. So I skip to her, asking if she's Ciara Brown, and she nods.

“Wonderful, now, Jenny, it's time for us to leave here.” I feel a tingling jolt in my body.

SABOTAGE PROMPT: ten awesome things people did - 428 words for nights

bakie prompt: explore characters for 15 mins


Beneath her feet, warm air rises and falls, in a swirl. Ciara Brown reaches for my hand, and I come with her, to a pod floating above the sun.

“This,” she points out, with a narrow tone. “This is where we see everything happen.”

The vitals on the chart are terrifying. The line skyrockets the line that says threshold. I freak out, even though I wanted to do this for attention in the first place, this was too important for me to just do this for attention.

“Everything is already happening,” there is a sad look on Ciara's face. I frown along with her, because to think a large portion of our world will not be inhabitable does not bring any comfort. We share a moment of silence, as we watch the flames arise as they flicker from our ground. It's warm yet disturbing, not an ounce of comfort derived. I frown, because this is not the way we wanted things to be. Heat waves were bad enough, but what about the towns submerged in heavy, hot boiling water? I guess supposing this issue, the task I'm about to face is well, saving the Earth.

“So, why did you do this?” I ask her. I find it impressive a person like her can care about a great issue that affects the world.

She pauses, but a sorrow still plagues her complexion. “I am personally experiencing things right now, and I'm sure you are too.”

I nod along, even though I don't think mine have been as significant as her.

“I am trying to save us, because well, I suppose my village was drowned in a flood.” She grimaces. “Few survived, and usually, in an American country, there's large reporting, but this case must have been so underground that they didn't report on it. Sucks to be POC.”

I do nod along to her statements, as she continues with her explanation. “It's just, you know. We really want to do the things we want to do. And we do want to solve issues that affect us.”

“How will we do this?” I ask, but she shakes her head before answering mine. She asks a question instead: “Why did you want to do this?” Truthfully, I don't know. I was roped into this and found it interesting.

“I dunno,” I shrug. “It's a global issue and I should care.”

She has a sarcastic edge to her laugh. “Sounds like every other person in this world.” I suppose she's right, people who sit on their couches every day, trying to act like they care about something but not caring enough to putting their frustration in action.

“Well,” I sigh again. “Even though I have experienced heat waves, I'm still in many ways privileged. I can still walk to school, eat any food I like and drive anywhere because I have the freedom to.”

She sighs along with me, and we breathe the murky air now that we're so close to the clouds. “It isn't easy,” she informs me.

I know it isn't, I know. But I nod along to her, because she's the one who should speak instead of me. “We've tried contacting our people in power,” and she sighs once more. “Not working.”

Of course it doesn't because the people in power never actually cared enough. Anyone average who is privliged like me doesn't have to worry about these things every time. I tell her about privliged people in the world, and Agent Brown agrees with me, like this isn't a new phenomenon.

“I suppose I just want to see my family thriving, and I don't want to have kids if they're going to live in this frightening world without a tommorow.” And I sigh, hoping things are going to flow like they always do.

I nod, because that does make sense. “I do like your motives, because that makes so much sense.” Someone who cares for their home is someone who should be respected and i grin in my place because I want to be like them. We hold hands and float above.

SABOTAGE PROMPT: do something creative - doodling random things (11:25 pm est)

character room (i forgot which): 300 words of favorite character of fandom comes in



“Anyway,” Ciara Brown half-smiles. “I think it's worthy to try.” I agree with her statement, because she is right.

A gasp traveled out of my mouth: a pink-haired boy with two hairpins? He swirls and floats above in his own way, that makes him travel the seas in a rapid motion. He levitates with his stern face.

“Saiki?” I gasp.

His mouth is still, but he says: yes, I'm Saiki.

Agent Brown looks at me in confusion. “Who is that pink-haired boy?”

I quickly explain that it's Saiki from this popular anime TV show. “He's able to have many superpowers,” I gush in admiration. “Maybe he can help us!”

“I was alerted about the possibility of Earth ending, so I came here”, Saiki explains telepathically. Both of us nod, because Agent Brown will need to go into details about the plan.

“So, this is what we do.” She sighs, wondering if this was possible. “We make sure that time is reverted to pre-colonization and try to stop it.”

“That won't work.” Saiki's voice is firm. “Instead, we should try to stop fossil fuels because people will colonize anyways.”

I nod along with him. “Saiki always has great judgement. He is a psychic.”

“Then how will you do that?” Ciara sighs. “It's not easy at all, but supernatural people, they can do anything.”

Saiki's face still paints a stoic expression. “It's not easy at all being a psychic. But I can turn back time and stop their drills. We can always use an inch of brainwashing to make green energy the norm.”

He flies off into the Earth and begins picking up the heavy cranes that drill on the Earth. The tsunamis that plagued the region now subside as they lower beneath the Earth.

Ciara isn't too pleased. “This won't work.”

SABOTAGE PROMPT: do nothing for 5 minutes (until 9:52 est)- chatted with friends

candy lollipops: amensia, 8 mins


Suddenly, an asteroid flies over, crashing against me. I feel the rock crash against me, and the world fades to a dark black.

I feel awake, as my eyes open up, all weary. The soft rectangle lies underneath, very much comfortably. I frown, as nothing looks recognizable. The woman next to me is looking at me with concern, but I don't understand why she sits at my bedside, holding my hand.

“Hey girl,” she says in a soft voice. I mumble a reply back, but the memories are fuzzy. A pink-haired boy pops into the window, and his feet don't touch the floor. I look at him in confusion, trying to figure out how a pink-haired boy, or why he was here. Was he an alien?

“I'm Ciara Brown. Agent Brown, an Agent of Eri.” She grins. Yet she frowns when I don't return a reply, because I don't know what she's talking about. Neither what the boy is doing at the moment.

The boy has a stoic expression with his lips straight, but the woman nods, sighing and saddened. “I think you might have lost your memories.”

I blink twice. “Memories?”

“Do you remember when you stood out in the heat wave?”

I stare up at the blank ceiling that whirls above. A heat wave, I imagine it's hot with boiling lava, but no. So I shake my head.

“What about the holographic panel from your phone?” Her voice is desperate and pleading. I look through my mind, trying to search through all of the mess that is stored in my head: none, and I don't find any.

“So it goes.” She sighs, a beautiful yet broken sigh. “You don't remember anything, do you?”

“I don't understand,” I reply, the words struggling. “Why do you act like you've known me for a long time?”

SABOTAGE PROMPT: thank a scratch team member with five reasons

Hi Ceebee! Thank you for all of the work you do for Scratch. I appreciate you and the Scratch team for keeping our forums up, moderating the community (trying to keep us safe), supporting queer people, taking down dangerous projects (like inappropriate ones or ones that spread hate), and finally for being such great role models Thank you!

250 words of realizing inner beauty is important - design room


“I don't, I've met you for only a few days.”

I nod. “That explains why I remember when I was born but don't remember you. I blink twice at the pink-haired boy, before seeing his hands that spell Saiki.

”Wait, Saiki,“ I nod as the memories from that name come back. ”You're the superhero.“

He shakes his head, but says, ”Close enough.“

”You know,“ the woman grins. ”We did temporarily save the planet.“

”What?“ I gasp in shock. I mean, it is a great accomplishment, but without me? ”I didn't do anything.“ I sigh in disappointment.

Saiki shakes his head. ”At first you wanted to do it for attention, right?“

My eyes widen: yes, attention has been something I've craved but- I stare up at him again to realize that he is reading my thoughts.

