July 2025 SWC Writing Megathread

Hello and welcome to the official SWC writing thread! This thread is for any SWCers to share writing so we don't all have to make our own writing threads. Additionally, the second post of this thread will be a sort of “masterpost” of rules and info about SWC for campers <3

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

What you can put here:
Any writing you do during SWC (whether daily, weekly, word war, writing competition entry or just your own writing) can go in this thread! You can either make a new post per piece of writing, or make one post and edit your new writing into it - either is fine!

Please try not to have conversations or chat here - you can post writing, give critique and discuss others' writing but if off topic conversations happen here, it's likely the topic will be deleted or closed by the Scratch Team. We'd like to avoid that. <3

Remember to check any writing you post to make sure it does not contain any personal details or private information. If it does, you can either edit out/change the details or not post the writing! Stay safe online ^^

Ways to use this forum:
There are two main ways to use this forum - but other ways are okay too!

Making one post and editing your new writing into it. If you use this method, please edit new writing into the top of your post, so it's easier for leaders to find!

Making a new post for every writing piece (you could also include an optional “table of contents” post which contains a list of writing pieces and links to them!)

Reporting posts
Please don't hesitate to report other posts if you feel you need to! Valid reasons to report posts include:

- The post shares private information
- The post contains rude/offensive language
- The post is spam or off topic
- The post does not belong in this topic
- The post otherwise breaks Scratch's guidelines or makes you uncomfortable

When you click report, you will be provided with a comment box to explain why you reported the post - and please do so! It helps the forum moderators understand what you want them to do.

On the Scratch forums, there are lots of reasons you can report things other than that they're inappropriate. Reporting is not trying to get the user in trouble, picking on the user, or going behind their back - it's simply helping to keep the forums organized, tidy and Scratch safe. You won't get in trouble for reporting a post that doesn't need reporting, as there are no rules as to what does and doesn't need reporting. So it's fine to report posts that don't belong in this thread, are off topic, or are spam as well as inappropriate posts.

Discussing people's writing
It's completely okay to respond to and comment on people's writing here. However:

People won't necessarily see your responses to their writing, because they don't get a notification when you quote their writing. Instead, you can comment on their profile, either commenting on their writing there or saying something like “hey! I responded to your writing piece here: <link>”

It's also fine to give critique to others' writing here, but make sure to give the person the link to your critique!
Also, please keep in mind that not everyone here will want critique on their writing! Make sure to ask permission before giving anyone critique.

To get the link to a post, right click the top left corner of the post, where it says the date and time it was posted. Then click “copy link address”, and paste the link wherever you need it.

Personal writing threads
Personal writing threads will be allowed this session! However, please only make one forum topic for just your writing - put it in the "Things I'm Making and Creating" forum, and use that topic for the whole of this SWC session. This means not creating a new topic for, say, your writing competition entry, and certainly not creating a new topic for each writing piece, as this is a nightmare for forum moderators and other people using the forums.
It is still highly recommended that you use the megathread in order to be considerate to other forumers! Having a lot of different writing topics makes it harder to find other topics, so please consider carefully whether you'd be willing to use the megathread before creating a personal topic

Other Ways to Share Writing
Not everyone wants to share their writing in the forums, and that's fine - here are some other places it's okay to share your writing!

You could create a new scratch project (perhaps on an alternate account if you don't want to share writing on your main account!) and share your writing as an in-project comment, in the description and notes and credits, or pasted into a costume using the text tool.

You can take a photo or screenshot of your writing and either put it inside a scratch project or upload it to cubeupload, then share that link. You will need an account to use cubeupload, but it's a safe way to share images and the Scratch team allows it.

Please note that blankslate is not allowed. If you don't know what it is, it's a writing sharing program that we used to use frequently in SWC but is no longer allowed because of its lack of moderation.

Do not attempt to bypass Scratch's filter in order to share writing on sites that are not allowed. Not only are these sites banned for a reason, but you will get caught if you attempt to share links to them on Scratch. Proof shared via other sites will not count. Cubeupload is the exception to this rule, as it is allowed by Scratch in order to share images on the forums ^^

Thanks everyone, and happy writing!

(Many thanks to Kat, Sun, Luna, Robin and Linden for writing the megathread post in previous sessions, from which this was mainly copied!)

If you believe any of these rules shouldn’t apply / should apply differently for a specific case (e.g. adding a daily when this guide says not to), take it to the hosts! We’re happy to deal with edge cases and/or disputes on an individual basis. Questions about these should be taken to your leader or a host's profile, not asked here

TLDR

• 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.
  
• You must give an explanation of what you were writing when you add words. Leaders will not add words without this.
  
• You may not add more than 10,000 words at once.
  
• Dailies and weeklies must be commented in the Main Cabin before they end, even if the description has not yet been updated.
  
• Proof for dailies and weeklies must be shown on Scratch. There will not be exceptions to this rule for having inappropriate writing.
  Proof of winning a word war isn't necessary - they're run on an honor system.
  
• Please do not escalate arguments! Simply stop responding and report any offensive comments.
  
• Make sure not to take cabin rivalries too far and remember that the point is to have fun!
  

Adding words

You can add words whenever you write literarily using your cabin’s word counting method - this will most likely mean commenting the number of words you wrote in your cabin’s word counting location (this will likely be a studio but could also be a forum, profile or project!) as well as a summary/brief description of what you are adding. (E.g. “+503 words for part of an essay”.)
Your leaders will add these words to your total.
We keep track of words during SWC as they make up part of a cabin’s total points at the end of the session as well as acting as a motivation factor for campers.

*See a list of things that count below:

What counts

• Roleplay - As a guideline, you should be somewhat in character and there should be description of actions in addition to dialogue
  
• Fictional writing
  
• Non-fictional writing
  
• Literary journal entries
  
• Writing in another language - if you’re unsure on how many words to add because the language counts writing in a different way (e.g. character counts in Chinese), Google Translate it to English and use that word count. We hope that this will be close to the number of words it would be in spoken language, but if you have a different suggestion, please let us know!
  
• Schoolwork - essays, assignments that include literary/analytical writing (such as worksheets requiring analysis of parts of a novel) but not note taking or non-literary writing such as writing out math problems
  
• Giving critique (but only the words you wrote! If you gave 1000 words of critique but 300 of those were quotes of the original writing, add 700 words)
  
• Stream of consciousness writing
  
• Vents/rambles
  
• Formal emails that are longer than a paragraph
  
• Explanatory SWC dailies that are longer than a paragraph
  
• Words from comics
  
• Parodies (so long as it’s mostly your original thought)
  

As a general rule, if it contains your original ideas, it counts.

What doesn’t count

• Notetaking
  
• Texting, commenting, etc.
  
• Copying another person’s writing
  
• Translating
  
• Writing thing out from memory / copying things out (e.g. copying out a textbook, lyric spam)
  
• Code - even if using a text based programming language!
  

Needing proof

• If your leader thinks that the amount you’re writing is unrealistic, they may ask for proof or choose not to add it.
  
• You must outline what you were writing when you add words. Your leaders will not be allowed to add the words otherwise! (a sufficient outline could look like: “365 words were from an english worksheet, 1946 were from working on my novel, 568 from the daily, 2868 from working on an essay”. Be aware that a timespan for the writing is not a sufficient outline!)
  
• If you are uncomfortable sharing proof for writing, that’s okay! Exceptions to giving proof (even for large blocks of writing) can be provided on an individual basis and you will have better luck getting one if you cooperate and are willing to give partial proof and detailed explanations/descriptions on what you’ve written. Other solutions to this can include giving a leader/host proof in a discreet location (on scratch of course - this could be editing an old forum post or putting it in a comment inside an old project).

Reserves

• Reserves are words that you don’t add right away.
  
• Only up to 10k words may be added at a time, regardless of whether or not you share the writing.
  
• An exception may be granted if you were unable to access Scratch for over a week. Please contact a host if this is the case!
  
• All words become reserves after camp is over in all timezones.

Activities

• Activities must be submitted before they end in UTC, even if the Main Cabin description has not been updated yet!
  
• Campers and leaders are expected to give all required proof for weeklies and dailies, and it must be submitted on time to earn points.
  
• Proof must be provided on Scratch, and all writing must be Scratch appropriate if you need to provide proof for it. Photos of writing count as proof, and may be shared using a Scratch-approved image host.
  

Dailies

• If you have a question about a daily, ask in the main cabin! Hosts and/or leaders will make a judgment on this - if you’re a camper, please refrain from answering any questions that are subject to interpretation (clarifying rules and such is fine!), leave it to the leaders and hosts please <3
  
• Extensions for dailies are unavailable as there really isn’t any point in granting them given the low point value and short timeframe of dailies.
  

Weeklies

• If you are uncomfortable sharing proof for a weekly, you should contact the hosts or your leader as early as possible. Exceptions to giving proof can be provided on an individual basis and you will have better luck getting one if you let us know early (as opposed to simply refusing to give proof when trying to add your weekly). Other solutions to this can include giving a leader/host proof in a discreet location (on scratch of course - this could be editing an old forum post or putting it in a comment inside an old project).
  
• If you have queries about a weekly, try to wait until a host or member of the daily team can clarify.
  
• Extensions for weeklies can be granted on an individual basis. You should let the hosts know as early as possible and you can discuss it with us from there.

Writing Competition, Word Wars, & Cabin Wars

Information on these events is provided as time progresses during the session. However, if you have any questions beforehand, you’re more than welcome to reach out to a host with them!

Honoraries

Honoraries are people who are NOT participating in a session of SWC, but are invited by a leader to hang out in a cabin as an unofficial member and boost morale and/or have a role in the storyline. However, they are restricted from doing anything that leaders would typically do, such as adding words. They may not be listed in the cabin description.

If you would like to partake in a different cabin's activities or storyline, you can ask that leader if you can do so. This does NOT make you an honorary. Rather, you are just a member of a cabin who is participating in the activities of another cabin. The leader may agree or refuse (and they may decide how much of a role you can have and which of the activities you may do), and you are expected to be accepting of any decision they make. Leaders are also not allowed to list people who do this in the cabin description, and they cannot make any further contributions than completing the activities.

Anyone is welcome to hang out or boost cabin morale in other cabins at any point. Do try to be the most enthusiastic in your own cabin, though — your fellow campers will appreciate it!

Please see this project if you have more questions.

Arguments and Drama

• If any links to leader discussions are leaked, please ignore the comments. If it can be classified as spam, you can report the comments, but please don’t mass report with multiple accounts as that can lead to alerts from the ST.
  
• If you get into a fight with anyone, it’s best to stop responding so it doesn’t escalate. You can ask your leader or a host for help. Of course, report any offensive material you see as part of such an argument (e.g. projects calling people to report a specific user or people speaking badly about others).
  
• Please take care to not take cabin rivalries too far! Using this tone indicators guide can be helpful in ensuring that no one’s feelings get hurt. If you do feel that someone has gone beyond friendly jokes, you can remind them that it’s just for fun, report the comments, or ask a leader/host for help, depending on what you feel fits the situation!
  

