Casper White, although better known by the night as the vigilante Ghost, landed on top of the apartment block that sat on the edge of the city. He pushed himself up from the floor and looked at the skyline. As per usual, there was no sight of Casper’s companion.

The night was cold, the concrete roof was cold, the howling wind was cold, and Ghost would be cold until he could jump into the mouth of the city. When he pulled his mask down, his breath looked like smoke, floating towards the starless sky. Something else landed on the roof, the click of heels giving away their arrival; Ghost pulled up his mask to turn to his partner.

The cold wasn’t a problem for Executor. The smaller boy’s costume covered every inch of him besides his eyes and the fingerless gloves.

“How long have you been waiting?” Executor asked. He wandered over to the edge of the building and stood besides Ghost.

“Not long,” Ghost admitted, “But only because you were on time for this meeting.”

Executor smiled, his eyes crinkling, but offered no explanation as to why he was always late.

Beneath them, they could see the sprawling connections of alleyways and the dots of those who knew to take advantage of the darkness. Ghost had to squint to see exactly what was happening below him. Some of the nearby buildings hadn’t been designed with roof access in mind. Ghost hopped between the apartment balconies until he landed on the ground. Executor slid down the fire ladder. They wandered through the outskirts until they reached the city centre.

Street lamps flickered on for brief seconds; the light casted a soft glow that made the pair look like spirits haunting the streets. Girls started to work corners, and Executor took the time to check they were okay. Executor walked with his head high, as if his presence was more than enough to frighten off the walking nightmares. Ghost, who had seven inches on his partner, peered down each corner trying to spot any possible crime.

“Do you think Sam the hot dog guy would make us pay for the patrol snacks if we staged a crime to save him from?” Executor asked.

Ghost clicked his tongue, “We’re meant to stop…“ he trailed off, staring down a pitch-black alleyway.

Executor stopped and turned to ask Ghost what had caught his tongue but quickly also peered down the alleyway. “What’re you looking at?” Executor asked.

“Looks like a mugging but I can’t be certain.” The assailant’s fist smashed the wall besides the victim. Ghost hissed, “The assailant seems to have a strength power. I don’t see any other weapon on them. That or they weren’t expecting a fight, which is highly improbable.”

Executor nodded. He pulled Ghost’s sleeve up. His fingers hovered above Ghost’s wrist. Ghost nodded, and that was all the consent his partner needed. Executor’s fingers were warm as they brushed over his skin. Ghost wanted to grab Executor’s hand and insist he wasn’t feeling his heart flutter as it began to beat strong and consistently. Once Ghost was taking deep breaths, Executor pulled his sleeve jacket down and vanished into the mist of the night.

Ghost walked into the alleyway. The victim, a woman in her mid-twenties, heard his footsteps, turning around to face him with wide eyes. “Help,” She mouthed with exaggerated mouth movements. Ghost nodded.

The assailant hadn’t noticed him, so Ghost took the chance to live up to his name. He pulled out the pocket knife, large enough to hurt but small enough to do no lasting damage if its target got medical help. He aimed for the assailant’s left shoulder.

The sting caused the assailant to randomly swing. The punch was too high. Ghost ducked under it with ease. He sunk into the shadows and let them consume him as he watched. The assailant stumbled forward before looking around for Ghost.

Ghost grinned under his mask. The assailant’s eyes glazed right over him. He rolled back into the light. He aimed a kick for the man’s legs and missed. The assailant reached out. Ghost stepped out of his arm’s length. He gripped his dagger. The best course of action was to try and get the assailant on the floor. Getting his hands tied up would be marginally easier if he didn’t need to worry about getting hit hard enough to leave his head ringing. He had to keep the fight low.

The assailant stepped forward. His arm was outstretched. They were backing out of the alley. Outside of the alley meant fewer spaces for Ghost to use to hide among. He started to head diagonally, each step moving a little to the left.

Shadows made Ghost one of them, blending him into the darkness. He moved to the assailant’s side and adjusted his dagger accordingly. He dived for the assailant’s thighs. Ghost’s head was caught in a large, heavy hand. The hand threw him to the ground.

Ghost’s back scraped against the concrete. The dagger flew out of his hand and clattered on the floor a metre away.

Executor didn’t wait. Ghost’s partner sprinted forward. The assailant turned to face him, the sound of the heels giving him away. Executor didn’t rely on weapons the same way Ghost did because his body was already one. Every punch the assailant threw his way, Executor dodged. Executor took every missed hit to slip closer to the assailant.

Months, perhaps years, of sparring with Executor made it obvious to Ghost what he was doing. He was dancing but every dance was only as good as its dancers. Executor was a professional and the assailant was too, to an untrained eye. Yet, his feet were too heavy while Executor was light on his heels and quicker.

When Executor could feel the assailant’s breath, he slammed his heel onto the man’s foot. Executor wore stilettos. The assailant took his eyes off his opponent for a second but that was all Executor needed. He pressed his fingers to the man’s neck.

The man fumbled. In his increasingly dazed state, he thrashed. The assailant knocked Executor off him. The unrestrained strength slammed Ghost’s partner into the wall. With a sickening crack, Executor’s head bounced off the wall and his hood fell off.

The assailant blinked. He started to collect himself as his heart started to beat around the expected amount of oxygen to his body. Ghost scrambled to collect his dagger and get up. He raised the knife near the back of the man’s neck and guided him against the wall.

Executor pushed himself up. His hair was curly and sat just below his ears. Casper could probably tie it in a ponytail. Executor pulled off his gloves and circled around to the man’s side. He placed his full palm on the assailant’s cheek. Executor’s hands were scarred. The assailant’s eyes rolled into the back of his head and he fell onto the floor. Neither Ghost nor Executor moved to soften his fall.

Executor kicked the limp body away. He looked up at Ghost with narrowed eyes. Ghost tilted his head towards where the near victim had stayed shock still, pressed against the wall. Executor’s eyes softened. He slipped the gloves back on and approached her with his palms in the air. “Do you need help getting to the main street? It’ll be brighter there.”

The victim stared at Executor’s hands before she shook her head. Awakened from her terror, she ran out of the alleyway.
“That could have gone better,” Ghost said, tucking his weapon away.

Executor laughed, his tongue clicking the top of his mouth as he did so. He flipped around to face Ghost, his hair briefly caught in the breeze; his eyes crinkled in pure joy. “Don’t tell me that one measly hit would have kept you down!”

“It didn’t keep me down for long.” Casper teased, letting himself linger on the sight of his partner. Executor tugged his hood back on; Ghost started to walk to the exit of the alley. They started to repeat the pattern.

Daily 28/03/24 continue a fairytale - 524 words

Cinderella's dress was made from silk. There were women hovering around her, helping her lace every bow and smooth the creases in her skirt.

“Oh isn't this exciting!” One of the maids (Cinderella is still getting used to the fact she has maids and doesn't need to even make her own bed anymore, let alone her fiancés or his father's) cries, “It's been so long since we had a new princess!”

Cinderella nods, “I just hope everyone accepts me.”

“Don't be silly! How can anyone not love you Ella!”

Cinderella's stomach ties itself into knots at her name. She stumbled slightly. A different maid this time grabbed her and patted her hips, “Oh this isn't too tight is it?”

Cinderella shook her heads. Her mice had never asked questions such as this. They'd always known when a dress was too loose or too tight.

The last bow was tied and the maids scurried away. They haphazardly packed their bags. Cinderella reached forward to grab a needle and thread (in case they dress needed last minutes adjustments) but had been swatted away. “You're going to ruin the dress!” They exclaimed. “Princess' don't worry about such inane things!”

Cinderella wasn't due down to the church for another hour. She wandered around her room, tracing the mahogany wood and Marvelling at how her fingers didn't leave soot stains anymore. She caught her reflection in the mirror. Her heart pounded and leapt into her mouth. The mirror was covered by a towel.

Someone knocked on her door. Cinderella stopped still. Her face turned to stare at the door. Her mouth hung open but she couldn't find the words to say. “Can I come in.” The Prince Charming asked.

Cinderella nodded before remembering that her prince couldn't see her from the other room. “Yeah.” She whispered.

The door opened a crack, Prince Charming popped his head through. “You look beautiful Cindy.”

Cinderella was so much stronger than she was in that second. Over the years with her step mother, she hadn't cried in front of prying eyes since Her father had died. She cried then.

Prince Charming barged through the door and peppered kissed across her cheek. He lifted her head up and pushed her hair out of her eyes. “What's wrong?”

“You're not meant to see your wife before the ceremony. It's bad luck.” Cinderella said in lieu of an answer.

Prince Charming laughed. “Well I think it's bad luck for the light of my life to be upset on whats meant to be the happiest day of her life. Do you want to tell me what's wrong Cindy?”

Prince Charming was the only person who called her Cindy. Cinderella's chest felt as light as a feather, like a puzzle that had finally been completed, when he called her that. It made her want to scream and cry and push him away that he call her something that had hurt her for so long.

