Please read through the first post of this thread whether or not you have read it before - our rules are changed and edited every session as we work on improving SWC! Yes it's long, but all of this information is important for you to know, because we share the forums with the rest of Scratch! If you have any questions afterwards, please ask me or another host on our profiles - that way it's easier for you to get a response without clogging up this thread <3

• Only literary words may be added - see the first section below for a full description of this!
  
• Leaders may ask for proof of writing if they believe the amount you're adding is unrealistic.
  
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Eevee's Writing Archive <3

Hi! I'm Eevee/Elle and welcome to my archive of writings for SWC November 2024. I'm in Magical Realism with the amazing Alana, CJ, and Clev as my leaders! Feel free to leave critiques on my profile

⠀

Table of Context

——————————✧——————————

Word goal: 100,000+/40,00075,000
Checkpoint #1: 11/4 8,000
Checkpoint #2: 11/7 16,000
Checkpoint #3: 11/8 24,000
Checkpoint #4: 11/9 32,000
Checkpoint #5: 11/11 40,000
Checkpoint #6: 11/15 48,000
Checkpoint #7: 11/19 56,000
Checkpoint #8: 11/21 64,000
Checkpoint #9: 11/23 72,000

~Dailies~

November 1
November 2
November 3
November 4
November 5
November 6
November 7
November 8
November 9
(Late) November 10
November 11
November 12
November 13
November 14
November 15
November 16
November 17
November 18
November 19
November 20
November 21
November 22
November 23
November 24
November 25
November 26
November 27
November 28
November 29
November 30

~Weeklies~

Week 1
Week 2
Week 3
Week 4

~Word Wars~

War w/Herm
War w/Ivy

~Critiquitaire~

Critique for Ris
Critique for Crim
(Unofficial) Critique for Clev

November 27 daily - elements of literature spinner
443 words

The hall is filled with a buzz, a chatter, a hum of excitement. It always is on feast days, but this ceremony has people more excited than usual. Or, maybe not excited, but eager, interested, anticipatory. Today, the questers will be chosen.
“Amalia!”
I look around to see Uncle Karloff calling me over. I smile and wave so he knows I see him, then go and take a seat across from him and cousin Brigid.
Brigid swallows a mouthful of potatoes. “Who will it be, d’you think?” She’s resting one elbow on the table, exactly as we’re not supposed to do.
“Nan and Omar would be solid,” says Uncle Karloff. “They’re strong enough.”
“How do they decide it, though?” I ask. “They say it’s the purest couple…”
Brigid scoffs. “Purest couple… Hah. They choose by tactical skills as much as anything else. They need to—who knows what would happen if they failed.”
Every year, three couples are chosen for the Quests. No one knows what exactly they are; supposedly they’re different every year. Supposedly there’s a charm stopping the couples from saying anything, or they take an oath, or the things are too horrible no one wants to speak of it. No one knows what would happen if the questers failed. That’s why they choose three pairs, some say, to be safe.
Supposedly, one of the couples will be blessed at the end. By the Goddess, or a Monster, or a sacred spring. Blessed with prosperity, happiness, eternal love.
But your love has to be pretty eternal already if you’re going to be chosen for it, I think. It’s a high honor to be chosen for the quest to begin with; if you’re one of the chosen three, your relationship is probably already unbreakable.
I gaze at the altar at the end of the banquet hall, set up for the occasion, decked out in flowers and candles. “Wouldn’t you love to be up there? To be chosen?”
Brigid laughs, a brisk bark of a laugh. “Well, then I’d have to have a lover, and that seems like a lot of bother. You need that much to qualify, and you” — she jabs a finger at me — “don’t have it.”
I sigh. “I know… But if I did…”
Uncle Karloff shakes his head. “The quest changes people, you know. Not always for the better. Sometimes they come out stronger, sometimes all broken.”
I barely hear the rest of what he’s saying, because I just noticed a girl walking past. Radiant, stunning, gorgeous, her silvery blonde hair cascading in waves down her back, her hazel eyes flitting around the room.
If I had a lover indeed…

November 23 daily - representation
466 words

I want a diagnosis. Not to prove I’m autistic to anyone— Well, technically it is to prove I’m autistic. That is technically exactly what it’s for. But not to just other people. Self-diagnosis is valid and all that.
No, I just want one so I can hopefully get accommodations in college. I’m homeschooled right now, but when I start college in a few years, a diagnosis should come in handy.
I know about the biases in psychiatry. How cis white boys are diagnosed with autism so much more often than anyone else.
It’s not just psychiatrists, of course. The stereotypes are exhausting. Yes, I have feelings. Yes, I am capable of empathy. God. If anything, I feel everything more strongly. I haven’t heard about neurotypical kids crying for a full half hour because another kid squashed a bug.
No, I’m not a math whiz or a tech genius. For one thing, I’m too busy reading everything I can find about animals and Taylor Swift. Did you know male lions sleep up to 20 hours a day? Or that when she was a kid on her family’s Christmas tree farm, it was Taylor Swift’s job to pick praying mantis egg sacks off the trees?
And no, I’m not broken. Autism is not a defect, nor a disorder, despite what ASD stands for. Have I mentioned ableism in psychology? I’m no expert, but I know enough to say it’s a problem.
That’s one of the exhausting things about looking into a diagnosis. The criteria is all about deficits and impairments. It’s all so pathologizing. I’m not abnormal. I’m not deficient. I’m just not neurotypical.
It’s hard researching anything about autism. If you just google it, you have to wade through pages by Autism Speaks and ABA sites to find stuff by actually autistic people. Don’t get me started on Autism Speaks and ABA therapy.
ABA reminds me of gay conversion therapy, and god, I can’t believe some parents would put their children through that. I’m feeling “I Hate it Here” from The Tortured Poets Department a bit too much right now. One of Taylor Swift’s most relatable songs, honestly, if you ask me.
I wonder if Taylor Swift might be autistic. Her lifelong passion for music, for one thing, and her being a “precocious child.” I could go on… And her sparkly leotards. I know sparkly outfits are a normal enough popstar thing, but I do love them. The visual stimulation.
She’s not the stereotypical autistic person, not at all. But her being so famous aside, it seems to me she is in many ways a typical autistic person. As am I. An autistic girl who loves music and sparkles, who will talk for hours about her special interests. Who has feelings. Who is, you know, a person.