Thanks for reading all of this! Again, if you have any questions or believe there should be an exception, please comment on a host's profile, not in this forum <3

HI

OMG IVE NEVER BEEN THIS EARLY BEFORE EEEEEE!!! SO EXCITED FOR THIS SESSION, BI-FI FTW !!!!

check out my writing thread here!!!

AHHHH HIII <333

HIIIIII

yayay megathread!

30 july | cosmic object daily

she is a graceful mother, dancing flawlessly through life with all her children in her reaches. they span across the space, twirling in concert around her, close enough for warmth and continued sustenance. they know she is not the largest mother, nor the brightest, nor the strongest, but she is perfect for them. her love sustains them, and their achievements bring her ever into the future. forward and onward and upward she spins, within the grasp of her own mother, the great unblinking whirling hole at the center of it all, devouring and devouring greedily on the love of her extended family as they spin on in a unchoreographed dance across the cosmos. sometimes, when the loneliest child of the universe looks out at the sky, the space stretching on far further than anyone could guess, she smiles, because is it really so lonely at all? how can she be lonely, how can she be distant, when that is how it all is? is there not a togetherness to that? she still hopes, with each passing moment, that one day her stasis will shift, and she will find a mother again. and i can tell you, looking out at all the grand trajectories of past and future, that one day she will.

25 july | self insert daily

“breath, lio.”
i do, and everything feels wrong. i know this voice, even with my eyes closed to the speaker. i recognize the prickling of my skin, as a sixth sense never previously available to me now revealed unexpectedly. so i breath, but i cannot continue whatever charade i’ve been placed into. i crack a single eye, getting a glimpse of the man who sits before me.
torlin, teacher, the dean of the school of divinity and trusted advisor to the lord of the elm university. he should not be sitting across from me— no, really, i am the one out of place here.
“lio!” he exclaims in surprise, a dissatisfied frown commanding his harsh features.
“no, no, this is wrong,” i insist. i trust him to believe me. if anyone here knew of the greater structure of their universe, it would be him. “your student is hugo, i’m not—”
i break off as a jolt of recognition hits torlin with my stating “hugo,” followed quickly by a look of suspicion. perhaps it was unwise, letting such a powerful man know i do not belong.
“have you done something with hugo?” he asks, not threatening, not yet.
“no! no, of course not. i know how important he is here, i just—” this time i break off looking for an excuse, scrounging through my mind for the last memories, what was happening before i woke up in this small room to his command. i put hugo somewhere, but where— “the daily! that’s what this is about. self insert. i had to put myself into the place of the main character, but where is the main character supposed to go from there?”
torlin nods, somehow following my nonsense about dailies and self inserts and main characters. see, he would be the one to understand his own story’s universe. “were you careful with setting up your situation? the whims of reality are not always rational, nor do they follow the intent of commands so much as the letter.”
i groan. i’m certain i was not; why would i be? it was just another silly writing prompt. “so we meet again,” i grumble, vaguely, towards the consequences of my actions. to torlin, i say simply, “no.”
he nods again, expecting this— ouch, do i really look that irresponsible?— and stands to get to work. “presumably, you and hugo have swapped places. you are here, and he is wherever you came from.”
“so what do we do about that?”
torlin laughs, as if i should already know— and really, i know the words before he opens his mouth. “we go get him.”

24 july | myth retelling

in a tiny kingdom, a man rose to power using only the power of his word. he promised, and followed through on his promises. he spoke into existence great beautiful amenities for the people of his island, conjured from stone great temples and streets and palaces and riches for his people. and for this they loved him, and made him their king. but the king was afraid, deeply, that his lack of strength may one day be his downfall.
the man became so overcome with this fear that one day he disappeared with no notice, slipped away to another island, to visit an oracle. the oracle he only requested one thing from: tell me how i will die, so that i may prevent it.
the oracle responded in riddles and garbled nonsense, but from it he gleaned one thing: his grandson would kill him. mind already whirling with possibility, the man swiftly returned to his kingdom.
the people were confused at his abandonment, but accepted his return easily and soon understood that of course he had to leave for such a purpose. but he did not tell them the outcome of his question, only the fact that he asked it, and rumors began to spread of what could take down their so beloved king.
as this occurred, he set to preventing by any means his own future, inevitable death. his only daughter he locked away, refusing to consider offers for her betrothal. but he efforts were in vain, for she was already pregnant. this brought him into madness, and he did everything he could to prevent the child’s birth, save gouge it right from the body, for such a thing would be pure evil and never forgiven by the gods or the people or himself. but he could not let it come to his death, what would the kingdom do without him?
yet the child born was a healthy baby girl, happy with a headful of hair, who looked at her grandfather with such pure bliss he could not believe he had ever tried to harm her or his own daughter. from this point, he set all thought of the prophecy from his mind, committing himself to instead only his kingdom and his people and his lovely family, for how could anything ever go old now?
years later, his granddaughter would return to him, dressed in the armor of a male soldier, and bow his head before him.

17–23 july | weekly weekly

part one: topic (212 words)

i’ve previously contributed workshops to two weeklies, my workshop on high fantasy worldbuilding in july 2022 and my workshop on conlanging in november 2023. though the fantasy worldbuilding weekly was very successful, the conlanging weekly was only completed by a few participants (fewer than five if i remember correctly); i didn’t even finish it because of how intensive it was! i think a much more practical, less intense conlanging weekly would be much more useful to swcers, and anyways, i’m interested in seeing how i can combine conlanging and high fantasy worldbuilding to create a weekly!
the idea is to provide an outline for how to create a useful conlang for a fantasy world, more of a naming language than a full fledged grammar and vocabulary and history, for use in place names and dialogue, where the implication is that the characters are speaking in the fantasy language but it’s translated for the audience’s understanding. the parts will be first discussing the culture the language is for and what use it will have in the story, then creating a vocabulary within the language including certain untranslateable words and names, then creating expressions and idioms with regional variation to use in “translated” dialogue, and finally using what you’ve created in a short story.

part two: parts (473 words)

intro
welcome to the nth weekly! this week we’ll be exploring worldbuilding through the usage of language by creating a small conlang. you’ll start by brainstorming the world and culture the language is for, then create a vocabulary of words and names you can use in writing, then create a list of idioms and regional expressions to flesh out the language in “translated to english” dialogue, and finally bring it all together in a short story. hope you have lots of linguistic fun!

part one — brainstorming a world
before creating a language, you should understand the world and culture which the language fits into. whether an existing world in one of your stories or a new world just for this weekly, write 200 words discussing the world and culture where the language will be used. specifically consider differences from our world, including structures of family and society, the physical and built environment, and any regional differences within the culture that may exist.

part two — creating a usable vocabulary
first, read this workshop on conlanging as worldbuilding. then, using what you’ve learned, create a list of at least 25 words in your language and their definitions in english. if you need inspiration, you can use the suggestions below, but this is not required. the total word count for this part, including the words and the definitions, should be 200 words.

possible words to include:
terms of address (ie sir & ma’am, mr., dr.)
curses and insults
place names
anything untranslateable to english, words for things or concepts we don’t have

part three — idioms and expressions
most of the dialogue in your story will be in english, but you can make the cultural differences between the characters and reader through usage of “translated” idioms and expressions. in english, we say “cat’s got your tongue?” to those keeping quiet during conversation or “spill the beans” to mean tell a secret or gossip, but other languages have different expressions to mean the same thing. for this part, come up with at least 10 idioms for your language (in english) as well as their meaning. for at least one of these, give a regional variant of the expression. including expressions and definitions, this part should be 200 words total.

example:
in a mountain, knowledge-obsessed culture, being on a mountain peak becomes associated with intellectual enlightenment. “i reached the summit” is an expression very similar to “a lightbulb went off” in english to mean having an epiphany.

part four — putting it all together
now that you understand the culture of your world and have a list of words and expressions to express the culture through language, put it all together in a short story of at least 200 words. make sure to use at least 5 of the words from part two and 2 of the expressions from part three!

part three: workshop (363 words)

language as worldbuilding
when worldbuilding for a high fantasy story, it’s easy to get caught up in the more tangible aspect of the world— the environment, the economic and political systems, the cultural traditions that all impact the sights and sounds and smells your characters will encounter. however, language is a massive part of the world. it is how we share ideas and stories and very often the lens through which we experience our reality. because language is so core to both culture and characters’ experience of the world, thinking about the language spoken by characters is a great way to better understand and flesh out not only your fantasy world, but your characters and dialogue as well. this workshop will give you a basic understanding of conlanging (making a constructed language) for single words and names, rather than a larger constructed language with an extensive grammar and vocabulary.

sound inventory
have you ever noticed that words of the same language often have the same vibe? this is often because they follow the same rules about phonology and phonetics— they include the same set of sounds, in the same general order. for your language, choosing a collection of sounds is a good place to start to create a unique vibe. try adding consonant clusters that don’t exist in english, or get rid of consonant clusters all together and only allow vowels to follow consonants! make sure to consider how your sounds will be represented in writing, as that is the medium you’ll be using the language in.

putting those sounds together
once you have your inventory of sounds, you can start smushing them together to create new words! but languages have a way of doing this where you can often see how related words are related, or pick apart words out to see their constituent parts, or morphemes of meaning. for example, independence and depended and interdependent all have the same root, so it’s clear in the final root how they are related. consider what words should be related, considering your language’s culture and history. maybe two random words are related, like galaxy and lactose both coming from a greek root for milk.

part four: weekly swap (872 words) from lora’s fantasy kingdom weekly https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/post/8646796/

part one — basis (205 words)
the kingdom is more a loose network of university states, each governed by their own noble lineage of lords. it is located in the mountains of the continent’s southern coast, and comes from a tradition of centers of learning and information located far up in the mountains. eventually, in the future of this world, the universities will consolidate into the kingdom of cabrines in order to combat the expansion of the rojan empire in the north. i have not explored much about any of the universities besides the elm university, where hugo and rejean are from, but they are all generally similar with some expected differences between them, especially with the more isolated ones.
for an isolated one, i image a university on the coast, at the very southern reaches of the continent, where long grey sand beaches stretch into the sunset and cold icebergs wash up on shore every once in a while. most of the universities are in oasis valleys, but this one is in a far rougher clime, making it smaller and rough around the edges. specific customs include an emphasis on fishing in their school of divinity, the studies of meteorology and cosmology being very important, and a fresh water taboo.

part two — legal system (208 words)
as previously mentioned, most of the universities have a ruling noble family, with a court and council of deans making up a sort of legislature. however, this isolated cold university, i’ll call it the expanse university, has a different way of passing leadership that reflects their quirks. with such an emphasis on fishing and whaling, as it is their largest source of food, their “lord” is in actuality a skilled fisherman, one who masterfully uses communion to reach the best pockets of fish and draw whales to himself with the spirits of the past.
a divide between genders exists within all of the universities, but here it is seen quite starkly as a divide between who can and cannot study certain subjects. communion is taught to all students (a diversion from how divinity is considered at most universities) but meteorology is considered to be men’s work while cosmology is women’s. the lord is always a man, even when the position is won by a woman; this could be seen as one way to transition, though the far easier way would be to study meteorology rather than cosmology. other subjects are similarly divided, though the distinction between genders is seen nowhere else as starkly as between those two subjects.