Cinderella's shook her head.

“You don't want to tell me?”
“I don't know.” Cinderella said, “I really just don't know.” She repeated again and again as she began to sob like a broken mantra.

29/03/24 - Write a prologue (374 words)

The eighty ninth prince of hell went by many different names over the years. Satan was common to no one's surprise. The bible made sure to emphasise the main point of hell, the suffering, but forgot the to explain how the whole system actually worked.

The eighty ninth prince of hell chewed on the end of their pencil, which was getting rather blunt from a century or two of use. As they began to write up the deal for their newest victim, they wondered exactly what name they should put on the legal contract. Definitely not Satan they decided, far to likely result in the hard work landing in their fathers palms. The eighty ninth prince also wasn't a guarantee since their siblings were getting more desperate to climb up the ranks. They'd be able to defend themselves but the prince had taken a liking to this soul in his research. They were attached, as far as a demon could be, and would be unwilling to part with such a curious character.

They eventually decided that the soul would belong to the demon whom the contracted made a deal with. A nice and simple way to keep the soul in the eighty ninth princes hands forever.

The deal rolled itself up once the final sentence had been written. Now was the easy part, the prince supposed: getting the soul to agree to a deal that would by most means seem outrageous.

The eighty ninth prince of hell hadn't claimed that title for no reason however. Amongst his two thousand siblings, a few were bound to fall into the same trap of humans such as not reading the terms and conditions or being tricked into thinking a contract served their purpose when it only did so in the short term. He had a silver tongue, quite literally, and knew how to use it.

How hard could it be to get a human to agree to sell their soul? The eighty ninth prince of hell evaporated his form into a cloud of mist. They travelled to the surface world and traced along the path that his future victim was taking to his home.

Soon, the eighty ninth prince of hell thought, they'd have Casper White's soul.

30/03/24 - What's the worst superpower your OC can have? -342 words

Laura's greatest fear, three years after watching her parents die, was silence. She laid on her back in bed and listened to world whirl around her. Her younger siblings, Jodie the room over was dreaming of grand palaces and a glass ballroom. The sleepy peace washed over Laura as it hummed and muttered incoherently. The apartment below was filled with screaming. It didn't get muffled by the floor the same way actual screaming did. Nightmare or living nightmare, Laura wondered for the nth time. She got out of bed and padded towards the door. Through the crack in the door, Laura could see Jodie turn around and bury her head deeper into her pillow. She stretched her hand towards the knob of the door. The cold metal shocking her drowsy system.

Laura's hair was ruffled by sleep. Her phone pinged, Ximena warning her that she better not be thinking of going out online. “We have a maths exam tomorrow. I won't help you if I find out you weren't sleeping. Or at least awake studying.” Her hand ungrasped the door.

Laura shot a text back, “My neighbours are fighting again. I think.”

She knows Ximena's response. It would be something along the lines of how Laura should not act wtihout knowledge. These were the kind of mistakes that got them caught, the kind of mistakes that killed them. If she strained her mind, she would hear Ximena loud and clear, able to differentiate her between the crowds of people in the city.

But Laura is tired. She wants to sleep so she can score well enough to keep her scholarship. The sleeping city makes it harder than the waking city to snooze. Straining herself and giving herself a bad headache isn't going to help.

Meditation, Laura mumbles to herself as she climbs back into her bed, lying on her back. Breathe in the for four, hold for eight, out for six. If she can clear her mind, she can trick herself into believing everyone else has too. The neighbours continue screaming below.

Thank you notes: March 2024 SWC

Alright. These thank you notes hopefully won’t be long but I have a lot of people to thank this session so!
Obligitary thank you hosts, co-hosts, (g)hosts and daily team for putting together this session. This session was fabulous and it was definitely in part of your amazing skills in keeping everything organized, on time, creativity and working as a team. Hosts have fun making the result project!

Thank you Soki, Vi (esp Vi for the profile picture!), Nini and Bookie for being brilliant leaders and co’s, This has been the most excited I’ve been to be in a cabin fpr a while and you absolutely lived up to it! Now we’re at the end of the session can I come out of the closet and say my team? ^^’

And thank you to everyone I’ve interacted with this session, in cabin wars, cheering you on (or being cheered on) in the main cabin, doing critiquaires and more. This session was made up just as much by all the little moments with you guys!
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To the individual thanks aka people who made this session special for in particular <3
Thank you to Mousey! I know we spoke frequently before this session but getting to know you well this session has been amazing and you can’t escape from me now! We did horrible jobs motivating each other to edit but I believe you’ve been on top of that anyways (live a soldier you are o7 I could not, and didn’t!) and please stay safe under icicles!

To Sandy, who I didn’t speak too much but who critiqued my writing comp entry for a different writing contest! And then jumped in to give me the critique I needed for the final weekly. Your writing is amazing and keep it up!

To Pheonix who I met this session and is honestly just a blast to talk to. Thank you for jumping in for the third part of the third weekly and giving me updates on your Babel read through. We need to swap book reccs and chat more. I don’t even know how I ran across you but boy am I glad I did.

To Zai who critiqued my writing comp entry for SWC. Here’s to both of us not getting disqualified on the bounds of violence again! (Hopefully) (also I am still very happy to read your entry if you got that extension!)

To Alana and Poppy who I kept seeing adding my dailies and weeklys (and every other point adder I just saw these guys a lot in my messages ^^ Thank YOU! I have a parasocial relationship with you both now! I’m going to see you around future SWC’s and be like: OH MY GOD THEY ADDED MY POINTS THAT TIME.

To FI, who even without being in the session, gets a thanks. You were my rock in many dailies where I was tired and didn’t want to do them, letting me use them in that daily about being in an SWCer’s life and a bunch of other stuff that is between me, FI and God. Also Thank you Fi for your code because I used it to upload all my weeklies and dailies so honestly, couldn’t have done this session without you. Have fun being a panellist officially

To the user on another platform of which I can’t name for the Red Hood Tim Drake playlist. I wrote basically everything to that playlist so. Good on you.

230724: What's your SWC plan? (900 words excluding quotations)

I have been looking forward to this daily as the topic either hasn't come up in my recent leadership sessions or it's been ages and I hadn't had these thoughts yet. (and if you can't tell by the essay awaiting you. I am serious about this.)

My main change would be within the writing competition. Whether or not this is because I am salty is up to debate but I think there's problems with how it's ran.

i: My issue primarily lies with the Best __ categories and the forms. Poetry is an incredibly different form than a short story and a short story to a script. Even a short story is different to a novel extract (from personal experience, I cannot neatly condense the needed infomation to explain the complexities of a scene which has built up to in 10k while remaining a show not tell and the core idea behind the scene. But I also understand why having all of prose judged together is easier and why this is ultimately, just me grumbling. Other people make it work.)

BUT GIGI, I hear you say, SWC'ers write different styles, it would be unfair to favour one form to another. To which I'd like to point you to the mess of the fanfiction category (I'll talk about this in ii) . Fanfiction is recognised as seperate to prose and something that should be judged seperately because of the different skills and context behind it. If I were suddenly to become a host, I'd have poetry, prose and script/drama as 3 distinct categories.

There are then 2 ways you could do the 3 categories. a) Everyone is allowed to enter each category with a seperate entry then have a few HM's, a best or two and a winner for each one. b) Have a best __ for each of the categories, rather than say, Best Plot (which is unfair to poets) and then keep the HM's and Winners as it were. (Maybe highlight a distinct aspect for the HM's that you loved eg: HM for language)

TLDR: Judge Poems, Drama and Prose should be judged seperately. The two options I'd propose would be to have them as either 3 seperate categories with their own mini winners and HM's while allowing for more entries. Or, replace the Best __ categories with Best Poem, Best Drama and Best Prose while having more HM's.

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ii: The Fanfiction category is redundant *mic drop. Gigi walks off stage.*
Okay, alright. So, if you've been around the SWC block, or were around in the 2021 sessions, you might know I was a vocal activist for fanfiction to be a seperate category when the hosts first suggested it. My logic at the time was as I quote:

> Because it's like asking a fantasy writer to write real-fi. They can do it, but you're not going to get it first time but they seemed so, hesitant to go for the deep dive and use others characters. Like all genre's, writing fanfiction does not go hand in hand with general writing skills. …. Keeping people in character is hard man. And we have far less wiggle room than you because the core has already been set out. Character A insults Character B one time, that cannot be brushed off depending on who they are. Or maybe they don't yell? And heaven forbid you get an eye colour wrong….. My point there is that fanfiction will always come with restrictions. You have to walk the line of actually happens, could happen and definitely did not happen. Then mush it all together to make it seem like it's still the same content.