”But you changed as you realized the urgency of this problem.“ Ciara grins. ”Having the intention matters. And the fact that you care enough, even though it looks like you did nothing, proves that you're beautiful."

I'm beautiful? I stare down at myself, almost tied to a hospital bed. All this time I've been trying to do things so people could notice me, but maybe it's not so simple after all. A grin spreads across my face, and for once, maybe I don't have to feel bad for not doing enough so that others notice me.

Staring up at the ceiling, I grin with satisfaction, as I realize that I am well enough for myself.

SABOTAGE PROMPT: listen to music for 10 mins (until 10:29 am est)

5 mins of poetry (genre room)
As the stars collide
The universe settles into one.

We as people, reside
by the principle of all and none.

As the world burns in fire,
All is revealed is our desperation

Between our hidden desires,
to giving into our temptation.

As the world spins its heels
Turning the seas, stretching the tides

All the shivers, the feels
How will we find a way to abide?

Our options falling to none
as our time ticks gracefully,

As greed fills their hearts gives progress undone,
Must realize the impact and notion of fully

Doing something to permenantly change our climate
To prevent storms from rising

Tides from running out of our time is
Burning as we try mobilizing

Into a unique period that wavers
Beneath our broken fragments,

What wavers is what tapers
between our edged sentiments.

So what must be saved must be saved,
as we enter an era of climate change.

The storm isn't coming late,
It has already come today.

And those who feel the ramifications
feel the rumbling that hums beneath their feet.

As we rise and fall, hoping the dedications
are enough before we need to shut our eyes to sleep.

500 word happy ending


A smile spreads across all of our faces, because we have achieved our mission. We sit by the hospital bed, waiting for another day to come and go. The sun won't spread its fearless reign of terror across for years to come, and if we revert back to the way we were (before all of the heat burned down), we will rise above.

“What will you do after the fight for climate is over?” I ask Ciara in a curious voice. She grins, with a knowing face.

“It will never be over, as long as corruption exists.” She grins. “We'll have to fight even harder and never let our guard down.”

“Awesome, that sounds long and tedious.” I rub the side of the bed. She places a hand over mine.

“Which is why the people who come for instant clout will not receive it.” Ciara pauses. “Though I don't think you are one of them.”

And thankfully, now I'm not one of those people who crave attention like bees striving for nectar, sweet sweet nectar that drips beneath your throat. The sweetness is always ideal, but too much sugar becomes too sweet.

Saiki floats over the floor and leaves out of the hospital. His powers are amazing, and I don't believe they're real, until I remember he's not real, but my favorite fictional character. We sit together amongst the silence, waiting for words to weave themselves through our mouths.

Nothing's over yet, but something will bloom out of the products that we have created today.

“I can't believe you,” she gushes.

“And I can't believe us.” I reply. I suppose this would be some moments, before I finally fully recover and get discharged from a hospital.

Two weeks later, the doctor lets me out of the hospital, and I roam freely. I don't see her as much anymore, perhaps she has visited her family somewhere. Loneliness tingles my chest, but at least I can breathe the air all others breathe, take in air all others take.

The people roam around the park freely. With tall trees fully filled with leaves, things are beginning to change bit by bit. People don't rely on those janky machines called cars anymore. Rather, we take large buses, bike, and walk.

As I feel the wooden bench beneath me, something familiar catches my eye: black curly hair. “Ciara!” I exclaim.

She returns back towards me. We have a small chat, sitting at the bench, legs crossed against each others'. I can feel the cool breeze against my neck, something old me would have never imagined of. Unlike the past, the sun shimmers warmly above the clouds, and we watch it.

Finally, we can hear the noises of the people and the animals chirping in harmony. Ciara gazes around the park and finds something that catches her eye.

“What are you looking at?” I stare at her awestruck eyes.

“Look up,” she points.

I look up, and see the beautiful blue sky staring back at me.

save code: 101;1;2;7;/2-1/4-1/5-3/3-1/6-2/7-3/81-1/9-3/101-2/;819274356;0;0;;6;111010111;

Eevee's post <33



Intro. Being a story, anyway you like, but keep it close to 100 words.
(103 words)
Eevee looks around, cautiously moving. She didn't know who she should trust or even talk to. She takes a step forward and then two. She whirls around as she hears a crash. The vent hood was loose. Not how it was when she had walked over it a few minutes ago. She narrows her eyes at the vent, not sure if she should walk closer to it or go as far away as she could.
“Eevee?” A hand gets placed onto Eevee's shoulder and she gasps.
Eevee whirls around, stepping backward. “Gosh, Paige!” she exclaims, “Don't you dare scare me like that again.

1. For five minutes, incorporate features of Mystery, Adventure, OR Horror into your writing. What is something you like about one of the genres? Try to incorporate that into your story. Maybe it's the high stakes or the suspense, or a specific trope within the genre (that fits your story idea) !
(138 words)
Eevee takes another step back. She questions whether to trust Paige or get closer to the vent. A rattling noise came from the vent. She looks at Paige. She should try to trust her friend, shouldn't she? Suddenly, the lights went out. ”Paige?“ Eevee cries into the dark.
A shuffle comes from her left. ”I'm here,“ Paige responds, ”Come on, follow my voice! I think I see an opening up ahead.“
There's clattering from behind her and Eevee doesn't think. She goes as quickly as she can to Paige's voice, cautiously navigating in the dark. Bam! She hit the edge of the doorway. Eevee grasps her right arm tightly. She pushes herself to go forward a bit more. She places herself at the wall and slides down to the ground. Heavy footsteps pace quicker as they get louder.

Sabotage. In order to unlock the door, stop working on this weekly and write a list of ten awesome things about a person who has impacted you significantly (either on Scratch or in real life), then give it to them.
Given to: Gee

EXTRA:
10 awesome things about you, no matter who you are
1. You are unique and there is no one else in the world who is like you
2. You have the ability to imagine, create, and solve
3. You are loved, by someone or another
4. You are smart and can gain knowledge
5. You are the only you in the entire species of homosapiens (i just had to)
6. You have impacted the lives of so many people
7. You can have the courage to get over the past and look toward the future
8. You can communicate with others
9. Apparently, you can read because hey, look what you're reading right now! (unless you are not, and you're using a text to voice, and in that case, you can listen!)
10. You are alive and here

2. Check the Main Cabin to see your cabin's ranking! Now, find the opposite ranking of yours. Now ask one of the campers in that cabin for a prompt! You must write for 10 minutes with the prompt from a person in the cabin with the opposite ranking.

Opposite cabin: Adventure
Prompt: ”Isn't it tiring, having so much power? You could get rid of it, you know.“
From: Lia (@yishujia)
(344 words)
Under the cover of darkness, Eevee felt safer. Not quite as safe as she wanted, but it was good enough. The footsteps continued toward her. ”Isn't it tiring,“ she asks, as she heard the footsteps pass her. A shuffle came and the footsteps came closer to her. ”Having so much power?“ Eevee continues, ”You could get rid of it, you know.“ A gasp comes from somewhere in front of her, she can't tell quite where. She doesn't wait to find out and dashes behind her. There was a hallway exiting out of the room somewhere, she just knew it. The lights turn back on. Eevee sighs, catching her breath. the reactor was just on the right of her. She lets out a sigh.
Eevee walks to the reactor, peeking inside. She has a task to do in here anyways. ”Oh, hey Eevee!“ Cheese says, not looking up from her task. She was typing in numbers and mumbled then to herself as she put them in. ”Okay, that's another task complete!“
”Hey Cheese,“ Eevee greets, ”And Cheese Jr, of course.“ Cheese's cow was next to her, embellished in a blue space suit. He let out a low moo in response.
”Oh well, wish I could sorta stay and chat, but going to work on the next task,“ Cheese explains, ”Junior and I are working on figuring out the culprits; you never know who it could be.“ She narrows her eyes and starts walking backward, looking around the room suspiciously. ”Oof-“ Cheese collides into the wall. ”I guess, I should turn around now, bye!“ Cheese slips out of the room with Cheese Jr jumping behind her.
Eevee shakes her head, chucking to herself. The two Cheeses were always up to something new. She starts her task. One in the top right, two at the center of the bottom row, and- Eevee looks up. She saw something or someone moving out of the corner of her eye. She hesitates but goes on to four. She quickly finished up the last numbers. Eevee looks around her surroundings warily.