part three — magic (213 words)
magic! “communion” is the magic system in this kingdom, which involves communing with spirits and either using them to get information or change the world in some way. the way it is taught in most universities is extremely spiritual and loosey goosey, without much understanding of the hard limits on the magic; it is taught in the school of divinity in most universities, which is seen as less practical or as not as academic as other disciplines. as a result, only a small portion of the student body and population at most universities can take part in communion.
at the expanse university, however, communion is taught to all students from a young age; alongside reading and arithmetic, it is one of the basic subjects taught from age three. skill in communion varies from person to person; though almost anybody could hear the voices of spirits in the right state, it takes practice for most to speak with them. it is considered more a limited science, a useful tool for fishing and understanding weather and space, and less a spiritual practice. however, the perception from other universities of the expanse university, which is so isolated and in such a rough climate, is that they are cultish zealots over devoted to the school of divinity.

part four — story (225 words)
hugo could not remember his life before the university and since arriving had hardly left the walls. so he was nearly in shock when torlin requested him join a journey to the expanse university, far south along the coast, where zealots practiced in a cult of fish, as he had heard from the other orphans. (he was not sure what to think of these rumors, given what was spoken of his own background that he was certain could not be true.) he accepted the invitation, of course, how could he ever decline the opportunity to see beyond the university, and thus began the first of many strange travels with the dean of divinity.
they first traveled well paved roads through the mountains, on foot as torlin insisted. it was miles and miles and miles, but the path was dotted with villages each a day apart from each other and welcoming to practicers of divinity. at each settlement, someone seemed to know torlin. hugo wondered how many times he had made this trek; he thought no one ever visited the distant expanse university.
the road turned to dirt and gravel as they walked further south, the villages became smaller and smaller, until it was often a lone house where they requested lodging each night. even here, torlin was always welcomed with broad smiles and open arms.

23 july | duolingo daily

we look back at a week before the war bells rung through the university, a week before the court summoned first torlin, then rejean summoned hugo, a week before the lordling ran away and the apprentice rushed after him, when all the world was as it should be. we look back to days when no one understood what was coming, what change the world would soon undergo. we look back at the heyday of the university system, its peak passing with no historian, geographer, nor scholar of any study understanding just how it was passing. we look back to a whispered conversation, in the southern stairwell of the high library, as two friends of the young lord brushed shoulders on their ways between floors.
“hugo!” emmerson ash greeted boldly, hardly keeping his voice to the expected volume, arms flung wide even with the stones hugging close around them. of course he wasn’t carrying any books, no papers or notes or maps slung to his shoulder, for emmerson was hardly a student. just another apprentice, lucky enough to have a position so close to the elm family.
“yes, hello,” hugo said, curt and desperate to quickly extract himself from the interaction. a stack of assignments weighed him down, not least of which was a reading for torlin on the northern philosophy “to think means to compare.” what a headache. emmerson was no good at giving hugo what he wanted.
“hello indeed, cousin! we must get lunch sometime, i have paintings to show you.” emmerson’s smile was flashy, his posture arrogant.
“we are not cousins,” hugo responded simply.
“oh but aren’t we! all apprentices are. and if that cannot be the way, then i am relative to frey, who is relative to adrian who is—” emmerson cut off suddenly, as if waiting for hugo to finish his thought for him.
“i am not related to the young lord, ash,” he answered, stressing emmerson’s low family name.
“yes but—” he grinned, suddenly mischievous in the way he was when imparting gossip. hugo was not in the mood; he never was, for rumors about rejean. “am i to assume you’re not aware he loves you?”
hugo scoffed. “you’re full of it, ash. good day.” and pushed past him, climbing up into the towering stacks.

22 july | mango daily

vitrola lies at the confluence of two rivers whose paths converge from disparate mountain reaches near the continent’s center, deep in the prairie lands. the largest city along their path overland, far larger than any single university in their own country, vitrola beckons to the exhausted travellers, promising them a break from the mundanity of the road. they agree to stay in the city for half a month, replenishing their energy and finding what they can about the ninety-nine songs this far north, but quitting the city before elm’s guard could catch up.
soon after crossing the powerful stone bridge that connects the southern road to the walled city, hugo and rejean split up to get settled in. rejean, possessing the noble title requisite to seek lodging at the city’s famous high inns, sets off to meet with a long procession of landladies and hopefully secure a room with one of them. hugo, whose charm and penchant for gossip gets him much further with merchants and children than pretentious old innkeepers, is tasked with collecting the necessary goods for the remainder of their stay in vitrola and journey beyond, as well as connecting with the local trained scholars.
more interested in the sights and smells of an open-air market— which he hasn’t seen since years ago, very briefly, on a trek with torlin— than the inside of an embassy waiting room, hugo heads first for the miles-wide pavilion housing the city’s market. trade is housed here, at volumes hugo cannot comprehend. lengths of silk, rough cotton, and brightly colored wool line the stalls hugo first passes, but not far from the south entrance the wares quickly turn to leather, shoes, and practical headwear. he knows he and rejean will need this sort of gear further north, where the climate becomes drier and hotter, but his curiosity for something else draws him deeper into the market.
he turns a corner, heading west where most food trade occurs, and quickly finds he has come to the right place for what he seeks. for the grea river flows east all the way across the continent before joining at this place with the pon; east from the very edge of alacia, carrying with it the goods of his homeland.
the first alacian he spots is a fruitmonger, offering solely different varieties of a bright yellow and green fruit. hugo approaches, almost without meaning to, and buys one without haggling. the woman speaks to him in their shared tongue, which he doesn’t understand. he shakes his head, giving over the written price in coin and receiving a cool, first-sized fruit. he stares at it, awed and wondering.
then, realizing how strange him must seem, bows like a university man and leaves the stand to wander on.

21 july | flower daily, carnation for fascination / euphorbia for vanity / yarrow for cure for love

the cobble paths leading up and around elm’s mountain were on all sides overcome with bursting wild carnations, pink and pretty and alive with buzzing bees. barefoot and dusty, the university’s young would race each other all across the mountain, along pre-determined routes. there was no place better for play on campus. sounds of giggling and tumbling footfalls were a constant symphony to the classes who moved outdoors for a time, natural as the babbling of nearby waterfalls or chirping of birds overhead.
hugo raced often as a child, desperate for admiration and validation from his peers in the school of orphans. he always lost sprints, unable with his short build to catch the long-legged kids who seemed to soar above the ground. but he excelled in the long runs, in extending his energy to the very end, in last second overtakes of arrogant boys.
charles adrian was not a runner; crouched in the carnations, wide eyes as the other children raced past, rejean watched hugo run.
of course it was conceited to think he was only there for hugo. rejean had plenty of friends, even among the orphans, plenty of kids to cheer on. and maybe he did cheer on others, even if hugo only remembered rejean’s cheers for him.

nearer the mountain’s peak, low among the rest of the range but rising high above the university’s valley below, blossoming euphorbia bushes overtake the carnations in their growth along the paths. youth are rarer up here, where nooks of divinity dot the mountainside and incense travels on the breeze. here, rejean joins hugo on his duties, sweeping out the little temples and refreshing their supplies. they walk side by side on the narrow paths meant for lone travellers, shoulders not brushing so much as in constant contact.
in the depths of his infatuation, these walks become the bright spot in hugo’s day. even at rejean’s worst, his most insufferable, hugo can never bring himself to abandon their nightly rambles up the mountain.
tonight, he might be regretting it.
“honestly, the audacity,” rejean is saying, going on ignorant to hugo’s lack of input in the conversation. “of course i care about the class, but there are more important things. i have responsibilities beyond a course load.”
sometimes, hugo wishes he could slap the young lord.
“the professors don’t get that, really, they think my whole life is their class. i mean, come on, do i look like a chemistry student? my parents just want me to be well rounded before going into governing, i don’t have to be the best at chemistry, it doesn’t need my total devotion.”
“you’re not better than your classes,” hugo wishes he could say. he can’t, because theirs is not a friendship of equals, not an honest exchange of thoughts, so he goes on listening to rejean’s complaints.

once rejean was gone, hugo only returned to the university once. he carried with him, back across the continent they had crossed together all those year ago, a single potted plant. yarrow. an unfamiliar flower, rejean had pointed out each one they passed by throughout the northern cliffs. he had pinned a cluster of the tiny blooms to hugo’s collar and called him handsome.
pot tied to his back, hugo passed the carnations, past their peak, petals dull and dropping to the ground. a shock of young children raced past him, knocking into his cane and almost sending him to the ground. how odd, that orphans still ran wild on elm’s mountain, without the watchful eyes of a fascinated rejean.
the ugliness of the euphorbia overcame hugo further up, but the sight of the little temples kept him on the path. still, devotees hiked the steep stairs of the mountainside. still, an apprentice kept the holy spaces clean and stocked. now he, like them, was alone on the mountain. perhaps that was how it was always meant to be.
at the mountain’s highest point, a single pole pointed upwards, fluttering banners and ringing bells strung off it, forming a conical space between sky and stone. here, hugo placed the yarrow at the pole’s base and knelt before it.
he prayed to his god to bless their home, to grant its prosperity to their church, to see their love spilled across the spread of the continent.
with his prayer’s completion, he stood and set to work.

20 july | spinner daily, explorer / fairy tales / calm before the storm / cliffhanger

in poems and ancient songs, recited oft at university lords’ courts and shared in fellowship around high tables and campfires alike, lone wanderers seek nothing more than satisfaction. a voice calls to them, invariably, though the call never sounds the same to two. i posit all wanderers in the ancient reaches heard the same being, sought satisfactory knowledge or power or riches or happiness in the same place, and suffered, each of those documented in the ninety-nine songs, the same fate.

literature scholars and historians will attribute the similarities in the tales to shared cultural values, to the expectations of a sung or recited story’s structure, and to a core moral message woven through all the songs. careful the road you walk, some scholars put it.

i must protest their assertions. a penitent of the school of divinity myself, reviewing the literature which claims the calls as merely a literary device brought me much frustration. always, divinity is ignored as a serious academic discipline, our offerings and insight thought little more than vapid fairy magic. but to any who have communed, or read true accounts of communion — which evidently many of my colleagues overlook in their prejudices, the calls heard by lone wanderers in the northern cliffs, peaks, and plains of the continent must be those of the spirits that inhabit every inch of our world.

a strong and certain voice, singular in goal if not in message, would make a strong spirit indeed. accounts of such a voice span thousands of years, appear in cultures thousands of miles from the small region where is rumored to lie the “cave of songs.” i stand here now, at the edge of this region, rugged and sparsely populated where great slopes of stone thrust up from lush valley floors, and look out on the path ahead of me.

i am no lone wanderer. perhaps that dooms me to never hear the call, but my companion and i travel nonetheless. we rest, tonight, and tomorrow will take the first steps into the realm unknown.

rejean smiles at me from his spot at the hearth’s edge. i’ve remained at the table, across our shared room at the final inn of this path we follow, drafting the preamble to our tale. but now he beckons to me, so i abandon pen and paper to sit by his side, share his cup, laugh with him. for a moment, it is all so simple.

whatever comes in the morning, we will always have this moment.