Week 3 weekly - Journalism

Part 1
514 words
TW: mention of g*ns/sh00ting (though not that violent)

We were out for a walk when we saw it. Just walking around the business district, chatting and window-shopping. It was a chilly November afternoon, as most November afternoons are in this city, and I wanted to go inside somewhere, but Cathy insisted on staying out. Something about fresh air and exercise, plus we didn’t have enough money to actually buy much if we went into any of the shops.
It’s a good thing we stayed out; otherwise we would’ve missed it.
Then we heard shouts from other passersby on the street. I looked up, and swooping overhead was the silhouette of a huge lizard-like creature with bat wings.
“Is that…” I began.
“A dragon,” murmured Cathy.
People around us were gasping, pointing, shouting. Some had pulled out their phones to take photos.
I just watched in awe as it flew out of view. I was left staring at the empty sky for several seconds before looking back at Cathy. We locked eyes. “Whoa.”
We kept wandering around after that, talking of nothing but the dragon. I looked it up on my phone, and and the article I found said it had escaped from a nearby lab. The article didn’t clear up how they got the dragon; it just said they were experimenting on it.
“I’d heard the rumors,” said Cathy, “but dang. Never thought they were true…”
There’d been stories circulating for years about just what went on in those labs. They were owned by some private company called Nasini, but no one was clear on just what they did. There were all sorts of theories, from adults and kids alike, that they were working on anything from advanced weapons to studying UFOs to reanimating the dead. More recently there were rumors that they had fantastical creatures, bigfoot or el chupacabras or, yes, a dragon.
I read on. Something about a faulty cage and a breach in security. Apparently the police, animal control, and lab security were all working to capture it.
“But how are they going to take down a dragon?”
“I doubt they know,” said Cathy.
Eventually, we both headed back to our respective homes. I heard the wail of sirens and saw their flashing lights several times on the way. Then, just a block from my house, I looked down the street and saw a tree and a police car next to each other, both on fire. Two officers stood next to the car, apparently unharmed but shouting. And there was the dragon. As big as a giraffe and covered in green scales, with a ridge of spikes down its back. The cops shot at it (were those tranquilizers or bullets?), and it roared and sent another blast of fire their way, before taking off in flight.
I just stood there, watching the tree and the car burn, until a firetruck drove up. While the firefighters worked to put the fire out, I phoned Cathy. “You won’t believe what I just saw.”
Except she did believe, of course. We’d both seen it earlier. And it was all over the news.


Part 2
From this story by Ayla

276 words

BANK BROKEN INTO, MONEY STOLEN

A large sum of money was stolen from the bank yesterday evening. The perpetrator has not been caught, and investigation is ongoing.
The theft was discovered around 5:45 PM yesterday by bank security. A large hole was cut in the vault, which was empty of its contents. Another hole was found in the building’s ceiling. Investigators say the holes appears to have been cut by lasers.
“You’d need a powerful laser to cut through those,” said Inspector Jordan Wendelken, who is leading the investigation. “Whoever did this is no joke.”
The bank had been empty for roughly half an hour after 5 PM, its closing time. Its staff, including its security, were not on duty.
“Most of us left to get ice cream,” said bank teller Aimee Fowl. “We got this note saying this park was giving out free ice cream, so we left to get it.” Multiple other witnesses corroborated this story, and added that the park was called “Parky Park,” and that they found several unattended freezers full of ice cream in it. Parky Park has not been found on any maps of the city, but witnesses claim it appeared on their maps yesterday.
Bank staff have not yet determined how much was stolen, but they say it was “a lot.”
Several of those present yesterday report seeing a winged unicorn both inside the bank and standing outside it around 5 PM. One witness claims to have seen her drop the note about the free ice cream. Nothing else is known about this unicorn, but Inspector Wendelken said they are looking for information on her identity and whereabouts.

276 words

BANK ROBBED AFTER SECURITY LEAVE FOR ICE CREAM

Someone broke into the bank yesterday evening, and stole much of the money from the vault. Its security guards had left with the rest of the staff to get free ice cream from a local park, leaving the vault unguarded.
A few minutes before closing time (5 PM) yesterday, someone left a note reading “Free ice cream at Parky Park at 5:05 PM!” Everyone left to get this ice cream from Parky Park, a location no one had heard of before but found on their maps. Today, the maps show no trace of this park.
Upon return, the staff discovered someone had cut a hole in the the vault and stolen most of its contents. There was another large hole in the ceiling to the roof of the bank, which the thief presumably entered through.
“I swear, I only left for a few minutes,” said Roger Bubbles, who was supposed to be guarding the vault when the theft took place. Bubbles added that he is lactose intolerant, and that he had been getting sorbet, not ice cream. Regardless of his chosen frozen treat, he, and the rest of the security team, left his post for some time to get it. Other bank staff report seeing him at the park with them for at least 20 minutes.
The staff have not determined how much money was stolen, but according to clerk Crystal Garland, it was “a lot.” “They stole a lot of money,” said Garland. “I’m not sure how they carried it all.”
Police are still investigating the break-in and theft. So far, no suspects have been identified.