Sabotage. In order to fix the lights, stop working on this weekly and take a 15 minute nap or just relax and do nothing for 15 minutes.
Played the piano + helped with some cleaning

3. In this room, you will write at least 200 words about your character is magically transported into another world! Explore how your character reacts to the new world and how they navigate it.
(208 words)
Suddenly the room shakes. Eevee lunges in front of her, grabbing the pole near her. She closes her eyes, hoping the vibrations would stop. Suddenly, the pole in front of her disappears and she falls down to the ground. She opens her eyes, feeling around her. But this wasn't the ship; she was in grass, a grass field! She gets up and examines her surroundings.
Cupping her hands around her mouth, she yells, ”ARA? PAIGE? CHEESE AND CHEESE JR? ANYONE?“ Her only reply is echos. She seems to be on a hill and she walks further in front of her. Peering down, Eevee sees a beach and a couple of small huts huddled together. Eevee looks down.
”Yeah, I should probably take off the space suit, not suitable in this weather,“ Eevee decides, taking off the suit. Underneath, she had on her green baseball tee and some dark blue pants. Not exactly ideal for the warm climate, but it'll do. Eevee walks down the hill, heading for the closest hut to her. Before she gets to the bottom, she hears chatter.
”Don't you dare try to take Cheese Jr from me!“ a cry comes from one of the huts.
Eevee races over to the commotion. ”Cheese?" she asks.

Sabatoge. In order to help retrieve the lost writing comp submissions, stop working on this weekly and find a book or online article to read for 10 minutes.
Read The Comic Book Guide to Growing Food

4. Incorporate the “Chekhov's Gun” principle using at least 300 words
(362 words)
Cheese's face lights up. “Eevee!” Cheese yells, running over to give her a hug.
“What's the problem here?” Eevee asks, wincing as the barrel off the pen in Cheese's hand hits her back.
“Oh, sorry,” Cheese slides the pen into her pocket and crosses her arms. “Those people,” she points to an elderly couple, who are holding Cheese Jr on a rope, “insist that I give Cheese Jr over to them! Isn't that absurd?”
“We just want what we deserve after what you took from us,” the woman cries, looking insulted. She holds a brown woven basket with bundles of flowers.
The man nods in agreement, “We don't want you to take our stuff without justice!”
Eevee shoots Cheese a look and she holds her hands up in response. “I didn't take anything from them honest! And neither did Cheese Jr, so don't even think about accusing him. All I have on me is a pen,” Cheese reasons, pulling it out of her pocket.
“That's it!” the man exclaims, “That's our stolen pen!”
Cheese stares at the man, confused, “I just got the pen from the man across the street; he's got a lot of them. I'm sure we can-”
“No, no! That's my pen! The precious heirloom is invaluable!” the man argues.
A chicken intrudes and starts squawking, running around. Cheese Jr gets riled up in response and tries to chase the chicken.
“STOP!” the man yells, holding onto the rope as tight as he could.
Cheese Jr doesn't listen and continues to run around. The man gets dragged by Cheese Jr, causing Cheese and Eevee to step back. The woman took a step back also but got bumped along the way. “Sorry dear!” was the response, but she paid no attention to her husband and instead directed her attention to picking up the flowers that had fallen.
“Dear? Dear! Come over quick!” the wife calls in a hurry.
The man stops and races back over to his wife, letting the rope of Cheese Jr go. “Look, it's-”
“My pen! It's my pen!” the man jumps up, holding a pen in his hand that looked identical to the one Cheese has.

Sabotage. In order to fix the elevator, stop working on this weekly and allow yourself to just listen to music, look at abstract art, or look at pictures of landscapes or scenery for at least ten minutes without doing anything else.

5. In this room, you will write 200 words, where a character reveals one of their main motives is to have a sense of belonging.


2;6;3;1;/1-4/3-1/4-3/2-3/;719;0;1;234568;9;000000100;

1;1;5;1;/1-5/;9;0;1;12345678;9;000000001;

Weekly Four - Among Us

“Begin a story, any way you like, but keep it close to 100 words.”

Istra jumped out of the carriage, her boots skidding across the slick cobblestone streets. The rain was coming down in thick sheets, drenching her umbrella and leather footwear. She grabbed onto the carriage door to keep her balance, shoving a crumpled tip at the driver. “Thank you for the ride!” Then she ran off into the storm, boots slipping and umbrella clutched tight. Oh, her mother would be furious if she saw her now, sliding through the streets “like a heathen, girl, my goodness, one would think you were never given a proper upbringing!” But who cared about the old bat anyways, Istra wondered. Tonight, if only for a few hours, she was free of her overbearing mother. She ought to enjoy it.

Word count: 123

“These are some of the fun genres! For this activity, you will write for five minutes, incorporating features of Dystopian, Sci-Fi, OR Thriller into your writing. Make sure to incorporate features that define the genre, but you can also take your spin on common tropes in the specific genre. Feel free to try something new!”

The Clockwork Tower was just around the street corner. Istra stopped at the building's wide iron steps, panting for breath. The stairs were slick with rain, gleaming in the light of the violet-oil street lamps. After catching her breath, she climbed up to the front entrance, her boots clipping swiftly against the iron. With two short knocks, the stainless silver doors swung mechanically outward, opening into the ballroom at the clock tower's heart.

Word count: 73

“Check the Main Cabin to see your cabin's ranking! Now, find the opposite ranking of yours. Now ask one of the campers in that cabin for a prompt! You must write for 10 minutes with the prompt from the person in the cabin with the opposite ranking.”

“Write 100 words, but you can only use any adjectives, adverbs or verbs once. (Common words like but, becuse, and, so - basically conjuctions & determiners do not count)”

Istra stepped inside, making her way to the side of the dance floor. Couples laughed and spun in each other's arms, their dress coats and bright skirts awhirl. In the corner, a mechanical band had been set up: a steam-powered keyboard puffed clouds of lavender smoke, its keys pressing lightly down to emit piano-like notes. Contraptions resembling wind and string instruments piped out sounds as well, playing in perfect time with their fellow music machines. The waltz was sprightly with a bit of bounce, pulling the dancers along with its lively three-four time. Golden light from the chandelier poured down on them from above, bathing the room with a soft glow. Marlee had not been lying when she said that her party would be one of the grandest in town that year; Istra was glad she had accepted the older girl's invitation.

Word count: 142

“Write at least 200 words, where all the events in your story up to this point have all been a dream. Explore the reations the character has as they find this out and what to do next.”

Istra woke with a start. Early morning light struggled past closed curtains, dimly illuminating a young lady's bedchamber. An old grandfather clock by the wall proclaimed the hour: seven o'clock. She sat up with a groan, the silken sheets rustling around her. It had been nothing more than a dream: Marlee's party, the mechanical band, the glistening gold ballroom. If only such things could be real.