The way fanfiction is currently judged, is that

> A winning fanfiction should be a great work in its own right, and shouldn’t be tethered to its fandom to the point where it’s entirely impossible to understand without that context. Try to keep the worldbuilding and characterisation like you would in a completely original story

In my original write-up, I talked about the fact that fanfiction will inherently be a biased category due to the nature of a well known fandom being under heavier critique than, say a lesser known fandom. I use the example of Harry Potter for a large fandom and indie visual novel ‘Your Turn to Die.’ Both of which fandoms which had been entered prior to the creation of the category. I can complain all I want but ultimately, it seems like I can't have my cake and eat it. I can't have a fanfiction category without their being a bias in the judging due to exposure to a fandom. I respect the SWC hosts for coming to the conclusion they did, even if i disagree with it.
If the fanfiction ‘shouldn’t be tethered to it's fandom' and ' like you would in a completely original story,' why is it a seperate category?
If I became host, I would either make an open statement about *how* fanfiction entries are being treated as a seperate category to original fiction (are we using fandom wiki's?) or I would cut the category all together, since it's being judged as original fiction anyways.

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iii: Mini things that bug me personally (and I could write an essay on why but this is already nearly 1k.)
1: Author Notes that don't offer any context to the piece being mandatory. Obviously, if you have an A/N that talks through what poetry forms you're using, or to explain the historical context, I am not against that. But having been a panelist, when people go in depth on the why and minor details, really pulls me out. One of the things I love about creative writing and literary analysis is being able to make my own intereptations of the text and I feel like when the author holds the readers hand through the themes and choices. If it was that important, you should have put it in the writing. Most competitions don't allow A/N's and I think it's a bad habit to develop as a writer and as a reader. (I will also judge how successful I think the author has been with showing their message.)

2: SWC fanfiction. It's kind of gone out of fashion now (thank god) but it's bad fandom etiquette to seek out fanfiction of yourself or to send it to people you write about. I've been in RPF fandoms and I'll die on this hill. It gets worse when it's then judged. (“Oh but we're friends and-” If you are writing fanfiction of the judges/their friends and you expect to look you in the eyes and go: Yeah, that seems fair. You would be wrong.)

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Bibliography:
https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/475939/?page=83#post-5007727 - Fanfiction as a seperate category: @Imacreamoo
https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/642450/?page=1#post-6747223 - A guide to the SWC writing competition @stariqe

All’s Hell: (1300 words including A/N + Context)

> Authors Note:
‘All’s Hell’ is a collection of scenes from my novel from an alternative point of view – Toby’s. The stories aren’t in chronological order; the titles (bolded) show where in the timeline the story’s set. Every scene is purposefully 100 words exactly.

> Context:
Ad Caelum follows Casper White on his journey to independence as he leaves his abusive father and church behind. The journey is kickstarted when he makes the deal with The Devil/Toby Mcjury. In Part 1 (chapters 1-13) Casper summons the devil and grapples with the fact he will need to condemn someone to be free. Part 1 ends with Casper killing his father. Part 2 (chapters 14-21) focuses on the aftermath, such as the funeral. The book ends with Casper giving Toby his soul and leaving. Toby's arc revolves around accepting the feelings which make him more human.
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I: Chapter 9 – Page 59.
Playing long games came with unpredictable situations. Three hours after school ended, Toby had broken into the White’s house but there was no Casper to tempt. He settled for watching birds fly outside, imagining how they’d die, while waiting. Six hours after school ended, Casper got home. He was covered in blood, on his hands on his shirt, on his face and wasn’t aware of it. The devil couldn’t have his game end so soon. He crept down the stairs and led the human to the bathroom. He turned on the cold tap and wiped the blood off his face.


II: Prologue – Page 0
The 89th Prince of Hell despised the modern version of Hell. The changes to suit a tortured generation lacked the finesse of twisting ribs until replaced by a bloody angel. His many eyes flicked towards the pile of humans en route to heaven. One particular file caught his eyes: Casper White’s.

Teenagers were easy to corrupt, how stubborn one must be to still remain true to his Lord. The 89th Prince could daydream for days about mapping out the road to Hell to him. He left his station. There were underlings to threaten and boys to tempt waiting for him


III: Chapter 14 - Page 96
Toby felt the heavy weight of a soul in the palm of his hands before he saw the body. He’d heard the piercing of human flesh from his seat on the stairs before he felt the soul. He let the soul sink down to Hell and waited for the pitiful display to stop before he walked down the stairs, mindful of how the creaks disturbed the silence.

“Are you with me right now sweet?” Toby asked. He knelt down and pulled Casper back from the dead body. He took the knife, placed it on the floor and grabbed Casper’s hand.


IV: Chapter 16 – Page 112:
“You’re going to hell unless you feel like confessing to murder to your priest. I personally wouldn’t, I don’t think it would go down well on either of our ends.” Toby says. Casper pulled his hand away from him at the reminder of what he was becoming. Toby tried to not be offended.

It’d been less than a day since they escaped suspicion. They’d only just started to lose the consequences that’d been nipping at their heels. Toby missed the adrenaline, missed the threat. Casper was similar. He wanted it back, even if it meant creating consequences and facing them.


V: Chapter 11 – Page 76:
Every human has their vice and Toby’s is stress. Particularly, Toby’s way of coping with stress won’t have him seeing the pearly gates. He swiped the pack from the petrol station, which was already breaking one of the commandments. He put the cigarette in his mouth. There was nothing to light it, in a good Christian town, he can’t ask to borrow a lighter. Toby goes to a different store. He took matches too.

He smoked it on the way to church, took a long drag before puffing. He pretended he never smoked, throwing the used cigarette to the ground.


VI: Chapter 18 – Page 121:
The first shame about Markus’ funeral was that it was closed casket. The second shame was that it took place in a church, meaning Toby couldn’t watch Casper lie through his Father’s eulogy.

He brought a bottle of white wine for them to share. Hopefully, Casper would get drunk and Toby could hear all his anger at pretending his Father was a good man. Sitting on the stairs outside the church, he found himself half way through the bottle already. They weren’t even a quarter of the way through.

Everyone would leave to the grave by the stairs. Toby moved.


VII: Chapter 6 – Page 44:
Toby knew the moment Casper recognised him because of how his eyes grew as large as saucers. He watched him shuffle closer to the girl besides him, as if she’d be able to help him. The teacher says something but Toby’s more intent on the whispered prayers Casper is saying.

Casper nods, going silent. Toby takes that as his cue to saunter to the empty seat besides Casper. The boy was intent on ignoring him but the girl besides him offered her hand in his place. She introduces herself as Kathy. Toby calls her “Katelyn” just to watch Casper squirm.


VIII: Chapter 5 – Page 40:
The body, spiritually the devil and physically Toby Mcjury, manoeuvred its hand to cup Casper’s sunken cheek. He spoke, assuring Casper he meant little harm, his hand trailed down the boy’s face, neck and shoulder.

Casper sucked in a small breath, when the rotting nails ran across his knuckles with softness. Toby's human part, which should have died, tucked away how Casper appreciated kindness into the back of his head. The devil wanted to laugh; once the deal was struck it wouldn’t matter.

“You look like you were dragged to Hell and back. It’s suspicious.” He said, as a compromise.


IX: Chapter 21 – Page 146:
The woods were as good a place to rest as any. Toby and Casper had strayed from the path long ago. They stood near the border of woodlands and roads. Close to where they’d have to separate. Toby kissed Casper’s cheek when he stopped walking.

“This is the end?” Casper asked.

“This is what you wanted. Besides, I’ll see you in Hell soon.” Toby said.

As per the terms of the deal, Casper left Rotemore. Toby kept a firm hold on his soul as the Earth returned his body to the decay and as Hell reclaimed what belonged to it.


X: Chapter 13 - Page 91:
Toby felt warm when he knocked Casper off the sidewalk for the first time. The boy’s high pitched scream made Toby laugh enough to do it again and again. Eventually, Casper would elbow Toby back with equal force. They continued walking in silence.

“I would never let you die.” Toby blurted suddenly. He pulled Casper closer. The boy could feel Toby's cold breath on his neck. The words hung heavy between them.

With an edge of softness that hadn’t been directed at the Devil before, Casper responded, “You sure seem to be trying hard. Pushing me into roads and all.”


XI: Chapter 21 – Page 145
Toby felt the heavy weight of a soul in the palm of his hand and it took him five seconds to realise what that meant. The devil’s hard work had paid off. It was time to reap the rewards.

He threw open the doors to the church and walked down the aisle, to the altar, with an inhumane smile on his face. “I was beginning to think you didn’t want me.” He whispered when he reached Casper.

Toby pulled Casper down by his collar and kissed him. Toby felt the soul settle into him as the vows were finally signed.