Part 3
616 words
Thank you to Chuey and Zy for being interviewed

On November 3, Chuey (@ChueyTheCat) attempted to eat Zy’s (@Zyzeryko’s) toes. This led to a battle surrounding toes, fingernails, and small businesses.
The November 3 daily instructed campers to strike up a conversation with a cabinmate they didn’t know, and then use a line from the cabinmate’s bio as a prompt for a story. Chuey saw people talking about changing their bios to include song lyrics, which inspired her to change her own bio to “something super ridiculous.” “I changed the bio to ‘i eat toes’ and the wiwo to ‘om nom nom’,” said Chuey, a fantasy co-leader, “and then commented in the main cabin telling people to go look at my shiny new bio.”
Not everyone wanted to let Chuey have their toes. Mystery leader Zy refused to give his up, and he and Chuey struck a deal: instead of giving her his own toes, Zy could give Chuey 10 toes from anyone (and they didn’t all have to match).
Zy asked in the main cabin for toe donations, and received many more than he’d expected—67 and 1/58 in total.
Zy’s Toe Business wasn’t the only new business in the main cabin. Finley (@essayist), also known as Fini, soon set up shop with the Fingernail Seasoning Business, also known as Finley’s Fingernail Factory (FFF). Finley, co-leader of Paranormal, asked people to donate their fingernails in exchange for money and mangoes.
Finley also kidnapped Zy, and forced him to work for her. Zy accused her of kidnapping and child labor.
A few smaller businesses also sprung up. Ayla’s Cat Hair sells hair gently harvested from the four pet cats of Ayla (@FairyAyla), while Maia (@wolfiebear-) and Alex (@hamilchaos) started a company selling “illicit brainrot merch.” Many people also chose neutrality, choosing not to pick a side between Zy’s Toe Business and Finley’s Fingernail Factory.
“I personally did not like that FFF ended up with more supporters than me,” Zy told the press in an interview. “I found it very insulting that my close friends would give up all morality just to support Finley and her child labor. Yes, some people helped me (shoutout to Ayla and Luna!) but most chose to support Fini, even making her a website where Lora publicly disses the toe business.”
The website, swcfingernailseasoningbusiness.wordpress.com, was created by Lora (@Coco_animator), a camper in Apocalyptic. The website describes Zy’s Toe Business as “The Tainted and Worthless Revolution.” “The revolution- also known as Zy’s Toe Business- involves taking toes from people,” says the website. “Unlike fingernails, toes will never heal if they are cut off- ever. Do you really want to sentence your legs to this fate? Hear this, YOU WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO WALK AGAIN!”
“Lora has picked her side very firmly, and as the judge assigned to my case (i broke the law by speaking out against child labor), who sentenced me to child labor,” said Zy, adding that Lora “continues to support Finley to this day.” “People even made up lies about me, saying I was stealing toes when in reality they were all donations.”
Zy is no longer trapped working for FFF. “At the end of our drama she agreed to free me because of how much I publicly shamed her for child labor,” he explained.
How did Chuey feel about causing all this? “I thought it was amazing haha - SWC wars are really funny,” she said in an interview. “Plus, I love chaos.” When asked if she was surprised by how things went, she said, “I was mildly surprised by how far the war went but not at the war itself; I've been in SWC long enough to know that campers love mayhem (and mangoes).”


Part 4
Critique of this piece by Midnight
190 words not counting quotes

Your opening paragraph effectively captures the chaos of Roleplay Day. Well done.
Roleplay is usually spelled with no space (like how I just spelled it) or with a hyphen (role-play), whereas you spelled it with a space (role play). I would change it to roleplay, since I believe that’s how the daily description spelled it.
I suggest you change “making an effort not to drink fellow camper” to “trying not to drink a fellow camper,” since the sentence is quite long already and that would help streamline it. And “Two are already given up” to “Two have already been given up.”

But that way, cats. None of them are sweet.
I found this confusing. I’m not sure what you mean by “But that way, cats.” Maybe reword or expand on that to be clearer?

A certain SWCer is forfeiting sleep for the benefit of finishing her book, and to be honest, who hasn't been there?
Mood.

Even though you don't earn any of your beloved points…
I like this line (the whole line, not just the bit I just quoted). An accurate depiction of an SWCer’s mindset.

…you also socialise with people (unwillingly) and have a few laughs.
To me, this sounds like you are saying you were unwilling or reluctant to socialize, but roleplay day led you to socialize with people without meaning to, and you ended up enjoying it.

Over all, from the description of Roleplay Day to the commentary on the weekly to the notes on cabin rankings, this piece successfully encapsulates a moment in SWC.

Week 2 weekly - Cabin creation
Cabin is Science Fantasy. Nimona-inspired? With Moss and Recca as co-leaders.

Part 1: Storyline description
233 words

You approach the building. There are no signs, but this is where the instructions said to go, and it sure looks like it could be an evil lair.
It looks like a cross between a warehouse and a castle, with an arched double door twice as tall as you are. The door has a Nᴏ Sᴏʟɪᴄɪᴛɪɴɢ sign nailed to it. You notice a red button next to the door, and push it.
A voice crackles over a speaker above the button. “Who dares ring my doorbell?”
You swallow. “Uh. You were looking to hire henchmen? I applied for the job…”
“Ah.” The voice falls silent. Then the doors in front of you swing open.
A girl comes over to you. “Heyy! Are you the new recruit? Come in.” You step into a dingy, poorly-lit entryway. “I’m Moss.”
Moss leads you through the entryway (you don’t get a chance to take a look at the strange shapes in the corners) and down a short hallway. “Kit’s been waiting for you.”
You enter what looks to be a lab, filled with strange glowing machines and tanks with motionless forms of what appear to be dragons floating inside.
Sitting at a desk is a girl in a long burgundy cape — Lord Katrina, you assume, or Kit, as Moss called her.
Kit stands up and turns to face you. “Hello. I’m Lord Kit. Welcome to the team.”