19 july | title daily

I walked away from the light. I turned my back on the life I created. I left my love, slipped away in the middle of the night, while the campfire embers were still warm. I succumbed to the call of the cave, knowing it would mean I could never return. I gave it all up, for only the chance that something more awaited me. It was not the power I wanted, not the promise of dominance, not anything typically spoken of the cave. It was the knowledge alone, and I did not even want that for myself. All for you. My love, I left, I knew I could not return, yet I planned to anyways. I did not mean to turn my back away from the blue sky, the shining sun, the stars, the bright white clouds. I meant to ascend, not descend. And I know that is how you think of me. Ascended. Powerful. Greater than a man. How wrong you are, but from here I cannot reach out to turn your chin down. I cannot speak to you from here, I cannot even see you. Oh, Hugo, I have not forsaken you. Please do not give yourself over to—

17 july | classic contemporary daily

already hopped up on four monsters and another sleepless night— that’s, well, he can’t quite remember how many in a row at this point— victor takes a triumphant swig of the red bull. a very particular man of particular habits, he only drinks monsters, the white ones, they taste like pure battery juice, except for especially important moments in this mind’s journey of his, when he drinks from the single red bull he always keeps in the lab’s mini fridge. it’s been a while since he last tasted the sweet unflavor, but tonight he certainly deserves the sip.

for he’s done it, at last. the man has bettered the machine. he stands at the peak of a grand mountain, never before reached by human effort or mechanic means, and looks out at a vast uninhabited land. metaphorically, of course. victor has never been the outdoors sort, even if all his heroes are. tangent, sorry.

victor is victorious, because tonight, as thunderstorms rumble beyond the windows and rains batter the roof above, he has at last created life.

an impossible thing, coming from a mere undergraduate, a student who sleeps far too little and consumes far too much caffeine. but he has become god, a new prometheus, none of this oppenheimer *, he is the greatest inventor of all. where others only destroy, he has created anew!

———

“and then you can add the bit about how good looking i am, hey why are you writing this bit down?” the scrawny, near dead–looking boy stands over my shoulder, reading as i type his recounting of a very unlikely tale.

“because,” i say, slowly to type as i go, “it’s a load of nonsense and i am a serious reporter.”

“be serious, rebecca, you work at buzzfeed. they don’t even have a news department anymore!” hurtful, but true.

10–16 july | fairy tales weekly

part one: cultural comparisons (356 words)
cinderella is an immensely popular fairy tale in modern times, with perhaps the most retellings of any fairy tale, as in our highly segregated capitalistic society the rags to riches romance it presents resonates with the lower class who hope for social mobility and reassures the upper class that such social mobility is near impossible. as with many fairy tale retellings, modern adaptations of the story, even those that draw from the brothers grimm’s telling of the story, overlook the violence in older tellings. here i will compare the grimm’s “cinderella,” german in origin, with the thai “kao and the golden fish,” chinese “yeh-shen,” and american cinderella (1950).

the core arc from poor to rich through marriage to a royal is present in all of these stories, though in three out of the four of them the arc is actually rich to poor to rich, as the protagonist is born to wealth and only oppressed by a jealous stepmother and stepsister(s), making competition between women another core theme of the stories. all of the stories feature magic and personified animals or plants, with all but the disney animated film attributing the transformation of the protagonist before she meets the prince. the protagonist’s mother is a presence in the trees cared for by the protagonist in both “kao and the golden fish” and grimm’s “cinderella,” in both cases
acting out the magic. in all but “kao and the golden fish,” the protagonist meets the prince at a ball or festival for suitors, and this is generally multiple nights long (though not in the disney version). “kao and the golden fish” and “yeh-shen” feature magical fish who are eaten by the stepmother in an act of cruelty against the protagonist, and in return for burying the fish’s bones the protagonist is gifted something magically. similarly to both “cinderella”s, yeh-shen is given slippers that she loses, and in all three stories the prince searches across the land for the foot that fits the tiny shoe. all except the disney version include graphic violence, with “yeh-shen” and grimm’s “cinderella” both giving the wicked stepmother and stepsisters violent ends.

part two: fairy tale object (216 words)
the flesh had blistered and bubbled, the skin charred and scales flaked away. then, doused in sauces and seasonings, the fat and muscle had been consumed, devoured by large greedy mouths, chewed by decaying teeth, digested by plump and lazy stomachs.

this was no grateful sacrifice, no hallowed meal of remembrance. no honor could be found on this plate. the golden fish, snatched up from its maiden’s hidden pond, defiled and deboned and descended upon by the grubby fingers of jealous family, was one among many dishes passed around the table of three that night.

she was not among them, as was most often the case. she learned of it only later, arriving to feed her beloved fish, and finding great red stain at the pond’s edge, where his life had been stolen. she cried out in grief, though he could no longer hear from deep in the bodies of the family.

she cut her hands digging through the composter, sorting out his tiny, fragmented bones from those of the geese and rabbits his body had shared a table with. reconstructed, the skeleton was monstrous, not for itself but for the cruel theft that stripped its flesh away. she wept over the bones of her beloved friend, her only friend, and buried them by the pond.

part three: twisted tale (504 words)
“on your seventeenth birthday,” had echoed the voice of the patron, eyes aglow and wind whipping through her hair, “you will be tested. i have chosen you, child, i have blessed you. but my blessing can just as easily be taken away. build your strength, prove yourself, and blessings reborn will rain upon your city. do not fail.”

the patron had vanished before adding an “or else” or answering to the questions cried out by the wards. the wind had ceased all at once, and atlas’ wails had been the only sound to fill the stained glass sanctuary. not that she could remember any of that, for it had all gone down at her dedication, and no one carries the memories of their one-month-old self.

atlas does not know, now, that another young child had been present at the ceremony, and relives those moments every night in waking nightmares. she should be grateful not to be saddled with the same fate. instead, she listens greedily to any retelling of that morning she can wheedle out of those in attendance, scribbling those same words into the pages of her notepads again and again and again.

what will the test be? most presume it will be one of strength and smarts, for little else matters to the wards. but atlas has doubts. the patron granted bulwark to the wards, yes, but more importantly she brought up from the ashes the great city of __, and tasked the wards with guarding it. the patron was a woman of arts, of finery, of vices the wards shun. it follows, to atlas, that the test would similarly be creative in nature.

but now, as the sun sets on the eve of her seventeenth, she doubts again. she watches the dying embers of the western sky from behind the locked balcony doors of her bedroom in bulwark. they just got her back here, they don’t want her running again, they misunderstand why she ran in the first place. she imagines flor watching the same sky, spotting the same first dotting of stars above. she imagines flor imagining her, and blushes pink.

she doubts, for how could anything the patron throws at her be more testing than flor ovigst.

of course, it is possible. for atlas’ assumptions and the assumptions of all those around her are founded on one false assertion: the patron values her. but this test was never intended for atlas.

hours after the sky darkened, atlas blows out the last candle illuminating her sparse, high room. she wishes herself a happy birthday, certain by now the day has passed over. she lays down on the bed, pulls up the sheets, and sinks into sleep the moment her head brushes the pillow.

she doesn’t wake in the morning. in radiating ripples out from her sleeping form, the patron’s test spreads, slowly overtaking the other wards and the residents of __, until none within a mile remain awake.

the patron’s test is, and always has been, for florian of cliff keep.

part four: write your own (518 words)
a fairy tale for trying times. that is what teya set forth to write, sitting down at her desktop monitor and dragging her fingertips across the keys, a lifelong fidget, reaching for words that aren’t yet there. the day cycle is almost over, all the bright white lights of the shuttle taking on a yellow glow that would soon turn to pink and orange. those who had been old when teya was young told her of the real phenomena the lights mimicked, of sunsets, which to a child who could hardly imagine a sun were such a wondrous concept she could scarce believe they were real. those elders who had lived briefly on their home planet are all now only memories, and teya, among the first to be born aboard the shuttle, is an elder.

in story times, the children of the shuttle clamor for fairy tales. they each have their own preference from the ancient, yellowing tome teya reads to them from, but they share a unified passion for anything relating to nature. they cry out in gasps when cinderella’s sapling is cruelly cut down by the wicked stepmother, hold their breaths as jack ascends his beanstalk. so any fairy tale she writes must contain elements of the ancient magic known as nature.

but as she reaches for inspiration, nothing comes to her. it is as if she has been rung out, all the spark leached out of her, from years of composing epic space ballads and fantasies that implore the children to conserve, keep calm, live with purpose and in peace. stories for their time, for their cramped place and predetermined fate. she knows, as do all of the children and their parents and every inhabitant of the shuttle, that they will not live to see the doors open on a new world, nor will the next generation, nor the one after that. this journey stretches into years unimaginable to a crew that has never seen the sun set.

teya slams a fist into her keyboard, frustrated. no head ducks into her study to check if she’s alright. she asked to be alone, tonight.

lowering her head to her hands, she begins to cry. for all the stories she cannot tell, for all the circumstances beyond her control, for all the lives she cannot save. if she cannot write a fairy tale befitting the children of the shuttle, she decides, tears rolling down her face, she must live one for them. teya the defeated becomes teya the determined in that moment of decision, and she rises to meet the task laid out ahead of her.

it will begin with research. learning everything she can about childhoods on earth. the vast database the shuttle carries with them includes massive volumes on culture and lives on earth, histories and geographies and practices and taboos and other such things teya can hardly wrap her head around. traditions, she learns, are what make it all. her favorite she begins here (with some adjustments), amongst the vast expanse of space, making her the first in a long line of tooth fairies.

16 july | trope daily

born the second son, discarded and ignored, without even the dignity of a family name to eventually grow into, adrian elm would always have a heart poisoned with jealousy. for his elder brother, charles emmanuel elm, who received only praise from the counsillors and professors who had at best barbed comments for adrian. for his sister, whose gender protected her from the worst of their university’s mistreatment of younger siblings. for his mother, for his father, for all his classmates in the school of divinity. but his most hateful, deep envy was directed solely to the outsider, hugo pent, who had arrived when adrian was only five years of age and already abandoned to the soft sciences of divinity, and quickly rose through the ranks of that very school. now, hugo, adrian’s most beloathed rival, was apprenticed to the head of the school, the devotee torlin, while adrian rotted away a rank below.

what made it all the worse was adrian knew, with a fervor and certainty with which he knew little else, that hugo was no powerful communer. he had, over the years, observed quietly the failures hugo faced again and again in small closed rooms, where he believed only torlin watched. he had loudly complained to others in their school that hugo never communed in public, and stormed off in anger when they repeated the lie that alacians never put theirselves into such a state in front of crowds.

though others may have made good use of the position and power offered adrian as a member of the university’s lord family, adrian used all his allotted powers only to go after hugo, to attempt again and again to knock the arrogant usurper down a notch.

now, he waits quietly in the room adjoining the study where hugo and torlin meet daily for their morning sessions, listening with his other senses for a sign that hugo’s attempts to commune have failed again. an echo of torlin’s disappointed sigh reaches adrian’s ears on the wind of a particularly angry spirit— the sort adrian always seems to have the easiest time with— bringing a satisfied smile to his face. stepping out of the room, in order to leave before his rival could spot his spying, adrian instead runs directly into hugo, whose own face is contorted in a frown of confusion.

the harsh lines of his brow and mouth quickly relax into a pleased smile at the sight of adrian, while the remaining vestiges of his own smile fall away into what he imagines is a quite unpleasant scowl. “adrian, so good to see you,” hugo greets, somehow genuine. “any idea why your father summoned torlin?”