No. Istra laughed to herself as she slid out of bed, her feet brushing the cold floorboards. She shivered and wandered to the clothing drawers, opening the topmost compartment. Marlee's party was real enough - it was happening tonight, in fact - but Istra was the last person who would ever be invited. She preferred it that way, really. Stuffy ballrooms and dancing and stuck-up girls like Marlee were not the sort of things that appealed to her. Still, she thought wistfully back to the independence she'd had in the dream. What would a night away from her overbearing mother taste like, a night where she could wear and say and do whatever she pleased? She'd give anything for freedom such as that.

A minute of searching produced her favorite pair of stockings; thoroughly worn, a little small, but very soft and comfortable. Her mother would complain that they were too short, but after last night's dream Istra was feeling rather rebellious. Besides, she'd make sure to wear a longer dress and taller boots to hide their lack in height. No one would be able to tell the difference.

Word count: 253

“In this room, you will write 200 words, where a character reveals one of their main motives is to have a sense of belonging.”

After getting dressed, Istra hurried downstairs. In the dining room, breakfast was already being served. Her mother, Lady Penderglass, sat at the head of the table, daintily spooning her hard-boiled egg.

“I see Father is absent again,” Istra said, sliding into her usual seat.

“You are late,” Lady Penderglass replied coldly, her gaze stiff and dripping with disapproval.

“I am sorry, Mother,” Istra murmered quietly. A maid swept in, placing a small toast platter on the table before her.

“Don't mumble!” Lady Penderglass barked. "I can barely hear what you are saying. And sit up straight! A lady of your class should never slouch.“

Istra opened her mouth to apologize once more, but her mother cut in again.

”Gracious, girl, what are you wearing? I told you never to wear that dress again; it is positively hideous. The color looks awful on you, and those frills… don't even get me strated on those.“

Istra quite liked the frills, and as a matter of fact thought the rich red shade was a nice complement to her dark eyes. ”It's the latest fashion…“ she began.

Lady Penderglass's eyes narrowed. ”And do not think I failed to notice your stockings, either. I would perish rather than let you go out in those things. A young lady's stockings should go three inches above the knee at least, and - “

At that, Istra's temper snapped. ”Stockings, Mother? Really?“ She leaped to her feet. ”Stockings?! You can't even see where my stockings end, because my dress covers it! How do you even know which pair they are, or how high that pair is?“ Her mother's eyes had widened dangerously, and Istra barrelled onwards before the woman had a chance to speak. ”I like my dress, too - the color does look nice on me, I don't care what you say - and I'd look hideous if I wore any of the fashions you suggest. In fact - “

”Istra Penderglass!“ Her mother had risen to her feet as well. ”You sit down right this moment - “

”Why do you have to be so controlling?“ Istra screamed. She didn't know what had taken over her. Perhaps its was the dream from last night, prompting her to be so outspokenly brave. ”All my life, I've just wanted one chance - one chance - to make my own decisions, and every day you snatch that freedom away from me! I swear, I would do anything just for one day to live my life the way I want to!“ She paused to take a breath, shaking with rage and just the tiniest bit of fear.

Lady Penderglass opened her mouth, formed a word, tried to change it, and then fell silent. ”Istra,“ she said at last. The name was soft and dangerously spoken. ”Istra, maybe you want your freedom. But do you know what that would mean for me?“ Her hands shook as she sat down, and surprised, Istra fell back into her seat as well. She had never seen her mother this rattled, this… unsure. Her cool compusure was shed, replaced by a quaking, terrified vulnerability. ”You've always been an impulsive girl,“ Lady Penderglass continued. ”You don't let what society expects of you stand in your way. You don't let other people's judgement determine who you are. But I do. And the trouble is, if my daughter was given the freedom to do as she pleased, if I gave that control to you, it would reflect on me. People would talk. ‘Look at Lady Penderglass,’ they'd say. ‘She really has let her daughter run wild, hasn’t she?' The other ladies would reject me. I would be accused of raising a daughter who didn't conform. Who was different in all the wrong ways.“

Istra stared at her mother, too stunned to speak.

Lady Penderglass sighed. ”Your reputation would be ruined, if I gave you the freedom that you so desire. And perhaps you would not care. Perhaps this is why you want the freedom to begin with. But my reputation, and belonging with this city's most elite, would shatter with yours. And I… I would care about that. Very much."

Word count: 682

“For 250 words, your character feels a sudden burst of nostalgia and this mood is carried through the rest of the story.”

Istra gaped. “So you don't care about what I want. You only care about yourself.”

Lady Penderglass stared at her hands. “Yes. Yes, I suppose I do.”

A laugh bubbled up in Istra's throat, though it wasn't one of amusement. “Why am I not surprised? My own mother wants what is best for her reputation, nothing more. If that means sacrificing her only daughter's happiness, so be it.” Her chair's legs screeched against the hardwood floor as she pushed away from the table.

“Istra,” Lady Penderglass began.

“I hate you!” With those words, Istra bolted from the dining room. Tears stung her eyes as she stumbled upstairs, tears of fury and betrayal and pain. She had known it all along, that her mother never cared about her. She had known it all her life. The truth still hurt to hear, though. It hurt too much.

She reached her room and crashed onto the bed with a sob. Why couldn't things be simpler, like they used to be? She thought back to her early childhood. The trips to the countryside with Father, the warm sunshine on her face, being spun around so fast she couldn't tell floor from ceiling. Her school friends, Marlee and Katherine and Alex. Even Mother hadn't been so bad back then, a quiet shadow in her otherwise happy life.

Istra smiled at the memories. She missed those times so much it hurt. Everything had been so sweet, so straightforward. “Why did they have to change?” she mumbled into her pillow. Why did I have to grow up?

She rolled off her bed and walked to the desk. In the bottommost drawer sat a messy jumble of journals and sketchbooks, dusty with disuse. She reached for the topmost volume, flipping open the leatherbound cover. Soft paper pages rustled, revealing old pencil drawings from her childhood. Her dog, Barney, a favorite doll, the afternoon countryside. Toys, school friends, and long-forgotten train rides rushed past her blurring vision. She swiped at her eyes, unsure if the tears were of anger from the present or nostalgia for the past. Maybe something in between. The last sketchbook page turned, and she reached into the drawer for another. Her hand closed around an old journal, and she let the covers slip open. August 18, the paper read. Dear Diary… Childlike handwriting continued down the page, recounting a pleasant day spent at the beach with her parents and Marlee. Istra's heart panged at the sheer simplicity of the story. If only she had one of those time machines. Then she could travel far, far away from snooty parties and selfish mothers and this awful, awful place that was the present. She could be a child again.

Word count: 452

“For 8 minutes, incorporate the plot twist in which the antagonist is part of the main character's family.”

“Miss Istra?”

Istra turned around, the journal falling to the floor. A maid stood in the doorway, nervously clutching an envelope. Amy, Istra believed her name was.

“Er, Miss Istra, I just went out to get the mail, and there's a letter. From your father.” Amy held out the envelope, which was addressed in elegant handwriting to “Ms. Istra Penderglass.”

“Thank you, Amy,” Istra sniffed, accepting the letter.

“You are very welcome, miss.” Amy's eyes skipped over her tearstained cheeks and shaking hands. “I am sorry about… what happened earlier.”

“Please don't be. It's not your fault.” Istra tore open the envelope, and with some hesitancy Amy left the room.

My dear Istra, the letter read. I come to you with some news that may come as a shock. You see, I thought it was time I told you: our family, the Penderglasses, posesses the Clockwork Key.

Istra gasped. The Clockwork Key… her father must be joking. The key was only the most powerful relic in all of Glass, capable of reworking the entire city.