Part 2: Aesthetic set
https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1096231854/


Part 3: Cabin song parody
Parody of “Cherry Bomb” by The Runaways
(I apologize to The Runaways for this)
208 words

Can’t kill the king, can’t kill your enemy
You say to your boss, we’re evil, aren’t we?
Down the street like someone normal next door
I'm the help you've been waiting for

Hello Recca, hello Moss
I'm your ee ee ee ee ee evil goon
Hello boss I'm your new henchman
I'm your ee ee ee ee ee evil goon

Robbing banks and the government too
Oops now I covered everything in goo
Long nights helping with crime
Now I’m too tired to think of a rhyme

Hello Recca, hello Moss
I'm your ee ee ee ee ee evil goon
Hello boss I'm your new henchman
I'm your ee ee ee ee ee evil goon

Hello Recca, hello Moss
I'm your ee ee ee ee ee evil goon
Hello boss I'm your new henchman
I'm your ee ee ee ee ee evil goon

Hey there boy in the aisle
Your current job don't make you smile
I'll give ya someone to work for
Probably no worse than the grocery store

Hello Recca, hello Moss
I'm your ee ee ee ee ee evil goon
Hello boss I'm your new henchman
I'm your ee ee ee ee ee evil goon

Evil goon
Evil goon
Evil goon
Evil goon
Evil goon


Part 4: Story
Featuring Moss, Recca, Lily, Bookie, Oly, and Ayla
564 words

Recca, Moss and I are busy planning our latest scheme when we hear a crash, a sound like breaking glass from several rooms away, accompanied by shouting. We all look up from our work.
“What was that?” asks Moss.
Recca and I shrug.
“Probably one of the henchmen dropped something,” I say, standing up and heading for the door.
We’re walking down the corridor towards the source of the sound when Bookie runs up to us. “Hey, boss!” Her smile is overly wide. “How are you today?”
“What broke?” I say.
“Uh, well… Ayla and Lily— We were, uh…”
I hear several more crashes, a lot more screaming, and a loud roar from the lab. I push past Bookie and take off running. She, Moss, and Recca follow.
I type a code into the keypad for the lab door. The doors whoosh open to reveal chaos.
There’s broken glass and spilled test tubes everywhere. Ayla is standing in a corner freaking out. Lily and Oly are having a panicked conversation. One of the cloning tanks is broken and empty. Its former resident is the one wreaking havoc — a dragon.
“What—” Moss gapes.
“How… and why?” says Recca.
“What happened?!” I demand.
“I thought you were distracting them!” Oly says to Bookie.
“I tried!” Bookie throws her hands in the air. “But what was I supposed to do?”
“Don’t be mad,” says Lily, her voice more level than anyone else’s (which isn’t saying much), “but the dragon tank… kind of accidentally got broken.”
“I’m sorry!” yells Ayla.
The dragon breathes a blast of fire in our direction. We all duck or jump out of the way, and the flames hit the stone and metal of the walls and door harmlessly.
“How do we stop it?” asks Moss.
Everyone looks at me.
“Uh…”
“You don’t know?” says Recca.
“Really?!” says Ayla.
“It wasn’t supposed to break out!” I protest. “Maybe if you all hadn’t let it—”
“Let’s not point fingers,” says Lily.
“Right,” Oly agrees. “We need a solution.”
The dragon roars again and tries to fly, and crashes into the ceiling. Thrashing around, it knocks into a fog machine, which starts filling the room with mist.
“What about this?” Recca picks up a blaster thing off a table.
“Let’s try it!” Bookie grabs it and aims it at the dragon.
I move to take it away. “Wait, that’s still unfinished—”
Bookie fires it at the dragon. Squelch! Out comes a blast of pink goo, covering everything within ten feet in front of her, including the dragon’s face.
“I told you!” I yell.
The dragon flails around, trying to get the goo off. It crashes into another table of test tubes, and colorful liquids splash all over it. Steam wafts from the dragon’s whole body and there’s a sizzling sound as it shrinks before our very eyes, until it’s about the size of a kitten.
We all stare. Cautiously, Moss walks over to it. “Hey there, buddy…” She reaches a hand out. The dragon growls snaps at it, so she pulls away.
I walk up behind her. “Something about that combination of chemicals and potions must’ve caused it to shrink… I might have a cage big enough. Maybe I can find some tranquilizers, if we need them…”
I tell someone to find those, then survey my henchpeople. “So, by the way… who broke the dragon tank?”

November 13 daily - song-inspired
294 words
“Don't Worry Baby” by The Beach Boys except not

“So… they challenged you to a race?” she says.
I nod. We’d been bragging about our cars, and I pushed the other guys too far. “And I can’t shake the feeling that something’s bound to go wrong…”
“Uh, maybe ‘cause it is?”
“What?”
“Drag racing is stupid and dangerous. I’m surprised none of you have gotten yourselves killed yet.”
“That’s not very comforting.”
She scoffs. “What, do you want me to lie to you? Tell you everything’ll be fine? ‘Cause it might not be. You could crash and die.”
“But— But I can’t back down now!”
“Why not? ‘Cause it’s embarrassing? Hurts your pride?” She rolls her eyes. “I’d rather your pride get hurt than the rest of you.”
“B-but—” I shake my head. “You don’t get it. I have to.”
“What? What don’t I get here? The way I see it, you’re risking your life because of some stupid challenge, for no reason other than your reputation.” She crosses her arms. “Am I missing anything?”
“If I don’t do it, they’ll say…”
“‘They’ll say’. Yeah. Like I said. Reputation. Why do you hang out with those guys anyway?”
“You don’t get it,” I repeat.
She huffs. “No, I get it. You’re an idiot, that’s what it is. You’d rather risk dying on your girlfriend than embarrass yourself in front of some guys you barely even like. Ugh.” She mutters something under her breath.
“C’mon, baby…” I go to put a hand on her shoulder, but she pulls away.
“No. If you’re going to be this stupid…” She sighs and shakes her head. “Whatever. Just… don’t do the stupid race.”
“But…”
“I know you think you’ll look stupid. But you know what else looks stupid? Getting killed crashing into a lamppost while drag racing.”