“what? no.” adrian scoffs. of course hugo would think his parents let him in on any of their machinations. he probably thinks his parentage is the only reason adrian has risen so high in the school.

unperturbed, hugo continues. “alright. well, would you like to find out?” his eyes, dirty green and twinkling mischievously, don’t tear away from adrian’s harsh gaze.

though every fiber in his being longs to say no, to watch hugo contend with the very rejection he’s been facing all his life, he hears himself say, “yes.”

15 july | mascot daily

where there should be a mascot, a fuzzy friend representative of all the chaos and fun of one of the month long sessions of the wonderful writing camp, there is nothing. the crowd stirs, confused, before cries of outrage go up. where is their headliner? where is the grand reveal? wasn’t this what the whole night was leading up to, and now it is just a giant anti-climax? someone will be hearing about this, is the thought of the now angry audience, and i better be getting a refund. i came to see a fight, or a show, not an empty stage. just as large portions of the gathering begin to make for the exits, commotion near the stage stops them in their tracks. bright flashes of light are coming from the area right in front of the stage, and quickly the cameras are pointed on the person— thing— causing the commotion. a tiny, bright blue furball, held aloft by the tiniest of wings, with an expression of absolute chaos on his tiny features.

the crowd goes crazy. over the enthusiasm of his audience, bibble takes center stage, spotlit, with every eye in the arena on him alone. in a high pitched gibberish, the little fairy pal begins to sing. his first song is all flashy energy, confidence and determination, and when a parade of previous next top mascot idol winners take the stage behind him to join his routine as backup dancers, the cheering crescendoes to a roar. somehow, in the next song, he wins over the audience’s hearts even more. a slow, emotional ballad, near incomprehensible yet heart breaking even so, brings the crowd to a stand still. not an eye in the arena, a crowd of thousands, is left dry at the second song’s end.

and no one is surprised when bibble is crowned the july 2025 next top mascot idol.

14 july | constellation daily

so you want to know the story of how it came to pass that a great spoon resides among the heroes and villains dancing across the night sky? that great tapestry is the oldest among the stars, and its story one most foundational and important in the great weaving of our existence. that picture is so ancient that it came about in a time before rivers, before mountains, before forests, and long before the first human ever raised a hand to grip it in their grasp. when the world was just a brown field, stretching out in all directions, and the sun had not yet leaped onto the sky, the field cried out in thirst. water was not yet as prevalent as it is in these days, and kept rather selfishly to itself in the far north of the fields, drowning those grasses that lived their while starving all who lived elsewhere. the sky, mother that she is, though then she was far less wise and old than she is now, saw this injustice and her heart broke for her children the grasses, who were all across her domain dying out. in that time, great wildfires tore across the kindling grasses, while the soil and earth beneath the puddling waters rotted and stunk. the sky decreed that all water must be distributed, and formed from herself a large spoon to dig great troughs throughout the land from what is now the inland sea, bringing forth with her spoon waters to nourish the whole land. once the task was complete to her satisfaction, the sky hung her spoon up to rest, and there it has stayed ever since, as proof and reminder of the bountiful waters we thank her for.

13 july | smarlls mango defense daily

what? you are accusing me of this heinous crime that has been committed against our lovely and wonderful ibex? how could you ever think such a thing? i love the ibex above all else, i love him above myself, for he is like a little brother to me! did you not know that i am among the number who he is named for? oh, you did not? and yet you go on making your accusations as if my history and my past with smarlls are nothing and as if the l in his name could come from any other but myself. you know nothing. i should be the one accusing you, for all your willingness to throw youself into situations that you know nothing about. and perhaps that is how it all happened — you did not know what you were doing last night, ignorant and stumbling baby, and you were the one who took the mangoes. doesn’t feel too good to be accused, now does it? oh, you want an alibi? do you know how absurd you sound? of course i have a great alibi. do i have any corroborating evidence? i doubt it. but it is the truth anyways, you must know. because, last night, i was asleep. because i love sleeping. and because i know that sleep comes before swc, and that is something a lot of my fellow swcers have not seemed to figure out yet. i know it though, and if you check my screen time activity for the time when this awful crime was committed, you will see that i was, indeed, not online, and was instead snug cuddled up in my bed, catching up on some much needed rest after a day of writing and drawing and walking and swimming. i did a lot yesterday, but commit treason against the ibex was not among them. stop insisting that i was at the scene of the crime! that is pure hearsay. it was dark, don’t you know? any one could’ve been there, you don’t know that it was me. i have proof that it was—

12 july | blue cheese world dominiation writing dare (cabin wars)

the rotten heart of the blue cheese queen was one full of rage greed. though all who looked upon her cracked and broken countenance turned away, repelled and disgusted, brought near to sick at her pervasive scent, the queen had still somehow amassed a following. in her own way, she was loved by her cohort of rotting servants, soldiers, and mages. and by their hand, she had come into this power. her wicked, evil will now imposed on the great cheese wheel earth, she set to corrupting the entire world to her blueness. she began with the soft cheeses, whose hearts were easy to melt and already quite stinky enough to have been left behind by the hard aged elites. remembering how those elites had cast them out of high society, the soft cheeses came along easily, greatly increasing her ranks. the hard cheeses, rich and flavorful, were far harder to infiltrate. in the end, spies in their quarters brought them down, and blue cheese reigned victorious above all.

11 july | touch grass daily

of all the people to be stranded with at the end of the world, i’m at least glad my work nemesis didn’t make it. the rest of the counselors are relieved, too, i think, but maybe that has more to do with the relative safety of all the kids is assured here, for now.
it might have been easy to shield them from the literal apocalypse, if this weren’t a day camp. a sleepaway camp, we could’ve just lied the service was out for normal construction reasons, could’ve turned the inevitably late return vans into an adventure, could’ve—
how are we meant to be cheery, mature, kind, reassuring, in a time so uncertain as this? the younger kids cry in the night, the older kids have stopped asking questions. i guess they’ll know, someday, just how unprepared of a group their leaders were. maybe they’ll forgive us for our failures.
maybe they won’t. can’t say i would.
i keep thinking about rio. she was supposed to be there, the day it all went down. we left ten minutes late, the kids all crammed into the van while we waited for her to pull up. i tapped nervously at my phone, a habit i can’t beat even now that its battery is since long drained. she never showed, and we drove out to the kayaking spot without her.
what fate did she meet? is she still out there? does she think of us, too?
maybe i do miss her.

3–9 july | character development weekly

part one, character flaws: 214 words

• charles adrian “rejean” elm, young lord of the university, heir to his father’s honor
  a lush, sheltered childhood has left rejean ignorant of the difficulties of the world — he understands the world beyond the university’s walls as a place of adventure, of dashing heroes and ancient secrets, as told in the childhood stories he’s always loved, but doesn’t truly grasp all the moving pieces and systems that allow him his privileged position in and perspective on the world
  
• further, raised as a sort of prince, he has been made to consider himself before he considers anyone else, and is unwittingly selfish and self-centered
  
• the only he puts before himself is hugo, his dearest friend, who he would throw the world away for. proper prioritization is not his strong suit
  
• rejean is no fighter, and steers far from conflict; again, a childhood of lesser nobles, servants, and professors alike going along with his word has brought him to a place where any disagreement bewilders him, and he must shy away, awaiting verbal rescue from someone else— hugo or his mother, most likely
  
• and, importantly, rejean is distractable. this goes with his lack of prioritization skills: all his time spent obsessing over one topic of interest, rather than studying for the classes he is enrolled in

part two, development outline: 282 words
rejean is not the pov character in his story, and hugo’s closeness to him can sometimes cause his inner workings to be opaque, thus my choice of him for this weekly. in the rough plot of their story (which has a beginning and an end, but not really a middle), rejean runs away after cries of war promise he will be forced to fight if he stays. hugo follows, and together they travel across their continent in search of a mythical cave that grants power. when they find it, rejean enters while hugo is sleeping, and does not return. he either ascends to godhood or perishes (i’m not entirely sure), while hugo devotes himself to his worship and sets out to found what will become the rojan empire.

that pivotal decision at the end holds the key to rejean’s character development — in chapter one, he does as close as he would to begging for hugo to join him on his quest for the caves of song, but by the end he slips away in the night to never return. over the course of their journey, rejean becomes certain that whoever enters the cave will not emerge and, more potently, that hugo must go on in his absence. seeing and living in the world, he accepts that hugo is so much better than he for it. but there is also an element of jealousy and greed in the decision: where hugo learns more about his past and place in the world on their trek, rejean’s view and position are only demeaned, proved wrong, constantly. where hugo already has undeniable power in his communion, rejean longs for a tangible, long-term impact on the world.

part three, character motivation: 208 words
this has a fair bit of overlap with the previous section. in the beginning, rejean is motivated to run away by a longing for knowledge and adventure— though of course the toll of war bells spurs him into action, he was always going to go looking for the cave of songs. his love and longing for hugo are what motivate rejean to ask him to join him on the journey (and the same in return is what brings hugo to follow after his disappearance), while his fleeing the university alone is brought on by fear of rejection and perceivedly deserved retribution for some romantic misstep that occurred before the story and i haven’t ironed out yet. even his wanting for knowledge can be traced to his love for hugo, who is a true academic in rejean’s eyes, where he can never seem to measure up to his professors’ expectations. of course he accepts hugo’s companionship, but ultimately betrays him in the end, motivated by his love for hugo and near need that the man who he sees as the best of humanity go on and change the world for the better (though, ultimately his betrayal/self-sacrifice directly leads to a vicious and violent empire rising in his name).

part four, short story: 451 words
i remember those final moments. looking at your sleeping face, your fluttering eyelashes, your softened brow, all pointing to your peace, if temporary, with the world and trust, ever so misplaced, in me and your being unbothered by what ascension might await us in the morning. i remember you didn’t murmur in sleep that night, as you had so many before. and, this is important, because i cannot remember most of my human thoughts but this one has stuck so furiously in my mind, i remember thinking: he must live.

it was more love confession, just the realized thought of it, than any of the real ones i ever spoke to you aloud. oh hugo, why did you never hear what i was telling you? why did you only put it together, say anything in return, once i was already gone? don’t you pray to me now, when you could have had me whole in our lifetimes? don’t you get it, i can’t come back for you, i can’t return to that campfire in the clearing, only a hundred steps above the cave that would separate us forever?

don’t you understand, this “betrayal” as you scorn it so secretly, was the only way to ensure you lived and you went on to do anything about it?

as soon as the thought took shape in my head, the whole plan crystallized as if it had just waited for the moment to make itself known. as if i already knew it all along, as if it would always be the end, as if fate.

under a suffocating sky, i slid, noiseless, from your embrace. you didn’t even stir. i paused, momentarily, knelt beside you. considering a kiss, perhaps, or just trying to memorize your face. i knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that whoever walked the path to the cave of songs would not return, whoever drank from its spring would never see the sunrise again, never behold their lover—

i took nothing from our campsite, save the smaller of my cloaks, for the night air was chilled even if my walk through it would only be a few minutes long. i trusted anything else required in the cave would be provided, though now i cannot explain why such a thing ever occurred to me.

not that it will comfort you, but i did look back, before leaving. but it was for naught: the moment it occurred to me to enter alone, it was as if i already had. the decision was never made, unless you say i decided to love you, when we were too young to know what love was.

i don’t know if i love you still. i hope—

9 july | lyrics daily

now i’m awake at two am, without a cause to draw you in. so sick of dreaming, that’s just how i feel, always have and i always will. sometimes i want somebody to see me— how you opened my doors and left them wide open— that’s how the light gets in.