I understand that this may be hard to believe. It is true, however; what is more, your mother currently holds the key. She has been using it to her own advantage, influencing Glass high society and harming many lives in the process. For quite a long time, I believed that your aunt was the guardian of the Clockwork Key, but it appears that your mother stole it from her years ago. As you know, my work makes it difficult for me to travel home at times, and such is the case right now. However, this is not a matter that can wait any longer. Istra, you must take back the key from your mother.

Word count: 289

“For the next 15 minutes,
you must
make a new line
for every 8-10 words you write”

There was more to the letter, but Istra
couldn't read it. Her vision had begun to blur,
not from tears but from shock.
The Clockwork Key. Lady Penderglass. It was ridiculous.
It simply couldn't be possible. And yet here
her father was, writing to explain that she must
steal only the most powerful item in all of Glass
from her mother. He would never lie about
something so serious. There was only one way
that this all made sense, but she wasn't
quite able to wrap her mind around it.

Istra sank onto the bed, still numb with disbelief.
The letter lay crumpled between her fingers, and she smoothed
it out, running over the impossible words over and over
again. Her mother had stolen the Clockwork Key from
Aunt Penelope. She was exploiting its power, manipulating the city
and its people to elevate her wealth and social status.
Istra needed to take back the key, hide it someplace
where Lady Penderglass could never find it. She needed
to protect its power. She, a mere seventeen year old,
more girl than woman, was to be the Clockwork Key's
next keeper. Everything was so unbelievable
and yet not at the same time.

“Istra!” A voice sounded from the hall outside her room,
and Istra stiffened. It was Lady Penderglass. Hastily,
she shoved the letter between the pages of a sketchbook
just as the door handle twisted. Her mother entered
the room, looking a little less sure of herself
than usual. Her bearing was stiff and proper as always,
though there was a falseness to it that very
few people would have been able to pick out.
Yes, Istra knew the woman well.

“Istra.” Lady Penderglass coughed. “About what happened earlier.”

Word count: 288

“You now incorporate a character from your favorite fandom into your story, writing at least 300 words.”

Just then, Amy ran into the room. “Oh, Lady Penderglass, come quick! There’s a man, he appeared in the kitchens, and he is dripping all over the floor!” She paused, gasping for breath.

Lady Penderglass scowled. “Goodness, girl, you are not making any sense.”

“Sit.” Istra gestured to her desk chair.

Amy dutifully sat, looking like she wanted to speak but didn’t have the air or words for it.

“Now, can you tell us more about him? From the beginning?”

Amy nodded quickly. “You see,” she started, seeming to have regained her breath, “we were in the kitchens, washing the breakfast dishes, when all of a sudden this man appears in the middle of the room. He gave us a terrible fright, you can probably guess.” She laughed to herself. “He had longish gingery hair, and a scruffy dark coat, and these horrible scars running all along his face.” She moved a finger in a line across her own cheeks to demonstrate.

Istra frowned. “So this man just… appeared? With no explanation?”

Amy nodded again. “He was wet with rainwater. Still is, I guess - he’s dripping on the kitchen floors as we speak. And he had a bottle that said ‘Fanfiction Potion.” Whatever that means.”

“Well, potions and elixirs can do all sorts of strange things.” Istra jumped to her feet. “The one he drank was likely for teleportation.”

“Istra, where are you going?” Lady Penderglass snapped.

“To see this strange man of Amy’s.”

“Come back here- ”

But Istra and Amy were already gone. The walk to the kitchen was not long, and soon Istra could feel the heat from the massive bronze stoves on her face. The room smelled of warm bread and coffee, cooking fires casting an orange glow on the stone floors and wood countertops. By the wide blazing ovens stood a man much like Amy’s description, ginger hair hanging wetly around his face. He glanced up at the girls’ arrival, and Istra fought hard not to stare; his face was marked with several heavy scars, deep and disfiguring.

The man sighed. “Do you know why I am here?”

“No,” Istra said, tearing her eyes from his face. “Do you expect me to?”

“I suppose that was too much to ask for,” the man sighed. “Do you know what this is, then?” He held out a narrow green bottle made from translucent glass. Istra accepted it curiously. There was a label on the front, written in slightly smeared ink: Fanfiction Potion. She turned the bottle over, confused. The back read, in small print, Guaranteed to turn any original story into a fanfiction.

“I don’t know.” Istra handed the container back. “What is fanfiction?”

The man shook his head. “I haven’t a clue. This bottle was supposed to have a very special kind of honey in it. Evidently, I drank something else.” He sighed, stuffing it into a coat pocket. “I’ve had enough of traveling to other worlds.”

“Other worlds?” Istra frowned.

“Well, judging by the clothes you people are wearing… never mind. What is your name?”

“Istra.” She eyed him uncertainly. “What is yours?”

He smiled then, his bright eyes glinting in the firelight. “Dustfinger.”

Word count: 530

"For these five minutes, you will be changing your setting from clean to messy or messy to clean, depending on if your setting was clean or messy before.”

“Interesting name,” Istra said aloud. She glanced the pocket where he had stowed the glass bottle. “Well, I don’t know what kind of potion you drank, but there’s a book of supernatural elixirs and liquids in the library. I’m sure it has an entry on Fanfiction Potions.”

Dustfinger sighed. “Take the lead, then.”

Istra turned to exit the kitchen. “Wait…” Amy began.

It was too late. Dustfinger had already tracked water outside, soaking the carpeted hallway. Amy moaned. “Lady Penderglass won’t be happy about this. And it will be a dreadful time cleaning all that up, too.”

Word count: 97

“For this activity, write 300 words describing your character having a sudden flashback of a previous event.”

“I am sorry,” Dustfinger said, looking a bit guilty. “It was raining when I left the Inkworld, and…”

Istra sighed. “Mother will be mad.” She had been on the receiving end of Lady Penderglass's anger countless times, and it was never a pleasant experience. Once, as children, she and Amy had gone out to the public gardens to play. The day had been deliciously sunny, with a breeze just cool enough to chase away the worst of the heat. Even Lady Penderglass, who had come to supervise the girls, was in a pleasant mood. The conditions were perfect for a day of running around outdoors.

Then, halfway through a game of tag, Istra had slipped and fallen in the pond. She was soaked. Her dress was completely ruined, slicked with mud and dirty pond water. She hadn't minded a bit; getting dirty was all part of the fun of playing outside. Lady Penderglass had been utterly furious, however. The park trip ended there, with a soggy Istra and a distraught Amy trudging home, garnering more than a few curious looks from passerby. Things had only gotten worse when Istra tracked water and mud all over the clean wood floors of their house's front entryway. It only took a bit of scrubbing to clean the mess up, but that fact did not cool her mother's rage. One would think that the entire place had been destroyed, for how bitterly angry the woman was. Istra had spent the entire summer locked in her room, with no trips to the countryside and no contact with her father outside of letters. Those few months had been the worst of her life.

That day at the park was the first time Istra had sampled her mother's wrath, and it certainly wasn't the last. Perhaps their relationship had begun to fracture then; Istra had realized that her mother had no tolerance for the type of child she was, and Lady Penderglass realized that her daughter was not the girl she wanted her to be. Perhaps…

Word count: 339

“Leave your story unresolved with a cliffhanger. Write 500 words to end your story.”

“Istra!” Amy exclaimed.

“What?” Istra blinked, snapping out of the memory. “Did someone say something?”

“Dustfinger wants to know if you can go to the library now.”

“Oh! Of course.” Istra glanced at the wet mess he had tracked into the hall. Then she thought of her mother, her awful, controlling mother, who never understood anything, who only ever cared about herself, who was bending the entire city to her will using the Clockwork Key. “You know what? Forget about the rainwater you're dripping everywhere. Mother can go clean it up herself if she needs to.”