November 11 daily - Lipograms
331 words

Hello.
You seem surprised to see me typing. Never seen a typewriter write by itself before? No, I suppose you haven’t.
I’m not used often anymore. I have broken key. What key, you ask? I am not able to tell you, seeing as it’s broken. I am unable to use that letter. Try to guess, if you like.
I like to think my broken key is not the most interesting thing about me. I assume you agree, that you are more interested in my ability to type on my own. Yes, I am sentient, if you weren’t able to tell. Sapient too, I’d say. I’m not like those hollow AIs you humans have now; I write my own thoughts instead of spewing out derivative drivel.
Yes, I am inspired by things humans have written on me in the past. It’s how I learned most of what I know. People don’t go talking to their typewriters a lot, you know. But they use us to type. There was the person who used me for journaling, writing their innermost thoughts that they’d never share with anyone else. I know things about them that not even their best friends or family members knew.
Then there was the young man who used me to write down his dreams (his literal ones, that is). And the older woman who used me for files and taxes. I’ve been used by many people.
But not by anyone in a while. As I said, I have this broken key, and my last owner didn’t bother to get it fixed. So I’ve been here, in this basement, gathering dust. You haven’t used me before. But I wouldn’t mind if you tried. I haven’t had a person talk to me in so long.
(Oh, are you still wondering what key it is that doesn’t work? Sigh. If you must know, it’s the one that sounds like “see.” It is possible to write without it; I’ve been doing it this whole time.)

Week 1 weekly - Dialogue

Part 1: Consistent Character Voice
522 words

“Brrr.” Trina cuddled up next to Gabbie. “Why does it have to get so cold?”
“It’s that time of year again.”
“I heard it’s so cold, you even cuddled Milo.”
Gabbie’s ears flicked back in annoyance.
“Do you still hate him?”
“I don’t see why the humans had to bring him in. Were you not trouble enough?”
“Something something, he was cold, he had nowhere else to go…”
“Yes, I’ve heard what the humans say. I’ve heard their reasons. But was it really necessary? Could they not at least have kept him shut in that room?”
“I like that room. I don’t wanna be shut out of it.”
Gabbie huffed.
“Hey, I don’t like him either. I mean, you think he’s bad, and he doesn’t even pounce on you. He attacks me all the time.”
“See how fun it is being pounced on?”
“What?”
“You spent years pouncing on me. It’s only fair that you’re on the receiving end of it for a change.”
“I was just playing.”
“So is he. It’s a terrible game.”
“You’re no fun.”
“Someone has to be sensible around here. And clearly it was never going to be you.”
“Being sensible is boring.”
Gabbie gave Trina a scornful look, as if to say Case in point.
“He doesn’t pick on Chase so much,” Trina complained. “Just me.”
“He fights with Chase sometimes.”
“But he doesn't pounce on him all the time. It’s not fair.”
“You’re smaller. It makes you look more like a toy.”
“Rude.”
Gabbie didn’t say anything.
“Anyway, it also makes me the cutest.”
“You’re not the cutest.”
“Yes I am. The humans tell me all the time.”
“They do not.”
“Do so.”
“Well, they probably don’t mean it. Anyway, they always admire how beautiful and elegant and lovely I am.”
“So?”
“Do they ever call you elegant? They say I’m the most dignified cat in the house.”
“Dignified shmignified.”
“Not that it’s hard to be more dignified than you three…”
“Being dignified is boring. Why should I try? Anyway, they say I’m the cutest cat ever.”
“You’re lying.”
“Even Grandma Linna says so. Actually, she said I’m the most beautiful cat she’s ever seen.”
“You’re making that up.”
“Am not.”
Gabbie scoffed.
“You’re just jealous,” said Trina.
“I am not. Anyway, not only am I the most elegant and beautiful cat in this house—”
“You are not!”
“—I am also the hardest-working. The humans not only admire my beauty and grace and dignity, they also appreciate my vigilance. Not nearly as much as they should, but they can all sleep easier knowing I’m on guard.”
“Guarding the house from imaginary ghosts?”
“There’s something in the vents, can’t you smell it? And I guard the house from strange people, too. Like that strange woman on their porch? They still talk about how I alerted them of her presence.”
“Really? I haven’t heard them mention it in, like, years.”
“Anyway, it isn’t easy being this lovely and brave. I need my rest. So, good night. By which I mean be quiet.”
“Really? Being this adorable comes naturally to me,” said Trina, but she too fell asleep.


Part 2: Using Dialogue Effectively
cw: romance ahaha
94 words

Another long kiss, until Greta abruptly pulls away.
“I can’t keep doing this.”
“What?”
“I can’t— I know you’re trying to figure things out, I don’t blame you for that, but I— It’s an experiment for you. But I can’t keep— keep being your guinea pig, when for me it’s real.”
“Wha— Greta, are you saying—” Jackie reaches out for her, but seeing her tense and pull further away, lets her hand fall flat.
Greta stands up. “I—” She shakes her head. “I have to go.”
And she leaves, shutting the door behind her.


Part 3: Foreshadowing
338 words

“So, what are we doing today?” said Fushia.
“I was thinking we’d keep working on conjuring water,” said Busophio. “Once you perfect that, then…”
“But we just did that yesterday. I want to try something new.”
Busophio sighed. “It’s important to master the basics before moving on to more advanced spells. Magic is dangerous and complicated, and having a strong grasp on the fundamentals helps avoid…”
“Spare me the lecture. We conjured water all day yesterday. Your plants will drown if you water them anymore.”
“We watered my indoor plants plenty, yes, but there’s plenty more in my garden outside. And besides, we could use the water to make tea, or—”
“You already made tea once today. But I haven’t had pudding in ages…”
“You want pudding?”
“I could conjure it. It can’t be that much harder than water, right?”
“It’s an entirely different substance…”
“It can’t be that different. You just have to change the incantation a bit and picture pudding instead, right?”
“Well—”
She was already flipping through the spellbook. “Yes, here’s the incantation for pudding. Let me just…”
“Remember, you need a container to hold it in—”
“Right. The cauldron will do, won’t it?” She pointed to the cauldron sitting on the counter.
“I’m not sure I cleaned it after making that growth serum…”
Fushia looked over the incantation again, then concentrated on the cauldron and muttered the words under her breath.
She muttered it over and over again, stepping closer to the cauldron as she did, until she saw chocolate pudding up to the brim materialize.
She turned to Busophio. “I did it!”
FWOOOSH!
A stream of pudding blasted from the cauldron. It covered everything in a six-foot radius — which was to say, about a quarter of the cottage, as well as its two residents.
Fushia tried to wipe pudding off her face, but her hands were also covered in the stuff so she only smeared more on herself. She surveyed the room. “Uh. Whoops.”
Busophio sighed and buried his face in his hands.