“i would leave if i could only find a reason. i deserve it, don’t i?”
“no one will ever love me like you again, so when you leave me, i should—”
“you are your mother’s child.”
“i can’t help what i can’t help. it can’t be over.”
“please don’t say you love me. say goodbye to who i was.”
“something tells me you and i will never meet again.”

there’s an island where all things are silent. there’s a desert that size can’t be measured. i walk on a winding road, and i feel i should know this place.

addictions” — lucy dacus
“so sick of dreaming” — maggie rogers
“funeral” — phoebe bridgers
“thank you” — clairo
“leonard cohen” — boygenius
“homesick” — noah kahan
“i’m your man” — mitski
“pillar of truth” — lucy dacus
“guilty pleasure” — chappell roan
“slow dance” — clairo
“first love/late spring” — mitski
“meet me in the woods” — lord huron
“looking back” — lord huron
“ends of the earth” — lord huron
“lonesome dreams” — lord huron

8 july | no “i” daily

when our place changed, beyond the stars and far-off depths, that was when all the world cracked open and poured out love for us to float along, bubbled and joyous. a momentous object to see, to feel, to know, and to at last understand one's place among the vastness of the world, from sun's glow from the east to the last desparate breath of her exhausted day. we watch from the edge of the known, just barely hold to awakeness, let truth wash us over and through. what more could you want? just joy, just the faded softness of memory, just the knowledge of all set before us, on the path, long and hard and near forgotten. near the end, rendered all red and orange and deep purples, no trace of the blue once traced across the sky, we look up, frown at our dotted, unclear fates, and speak no words of need nor want. only ourselves are left, to be halfway home, to walk that path, though darkened forests protest, through craggles of stone and earth, thought never fled nor forgotten as once— what must our end mean, to those left where once we could trace out the trek for them, now stranded, no map or atlas or even a word of way. where have they gone? ask the many, abandoned by the few. no response from the few, from our small number, for such cry from such profound lengths cannot reach our old, weary ears. never do the words cease, forever they go on, hungry and needy and unheeded. do the words go on, even when not a soul goes around to hear the message? a most unpleasant song, no notes agreeable to each other nor the bustle of space around them, comes from the many. congrats to the few, they cry now, who have completely forgotten what once was: our start, they forget; our heart, they squander; our calls, they never heed. only truth escapes chapped, sore mouths, though never do we return.

7 july | forgiveness of villain daily

when at last cytherea the first’s soul descended through the river, pulled down by loveday’s and the clawing grip of other, unknown, unnamed victims, she could feel nothing but relief. yes, the final moments had been painful, but no more than all the moments, days, centuries, millennia she spent dying. it was a joy to finally succumb.

and a joy to know her revenge on john gaius would finally crystalize into reality. what mercymorn and augustine had set in motion, at last coming to term. she only wished she could see the look in those evil eyes when god learned of it all.

time moved strangely here beneath the waves. gaping mouths, maws of teeth and tongues, pugged at her from the riverbed with immense gravity. something kept her afloat, as if somehow a ten-thousand-year-old lyctor could somehow still have unfinished business upon reaching the long awaiting grave. she slept, unaware of the baby lyctors moving through the river, unaware of a ghost catching a ride in her decrepit cancer-filled body, unaware of the bubble floating along in the rapids alongside her. perhaps seconds had passed since harrowhark and palamedes’ combined efforts finally did her in, perhaps centuries, but when the bubble popped she was awakened, forced aware of her dangerous circumstances she no longer occupied alone.

“i hoped you would still be here,” said a ghost, and the full brunt of cytherea’s actions hit her all at once. dulcinea septimus, a girl who she so resembled, a girl who she had cut down only for her position, a girl who still somehow smiled, ever so sadly, when their gazes met. no one who ever met dulcinea face to face, in life or in death, could mistake cytherea for her. the only similarity was their blood, twisted and diseased and constantly fighting against them, and their fate, betrayed by the same emperor who promised them endless prosperity, yet both now ghosts in the river.

“i hoped i wouldn’t,” she responded, and it felt silly, childish, unbecoming to cry, but then wasn’t she undone in death? couldn’t she be cytherea eta again, heir of the seventh house, beloved of loveday heptane, cruelly doomed to live but a moment until a swindling god offered her otherwise?

“it’s alright,” dulcinea said, not sweetly, but sincerely. “i do understand why you did it, now. i would’ve done the same.”

“that can’t be true,” she protested.

“millennia, in the state i was in, alone and growing more lonely each passing day? without palamedes, without hect, without protesilaus? i’m certain i would toe a very similar path to yours.” dulcinea looked wistful, as if picturing in her mind all those years. pointless, cytherea thought. no one could imagine the weight of lyctorhood, not at any worldly age. no one could imagine the torment of john gaius’ company. when cytherea said nothing, dulcinea continued. “i forgive you, is what i mean to say.”

cytherea scoffed, and it was so loveday that she couldn’t contain the gasp that came afterwards. pulling herself back together, she said, “impossible. i don’t want your forgiveness, even if you’re offering it.”

“what do you want?” her voice was sweet, then. as if this girl who she took everything from was offering up more for her taking.

cytherea closed her eyes.

i want to sleep.

she didn’t vocalize the desire, so deep and primal and ancient it hurt even to conjure in her mind. dulcinea understood, anyways.

“you can sleep, now, knowing the empire will fall. i promise.” such words should mean nothing from another helpless ghost, but the unshattering determination in her voice brought such comfort to cytherea.

“alright.” her eyes fluttered open, one last look at dulcinea septimus, and it seemed loveday’s eyes were the ones meeting hers through the river’s waters and an abyss of millennia. she sighed.

then there was nothing, and wasn’t it just bliss.

5 july | object description without naming the object daily

your fingers hit the keys quickly, transmitting the words in your head easily to the bright lit screen in front of you. a search page, to be exact, the very same that once successfully brought up results for two members of the beatles where no other engine could, then became a commonplace verb despite the company’s wishes, and now is pumped full of ai results making real research difficult. but research is not what you are looking to do. you type your three word request, hit enter, click to the first link, the whole process from half-formed urge to realization taking mere seconds. you don’t think what a wonder this would be, to ancient philosophers or medieval monks or edwardian novelists; the omnipresence of knowledge, the mundanity of instantaneousness has striped all its power to you.

before you can even put your command into the stark webpage now staring you down, you already have a result from its near-infinite list of things. hardly any input was needed from you, certainly no thought. bandana, reads the black arial in the center of the white plane, and here is where your creativity is finally put to use. a flash of imagination, a subconscious conjuring matched to that word: a bright yellow cloth, the color of bananas and patterned with large white tropical leaves, folded into a headband, but not upon any head. done. you click reload, receive another word. dissatisfied with steak knife, you reload again, then again and again, until the website spits out toy boat, and you see so clearly in your mind the gabled blue roof, bright red cabin, and tiny-porthole-pocked white belly of your childhood bath time’s greatest pleasure.

now the objects pop unprompted directly into your mind: the delicate painted ballerina of a music box, booming black netting of a stereo speaker, soft pink and purple of that hand-knotted fleece blanket. perhaps you never needed this thing your fingers so swiftly delivered you, the solution to the indecision problem of this daily, in the first place.

2 july | motivating letter daily

hi aster!

firstly, happy swc! looking forward to a great month of writing and chaos :D

your three goals — going over your word goal, completing at least one weekly, and improving your writing — are all reasonable and have overlap with each other (as well as with the realm of swc). by setting up a daily routine or mini goals that encourage you to write at least a little every day, i’m sure you can complete these goals with no stress. the overlap in your goals makes them further achievable — as practice brings improvement, by writing towards your goal you will improve your writing; weeklies are often focused on improving a particular facet of writing or learning new techniques, also contributing to your writing improvements; and of course weeklies, with their higher word count minimums, contribute quite nicely to word goals!

while working towards these goals, draw from both internal and external motivators to keep yourself energized. internally, remember how satisfying completing goals is, and more so how fulfilling seeing an improvement in your art is — maybe by rereading older writing and comparing it to your current work, you can see just how far you’ve come and reinvigorate your wants to go even further. externally, swc’s leader board is a great motivator, as your cabin gains points from each word you write and activity you complete.

make sure to take advantage of the community and resources of swc! if you’re ever needing motivation, encouragement, inspiration, or just someone to ramble to about your day, commenting in the main cabin or your own cabin will connect you with so many excited fellow swcers ready to send motivation mangoes or “sing” along to lyrics.

i hope you have an amazing, fulfilling session, achieve your goals, and have lots of fun doing it!

sincerely,
lio

1 july | 1k intro

hello hello! i’m lio (they/them), a long-time swcer, arts enthusiast, and rising college junior. this is be my sixteenth session of swc and i’m coleading tragicomedy along side sun and silvi, let’s go lions! this is my second time attempting the one thousand intro challenge today, as my previous attempt self deleted at around 300 words, rip, so let’s get into the rambling by interest!