Crititque for unercornshine (1001 words)

You wanted me to be brutal so, here we go: The Gigi Imacreamoo 1k Critique Bundle.

i: Double space your paragraphs. It's more professional. Also the use of italics entirely at the start is ineffective. You clearly mark off with the - when the flashforwards (?) ends. The italics add nothing.

ii: I already really dislike the fact that this is a part 1 instead of a full story. You open compelling plot threads but fail to close them. The closing of plot threads are integral to creating a strong narrative. As a reader, I feel more disappointed by the ending than anything else, which isn't what you want. Yes, novels leave cliffhanger endings but novels are also longer and usually wrap up the majority of their plot threads. For example: In the Hunger Games, Katniss escapes the arena with Peeta but we're left hanging to the capital's reaction to her stunt. You have done the equivilant of left Katniss in the arena at the end of your story. You either need to submit this entry alongside part two or make this capable of standing on it's own.

Here are some plot threads that I think need to be closed up:
- The entire first part is irrelevant to the rest of the story, the car crash and the aftermath. We do not know who Viktor is, how he and Natalie know each other or why Natalie must stay away from him. Ultimately, the way it lingers in the readers mind only takes away from the rest of the story. I don't care if it becomes relevant in when part 2 is released. Why not just put it in part 2 to begin with? If I was editing this, I'd cut this or move it to a point where Viktor and Natalie's relationship actually becomes important.

- What happens after Natalie runs away? This could feasibly be the end but the way you skip past the majority of the hospital visit makes me think there's more to the story (also because no reasonable doctor would actually let her get away.) I'd reccomend sparing a paragraph or two to properly sit on Natalie's grief. Even just properly acknowleding her emotions could give the impression of an open ending where the reader can assume Natalie goes onto to process her grief. The open end wiyld be more satisfying than how currently it feels like her grief is a vehicle used to progress the plot than a genuine human emotion.

iii: Show, don't tell.
Your story is littered with you telling the audiance how to feel rather than showing them or more accurately, immersing them in what's going on. You use the word ‘feel’ a lot and that's a big tell word. I'm going to direct you to the workshop on showing not telling because I think this piece would improve a lot with more description. It's also important to remember that purple prose =/= showing. “My lungs struggled to give me the oxygen I needed.” is still the same thing as “I was out of breath.” One's just more descriptive and sets a better atmosphere.

Ultimately, you want to be change the verb. Using an example from your entry: “ My eyelids feel like led” is telling but “I struggled to open my eyes.” is showing. The verb in your sentance is ‘feel’ while in my rewrite it's ‘struggled’. You almost always want the subject (I) to be acting on the object. (the eyes). Feeling is not really acting, it's more describing.

There is a place for telling. “The wind was cold.” is sometimes better and more concise for a small detail than “The wind's chill bit my fingers.” The reason why I specifically pointed out the ‘eyelids feel like led’ is because of the emphasis you place on the description. There's lots of moments like this scattered about but especially when you describe the crash.

iv: Structurally you make choices, I would not make. I hesitate to say their bad because I do think there's a place for them. I just don't think the short sentances, one word paragraphs, fit in the situation. Short sentances are generally reserved for moments of high tension. Specifically at the ending, where we've moved past the initial shock of the news Natalie's mother is dead, the short sentances are more jarring than effective in portraying the grief. Like previously stated, I think you need to sit on Natalie's grief more and the short sentances diminish that sort of retrospect.

v: The Dialogue from the doctor feels incredibly cliche. Doctor's ,from my experience, often care for their patients. The cliche dialogue take away from that, once again making Natalie's mother's death feel more like a narrative tool rather than anything with legitimate weight. Changing the dialogue so they express sympathy towards someone loosing their parent will help a lot. Maybe the doctor hesistates before they tell Natalie or maybe they try to avoid telling her, dodging her questions on where her Mother is.

vi: Coming back to the very beginning, if you decide to keep it in, change how you italicize it. I get the impression Natalie is hearing her own conciousness talk to her (indicated by the use of 2nd person) but it can get confusing. I'd acknowledge what this voice is and only have that itaclised so that the reader can tell the difference between the two. Also, since the whole story is in present tense, it's hard to tell if this is a flashforwards or a flashback. If it's a flashback, switch to past tense and if it's in the future, swap the crash to be in the past tense.

That's all! To end on a high note after I brutally critiqued you, I do think you have a very intresting premise and it'll only be small changes that elevate this from good to great. Besides the opening, there's no major structural changes that need to be made, which sounds small but it's common for early drafts and a pain to fix. Best of luck with the writing comp!

Optional “All's Hell” Authors Note.

First of all, I need to thank Fi @firetender who helped me condense some of the first drafts of these paragraphs into 100 word snippets, my partner for supporting me when I wrote the original version. @strange_skies and @unercornshine for critiquing, giving me the fresh perspective of someone who hasn't spent the past 2 years with Casper and Toby's story. Thank you so much.

I also need to give a mandatory thanks to Los Campesinos for their 7th album and specifically “Clown Blood; or Orpheus' Bobbing Head” and "Adult Acne Stigmata.' Give the album a search. It will become, very obvious as to why.

Anyways!! My personal notes and what went into Alls Hell's creation.

I: I knew going in that I wanted to write something that would push me. I am a very long winded writer (often to my own detriment) so only having 100 words to tell a story in was going to be challenging. This wasn't my first time writing a drabble. I wrote one a year or two ago named: Our Lady Death. It's hard. Originally, I planned to explore the question “Are we together in every universe?” But I was scared it might be too abstract and I'd have ti explain it to the readers, which is a pet peeve of mine. I don't think one, one hundred word short story was going to stand out in the depths of 2k entries. As I'm currently editing “Ad Caelum”, I keep finding myself wondering what Toby was thinking. Thus, All's Hell.

II: Casper and Toby's story is ultimately very personal to me. It walks a fine line of speculative and horror. There are feelings in the depths of Ad Caelum I'm a bit too scared to name (especially in the antagonistic characters.) I ultimately decided to cut the horror from the entry, as per communuty guidelines as because Toby mainly deals with the aftermaths Still, trying to carry through these feelings thar set the tone was hard. They're mainly shown in Toby's moments if introspection, the smoking, the wine, the denial that the devil and humanity co-exist inside of him.

III: Trying to carry a 75k plot and character progression across 1100 words is hard. One of the points in a critique was to include the murder of Casper's Father and to add more plot to make the scenes more cohesive. I didn't add the murder, though I easily could have, not did i add more plot. (Although changing some of the pacing probably helped.) When picking the key moments I had to remind myself that a) these were the key moments for TOBY so a lot of the big moments in the book weren't relevant and b) A lot can be said in absence. I easily could have had Toby peak in on the murder, he's certainly interested in it or listening in on the church. These moments of respect for Casper are (to me) far more interesting than any more plot I could have added. If I gave 100 people Ad Caelum, I was doomed to miss out someone's favourite scene, important scenes. All's Hell was an impossible task which I don't think will be finished until I have a 75k retelling from Toby's perspective.

IV: Choosing what scenes to use was easier than I make it out to be in III. A lot of these scenes I immediately knew I wanted to write, such as Toby outside the church during the funeral, The murder of Casper's Father, the summoning and tge funal scene. Overs I had to look for within the draft, some were moments which were absent in “Ad Caelum” but I wanted to know tge what and why of Toby in tbose absences.

V: I wish I could share the original scenes but they are long, not all of them are appropriate and the plot remains much the same. So, alas.

There all the notes I really wanted to say. I really hope you enjoyed Alls Hell

Leader App Answers

1: ABOUT YOU
I'm Imacreamoo, although please do call me Gigi. Mrs Imacreamoo was my mother. I'm 17 years old, British (GMT Timezone) and use she/he pronouns. My favourite musicians are ‘Los Campesinos’, ‘Palaye Royale’ and ‘The Hush Sound.’ so, indie and emo music. I study film, religion and plan to study English literature and creative writing further at university (which is creeping up on me). Ever since reading Carter's ‘The Bloody Chamber’ I have been obsessed with horror. My WIP is in fact, a horror novel about losing control of your life, religion and lots and lots of romantic tension. Other interests of mine include: reading and writing fan fiction, learning German and talking about V.E Schwab's book “Vicious.” (I am so normal about it. Please ask me about it, please, please, please.)

2: PREVIOUS PARTICPATION
I've led a SWC cabin 4 times and co-led thrice. I've been kicking around since July 2018 as well, which I'm mainly sharing to flex lmao. I also hosted SRC and had to make sure the leaders were communicating and minimising any potential fallouts. Also in both of them I had to talk to the team (whether that be co-leaders or on the leader forum) to make sure everyone felt heard, a variety of perspectives were heard and we made the best choices we could!

As a leader outside of scratch, I've led by school's queer society in hosting a charity event, making sure everyone was involved and understood what we were doing, as well as communicating with teachers. I’ve also done the ‘Boss It’ NCS program ran by my government to help develop my confidence in my decision making and in my ability to take leadership positions.