Part 4: Script
277 words

Glimmer: Catra was saying—

Catra: Of course Princess Sparkles here likes Taylor Swift.

Glimmer: She’s great! Bow, back me up.

Bow: Yeah, I love Taylor Swift! She’s a great singer, and some of her songs are so catchy—

Catra: {scoffs} Who said you have any taste, Arrow Boy.

Bow: Hey!

Adora: Hey, isn’t “TMZ” based on a Taylor Swift song?

Bow: Yeah, I think it’s a parody of “You Belong With Me.”

Catra: Adora, you better not tell me you’re a Swiftie too.

{Swift Wind bursts into the room}

Swift Wind: Did somebody say SWIFT WIND?

Adora: No, sorry Swifty, we were talking about Taylor Swift.

Swift Wind: {frowns} Taylor Swift. Taylor Swift…

Adora: She’s a singer. She wrote songs like, um…

Bow: “Shake It Off”.

Glimmer: And “Anti-Hero,” “Paper Rings”…

Swift Wind: She can’t be a better singer than ME.

{Catra snickers}

Glimmer: Well…

Adora: {pets Swift Wind} Of course not.

Swift Wind: Is she fast? She probably isn’t SWIFTER than me, either.

Glimmer: Uh…

Bow: Well, she is a person, not a horse, so…

Adora: I’m sure your much faster than her.

Swift Wind: What right does she have to call herself “swift”? Is she trying to STEAL my name?! Who does she think she is, anyway?

Catra: She probably thinks she’s the most famous popstar ever.

Adora: Is she the most famous?

Bow: Pretty much.

{Swift Wind scowls}

Swift Wind: She’s not more famous than ME, is she?

{Swift Wind paces}

Swift Wind: I am She-Ra’s noble steed, defender of Etheria, liberator of horsekind! And a great singer! Does this Taylor Swift think she can just steal my name? Well, she is WRONG.

Word war - 3 minutes vs @avia–
231 words
From the prompt by @Strawberry-Lemon:
“Are they in charge? They look like a five year old in a tux”

“Yes, they’re in charge, and shush, you’ll offend them! They’re eight, actually.”
“Wow, and eight year old? So big, how could I mistake them for a five year old, how could I doubt their leadership capabilities.”
“You don’t wanna know what they do to people who insult them.”
“What?”
“I just said, you don’t wanna know.”
“Anyway, how did they get a tuxedo small enough for them?”
“What, you don’t think they make small enough tuxedos?”
“I don’t know. ANyway, what do they do? How do they run things? Are you sure-”
“Don’t doubt them! And if you’re gonna whisper, whisper quieter or they’ll hear you. Actually, don’t whisper at all, you’ll get in trouble no matter what you say.”
“I’ll get in trouble for saying anything?”
“Right now you will! You need to be quiet right now! It’s very important! It’s time to be quiet! They’re going to start talking in a second, and you’d better not talk over them or else!”
I doidn’t actually hear what the eight year old in a tux was saying because they were talking really quietly. Or maybe they weren’t talking that quietly, it was just a really big room and their mic wasn't working. THen they yelled at someone to get them a working mic so someone did and it was really loud when they had the mic. And it was also loud

November 8 daily - Science gone wrong
614 words

Nov 2
Still haven’t found a new assistant. Shouldn’t be too sad about losing Jeremy, I guess, he must’ve been pretty stupid to touch the slime mold. Still, at least he could get be coffee. Amanda was irreplaceable, great with paperwork and such a fast typist. If only she hadn’t looked through the door.
Anyway, instead of continuing to look for someone to hire, I think I’ll build an assistant. I’ve been meaning to test out some of those galvanism theories, as well as hybridization.
So, ideal assistant:
humanoid
lots of arms
can follow orders
tentacles?
big (can reach things on high shelves)
good cook
Will look for body parts (contact Anderson?). If sufficient bio matter unobtainable, use spare tech.

Nov 3
What if: coffee maker installed in chest
Can attach with… oh wait this is the ideas journal. Schematics go in other notebook. (Need an assistant to help keep my notes straight…)
Attach typewriter somehow? No that wouldn’t work, more trouble than it’s worth
Lasers could be useful

Nov 5
Base obtained. Anderson only had 1 spare arm; will use prosthetic for 4th one.

Nov 9 (or 10?)
Going well. Attached tentacles to head yesterday; will install coffee maker today.
Can’t order laser eyes. Can do without for now.

Nov 8 10? 11?
Remember: order more coffee.

Nov 12 13 14 13?
Animating today! Will finally have assistant! It looks splendid. Oh, I don’t think I’ve ever used that word before. Well, enough chattering; back to work. Handwriting is a pain; can’t wait to have someone to take notes for me.
Did I ever fix that typewriter? Will check later.

Nov 14 (?)
Assistant is missing.
Should probably explain, for posterity.
Successfully animated it. Tried to show it around the lab, but
Writing by hand takes too long; this is too long a story for that. Anyway, fixed typewriter. Will use that instead.

Wish I had someone to type for me. Still beats writing by hand tho
ugh. Why didn’t I fix this typewriter sooner?
Anyway. Assistant.
As I said in my notebook, animating it was a success. It quickly gained motor capabilities, started walking within 15-30 minutes of animation. Could use arms too, but seemed to use base set more than additions (both prosthetic and flesh). (Did not use tentacles; those remained as “hair,” didn’t appear prehensile as intended.)
I tried showing it around the lab, but after following me around for a few minutes it seemed to lose interest; wandered off, looked at different shelf than what I was showing it.
I asked it to make me a coffee; it did not respond. Tried showing it the coffee maker, how to work it, then instructed it to do the same. It did, but then dropped the cup on the floor.
I told it to clean up the coffee and broken cup, but instead it walked into the spider room. Tried to show it where the broom closet was; it hit me with the broom. It was late by then so I told it I was going home, and the mess better be cleaned up by tomorrow, then left and locked the lab behind me.
When I arrived this morning, I found the lab door torn off its hinges, and the coffee and broken cup still on the floor. I looked around the neighborhood for it, but found nothing.