Amy looked as if she didn't know whether to be proud or scandalized. Dustfinger raised his eyebrows, but dutifully followed Istra down the hall and up to the library on the second floor.

“Now then,” Istra said, marching over to a shelf of books in the back. “That volume on potions should be around here somewhere…”

Dustfinger gazed around him, looking vaguely impressed. “I see you are quite a well-read girl. There are almost as many books in here as in Eleanor's house.”

“Oh, these aren't mine. They belong to my family.” Istra paused, curiously. “Who's Eleanor?”

Dustfinger opened his mouth to reply, then shook his head. “It really doesn't matter. Have you found the potion book yet?”

“Right here!” Istra came over, cradling a wide leatherbound volume in both arms. “The types of concoctions are organized alphabetically. Your Fanfiction Potion should be somewhere in the ”F“ section.” She flipped open the cover and ruffled through the pages. Together, they began searching.

“What is your home like?” Istra wanted to know. “Where did you come from?”

“It is a beautiful, terrible place.” Dustfinger's eyes skipped across the lines of text. “There are creatures you may never had heard of, forests and kingdoms and leaders both kind and evil. There are people who can work magic with words and speech and fire.” He pointed at himself with a short chuckle. “I myself am a fire eater.”

Istra looked up, surprised. “Really? I've always wanted to see one of you myself. Mother never lets me go, when the fire eaters have a performance in town.”

Dustfinger smiled to himself. “Perhaps you can come visit me one day, and I will put on a show for you.”

“That would be wonderful.” Istra grinned back at him.

Dustfinger froze suddenly, his finger hovering above the page. “The entry on Fanfiction Potions is right here.”

Istra craned her neck eagerly to see. There was only a short paragraph on the concoction Dustfinger had drunk.

“A most powerful solution indeed, a Fanfiction Potion can turn any original story into a fanfiction. Must be used sparingly, and with great caution. The combination of two tales that were meant to stay separate can never end well. The only way this potion's effects can be undone is if the fanfiction reaches its end without any terrible consequences. Those who drink are in the hands of their writer.”

“What does that mean?” Istra asked, thoroughly confused.

Dustfinger stepped back from the book, a haunted look in his eyes. “No. This is not happening. No!”

“Dustfinger?” Istra studied the man, unease creeping into her voice. “Dustfinger. What does it mean?”

He sank into a chair, eyes wide and filled with dread. “It means that we are trapped in a story. We are at the mercy of the writer. And this time, there is no way out.”

Word count: 571

Submission Code: PATHS TAKEN: 1-3, 3-1, 4-2, 5-4, 102-1, 9-2, 7-4, 81-1, 6-3, 2-2 | SABOTAGE RESULTS: 9- F, 4- S;1- S;7- S;8- F, 2- S;5- F, 6- S;3- S | ENDING: neutral

Certificate Screenshot

Total word count: 3839

4;1;3;1;/1-5/4-3/;92;0;1;1345678;2;000000001;

3;6;3;3;/4-2/1-1/5-2/3-3/;461;0;1;235789;1;100101000;

here's my post for save codes; will update :sparkles:

save code: 5;8;3;1;/4-2/1-3/5-3/;971;0;1;234568;1;000000100;
2;6;1;2;/4-2/1-3/5-3/2-1/;971;0;1;234568;1;100000100;
2;8;1;2;/4-2/1-3/5-3/2-1/;9714;0;1;23568;4;100000100;
7;6;2;3;/4-2/1-3/5-3/2-1/7-2/;9714;0;2;23568;4;100100100;
102;6;1;4;/4-2/1-3/5-3/2-1/7-2/102-1/;97146;0;0;2358;6;100101100;
102;8;1;4;/4-2/1-3/5-3/2-1/7-2/102-1/;971468;0;0;235;8;100101100;
3;6;1;5;/4-2/1-3/5-3/2-1/7-2/102-1/81-1/3-1/;9714685;0;1;23;5;100101110;

save code: 5;6;1;2;/4-2/3-3/5-1/;34;0;1;1256789;4;001100000;

Claimed! 12th btw.

1. Being a story, anyway you like, but keep it close to 100 words.
Sarah looked around her. A ferocious gale was causing the elegant wheats planted in the fields she stood on to rapidly sway back and fourth. She enjoyed the silence of the scene. Its immense serenity inspired a peaceful state of mind in her. It was exactly what she needed after a long day. She ran her fingers through the plants, their abundant kennels colliding with her palm, as if they were reassuring her that everything was going to be alright. Suddenly, thunder clapped and a bolt of lightning struck the tree she was heading towards. The poor, electrocuted tree crumbled into ashes before Sara's eyes.
105 words

A story about wanting attention and recognition
“Why isn't anyone noticing me for the things I do?” The voice came from an unexpected place; from me. Since forever, I had been trying my hardest, giving every single itsy bitsy task I do my all, yet I had never received an award for my efforts like others did. I joined every competition I came across, spending my tedious hours perfecting my entry, but I have yet to see a decent result of it. Don't get me wrong, I believe in what I do and it is definitely above decent, but why no recognition? I would have been okay with it if others who did far less than me didn't get it either.
I was tired of working day and night without being praised for my efficiency and excellence. Why was it so difficult for someone to distinguish well-thought out thing from rushed, rudimentary ones? I asked myself this very question every day, but I hadn't come up with an answer to why. It wasn't merely being perceived as mediocre in competitions, no that certainly wasn't the problem. The actual problem was the intangible barrier caused by others' dull perception of me throughout my life.
“Jane!” A friendly voice called, “Dinner's ready!” I had to take a scrumptious break from my all-consuming thoughts now.
“Coming!”
216 words

list ten things about someone who has impacted you significantly (swc or irl)
(message sent to Birdi)
5;8;3;0;/5-3/;7;0;1;12345689;7;000000000;

minimum 250 words about a character who learns they aren't perfect and attempts to improve the
101;6;3;1;/5-3/101-3/;7;0;0;12345689;7;000000100;
Sandra gazed at herself in the mirror, her reflection staring right back at her. She didn't dwell on the imperfection of her outer appearance, oh, she was far past that. The image set before her eyes troubled her for a completely different reason. The colorful blurs of herself she saw in the mirror pierced into her heart and made her realize that… despite her struggles she wasn't perfect. Her grades were good but not great, her friends were seemingly okay but fake, and her free time was bleaker than she thought it was. At that very moment, she decided that she would commence an enormous change. Without averting her eyes from the mirror, she tied her hair into a ponytail with a scrunchie, determined to turn he life in a better direction.
She started studying harder and paying more attention to class. It wasn't merely that, of course. Instead of remaining inside the perimeter of the school curriculum, she decided to go even further and do her own research in certain topics. To reach the moon, she had to shoot for the stars.
She severed ties with her seemingly okay but fake friends and became a solitary student for a while. She still talked to people, but instead of following the crowd all the time, she dominated her own self with her confidence. She soon found actual friends in similar mindsets.
She also decided to make the most of her free time by learning. But she learned about topics that interested her, not ones that were forced onto her. She tried many hobbies and acquired a wide array of skills that were fun to learn. But her underlying motive was that they would surely come in handy later.
288 words

101;8;3;1;/5-3/101-3/;71;0;0;2345689;1;000000100;
take a nap and or relax
this was really what I needed rn lol