I have stuck with writing for over a decade. I've seen myself improve not just through time and age but also by studying what I like in other people's writing, being willing to share my writing with others (including applying and being accepted by Coach Hunt where I worked one on one to improve my WIP) and applying what I learn from others. I love critiquing others, working as a beta-reader for friends and having taken an editing course with the publishing house Hatchett.

3: CABIN PREFERENCE
I'm on my hands and knees. PLEASE give me horror. I would like to take inspiration from the collaboration that build a lot of early internet horror to create an interactive role-play where the cabin can build their own story together.

I could possibly spin my idea into sci-fi or fan fiction but I imagine people have much better specific ideas for those genres who deserve to have that cabin. (If you do decide to give me one of them I would prefer fan fiction due to familiarity) I don't think my idea is Gothic Horror either but I'd only have to make small changes to make it fit better, if needs be.

I would not like to lead TCTWNW because I'd like to incorporate cabin points into my storyline. However, if you’re a leader considering me as a co, I’m happy to co-lead TCTWNW as I appreciate the different experience the cabin has and would be happy to help build it. The competitive aspect isn’t a do or die for me :>

4: EXCERPT
All's Hell -> https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/post/8067129/ (this is 2k words so feel free to just read the first couple drabbles)

5: TIME DEDICATION
*Looks dead in the camera*, well, I know SWC leading takes a lot of time and the general consensus is school should take up most of my time. I believe in my ability to have a school life balance.

I'd make sure to check SWC during bus rides etc… to make sure I was up to date with the leader thread, keeping my co-leaders in the loop of what was happening, chatting to campers and updating word counts. Main cabin points may be less frequently added but I know so few people add points so I'd make sure to do it when I could, rather than say, staring at the weekly while not doing it. That isn't probably what you want to hear but I value honesty and I hope it pays off here. I don't want to make false promises. I will promise to add main cabin points when I can.

My real life and my exams come first, always, and that will probably impair on my activity to an extent. With writing workshops etc… I hope to take write some but I'll only take on so much as I can chew so you get them on time and of a high quality.

6: TIME MANAGEMENT
My greatest skill? I know what needs to be done and by when. I have lists of things to do and due dates and I make sure they get done. I find it easy to put down my book and go “Right! I need to do my English Coursework although it makes me want to cry!” I utilise the time I'm given. I have time to study at school so I'll use that time to study, so when I get home, I have more time for my hobbies, such as SWC. Also worth putting a pin in the fact I know I have to get at least 7 hours of sleep a night and I need to eat and stay healthy.

My greatest flaw? None. I'm flawless. Okay, that's a lie. I'm not organised with my time. One day I'll read for 6 hours and the next day I'm studying for 6, rather than do the smart thing of 3 hours reading and 3 hours studying each day. It’s something I'm trying to change, specifically because focused time is more effective than long bursts and also prevents burn out from both my hobbies and academics.

7: COLLABORATION AND ASSETS
My strength when it comes to working in a team is my ability to listen well and communicate clearly. When doing NCS, I got advice from the activity hosts and passed it down clearly to my team so we could build a raft. (Hopefully, there’s no raft building in SWC. The raft is, like a metaphor for our cabin and SWC as a whole.) Similarly, while filming my school’s short film last summer, I worked in a small group of 5 to establish a story and then we, as a group of 5, helped actors understand the vision we had agreed upon amongst ourselves. One challenge was coming up with something we all agreed on, which often included compromising and another skill was to explain this briefly to people so they could work with us, rather than us ordering them about.

I think, beyond that, I’d offer a voice that’s willing to play devil’s advocate and speak my opinion. SWC is constantly growing and changing and while I’m sure many of these decisions happen in a secret host chat, from my experience, I know leaders can be asked to get involved beyond their cabin (e.g with the daily team) and I’m not afraid to get involved.

My weakness is that I can expect people to agree with me. The way I bring about my thoughts can occasionally seem very objective. I’ve been trying to challenge that by asking others for their ideas and opinions first, to avoid pushing forward without hearing other people’s ideas. I also try to invite people to share their thoughts and questions after I’ve spoken to let them know I want their feedback. When people’s feedback isn’t what I want to hear (despite them usually being valid), I try to take a step back from my knee jerk reaction to reject it, so I can avoid potentially blocking any further discussions.

8: ONE QUALITY
Alrighty, I’ve rewritten this section 3 times and I’ve decided instead of answering this question, I’m going to talk to you about a fun study about fan fiction I discovered recently. (Stick with me, this is relevant.)

In fandom, there are ‘lurkers’ people who exist within the fandom space but don’t interact in it, be that posting fan art or fan fiction, sharing and commenting. The most activity most ‘lurkers’ will admit to is liking things. It’s easy to chalk this up to a rise in social media where fan interaction is less important. But here’s the fun thing, most lurkers admitted that when people helped them take their first steps into fandom, by comment guides or interacting back with them, they stopped lurking and became part of the community.

Now, SWC is not so unlike a fandom. One quality I love in leaders is the decision to be the person who goes “I’m going to help the lurkers.” And lurkers do exist in SWC, I’ve experienced campers who only add words. I’ve been that camper and well, now I’m applying to lead so I have so much respect for the leaders who helped me enter this community. I want to continue their works in helping this community grow. That will mean being willing to explain what SWC is, starting conversations in the main cabin and inviting campers into it, responding when they do take that first plunge and more.
So, what one trait do I look for in a leader? Someone whose supportive to friends and strangers. Also, if you watched that TEDtalk, Lollipop leaders.

9: CABIN ATMOSPHERE
is a competitive cabin with an interactive storyline, which aims to create friendships and help build on the campers original ideas.

10: CHECKBOXES
Yes I will be available to consistantly add main cabin
points
Yes, I am willing to make a promotional project.

I am able to complete all leadership roles explained in the FAQ

If I become inactive, I'd transer hostship of the cabin to aco-leader and tell them + the leadership why + how long for.
If a leader I was co-leading for went inactive I would tell the hosts as soon as I realised and try and continue the cabin (be that storyline, adding words etc…) in their absence.

03/11/24 - SWC daily, 307 words. Inspiration was from Luka's WIWO

Before making the universe, God had made heaven and with heaven, God made angels. For seven days, God left the eldest of the angels in charge and went to make the universe alongside, although arguably more importantly, Earth. After the first day, Michael got curious. Independence was new. Free will, while old, hadn't yet been experienced since the Father's word was so good, there was no desire to go against him. Michael wasn't the only angel to want to see what the Father was creating. By his side was Lucifer, back when he was still the brightest star, the morning star, in heaven.

Leaning over the gates of Heaven, into the empty where God created everything, Lucifer stared at the bright lights in the distance. Soon, the view from the gates of heaven didn't seem as amazing as Lucifer got used to it. Other angels came and went, giving the universe Father was making a passing glance. Michael was the only angel who visited frequently. He commented about the progress and said, “I wonder what they look like up close.”

Michael stayed in the gates, content with his curiosity. Lucifer wanted to see it up close. He slipped through the gates of Heaven and floated through the nothingness until he came across his first star. It was blindingly bright. Lucifer's eyes widened at the sight if it, taking in all the minute details like the energy of the elements and the burning heat.

“These,” he thought, “should be named after me.”
With that in mind, he traveled further through the empty, pointed his finger in the air and counted each of the stars he saw. He saw 824 in total, all of different sizes and in various stages of life, some closer to others and others alone for as far as humans would be able to comprehend.

07/11/24 - 10 word story: Prompt: As she fell, she knew she was going to die. (282/250 words)

As she fell, she knew she was going to die. The fall down towards Hell was long, “Long enough to break every bone in your fragile human body,” Sin had explained, “It's the first test, if you claw yourself back up.” Revelation sunk in Anne's soul as she kept on falling through the inky void of death, that despite everything, she didn't have the grit to bear her teeth and become a demon.

She could nearly hear Toby laughter when he realizes he'll have to venture into the pit to find one of his closest allies. Casper told her he'd landed on a bed nails, the rusted iron impaling the palms of his hands on impact. Ironic now, Anne wondered if Sin was lying, if everyone broke their bones or if the landing was the start of the torture, personalized to break humans before they had a chance to climb the hierarchy.

“Remember,” Toby had told her, holding the knife up to her vocal chords, “You're going to find Lucifer. Everything is secondary. Hell won't make it easy for you. No one's found him before for a reason. Use everything you have to your advantage.”

Anne hadn't humored him. She regretted that now. “Know your enemies,” was an ancient strategy and she'd forgotten it. Hell wasn't an army but it had a goal that opposed her own. She should have asked about it in greater depth, discovered how to tame the fiery depth like her team before her. Instead, she only asked that Sin sent her to her damnation because that's what it always wanted. Sin had been grateful for the chance. They hadn't apologized and the next second, Anne was falling.

Critique for Mousey

You gave me permission to be brutal Mousy, so in advance, I apologize.

> and into the dark campsite beyond, which was cloaked in darkness.

