Le_lake wrote:

11/5- 707 words
❝ So slow down, sit down, it's new ❞

She could hear everything. Every single breath, every creak of furniture, every conversation happening. All at once, not one more clear than the other.

All a muddled loudness that seemed to be pounding in her head.

It was loud, oh so very loud. She took a shaky breath, curling even further into herself. It was loud inside her head too. Nonsensical strands of thoughts running through her mind at top speed. She wanted to cry, she wanted to disappear, she wanted to melt into the floor and never return. Anything that would get her away from this, anything that would just make her mind quiet for a second.

There had begun to be a loud murmuring in front of her, something she couldn’t quite discern. Why? Because it was loud loud loud. She felt someone grab her hands, she hadn’t even been aware they were shaking until the steadying presence of someone else’s grasp was there. She looked up, not having the right of mind to even pull away, it was loud.

She looked like some kind of prey animal, with that utter fear and panic in her gaze. She looked like she’d been filled with the primal instinct to run, but had no means to do so. Perhaps that was true in a way. She tightened her grip on the other girl’s hands, rubbing a thumb across the back of one of them softly.
“Hey, hey, can you hear me? It’s okay. It’s okay, I’m here. What’s wrong?”
The girl stared up at her, hands beginning to shake again as she finally managed to get out a wobbly answer, “loud”.
“Try and focus on me, my voice or my hands. Come on, we’re going to go somewhere quieter.”
It was only when the two had reached the bathroom that Mel realized she hadn’t even bothered to introduce herself. She must have looked incredibly foolish, just swooping in and deciding something for someone she didn’t even know. She opened her mouth to speak, but went silent when the girl spoke first.
“Thank you, for that. I’m Amina, nice to meet you. I probably look really stupid, sorry.” There was a surprising assurance with the way she spoke, as though every word she said was up the upmost importance.
“No! You don’t look stupid. You’re pretty,” later she would wonder to herself exactly how that seemingly unrelated statement made its way into her speech, “I’m Mel, well, my full name is Melissa but I don’t like being called it. It’s no fun.”
Amina smiled at the last statement, and took one of her hands away, oh, we’ve been holding hands this entire time, to fiddle with the flowers in her breast-pocket.
“What are those?”
“Fuchsia and Juniper.”
“Do you like flowers?”
“Yeah! A lot, they’re pretty and they smell nice. And they always mean something.”
Mel’s eyes scanned the room, landing on a vase that happened to also hold flowers. She grabbed one and tucked it behind Amina’s ear.
“What’s this one mean?”
Amina’s face gained a light covering of pink “just something silly.”

“I like silly things. At least tell me what they are?”
“Peach blossoms. Nice flowers but they’re hard to get in our climate.”
Mel smiled, she liked this girl, with her strong words and quiet facts. “Well, when I get home I’m going to find a florist and ask them what they mean.” She puffed her chest with the statement and then giggled at Amina’s stricken expression. “You look like I’m going to go commune with the devil. I’m just going to go ask some guy what some pretty flowers mean.”
“He’ll think you’re coming on to him.”
“Oh? What’s it mean then? I can’t just preposition people all over the place, you’ve got to tell me what it means now!” She grinned.
Amina fidgeted with the folds in her clothes, “you hold me captive,” her reply came slow and surprisingly unsure. Mel didn’t like that, didn’t like the unconfident tone her voice had taken.
“Well! I like that.” She hopped off of the place she had taken on the counter, “consider me captive. I’ll see you later, Amina.” And with that she smiled, finally let go of Amina’s other hand, and strode out.

(Via: ) Welcome, welcome everyone, to our brand new podcast, taking place right here at the mascot cookout. For some reason most people are avoiding me-

( A voice, cutting in: ) Uh… boss, it’s probably all the interview equipt-

( Via: ) -but luckily i’ve found an amazing guest for the opening episode of our podcast! Everyone welcome Gurtle, one of our fabulous cooks! Intern, insert clapping here in post, please.

( Intern: ) Sure, b-

( Via: ) Welcome welcome gurtle- can I call you gurt? No? Nevermind. The fans love you already! Could you tell us a bit about yourself?

( Gurtle: ) I am gurtle.

( Via: ) Well, yes, but tell the fans what they really want! Who are you, beyond the name?

( Gurtle: ) I am well known in these parts. Why would I introduce myself?

( Via: ) I’m afraid your story has not been told. New campers have been left oblivious to…. Whatever you did. What did you do again?

( Gurtle, offended: ) I can’t believe it! The older campers have failed me. My name should go down in history! Maybe i’ll have to come back and eat more links!

( Via: ) Well, I can’t say I agree with that, but how would you like to talk about…. Something else! This cookout, you’ve been serving soup! Could you tell us about your flipper soup?