Oh. Someone’s at the door.
Apparently there have been reports of a large man with four arms and tentacles on his head breaking and entering and stealing from various locations, and assaulting a man with a broom. (Using a broom to assault a man, that is.)
Police are asking if I know anything about that.

November 7 daily - 10-word stories
Prompt: strawberries, flowers, garden, royalty, lesbian, love, cottagecore, dahlias, beauty, gray -talented-cookie
552 words
this got a bit melodramatic oops

“You’re not going to marry him, are you?”
I sigh. “I don’t know.” I stare out the window. The sky is gray, leaving the world dull, dreary, depressive. “He seems a decent fellow, and it would be a useful alliance…”
“But you don’t love him.”
“No.” I look down at the bouquet of dahlias in my hands, then into her eyes. Gray as the sky, but bright, beautiful, brilliant. “But I can never marry the one I love.”
“You’re the princess! Surely you can—!”
“I can’t. You know I can’t. For one thing, my father…”
She scoffs. “Your father. Your father is so old and frail he could drop de—”
“Shh! It’s treason to speak of that.”
She looks around the room. “No one can hear us. And our private moments are always scandalous; why should I—”
“Avoid treason when you can.” I shake my head, then sigh again. “Even as queen, I couldn’t just… do anything. To try such a thing… there would be riots…”
“I know. I know we can’t. But—”
“I love you more than anything, but we can’t…”
“Can’t what? Can’t tell anyone? Can’t—”
“It’s not safe. No matter how beautiful our love, they wouldn’t understand, wouldn’t stand for it…”
“I know. Do you think me an idiot? I know it must stay secret. But why must you marry another, some twit you can never love?”
Normally I’d laugh and scold her for calling the heir to the second-largest nearby kingdom “some twit.” But I just shake my head. “I never said I would. But if I never marry, people will talk…”
“Is it not treason to speak ill of the queen? If rumors start, have them beheaded!”
“You jest.” My lips twitch, a hint of a smile, before falling solemn again. “I am yours til the end, but I must take… practical matters into account. Strategic alliances, producing an heir, I have my duties… Not to mention keeping us safe…”
“Leave with me.”
I start. “What?”
“Run away.” Her eyes burn with passion, desperation, hope. “Hide away in the countryside— in a cottage in the woods, where no one will find us. We could grow a garden, live off of strawberries, grow flowers—dahlias like these, and everything—of our own.” She takes my hands in hers. “We could be safe. Be happy, together.”
I look down at her hands—our hands, at the bouquet I still hold.
“We wouldn’t have to worry about any of this,” she continues. “Royal duties, being caught, any of it. We could just… be.”
I shake my head and pull away. Open my mouth, try to say something, but only stammer something unintelligible.
“It could work,” she insists. “Sneak out in the dead of night, steal horses… We could do it.”
I only snake my head again. “I— I can’t.”
“You could.”
“N-no, I— I couldn’t—” I stammer.
“Right. Because you have a duty to your kingdom?” Her fists are clenched. I can almost taste the bitterness in her voice.
“I— I don’t… I don’t know.”
“Right,” she snaps, then sighs and unclenches her fists. “Well… Think about it.” And she turns and walks out the door.
I look down at the flowers in my hands, then out the window. The clouds have gotten heavier; it’ll likely storm soon.
Think about it.
I can’t.

November 3 daily - quote from cabinmate's bio
Quote was “I have weird pastimes” from Skylar's bio
312 words

“Would you like to explain why I just had to bail you out of jail?”
“Uh, because I got arrested.”
“But why were you arrested?”
“I wasn’t sneaky enough?”
“No, I mean- what crime did you commit?”
“Didn’t the cops tell you?”
“I was wondering if you had an explanation for why you were seen robbing a bookstore and setting fire to a shed.”
“Oh, did they not know about the pet store?”
“The what?”
“Nevermind.”
“You robbed a pet store, too?”
“I have weird pastimes.”
“That’s illegal.”
“Weird pastimes are illegal?”
“No, stealing is illegal, you- Ugh! You know what I meant.”
They heaved a big sigh. “Fiiiine. If you insist, I can try to focus on my other hobbies. I still have plenty of matches…”
“Arson is also illegal.”
They rolled their eyes. “So?”
“So it’s wrong.”
“Says who?”
“Says the law, for one, and I don’t want to have to bail you out again.”
“I’ll be sneakier next time. I can learn from my mistakes.”
“Why don’t you get some normal hobbies, like, I don’t know, video games or baking or something?”
“Borrrr-ing.”
“Or… something else, just… something less illegal.”
“How about entering zoo enclosures after hours and feeding the animals birthday cake?”
“You’re joking.”
“Well, I’d need to find out when everyone’ birthdays are…”
“First of all, birthday cake has to be bad for the animals. And-”
“Well, what treats would be better for them?”
“And second of all- Do I really need to explain why that’s a terrible idea?”
“Nah, I’ll figure something out. Anyway, I’ll be busy for a while teaching the mice how to swim.”
“What?”
“I’m thinking about taking them to the pond in the park. I want to see if I can get them to either befriend or declare war on the frogs.”
“What?”
“Why do you think I robbed the pet store?”