In the first paragraph you repeat ‘dark’ a lot. I think this is the most obvious example because it occurs twice in the sentence but it isn't exclusive to this sentence.

> “You’re here earlier than usual,” The form said, not sounding irritated at all at being woken up, as usual. The form’s name was Cyfrin, and Crystal had a love/hate relationship with him–he was helpful to her, but she for the most part hated the elf.

First off, since you're using 3rd person close narration we don't need to be formally introduced to Cyfrin. The only reason I would understand to not use the name in this instance is to create intrigued in the reader, make them wonder who and what is this form? This intrigued is undermined by immediately introducing him.
The second sentence is a prime example of telling rather than showing. You could show Cyfrin being helpful to Crystal only to be met with disdain. This could be done in the dialogue which follows the opening paragraph.
Other instances of telling rather than showing is:
> She hated his calm, confident tone, and she hated that he was so unruffled."
I, personally, work by the rule that you can only use ‘telling’ words (such as loved, hated, felt) when the information you're giving your reader adds context to the scene, but doesn't affect the characters actions. In this instance, if she hates him and allows herself to talk to him in a disrespectful manner, while she may have to be amicable, you can show her hatred for him. This can be through actions or through the narration being overly critical of him. If Crystal had to pretend to love Cyfrin (which doesn't apply it's more advice for the future), then that is the better place to add ‘she hated his calm confident tone.’ (also linking to the first point, we've established she hates him)
End of the day, when it comes to showing rather than telling, it's important to bear in mind but it's also going to be inevitable because writing is inherently telling. Don't get caught up on it but it's something to keep an eye out when writing/editing.

When it comes to dialogue tags, you need to kill the English teacher in your head that said ‘don’t use said or use it but only with an adverb' because it weakens a lot of your dialogue. Their good in moderation but why is ‘he said simply’ a better statement than ‘he said’ besides being more words. While ‘sourly’ and ‘dryly’ do add something to the dialogue, Crystal's tone, that could possibly be better communicated through the dialogue and her actions. I do think the dialogue you have is good at that! I am however, always sucker punched by ‘he said softly.’ That's a good use of an adverb.

> Crystal rolled her eyes in annoyance.
Rolling eyes already implies annoyance. You don't need to hold the readers hand through this. Trust them, your descriptions are strong enough on their own.

> Crystal’s breath hitched and her thoughts raced. Her memories were shattered? What did that even mean?
I feel like I've been overly critical so I really want to say that I love this specifically <3. More of this please.

Otherwise, I feel like all my critiques on part 2 specifically are already covered. I do however think it's the stronger of the two parts. That could be because you'd already done most of the set-up and therefore could really start to dig into what's happening.

For general overview thoughts:
I like the structure of the narrative. The scene has a clear beginning, middle and end which makes it easy to follow and strengthens it, where you could have easily brushed off ‘it’s the middle of the story' and allowed it to be aimless. I also think in the context of the actual story, rather than writing it with the expectation of an outsider to your world reading it, parts of my critique would be less prominent.
Crystal wasn't likeable for me. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, she's still a strong character. I bring it up because I don't know if she's intended to be likeable or not. She seemed very self-important while also being insecure, which are traits I don't like together. Once again, this could be due to missing context or personal preference so you'll know best about where to go from there.

13/11/24: Story based off a song (The dismemberment song) (it's loosely inspired) 640/200

Sin had caught Toby's eyes because of it's prophetic visions.

He didn't say it like that. Trying to get the 89th Prince of Hell to be honest was like pulling teeth out of an old man. He tended make Sin think it was playing political game, then the dentures fell off. “I'm interested in special people.” Toby said when he offered Sin the contract. “Something says you're special.”

“I'm not special.” Sin had replied. It's hands elbow deep in a humans stomach. “Any demon could do this.” It reached for the lining, grabbed the closest scissors and began to cut away.
“I'm not in need of a torturer.”
“Sucks. Only thing I'm good for.”
Toby raised an eyebrow and left the contract on it's desk. Sin had a good job under one of the major demons in the business of extracting ingredients from body parts and souls. They were important enough to hold protection but ignored enough for their hobby of picking apart souls to not be examined closer.

That should have been the end of it.

Sin sees the 89th Prince of Hell again the next day in it's torture chambers. It's humming to itself, painting in the blood of the latest human on it's table. It's a catchy tune, one of Hell's very own jingles. The Prince watches it work for the entire time, passing them the tools they need and rolling up their sleeves when they try to sew up the veins to see if the heart needs to be in the correct position or if the body stays cold and limp.

“I heard a rumor about you.” Toby said.
Sin was going to walk away. It stopped dead in its tracks, “I've heard rumors about you.”
“You call yourself Sin.”
“it's a name.”
“Sin was the King of Hell's right hand. It's comparable to calling yourself Lucifer, arrogant.”
“You're looking for the human that will lead Hell to Heaven but don't have the manpower to commit to it. My boss calls it pathetic.”
“You aren't a demon of pride. You're strong enough to last on your own yet you serve as a lesser devil. You don't care about politics, your job is one of a million. Most of your research never gets to the archives let alone to the bosses eyes. You've placed yourself in a position where you are nobody but you name yourself an influential figure. Logic would say it's delusion. The facts say it's strategy.”
“You lack that don't you,”
“You call yourself Sin. There's someone you want to notice you. You do your job to well so you're not in this for the protection, you're in it for the facility. My brother has the most effective soul factory in Hell. You want access to the souls. Stomach lining is useless for anything besides holding acid, one of the few things that could destroy devils. You're stealing from your boss. Why stop at stomach lining? You're taking souls, the ones that interest you. That's not weird, stupid, but not weird. Calling yourself Sin is.”
“You think this is endearing me to you?”
The 89th prince of Hell grinned, “You steal the prophetic souls. They look normal to most demons but not you. From there you reap the visions and fashion yourself in a way that gets you the best deal in whatever end you're seeing. There's someone you want to meet, someone who will notice a demon claiming political power that doesn't belong to them. That's me.”
Sin kept it's face blank. “You called me arrogant.”
“What do you want in the contract?”
Sin grinned, “You can't get rid of me. You reap the benefits from my skills and I stay by your side when you win. That's non-negotiable.”
Toby offered his clean hand, “Sounds like you have a deal.”
Sin took it.

Ad Caelum blurb (205 words)

Casper White doesn't want a lot in life. He wants his Father to be happy with him. He wants his soul to be purified. Casper White, no matter how hard he tries to deny himself, wants.

After an accident involving the death of his neighbors cat, the dream Casper would destroy himself for starts to crumble around him. His Father knows he's hiding something but can't prove what. The priest's constructed a version of Casper in his head that deserves to take Holy Orders. Doubt creeps in fast. The cover used to hide the cage he's chosen to live in has been pulled off as the door starts to close, with him still inside.

The Eighty Ninth Prince of Hell, masquerading in the body of dead Toby Mcjury, can give Casper the time to choose. At the price of parts of his humanity. A down payment for summoning him, enough souls to last however long Casper needs the option for and Casper's very own soul, if he wants everyone to forget the cage ever existed, himself included.

'Ad Caelum' is a speculative horror where ‘Carrie’ meets ‘Jane Eyre’ where demons are running amock, God is missing and relationships start which can only end in loss.

Critique for Juice (617 words)

First of all, on forums double space. It's industry standard and also makes your piece easier to read. On writing programs, the double space can be manually added in settings, but on forums that option isn't available so you need to do it manually. This critique is double spaced while your piece is single spaced. Obviously in a rush or when copy and pasting it's annoying but it does make a difference.

In the first part of the story, I think you create one expectation of characters which are subverted with no reason in the second. Courtney comes across as someone proud in her identity and begrudging of the government. This is expected of someone of her class and helps her character feel more grounded in the world. I like this part of her character. In part 2, she accepts the Noble Girls offer with no reasoning, explicit or implied. There are reasons why people would join with who they see as the ‘enemy,’ money, protection etc.. The lack of reasoning given fails to expand on Courtney's character (and her joining the government would serve as an interesting character arc.) ultimately makes her feel flatter, as if the story is dictating her choices rather than her actions influencing the story.

The Noble Girl suffers from us being to little information about her. We don't have a name for her or any idea on what her motivations are. Does she believe in her country? Is this what she was raised to do? These are all potential motives which immediately give her more depth than what we have in the story, that being ‘rich’. I am a fan of how she looks down at those lower than her and I wish we'd seen her more in that regard. I get the impression from the description we're meant to think she's cruel but her actual dialogue in the interrogation is all asking for more detail and disputing what Courtney says. The only real reason we as the reader are given to dislike the Noble Girl is because Courtney does but that impression fails to stick at the ending. I think her character would improve by giving her more personal dialogue than standard interrogation questions.