( Gurtle: ) My flipper soup is world renowned! I’m going to win several awards. You silly campers are lucky enough to be my test subjects.

( Via: ) So… where exactly did you get the flippers?

( Gurtle: ) Links.

( Via: ) Excuse me?

( Gurtle: ) Links. The flippers are links. The soup is links. Everything is links.

( Via goes pale. She is not sure if the turtle is joking. She liked the soup. She had seconds. Was she consuming links? And most importantly…. Did she want more? To her right, the intern drops a bowl of soup to the ground. It lands perfectly on the ground, not a single drop on the ground. The intern freezes, and then picks up the soup with shaky hands. )

( Via: ) Thank- Thank you for coming on the show, Gurtle. It was good to talk to you.

( They get up hurriedly, grabbing the camera and turning it off with a click. The microphone keeps buzzing for a second, and keep listeners might be able to hear a whisper of …linkkkss….. )

A/N: So many mascots in here bwaha~ Just a quick rundown from first to last appearance! Smiley Winky Child, Sci-Fi Nov ‘21; Gurtle, March ’24; Skog and Blahaj, July ‘24; Marc Mangoson and Mangowife, March ’22; Evelyn, Thriller March ‘22; and Smiley Winky Baby, Sci-fi Nov ’21!

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Cordelia finds herself standing in front of two stasis chambers. The two that hold people she had talked to every day, since getting on this cursed ship. They were dead now, and she had only spoken to them in passing. One sided hellos, quiet greetings. Was it worth talking to more of the crew, if they were just going to be taken away, like this? She shakes her head. It took enough effort to drag herself out of the greenhouse so that she could come here. She couldn’t do anything about it now. They were dead. Voices silenced.

Her hands aren’t shaking when she places yesterday’s bouquet in front of the captain. She’s had a whole day of staring at the pale flowers- a whole day to accept what’s happened. They’ll be better here, she thinks.

There’s something comfortable about dressing up the stasis chamber with flowers; as if with them the reality will go away.

The second bouquet brings back the shaking. Nothing as bad as after the first death; but still there. There are far fewer flowers for Mauve, but they’re much brighter in colour. Shades of purple, from candytuft’s lilac to the deeper colour of cyclamen and hyacinth. Roughly tied with string. The colour is so painfully obvious against the dull lights of the ship. They’re a signal. A reminder that the two bodies inside won’t wake up with the others on board. Heart breaking and necessary.

Mauve may have not been the nicest of the crew, but everyone deserves to be remembered.

All those other girls, well, they're beautiful, but would they write a daily based off of a song for you? NOPE! Long story short, I promise that you'll never find another one like this daily - today we're writing a story based on a song! Pick any song - the jury's out, but the choice is yours - and write a story about it! You play stupid games, you win stupid prizes, but today, by writing at least 200 words, you win 150 points for your cabin (plus 100 for proof). You'll be on a winning streak!

based off of Cardigan by Taylor Swift <3

word count: 285 words

Hello!!! Straight out the gate, I love the style of this writing. It's no secret that i'm sort of obsessed with darker writing, that uses more negative emotions. It's always been more fun to be then happy scenes. I also love how you've laid it out almost like poetry, and made use of repetition, almost like the speaker is spiraling.

This could be a stylistic choice, but it's worth noting you use a lot of commas in this opening. It might be worth rephrasing so you have more concise sentences. Something like this could work better: “When you died my world ended. When I went to your funeral, the rain plastered my hair against my skull. The day you died, surely, was the worst day in history.” That being said, there's a million different ways you can punctuate this sentence so do it however you feel fits your style best!

I think you could do a little bit better than ‘sad’, here. Sad is a little simple, and it's very similar to cry, so I feels a little bit like you've just said the same thing twice. I think you could use a synonym to have a little bit more effect. Maybe ‘sorrowful,’ or ‘crushed’

This either needs a comma after someone rather than after out, or to be rephrased. Otherwise the period interrupts the flow

This???!?!??! This is so amazing, it really paints a picture and it reminds me a lot of old poems from the late 1800s, which is a really weird thing to compare to but I love reading poems like that. This is suchhhhh a good section I can't even express that enough. “A sea of men” Is a really striking metaphor.

I personally think it would be cool if you phrased this in present tense (“ No one else understands my pain.”). This would make it tie into the final closing sentence which is also in present tense, as well as really emphasizing that the speaker is Still suffering, and writes this message from a place of pain because that pain never really goes away.

I like this ending because it makes you wonder what they mean by mad. Are they mad because the world doesn't love them like the author did? Or did the fact that they are the only one who remembers their partner for who they really were drive them insane? It's a good end because it fits with the style of the writing- it's very poetic and you can draw a lot of conclusions from just the three words 'I am mad."