first off, i greatly enjoy writing. otherwise i probably would not be so into a writing camp lol. though i have been rather demotivated in most facets of my life recently— may and june were emphatically not my months rip— i have been thinking about the characters, worlds, and stories of my works in progress a lot (sooo many picrews…) and even writing a little. so i hope this session i can really shore up my motivation and get a significant amount of writing done towards these projects that i so love <3 the particular projects i would like to work on are my stories with hugo & rejean and jay & vis, four characters who exist in very different times of the same world. hugo and rejean are childhood friends, turned something more, embarking on a journey across their continent to escape an out-breaking war and uncover a mythical font of unknowable power. jay and vis are rival university students, one born a powerful silvertongue and the other only a lowly rhetoric student destined to serve a higher silver, living in the capital of the rojan empire and tasked with, somehow, finding the high priest, founder of the empire and its church. i love these two pairs of characters and the word i’ve built up around them, though i need to work on other side characters and the plots of their stories. i could go on about them for ages (and i certainly have before, in my roommate’s dms), but here i should move on to other interests…

hand in hand with my love for writing is my love for reading! after all, how can you output creativity without inputting that of others? (sidebar: one of my favorite things about art is how nothing is original. there is no such thing as art without influence, art without context, only a complex interweaving of inspirations and connections and previous narratives that goes into each new creation. creativity is fascinating, and i love noticing and thinking about how the books i read, movies and tv i watch, art i view, music i listen to, all influences my creative output— for example, i first wrote hugo’s story not long after reading the song of achilles for the first time, drawing as well from my enjoyment of the zany mentor trope in the name of the wind and star wars, while since my writing towards his story has reflected personal interests in religion, the interplay between language & race & culture & ethnicity, and how empires function. wow, almost 150 words of sidebar…) this year i set myself a reading goal of 50 books, and i’m currently just a few books behind at 21 read so far (terrible spring reading slump i fear; but i managed to finish 10 books in june and hope to continue with that momentum). right now i’m listening to the audiobook of frostbite by nicola twilley, a nonfiction book about the history of refrigeration and general usage of cold for food preservation, which is absolutely fascinating! really feels like a geography book, with the importance of transportation and many iterative developments in technology by everyday people shaping food, humanity’s diets, the economy, and the environment. i highly recommend! as with most of the books i read, frostbite is loaned from my local library; i also recommend you support your local library, they need the support now more than ever!

oh wow over halfway there, that wasn’t too bad! now for a miscellaneous list of musings on some of my less load-bearing interests. i quite like music; as i write this i am listening to stick season (forever) by noah kahan and my favorite artists are lord huron and mitski. the highlight of my summer so far was seeing lord huron in concert at red rocks, that was truly life changing! i am so excited for their new album. all through elementary, middle, and high school i always took art classes, going all the way up to art v my senior year and having a solo exhibition of my works, but since starting college i haven’t taken a single art class (despite twice registering for one). every time i see my high school art teacher, he asks about my art, and i always have to disappoint him by saying i haven’t done much… but the past few months i have been making origami butterflies with symmetrical patterns in alcohol markers, which is both artistically fulfilling and a sort of meditation. it just started pouring down rain, i love the rain and i love when it comes down so fast and loud that it completely changes the vibe of the indoors, so cozy and protected, which is why i could never live somewhere it doesn’t rain, or somewhere it only drizzles. and don’t get me started on thunderstorms — no good summer afternoon is complete without a thunderstorm! i love traveling, and though the highlight of my summer so far was traveling to denver, the highlight of my year has without a doubt been my weeklong study abroad in guatemala this past spring. i love the outdoors, hiking, and rockclimbing; i haven’t been able to climb much recently but i have worked towards walking every street in my city— 1.45% of the way there! i spend way too much of my time on screens / the internet (my average screen time recently has been 12+ hours a day, consider that does include ebook reading but also a lot of youtube rip). i’m studying geography (cultural geography in particular) with a minor in linguistics (worldbuilding my beloved <33), and i hope to study abroad for a semester some time soon.

anyways, that’s all from me. i struggled with this at first, but now i could probably ramble on for another one thousand words— nobody wants that, and i certainly would like to take my warmed up fingers and work on one of my wips so! thanks for reading if you did, i hope everyone has a great session!

WOAH I'VE NEVER BEEN THIS EARLY BEFORE :00



Dailies
July 2nd
July 6th
July 8th
July 20th

Weeklies
Weekly 1
Weekly 3

Others
Word War 1

hi guys!!!

Hiya all! To those of you who don’t know me, hello! I’m Skylar (she/her), a 16 year old girl studying biology, chemistry, maths, and physics at school with the hope of going into engineering in the future! This is my 10th session of SWC, and I’m also super passionate about MUN, because MUN is life <3 I’ve been to three conferences and will be heading to another soon, as well as secretariating my fifth, which I’m super excited for!



Basic Info
Word Goal: 20k
Dailies Completed: 2
Weeklies Completed: 0
Word Wars Done: 0
Total Words Written: 0



Dailies
1/7 - 2007/1000 - link
2/7 - 360/250 - link
3/7 - words - link
4/7 - words - link
5/7 - words - link
6/7 - words - link
7/7 - words - link
8/7 - words - link
9/7 - words - link
10/7 - words - link
11/7 - words - link
12/7 - words - link
13/7 - words - link
14/7 - words - link



Weeklies
weekly 1 - words - link
weekly 2 - words - link
weekly 3 - words - link
weekly 4 - words - link



Word Wars
* means unofficial, and I haven’t claimed points for them.

date - war 1 - opponent - link
date - war 2 - opponent - link



Critique
date - critique partner - link to their piece - link to critique



Cabin Wars #1
description - words - link
description - words - link



Cabin Wars #2
description - words - link
description - words - link



Writing Competition
title - words - main entry - link
title - words - fanfiction - link



Misc Writing
title - words - link
title - words - link

⋆˙⟡─ .✦⊹₊ ݁. Jackie's SWC writing thread ⋆˙⟡─ .✦⊹₊ ݁.
Word goal 0/20,000 (29/06)

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︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Dalies

01 - n/a
02 - 324/250 words - +150 - motivation note - link!
03 - x/x words - points - desc - link
04 - x/x words - points - desc - link
05 - x/x words - points - desc- link

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Weeklies

01 - x/x words - link
02 - x/x words - link
03 - x/x words - link
04 - x/x words - link

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Critique

01 - x words - name - link
02 - x words - name - link

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Cabin wars

01 - x words
02 - x words

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✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . 　✦ . 　⁺ 　
︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

i cannot be bothered to make this look nice so you just get a list of links i guess

1k intro
letter to asianisawesome
description of a mystery product
book spoof
omitting the letter “L”
song lyrics
alibi
constellations
modern classic retelling
write for old idea
thank you notes

weekly 1
weekly 2

────────── ☆ ──────────

◩ ┊CRYSTIE'S
TABLE OF CONTENTS
✦ July 2025

☆☆

◩ ┊INFORMATION
✦ Cabin ☆ Dystopian the Resistance
✦ Word Goal ☆ 18,000

◩ ┊DAILIES
✦ Title┊Day┊Word Count
✦ Introduction┊1st┊Word Count: N/A
✦ Three Word Stories┊3rd┊Word Count: 15
✦ Word War Introduction┊4th┊Word Count: N/A
✦ World Forgiveness Day┊7th┊Word Count: 905
✦ Write Only Using Lyrics┊9th┊Word Count: 160

◩ ┊WEEKLIES
✦ Title┊Week #┊Word Count
✦ Character Development┊Week 1┊Word Count: 1,579

◩ ┊WORD WARS
✦ Who┊Date┊Word Count┊Won/Lost

◩ ┊OTHER
✦ Title┊Day┊Word Count
✦ Critique #1┊25th┊Word Count: 865
✦ Writing Competition Entry┊???┊Word Count: 1,999
✦ Cabin Wars Extra Challenge #1┊26th┊Word Count: 409

☆☆

────────── ☆ ──────────

⋅ ─ ── ✦ ── ─ ⋅

Lyra's swc writing thread
Welcome!!

✦ Dailies
#1 | 1k intro (wip) | xxxx words
#2 | Title and link | Word count
#3 | Title and link | Word count
#4 | Title and link | Word count
#5 | Title and link | Word count
#6 | Title and link | Word count

✦ Weeklies
#1 | Character development | 1048 words

⋅ ─ ── ✦ ── ─ ⋅

MEGATHREADDDD

˚ ₊ ‧ ꒰ ა ☆ ໒ ꒱ ‧ ₊ ˚

Vicky's SWC July 25' Daily and Weekly Storage
UTOPOTATOES FTW!!! <3333

˚ ₊ ‧ ꒰ ა ☆ ໒ ꒱ ‧ ₊ ˚

Dailies:

Daily 1: 799 - https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/828439/?page=4#post-8616379

Daily 2: 401 - https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/828439/?page=6#post-8617508

Daily 3: N/A

Daily 4: N/A

Daily 5: 318 - https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/828439/?page=11#post-8620970

Daily 6: 184 - https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/828439/?page=13#post-8622062

Daily 7: 764 - https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/828439/?page=16#post-8624024

Daily 8: words - /link/

Daily 9: words - /link/

Daily 19: 380 - https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1198439457/

˚ ₊ ‧ ꒰ ა ☆ ໒ ꒱ ‧ ₊ ˚

Weeklies:

Weekly 1: words - /link/

Weekly 2: words - /link/

Weekly 3: words - /link/

Weekly 4: words - /link/


˚ ₊ ‧ ꒰ ა ☆ ໒ ꒱ ‧ ₊ ˚

oak's writing thread JULY 2025


1k intro~~
total word count: 1021
HELLO HELLO HELLO!!!!