On a separate note, even physical descriptions can tell a lot about a character, especially in first person since that's what our narrator is focusing on. While her vivid clothes seem to show a level of wealth, and is a good way to show not tell, the description of ‘unblemished skin’ comes across as awkward in the situation. Would Courtney really focus on the Noble Girl's skin mid-interrogation? Should the reader focus on that mid interrogation? Obviously, if you're implying something here, keep it. I can come up with reasons why our focus is pulled here but I'm not certain enough to be sure that you're intending it or if it's description placed in a weird place.

As for the world, I love your attempts to integrate the magic system into the world. While I do have questions, it's more a case that in a longer work I would expect to find more answers to those questions than a case of: oh god I don't understand the magic system at all. In a longer work, I think you could expand on it more, is magic just for the wealthy or does everyone have it? If everyone has it, why hasn't Courtney's lack of dying not been realized before? But for the 1300 words you have, I think you balance it well. So well done

I'm kinda bad at conclusions but it's good , I think if you should work on one thing it's developing your characters.

SWC Thank you notes:

Obligatory thank you notes to: @-redredrobin-, @rocksalmon800, @Luna-Lovegood-LOL, @-NightGlow-, and @mossflower29 for hosting this session. I don't know what goes on behind that curtain but I can imagine and thanks

Secondary thank you to Luna, Moss and Inky for judging the writing competition. A lot of this gets done outside of the session but o7, it's going to be so much work guys but I really look forward to it. This thanks also extends to the panelists, whoever they turn out to be. Another Secondary thanks goes out the Daily Team/Polar Bears. Thank you guys for coming up with fun dailies for us to do , they always seem so fun even if I didn't get to do them all this session o7. You guys are the real stars of the SWC sessions to me <3

Thank you for the apocalyptic team: Luka and Ivory.

No thank you's go to Fi. Everything she dealt with this session from me is because we're friends and she signed up for this. (Fi has actually probably been Apocalyptic strongest soldier because all she's received from me is deranged ramblings about my OCs and hate filled paragraphs about Mulholland Drive which are like, half of my word-count) (This is a joke, thanks Fi for co-leading with us!)

Personal Thank you goes out to Luka for leading Apocalyptic and managing our storyline single handedly.
Funny story is that mentally, when leader apps came out I was in a grey space where I seemed fine but internally I was like, loosing it and the anxiousness of SWC apps was not helping. I was messaging Fi like, 6 hours after results dropped like: I might pull my app down.
I literally have a screenshot of my message where I explained where my app went, 30 minutes before you sent me the offer.
I'm saying all of this to say that first of all, thank you for offering to me because I really think you're so cool that you shook my mental illness thoughts LMAO.
I feel like that's getting way to rambley, I'm sorry. I'm writing like, 80% of this for words. It's been really lovely to get to know you this session. Apocalyptic turned out so good!!

I don't want to name all the specific recruits because I'd feel incredibly bad if I forgot anyone accidentally BUT I LOVE AND THANK YOU ALL!!! Thank you for doing the story-line and I wish you the best of luck with phrase 4. (I've been telling Luka some of those clues are horrific and been asking for specifics about whose clues are whose. SO if you guys get it, you can laud it over my head that I couldn't (I will say your logic on one of them made me laugh a lot. I won't say what but you've made connections I hadn't thought of in my own guesses :p) Thank you for doing all the weeklies and dailies and boosting us up to second place, thank you for writing so hard in Cabin Wars that we didn't loose a single one and answering all the questions of the days.

Okay, I hope I haven't missed anyone important. So final big thank you for generally just being really cool because you're writers and do SWC.

1 (280 words)
- Hurt/Comfort: (I like it. It's a very good story structure that ensures your story has tension (the hurt) and a moment of rest (the comfort.) but it's diverse enough in what it could mean that it can be customized to the players choice, what hurt? How much hurt? Con: i cry)
- Implied/Referended A- (WOAH Gigi, this ones a trigger warning. What? Well if it's a tw why is it one of my top tags on the archive of our own? Would you prefer if I called this whump? Huh? HUH? Con: I guess it is technically a trigger warning.)
- (blacked out for scratch reasons) (Whoops? Look. like okay. sit down with me here. I am an adult. But I am also somewhere on the aro spectrum and to quote Los Campesinos ‘Romance is Boring.’ It's as a good trope if I don't want romance. I guess some people like romance though (BORING!))
- “Who did this too you?” (Microtrope but i don't care RIPPING UP THE FLOORBOARDS. SCREAMING, CRYING, THROWING UP. OH AND WHEN THEY COME TO THE DOOR OF THE ENEMIES AND OG HOD IM FAINT. I once wrote a whole fic based on this and literally my favourite writer was inspired and wrote their ownn fic. literally made me sick)
- Omegaverse (STICK WITH ME!!!! Look me in the eyes right now and say “having a nest of blankets with all my friends and family with me and falling asleep.” doesn't sound straight out of a dream. Also to quote my own comments “ the gothic is coming back when someone writes an ugly, knee deep in the biology of Mpreg omegaverse story about the ghosts of misogny past.”

2: (437 words)
When Amelia Faust first meets Casper White, she finds him incredibly underwhelming. His scent at sixteen retains a milky innocence to it but underneath is the tell tale omega honey scent. It's hard to smell at all with the scent patch but its there because she knows what to look for. The second time she meets him, escorting McJury again, she thinks to herself ‘You’re going to be doozy.“ before she leaves him alone.

Casper, Faust soon discovers, is far far more than a doozy. There's a large pile of paperwork on her desk and it's just getting larger. She rubs the gland on her neck, hoping to ease some of the agitation of pent up hormonal emotions. God, Oh Mighty, she hates paperwork. The issue is that the Black's are picky about the nest they have. They were in the school mandated nest once, the one closest to her office, and have now declared that they are allowed to have it whenever. This isn't usually an issue - the school nests really aren't used often.

The issue for Faust is she's been working on a larger pile of paperwork in school hours when she shouldn't. Foster programs, child welfare forms, requests for medical documents. One can't go through till the other and it's running her in circles. It's easy to give up, hard to do it all but even harder to organize a coup to protest how the system seems against the kids she works with. The coup idea, gets tempting on days like today.

The meat of the issue is really that Casper has accidentally on purpose, started using that one specific nest during his heats (why not at home? Faust has suspicions she's acting on, see above paperwork.) It feels wrong to clean it. But the rooms to be sanitized for alphas and really Faust has just avoided lending it out. And now the Blacks are being difficult about it.

She buries her head in her arms and holds back on screaming. Her co-worker, Richardson, pokes his head around the door and winces. ”Bad day?“ he asks, sniffing the room as he speaks.
Faust doesn't even bother to pretend. The smell of sour lemons gets stronger, ”Tell me about it.“
”You know, if we send in an anonymous tip?“
”He won't spill.“
If there's one thing Faust is sure about, it's that Casper White won't turn his back on his family. It drives her mad. It would make any sane person stamp him with ‘lost cause.’
Richardon sighs, ”Remember to leave at a decent time.“ Then he shuts the door and leaves her to it.

3: (516 words)
”I know who did this too you.“ Lauren stated, her eyes blank. She twisted Ximena's chin so the hand print on her left cheek was clearly visible. Her fingers ran across the mark, soothing the pain. She let go. Ximena staggered towards the wall. Her knees, buckling under her weight without support. She clung to the wall and looked up at her ally.

Nothing besides shallow breaths left her mouth but her lips were curled in a snarl. ”You won't do anything.“ She stated, pushing herself up, doubled over but looked at Laura with ice cold fury. ”You can't be sure.“ Ximena lied. Laura's eyes hadn't been blank before. When Ximena spoke, sympathy, pity, vanished from them, leaving fogged windows. Good, Ximena thought, she hoped Laura's pity lodged itself in her throat and made her choke.

Laura met Ximena against the wall. Ximena hated being pinned against the wall, at the mercy of someone who liked her as far as her use went. She was relieved to have the walls support. They were so close she could feel Laura's warm breaths, turning to smoke in the frigid air.

”Do you think I'm stupid.“ Laura asked.
”Yes.“
”Because that's a light burn on your cheek, it's warm to touch.“
”That means nothing.“
”It means we're looking for a fire user, one with control.“ She tilted her head, ”How many fire users do you know Minnie?“
”Several.“
”Then the slices, close contact with a knife. But what did you say when we agreed to this deal? You don't get hurt like that.“
”I can.“
”No, not by some no name criminal. You're too good for them. You weren't expecting this, it's the only reason they got a hit in. You're still alive after all.“
”People are sneaky.“
”Friend, most likely. The only element in your direct lineage is air, so that rules out family. How many friends do you have?“

Laura pressed down on the burn scar. ”Many.“ Ximena spluttered out. Laura pushed down harder. It was if fire had consumed Ximena live. She'd never been in a fire for long but she imagined this was what it was like - all consuming pain, upon pain. Laura hummed.
”Lying doesn't look good on you Minnie.“ She said ‘Minnie’ the same way you might call someone ‘love.’ Ximena threw up in her mouth and groaned.
”Many.“ she repeated.
Laura laughed, like twinkling bells, oh God Ximena wanted to record the sound and listen to it late at night when she was too hot hot hot. She slapped her, exactly where the hand print was. ”Stop lying to me. I already know who did this.“
”Then why are you still here?“
”Is that permission?“
Ximena pushed her of, finding her strength with the returning adreniline. ”My answer isn't going to change what you do.“
”It'd make it easier, for you.“ Laura said as she grabbed her wrist. Five finger contact. Curses ran through Ximena's mind as she felt her pulse weaken. She was too tired almost instantly to fight back. Ximena looked up at Laura's empty eyes before she passed out.