8;3;3;1;/5-3/101-3/;71;0;2;2345689;1;000000100;
Lio's picnic, non-story-related tangents, 15 mins
Reyna sat down at a café, absolutely exhausted from her tiring search. Who cared if the had to find the owner of the teddy bear? She had to fortify herself first! She munched on a mango cheesecake and guzzled down a huge glass of strawberry lemonade. A fresh aura of relaxation washed over her like a massive tidal wave. All she wanted to do was sit down and relax, maybe order a donut or two.
As she was staring at the horizon, enjoying her sweet time, she was a friend from school approach her.
“Aw, Anna how are you? Long time no see!”
“Oh, I'm doing fine, what have you been up to lately?”
Reyna explained the reason of here journey. They chatted for a while. talking about insignificant facts like how the weather was. Reyna found that part especially boring. Their conversation soon took a turn and headed in a deeper direction. But their chatter was mostly nonsensical. Reyna shrugged it off. After a while, they said their goodbyes and parted way.
Reyna gazed at her empty strawberry lemonade glass. What remained of the pink-ish liquid rippled in the wind, giving it an appearance resembling a small puddle of water. Reyna could see her reflection in the liquid–smudged, but it was there. She sighed, letting all of her frustrations flow out her with the breath she exhaled. She wanted to stay there forever and relax as her heart wished. But she had to go on. Soon. After she finished eating one last donut. Yeah. That sounded good. She would soon continue her journey. Soon. The word echoed in her head.
271 words

list of achievements I'm proud of:
Getting chosen as co
winning an art competition irl
writing my own novella
my team winning third place in a basketball tournament

describe what makes your character special for 15 mins
Zoey is a girl of many hobbies and interests. And while she may have problems, she tries her best to remain optimistic. She stays true to herself no matter what, even at the cost of the disapproval of others. Zoey recognizes that some people are worth listening to and some simply aren't. She paves her own path in light, all by herself. She is resourceful and competent, but many see her as the opposite. She is perceived as an awkward teenager, but deep inside, she is actually a force of power all on her own. When times are tough, she is ready to stand up for herself and her friends. She is shy, but to an extent. She might not be charismatic or particularly good looking like others, but her vast amount of talents makes up for it. She loves reading, art, streaming her favorite shows, and much more.
If someone asked her, “Hey, why are you so quiet? What are you thinking about?” She would come up with a witty remark such as "I don't know, what are you thinking about?" And yes, that was a question that was asked to her ever so frequently.
She may appear lonely to some, but she definitely isn't. She has the best of friends, true friends, that would back her up whenever she needed it. She is actually more confident inside than she appears, but very few know this side of her. She learns a lot during her journey of self discovery, most importantly, that she has to stay true to her heart.
262 words
7;6;3;2;/5-3/101-3/ 81-1/7-3/;712;0;2;345689;2;010000100;

look at abstract art for minimum 10 mins
okay!

write about a character getting comfortable for 5 mins
I sat on my oh-so-comfy couch while gazing at the crackling fire blazing in the dark fireplace. Seeing pieces of wood disintegrate into ashes somehow comforted me. Wood, a sturdy material, often praised for its resilience, was crumbling into pitch-black ashes not nearly as strong as wood. |Seeing that even the best were susceptible to losing all of their might in a split second made me feel warm inside. I wasn't like this poor chunk of wood. Once it turned into ash, that was it. There was no going back. But when I fell, I could stand up and keep going. This was the immense difference that separated me from the wood. I could adapt. It couldn't. That meant that if I tried hard enough, I could be invincible.
78 words

read something for 10 mins
Read a chapter of The Tyrant's Tomb by Rick Riordan!
6;8;4;3;/5-3/101-3/ 81-1/7-3/6-4/;71269;0;2;3458;9;010001100;

300 word flashback

The moment I stepped foot into that elegant hall and caught a glimpse of the ancient chandelier changing from the ceiling, a sudden burst of emotions overtook my senses. Every intricate carving of the frame reminded me of the past..

Suddenly, I was inside a palace-like structure, far from home. The owners of the palace had invited me here. Ten-year-old me was delighted to hear that such a prestigious family invited me–a simple child– to their house. As a butler greeted my tiny self before the entrance, taking my coat and hat, I felt like royalty. It was a peculiar feeling, you see, for you are made to feel like the owner of a place you do not belong in. Soon, the generous owners of the house walked up to me.
“Welcome, Charles. Now come along.” They motioned for me to follow them and I did as I was instructed. As I walked behind them, I saw how detailed the carpet below my feet was. It was purple, the color of absolute royalty, woven into such patterns that a common person like me couldn't even comprehend. It was as if the threads had intertwined to tell a story of their own; a story that spoke in colors. I was dumbfounded, but I tried not to let the homeowners see. Among the luxuriant components of the house that seemed to radiate confidence, I was utterly embarrassed of the rags I was wearing. My shoes were holed, but still wearable, my shirt was a tad too big for me, courtesy of my older sibling, and my vest… Oh, my vest. It was the only thing I was wearing that was close to nice. I had had it made for this special occasion. If I hadn't been wearing that fine vest, I would have perished from embarrassment.
Now, I was wearing a vest resembling the one of my childhood. Oh how the memories were vivid.
322 words

send an appreciation message to a ST member
message sent to ceebee
2;8;2;4;/5-3/101-3/ 81-1/7-3/6-4/2-2/;712695;0;1;348;5;010001101;

200 words of character magically being transported to another world.\
I woke up, gasping for breath. Was I underwater? How? Bubbles driften in the water, rising to the surface, while small schools of fish encircled me. I held my breath, but I could only continue to do so for so long. I was sinking, the weight of water gradually pushing me down until I hit the bottom.. There was an entire underwater castle in front of me. I couldn't afford staring and admiring its beauty; I was almost out of breath. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to hold on a little longer but it was no use. How had I gotten here anyway? That question wasn't my greatest priority at that moment. After the final breath of oxygen I had left my body, I instinctively took another breath. I half expected for my lungs to fill with water. The inevitable ws so close. But it didn't happen. I could somehow been able to breathe underwater!
I then decided to explore the seashell caste that stood before me. How I had gotten to this bizzare place? I had no idea. But I was in this new world, so I thought that I might as well enjoy it. My underwater smile was one worth seeing.
205 words

positivity flood! Thank 3 swcers for everything they do
messages sent to gee, juli, and cae
9;6;2;5;/5-3/101-3/ 81-1/7-3/6-4/2-2/4-3/9-2/;7126958;0;3;34;8;010001111;

8 mins, plot twist, antagonist is protagonist's family

Gemma, my cousin was meekly reading a newspaper while I was watching TV. As a superhero, my identity had to stay secret, so even though I really wanted to tell her who I was, I held back by tongue. The news consisted of cliché stories, until… I suddenly say myself in disguise, fighting my arch enemy on live television. My enemy had pinned me to the ground. Ugh. They had captured my most helpless moment on TV. I flinched and flailed, but that was all the TV seemed to show. It didn't show me save the day like I always do. At that moment, my eyes darted to Gemma. She was wearing an emerald necklace, identical to the one… oh no. SHE WAS MY ARCH ENEMY. How? I asked myself. She had always been nice and friendly, maybe too friendly. In hindsight, I realized how naíve I was. How could I have let that happen? More importantly, HOW COULD SHE? HOW COULD SHE HURT ME? She was a traitor. A traitor. A traitor. A traitor. The statement echoed in my head as a faint but predominant voice. She was the villain, and I was the hero who couldn't see what was going on right under my nose.
207 words

eat or drink something for 5 mins
okay!

incorporate elements of non-fi, real-fi, or hi-fi, 5 mins
A few months ago, I woke up, and aura of exhilaration surrounding me. I was nervous too, of course, but my excitement was greater. That day, I was headed to a basketball match, one that would determine out place in the tournament. I slung my sports bag on my shoulder and and went to school, leaving my normal backpack behind, because I knew that I wouldn't need it.