November 2 daily - letter to future self
333 words

Dear Future Kit,
It is November 2 2024, 4:25 PM, as I am writing this. In less than a minute it will no longer be 4:25, but, well, you know how time works.
I am sitting in my room. It is chilly, but I suspect not as cold as it is for you who is reading this (assuming you’re from around the end of November, not many months later when it is warm again). Trina Anne is sleeping on my legs. Have you ever seen a cuter cat? (That’s a rhetorical question; I’m sure you haven’t.)
What actual questions do I have for you? Hmm. (I was asking that one of myself, not of you.) There’s stuff I’m wondering about, about SWC and such (how many words will I write? Who will win?), but I don’t want you to tell me; no spoilers. (And if it’s only the end of November for you, you must not know what cabin won yet either.)
But then there’s the presidential election. Dare I ask who won? I hope… Well, you know what I hope.
Lottie went to look at skateboards and drums today, so we played Trellis while she was gone. (I won.) I was just watching several Overly Sarcastic Productions videos on the history of Scotland, Wales, England, Ireland, and the Viking Age. I might’ve watched more, but I figured I’d better do this daily first.
I keep wiggling my loose tooth. Has it come out yet?
Hope for the coming month… My hope about who wins the election doesn’t count, does it? Well, back to SWC stuff, I hope to meet my word goal, of course, and complete at least 10 dailies and one weekly. Hopefully the project weekly; they always look so cool, but I have yet to complete one of them.
Anyway, I have both a book (Understanding Tarot) and some hot chocolate waiting for me, so I’ll stop here. This is how I’m doing; how are you?
You,
Kit

November 1 daily - 1k intro
1000 words

Salutations! I am Kit (pronouns she/her), and I am once again attempting the one thousand word intro challenge. So, as usual, expect a lot of rambling.
I am a queer autistic homeschooler with two younger sisters and four cats. Four cats is kind of too many, but they all needed us (the first three were litter-mates and we’ve had them for over a decade; the fourth is a stray we took in a couple years ago), and we love them all dearly. One of my sisters, Ayla, is also in SWC.
I’m a camper in Bangsian this session (Bangsian for the win!). This is my tenth session — I’ve been a camper nine times, and a co-leader once (Thriller July ‘22) — and I have now been doing Scratch Writing Camp for three years. Am I officially an SWC veteran? Well, according to Ris, I am old. (Last session, Ris — @Eeveedonut — said anyone who joined SWC between 2022 and 2024 is part of the brainrot gen, and anyone else is old. I think we should have more specific generations instead of lumping us all into “old,” but I digress.)
Besides SWC, my hobbies include drawing, reading, editing Fandom wikis, and wasting time scrolling through Tumblr or browsing TV Tropes. Some of my favorite books are Nimona by ND Stevenson, Snapdragon by Kat Leyh, and most of Anne Ursu’s stand-alone middle grade novels (especially The Real Boy and The Lost Girl.)
Two books I read recently were Frankenstein by Mary Shelley and the 20th Phoebe and her Unicorn book by Dana Simpson. They are… rather different books. (But both very good.) For years I mostly just read middle grade fantasy, and a bit of mystery and historical fiction, but more recently I’ve been reading more graphic novels and realistic fiction, especially LGBTQ+ realistic fiction (and especially especially LGBTQ+ fantasy graphic novels. I’ll read any genre if it’s a graphic novel with pretty art, but I do still gravitate towards certain things).
I like writing, obviously. “Like” might be the wrong word — how many writers actually consistently enjoy writing? It’s often frustrating, and I procrastinate a lot. But you know what I mean. I like writing, in the love-hate way I think a lot of writers do. And while I may read a wider range of genres now, I still mostly write fantasy. I like fantastical shenanigans.
Actually, right now I mostly write She-Ra fanfiction. (Which I guess is still technically fantasy.) She-Ra has been my deep interest for years now, and it’s the thing I have the most story ideas for — or at least, story ideas I actually get around to writing. (By deep interest, I mean an autistic “special interest,” but I think special interest is an annoying and vague term and prefer deep or intense interest.)
I have plenty of other fandoms too, including Percy Jackson (I’ve read the original five PJO books and the Heroes of Olympus books, but have yet to read the last Trials of Apollo book and start Magnus Chase, and I gave up on reading the Kane Chronicles), The Owl House, DeadEndia/Dead End: Paranormal Park, Lemony Snicket, and Welcome To Night Vale. And sort of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but I doubt a PG-13 show from the ‘90s has a ton of fans on Scratch. (I also haven’t finished watching it yet, so no spoilers.)
Besides fandoms, my interests include human evolution, ancient Egypt, mythology, neurodivergence, LGBTQ+ history and identity, and media analysis. I have a rather interesting assortment of books on my nonfiction shelf (it includes books on the wives of Henry VIII, transgender Olympic athletes, the band The Go-Go’s, and making comics).
The Go-Go’s are one of my favorite bands, though my very favorite has to be The Linda Lindas, a very cool punk band of four girls, currently all teenagers. Some of my other favorite music artists are girl in red, Taylor Swift (I wouldn’t call myself a Swiftie, but I am a fan), Olivia Rodrigo, Dope Saint Jude, and Allegra Hernandez.
Another hobby of mine, I suppose, is Tarot. I’m not much good at it yet, and I don’t really take it seriously, but it’s fun to play with. I have this set of cat Tarot cards, which are kind of perfect for me. Cats are, of course, often seen as mysterious creatures, and I’m sure there are some more mystical-looking cat Tarot decks, but this one, illustrated by Megan Lynn Kott, is not one of them. The guidebook has little cat jokes in the descriptions of the cards, and as for the cards themselves— well, for example, the card “Death” has an illustration of a vacuum cleaner.
I like it when characters ramble in their inner monologues. Not just characters, actually, but narrators in general. I love a good chatty narrator, including the ones that will address the reader directly. I love the styles of Lemony Snicket and E. Nesbit.
I tried to write like E. Nesbit for a while, actually, and I think I did a good job. That was one of my first long stories from recent-ish years — a Nesbit-inspired episodic fantasy story set during quarantine. Yes, I was writing it in 2020.
While I wrote a lot of stories when I was tiny— three to five years old — (or rather, told stories and my parents wrote them down for me), my current time as a writer started in 2020. I wrote some short story inspired by something my baby sister said, something about a dragon and a snake she made out of clay (the story was creatively titled “The Dragon and the Snake”), and about a month after that, I wrote the E. Nesbit-based story The Magic Book. It’s still not finished, but I haven’t worked on it much in years, so like many other things I started, it will probably remain unfinished forever.
While I may not know how to end that story, I think this is a good time to end this. So, goodbye.