4: (856 words)
A beetle climbed up the forests trees. It settled on the rotting bark and it's mouth began to open. Kyron watched it from the side of the road. On the floor, ants crawled between the leaves, by his black combat boots. The beetle stilled. Kyron looked away and continued to walk down the side of the road. Streetlights, sparse as they were, flickered on, when he approached. The bright light was harsh against his eyes. After days of sleeping and nights of searching for the ghost of Angelica, he'd adapted to the darkness, embraced the quiet solitude it promised. Crickets hissed in the air and the wind was still. It wasn't so different to his day to day life, if he didn't live in traffic filled cities.

A car pulled up alongside him. He jumped at the headlights and held a hand against his eyes, squinting. No one got out. Kyron's gut squirmed, thousands of bugs crawling in his stomach lining waiting for the monster to approach. The tinted window rolled down. A white girl with cherry red lips stared at him. She looked too young to drive. Kyron turned away and continued to walk. The car drove at his pace, the girl always staring at him with wide eyes.

”It's cold out.“ She said, her voice quiet. Kyron didn't reply. He ducked his head and worked to avoid stepping on the ants. ”I can drop you off at the edge of the woods.“ She continued, ”You'll freeze to death if you don't.“

As she spoke, Kyron felt his fingers stiffen. The wind picked up, howling, crying and blowing him towards the car. The girl didn't react, except a whispered, ”Climb in.“

Kyron's hand hovered other the door handle. The banshee was silent tonight. She always showed soon after one in the morning but it was now half past two. He would arrive in the early morning, try and track where she'd been, if she'd moved. But for the night, sleep tugged at Kyron and the promise of warmth was so so tempting. He climbed in.

The car seats were rugged and spiders spun webs in the backseat. Kyron tugged the seatbelt on. He didn't stare at the driver, didn't speak. Eventually, she started to drive again. Her eyes flicked over to him, roaming up and down his body. She wetted her lips and batted her eyelashes.

”You're dropping me off at the edge of the woods.“ Kyron reminded her.

She turned back to the road. When she thought he wasn't looking, she'd look over at him. Her posture grew tense as they got closer to the woods. She turned the radio on. It juttered to life, playing a slow classical song. She twisted the frequency, trying to connect to a pop station but all that came out was loud static that hurt Kyron's ears. She turned it back to the classical songs.

They never seemed to progress through the woods. The forestry remained dense, ten minutes into the drive. It hadn't felt like he'd been deep in the woods - but then Kyron tended to get lost in mind, time slipping through his fingers like sound.

The girl started to hum to the songs. She didn't know the songs, trying to guess where they would go as she sung. When she opened her mouth and started to sing along, Kyron froze.

”I'm really sorry,“ he said, ”What did you say your name was.“

She stopped singing. ”I didn't. Is that a problem?“

Kyron held his breath. ”I don't like trusting strangers.“ He said, each word measured. He studied her expression, watching it twitch with worry. It soothed back over into apathy after a second. If he had blinked, he would have missed it.

She stopped the car. The radio kept playing. ”We're not strangers.“

”We are.“

”Then I'll wait until we aren't.“

She looked away from him and started to hum along to the classics again. Kyron protested, talking to her calmly first before he tried to open the door. Locked. He grabbed his bag from beneath his feet and pulled out the pocket knife made of the same material of his scythe. He unbuckled his seat belt and flicked the knife open. In that time, her singing had turned to keening.

”Angelica.“ Kyron said. The girl turned to face him, her face twisted in abhuman rage. ”For what it's worth, I'm sorry I got to know you." Then he thrust his pocket knife into her neck.

The anger gave way to despair. Her screaming turned into high pitched wailing that made Kyron cover his ears. The car windscreen shattered into a million pieces. A bird fell out of the sky and landed dead on the floor. His body was turning stiff and everything was dizzy under the muffled cries. They tapered off to human screams, sobs and then quiet gasping for air. Kyron removed his hands from his ears before he pulled his knife out from her incorporeal form.

Her body evaporated into dust. Kyron coughed into his elbow when it was done. Then he grabbed the keys, unlocked the car and decided to walk again.

March 19th daily: ‘Make a Mark.’ (309 words)

Toby was sitting on the floor, head tilted up to lay on Casper's lap. His sharp canines sat on the tip of his tongue, a gentle pressure and heavy reminder of what he was. When Casper ran his fingers through the matted curly hair, grief, love and hunger lay in his stomach waiting to pounce on him, overwhelm him, make his head spin until he was dizzy dizzy dazed and dizzy and then he'd pass out on the bloodied floorboards of his past again. When Casper leaned forward, to press kisses at his forehead and bald spots, Toby could see the bites.

To an untrained eye, they looked like bruises, finger shaped kisses and signs of sucking the sweat off of skin. Only upon focusing, is the indent of teeth, violence and death present. With an uncoordinated arm, Toby reached up to brush his neck, soothing numbed pain. Casper laughed. He maneuvered Toby's arm so it sat over his pulse, a steady badum, badum, badum, badum. Toby's eyes went unfocused, the world blurring all around him. Casper's heart was so loud.

He twirled a strand of hair around his finger. Casper had such soft eyes. They were narrowed most of the time, hardened by doubts and secrets but here, they were open. For the first time, he maybe knew what people meant when they spoke about love. Toby would starve and burn to keep Casper soft. “I think it's high time I repay a certain debt. Don't you think?”

Toby felt like he was falling back into reality. “What?” he asked, the words heavy, like cotton in his mouth. Casper laughed again and pushed Toby up. His mouth hovered over Toby's neck, hot breath trailing down his shirt collar. Toby gasped and leaned into it.

How dull your teeth! My love!
How sweet this human desire!

21/03: Google Translate a line. (481 words)
I burn all the skin from the palm of my hand with an old zippo lighter and deodorant can -> The old Zippo is lighter, and I burn all the scissors I have on hand with a can of deodorant - Baby I've Got Death Rattle (Los Campesinos)

-
Sin weighs the tools in the palm of it's hand and debates what it's best off using. On one hand, the old zippo lighter from their days on the job is lighter, smaller, easier to hide. It won't admit to the notion of sentiment but it feels slight fondness at the memories it has with it. Burning was simple but effective and when quota's needed to be met, it was Sin's old friend. The brand is the same that all the workers for the sixty fifth prince of Hell are given. Sin would gamble that most demons give it to their workers because it's cheap - and Sin isn't a gambling demon.

The other option is a fire pit. “Dramatic,” it can hear Anne say in it's head. “Are we causing a spectacle or are we getting the job done?” She says ‘spectacle’ with such distaste that Sin immediately pockets the zippo lighter. It doesn't know when Anne became the angel on it's shoulder, doesn't know if it likes it but there's a job to be done and Sin hurries along.

It opens the drawers of the Sixty Fifth Prince of Hell's storage room. There's knives scattered around on the floor, a thin wire attached to a gun in a blind corner. It's such a fun design and Sin enjoys dancing around it all to find what it's looking for - the King's venom. It's not up with all the other poisons so it's been hidden with everything else.

It's hand skims over the scissor drawer, positioning it's hand so it mainly holds the handles. When it strikes it's palm against the edge of a scissor, Sin doesn't even wince. The drawer is deep. There wouldn't be enough time to empty the drawer out and then fill it again. Satan above! It's so time consuming and making sure to be efficient makes Sin's head pound.

The door opens, a guard shouts “Freeze!”
Sin's headache vanishes. Clarity hits like a sledgehammer and it immediately stops. It backs further in the room, looking around for anything that could make sure neither of them can use the King's venom (It may not be exactly what Toby wants but it still completes one of their main objective. He can take what he gets.) Anne manifests on it's shoulder again, tilting her head and laughing, “Why stop at just the venom?”

It doesn't think. It grabs the deodorant (they keep it to spray in humans eyes. It loves how they've created their own torture devices!") and sprays it about the room - hissing. It's not enough. It breaks the bottle letting the chemicals spill on the floor.

Sin breaks the marble in it's pocket - EMERGENCY EMERGENCY! When it feels Toby's magic begin to pull it back to Earth, it drops the lighter. It leaves just on time to avoid the burns but to see the room erupt in flames.