A blaring sound alerted all of the players that the match had come to an end. A cheer erupted from the crowd, but louder than that of the crowd was the cheer coming from my team. We yelled in joy and jumped up and down celebrating our victory. My smile reached my ears. We had won, scoring only one more basket than the opposite team. WE HAD WON THIRD PLACE!!
138 words

do something creative for 15 mins
worked on my story outside of scratch!

prompt from cabin opposite to mine, that'd be sci-fi, 10 mins
3;6;1;6;/5-3/101-3/ 81-1/7-3/6-4/2-2/4-3/9-2/1-2/3-1/;712695834;0;1;;4;010101111;
“I can feel them staring.” - Cynthialz
I can feel them staring. I can feel their eyes watching me, their pupils following every move I make. The crowd had dominated the hallway, leaning casually against lockers. Watching me. Was it my red hair, my freckles, perhaps? I sure did look different from the rest of them. But why was that a bad thing? People don't always make sense, my mother had told me, but you have to play along their rules. But how was I supposed to play along their rules? Should I change my appearance? It isn't that bad. I grasped the straps of my backpack tighter and lowered my gaze as the stares continued. I had already changed how I looked twice before, and the results weren't very bright. I just made myself look like a fool in front of everyone. They never liked me anyway. Not with different clothes, different styles, different hair, different shoes, different attitude, different self, never. They never liked me. I was greatly distraught by this all pervading feeling of hopelessness. Some little detail about me wasn't the reason I was not liked. It was me, my old enemy. I was my own enemy, not someone else. The blame was mine alone.
202 words

500 WORD CLIFFHANGER
We stood in front of the evil villains' lair, ready to bust open the door and confront them. What we had endured to reach this place, oh, words weren't enough. We had gone through tedious trials that seemed to last forever. We had slayed a majestic dragon, imprisoned the kingdom's cruel prince by making friend with the knights guarding the prince. We had completed many quests given by a wise magician, followed every single step to make a healing potion to heal to heal our injured friend who had sacrificed himself for the cause of protecting us. After getting him back on his feet, we had climbed the unclimbable mountain, and travelled to the land beyond the clouds. The kind locals who lived among the clouds had helped us on our journey, providing us with food and supplies, only to turn their backs on us later. After that whole ordeal, a raincloud about the size of our group had followed us everywhere we went, but even that couldn't diminish our morale. Then we had to climb down the unclimbable mountain. We managed to do so, but the journey left our feet sore and our determination weak. But we had to go on. We had tackled wild beasts with our bare hands, all the while some us sneaked around and built a bridge to cross the uncrossable stream. The churning water below was home to vicious crocodiles, but we had managed to cross the narrow bridge without falling.
Now, having broken in to the villains' fortress, we were ready for battle. Our swords were slung on our backs, and our stances were ones of sheer confidence. The door of the villains' room loomed before us, yet is was locked. One of us had come extra prepared, and picked the lock with a bobby pin. As the enormous door opened with an unsettling creak, we knew that there was no turning back. We heard shrieks and whimpers from the back of the room, but an opaque darkness obscured it all. Out of the shadows, a tall figure emerged, about the size of a fully grown pine tree. That explained the abnormally tall ceiling. Heavy footstep sounds came from its direction, ones that I recognized ever so quickly. I was haunted with the realization that that was a… friend. He had been our guide. How could he have been the villain all along?
With a snarl, the creature took another step forward, revealing its crooked nose and hunched figure. With one last step, the identity of the mysterious entity was revealed. We gasped.
“How could you?”
“I thought you were our friend.”
“You lied!”
“How could you lie to us?!”
“We helped you, remember?”
“Did you forget us? Do you have amnesia or something?”
“We saved you!”
“And you hurt us in return?”
“You guided us along our quests, you gave us them!”
“The quests were pretty impossible, when you think about it.”
“You trickster!”
“We respected you and befriended you!”
“You're a liar. A traitor. Expect us to return the favor one day. When you least expect it.”

“Please do” The creature grumbled.
521 words


DONE! 6/9 success! Neutral ending!
PATHS TAKEN: 5-3, 101-3, 81-1, 7-3, 6-4, 2-2, 4-3, 9-2, 1-2, 3-1 | SABOTAGE RESULTS: 7- F, 1- S;2- F, 6- S;9- F, 5- S;8- S;3- S;4- S | ENDING: neutral

total:2,822 words

14th!
6;6;3;6;/4-2/2-2/9-1/5-4/7-1/82-3/1-5/3-1/6-3/;96253417;0;2;8;7;010111101;

d;1;3;6;/4-3/3-1/2-2/1-3/102-3/7-6/5-2/82-3/9-3/;934876521;0;2;;1;001111011;

A spot for me
4;1;2;1;/2-1/3-3/4-2/;479;0;1;123568;9;000000100;

Save codes:

#1 0;1;0;0;/;;0;1;123456789;0;000000000;

#2 4;6;1;0;/4-1/;;0;1;123456789;0;000000000;

#3 5;8;2;0;/4-1/5-2/;19;0;1;2345678;9;000000000;

#4 2;6;1;1;/4-1/5-2/2-1/;19;0;1;2345678;9;000000001;

#5 1;11;4;2;/4-1/5-2/2-1/1-4/;1953;67;1;24678;3;001000001;

#5 3;8;2;2;/4-1/5-2/2-1/1-4/3-2/;19532;0;1;4678;2;001000001;

#6 6;6;1;3;/4-1/5-2/2-1/1-4/3-2/6-1/;19532;0;2;4678;2;011000001;

#7 6;8;1;3;/4-1/5-2/2-1/1-4/3-2/6-1/;195327;0;2;468;7;011000001;

#8 81;6;2;4;/4-1/5-2/2-1/1-4/3-2/6-1/81-2/;195327;0;2;468;7;011000101;

#9 7;6;4;5;/4-1/5-2/2-1/1-4/3-2/6-1/81-2/7-4/;1953278;0;2;46;8;011000111;

9;6;1;6;/4-1/5-2/2-1/1-4/3-2/6-1/81-2/7-4/9-1/;19532786;0;3;4;6;011001111;

Save codes:

1;1;5;1;/1-5/;3;0;1;12456789;3;001000000;


PATHS TAKEN: 1-5, 81-2, 9-1, 4-1, 102-1, 6-4, 5-1, 2-1, 3-1, 7-1 | SABOTAGE RESULTS: 3- F, 2- S;4- S;1- S;5- S;8- S;7- F, 6- S;9- F | ENDING: neutral

Save codes:
1. 3;6;2;0;/3-2/;;0;1;123456789;0;000000000;
2. 3;1;2;1;/3-2/;9;0;1;12345678;9;000000001;
3. 2;6;3;1;/3-2/2-3/;9;0;1;12345678;9;000000001;
4. 2;1;3;1;/3-2/2-3/;96;0;1;1234578;6;000000001;
5. 1;1;4;2;/3-2/2-3/1-4/;963;0;1;124578;3;001000001;
6. 102;6;3;2;/3-2/2-3/1-4/102-3/;963;0;0;124578;3;001000001;
7. 102;1;3;3;/3-2/2-3/1-4/102-3/;9632;0;0;14578;2;011000001;

Saving for later. <3

Save Code:
0;1;3;6;/5-2/1-4/4-1/3-1/2-1/6-4/7-2/82-2/9-3/;516327498;0;0;;8;111100011;