I’m oak/avi!! I use any pronouns BUT she/her and I am * deep breath * trans nonbinary genderfluid genderfaun bisexual omnisexual!! I’m also a minor, but swc isn’t gross, so I trust y'all to be nice and safe :3
I’m a queer neurodivergent artist and writer :3 I love being a creative weirdo and sticking out- you only live this life once, after all. I am a furry, therian, and a mackenzie (from bluey) fictionkin I practise witchery and believe that when you die, you go to neither heaven nor the other place that I can not name because scratch filters are mean, but instead get returned to the earth.
Sports-wise, I don’t do much, but I do practise quadrobics (which is a sport). It exercises almost every muscle in your body when done right, which I find really cool
When I get older, I wish to renovate a bus (maybe with my partner) and take kids into the forest and have classes on herbs, crystals, survival skills, and stuff. I love nature and want a job that earns me money and lets me have fun and enjoy my occupation.
My birthday is on the 29th of July!! I’m really excited because that means I get swc on my birthday It won't get much attention irl nor online, but I'm still hyped!!! I also have an AJR and Madilyn Mei concert coming up in August and November, respectively, but that's unrelated lol.
I have 4 dogs, Luna, Tino, Tula, and Junie, 2 cats, Froggy and Daisy Bling Bling, 2 bunnies, Fig and Rosemary, and 9 chickens, Sweetie Pie, Nugget, Queso, Mother Clucker, Henny, Feisty Fiona, Fern, Winnie (winifred), and Stella. And thats not counting smaller pets lol like bugs.
I’m so so so so excited for this to be my 5th session! I personally love the number five for no reason- tehes. I am amongst the blahaj and skog fans as i have both stuffed animals, but to me blahaj will always win over my heart more then like- anything else haha i mostly kidding but am I?
I listen to a very large range of music, I’ll try to list a bunch but most likely won’t finish. AJR, Mother Mother, Fish in a Birdcage, Madylin Mei, Yaelokre, Chappell Roan, Alex G (cried to june guitar yesterday lol), Cavetown, Soddiken, Rabbitology, Tv Girl, Gorillaz, Gigi Perez, Zion’s Journal, The Drums, Foo Fighters, literallyalmostanyvocaloidartistlol, Twenty One Pilots, Moon Walker, Mitski, The Neighbourhood, bbno$, Metric, Nirvana, Olivia Rodrigo, Billie Eilish, My Chemical Romance, Weezer, Phoebe Bridgers, Hozier, Girl in Red, Marina, and many many many more. Plus scattered songs.
Unlike a few of you other swcers, I unfortunately am not writing a novel, because one, no motivation, and two, I don't like my writing style when it comes to original ideas. Dailies and Weeklies are easy because they're prompted. I have written poems and short stories though! They just don’t sound that good, or maybe that's just me.
I’m afraid to start yapping about my fandoms but I might as well >:3 To start, my favorite movie is Nimona and it has been for a while. I love the queer and neuordivergent characters and the artstyle is so unique! I’ve watched it 30+ times (shhhh thats not 6+ hours wdym…), and know quite a bit of quotes do to this. Not only is it my favorite, but also my comfort. DISNEY LEARN TO BE LIKE NETFLIX *shakes fist madly* I wish i could yap about all my fandoms but at this point? I’d forget some lol. I’ll try not to though. I’m also a bluey lover, and have also watched the whole show 30+ times, which probably isn't as concerning? Right…? Anyways, I love reading, Warrior Cats, Wings Of Fire, and The Hunger Games are my top 3 favorite series. I CAN’T with wc and thg it has made me BAWL. I don’t ship kale nor toast bc they are both lowkey kind of toxic ships if you think about it… ANYWAYS, my favorite color is green :3 (ik ik thats random BUT IM RANDOM AND I LIKE CINNAMON TOAST SO SHUT UP.) I’m also a huge fan of Scott Pilgrim and the Owl House (so mad that they cancelled it *throws fridge at Disney*), oh oh and Gravity Falls! I love The Legend of Zelda and swc and and and any Kirby games, oh, and smash :3 I love bowling and roller skating and stuff too! (another random fact about me, but again SHUT UP.) I already know this is gonna be a pain to deal with in forums… ANYWAYS, it's 10:35 am rn as I write this very precise sentence, and sadly I must take a break to go to therapy at 12, but it okay, I won’t die, my therapist is nice I just reached 800 words, and I cannot stop until I reach 900 because the number 8 is EVIL and deserves to DIE but the word eight is ALSO SEMIEVIL, but only SEMI deserves to DIE. If you couldn’t tell, I hate 8, and yes, it should DIE. YAYYY I CORRECTED ALL MY MISSPELLED STUFF THANK YOU GRAMMARLY!!!
Back to the point. I have a very huge collection of anything fox-related and mushroom-related related and last night I had a dream that my mom found a crocheted fox in the thrift store, then gave it to MY SISTER. I was very angered (oh yay 900 words ). The best combination is fox+mushroom because I love both . Did I mention I like Undertale? I love Undertale! And Deltarune, of course, but I haven’t played it yet, no spoilers please please! I hate papyrus so don’t even THINK of tryna relate to me liking Undertale by saying you like papyrus because you will be PUNISHED.
I could keep yapping or I could wrap it up because I am about to hit 1k and if I were to keep yapping I could write thousands (YAY 1k) more but this is a 1k intro not that so goodbye and thank you for reading my rant! <33

Daily 2- motiv letter for rose
total word count: 258
@BookHuggers2022
ROSE!

First off, I haven’t had much time to talk to you until kinda recently, and I’m glad I get to get to know you more! Your such a cool person and seem like someone worth knowing <33
I think that you can definitely most definitely reach 20k!! We could even be writing buddies if you want- I’m trying to reach the same goal, and it’d be fun to have someone to do it with who's not in my cabin. We could give daily prompts and stuff and try to meet a goal given by the other- BUT THATS ONLY IF YOU AGREE > IF YOU DO BE READY FOR CHAOS MWAHAHAHAHAHA *evily grins*

ANYWAYS, back to the point. You can and will reach that goal! And about having the giant resource of people called swc, you are absolutely right, we will help you make it accurate and awesome if you haven’t already /silly /lh >:3
You are an amazing person, and I believe that if you put in the effort, you’ll reach 20k in no time at all! (but still take your time lol no pressure) And you’ll most definitely reach your second goal- you’ll be able to incorporate that into your writing, and soon it’ll become a habit because I sure know when I started… none of my characters were ever the same again lolz- you’ll do it! Can’t wait to see what you do with this session and looking forward to reading what you come up with <3

Lots and lots of platonic love, Oakkkkkkkkkkkkk <333

Daily 4- write about a preexisting product without saying the name
total word count: 311

“Ok. So hear me out. WHAT IF, there was a magic thing that could cover up marker or Sharpie on white paper! Like if you make an accidental line!”
“Bro, that already exists-”
“Nuh-uh!”
“…Yes, it does. Do I need to give you a full in in-depth description AGAIN?”
“Well… maybe… that could be helpful! Although I doubt something that magical exists.”
“It does… but it doesn’t work incredibly well. It covers it, but it's still noticeable if you go close enough. By close enough, I mean less than 5 feet away.”
“See?! I told you nothing that magical exists.”
“…”
“I’m right, as always,”
“No, not really. Now, can you shut up and let me explain it?”
“How about you just tell me the name, and I can look it up?”
“Nah, I’m gonna just tell you. I forgot the name anyway.”
“Dude.”
“Well, it’s white. To match with the basic, simple white sheet of paper. “
“..Okay?”
“It can come in a little pen or a tape thingy or just liquid. I think the liquid comes in a nail-polish-like container, if I’m correct? Not sure.”
“Why not just come as one thing instead of that many?”
“I dunno! I didn’t invent it. Plus, the one we have now probably isn’t even made by the same people who invented it. It’s probably been around longer than that; this is just the modern version,”
“When did I ask that?”
“You didn’t. I just decided you needed to know.”
“Wha- ok..”
“Just trust. Anyways, it comes in like a few different forms and most likely is made by many different brands. You just gotta have them ripoffs, you know?”
“Sure. I think you’ve said enough. It doesn’t seem that good or high quality, though,”
“Yeah, good point. You’d be right about that.”
“Well, I am always right sooooo, it makes sense.”
“Sure, buddy, sure.”

Daily 5 or 6 idr
total word count: 154

Based on warrior cats into the wild


Sparkles the bird was a normal housebird when another bird flew through her door. She attacked this bird, and they tussled before the other bird, Glitterclaw, invited her to join the clan. Join Sparkles, newly renamed as Sparkleclaw, as she trains as an apprentice with the suffix claw to train to become a real warrior with a real, unique suffix (spoiler alert: the suffix is poof, so Sparklepoof) in the clan to become a real warrior bird and prove herself worthy to the clan!


Heres an excerpt
The leader screeched from atop her branch. “GUYS SHUT UP THIS BIRD NOW CALLED SPARKLECLAW, TRAINING UNDER ME, BLOOSTAR!!!” she screamed. “CACAWWWWW” she added.

The clan cheered with a few boos then they all went to their own nests, the apprentices to theirs, the warriors to theirs, the leader to theirs, and the herb bird to theirs. Sparkleclaw was experiencing severe culture shock it was so weird!
WEEKLY ONE
1128
Part 1: Creating a Flawed Character
Summarize the flaws you've come up with in at least 150 words to complete your first part!

Charlotte (Char) they/them

Charlotte’s supposed to be the spitting image of a princess. But they can’t sit still, can’t be proper enough- not any of that. It’s like they have the body of a princess but not the mind or instinct to be one. Oh, and not to mention, they're overly honest. If they don’t like something, they will speak their mind, and it can come off as them being very rude. This doesn’t help with the fact that they don’t act like a princess. The whole kingdom (aside from their friends) sees them as a “mistake” or “not worthy enough”. Do they care? Nope! And they’ve been very upfront about how they genuinely don’t care (landing them in a ton of trouble with their parents, but again. Do they really appear like they care?) To sum it up, they don’t have the mind or instinct to be a princess, and they’re brutally honest.




Part 2: Outlining How The Character Will Develop
200 words to move on to the next part!

Charlotte was born to the Icryan royal family as a princess. But they were never a princess or a prince. Maybe both, maybe neither, but to them, they were just Char. No one really understands why they act so rebellious sometimes (actually that's a lie, most of the time), and why they just can’t be honest for once to protect others' feelings.
Only their closest friend knows. She’d worked at the castle since they were young. When Char was only seven, and their friend, Mira, was nine, they were kidnapped. They had finally been allowed to go out into the markets, as long as they lay low, but they were kidnapped. It was months before a knight found them and returned them to the castle. Char had… changed, to say the least. The rule-following obedient princess was gone as if the kidnapper had replaced their soul. Their parents never let them out of their sight again. But this didn’t help Char’s behavior. It stayed. It must have affected them hard- no, it did affect them hard. But what happened during that time? Those months? Maybe they’ll never know. Because Char and Mira still have yet to say anything, like their mouths are sealed shut.


Part 3: Understanding Character Motivation
Now write 200 words explaining the motivation behind the character.

Most of Char’s motivations are… let's just say, unknown. But even though they seem to want to run away… they haven’t. With their smart mind, they probably could. But they haven’t. Really, they're trying to bring equity to their kingdom, especially because they understand they're not the only one who can’t be themself. They hate being called she/her, yet everyone (except Mira) does it. Not because they don’t know or forget, but because they don’t support them. If Char wasn’t a princess who faked being a girl and called it one big joke after finding out they didn’t support (why did they do that? That could’ve been a great escape opportunity…) they wouldn’t be in the place they are now. They most likely would’ve been banished or k!II3d. But why would they lie about that? They’re very upfront with their opinions!

It’s because they want, no, need to bring equity. They need to become queen to do that. (which does mean finding a king… ugh.) Once they become queen they have plans to pass the law that allows everyone to marry who they want and be who they want. (They believe it’s gonna work, don’t tell them otherwise.)



Part 4: Tying It All Together
For the final part of this weekly, write a short story in a minimum of 450 words incorporating your flawed character, focusing on character development and their motives

Thump. Thump. Thump.


“Bet you can’t catch up to me!” I yell out, holding up my dress as my feet hit the ground. Mira’s right on my heels as we dash through the corridors of the castle.

“You gotta try on this dress! The king and queen will fire me if I don’t get you to try it on,” Mira shouts, bounding after me with a dress clutched in her hands.

“It’s ugly! Even if you wore it, it's so ugly!” I shout back, still running.

“But it's not!” she yelled back.

I didn’t reply, even though the dress is really, really ugly! A servant's door catches my eye and I dart into it, running down the stairs and almost crashing into a young girl carrying cleaning supplies. “Sorry!” I reply, darting out back into the hallway through another door. It’s not long before Mira catches up, returning to her position close on my heels.

I spin around, grab the dress from her hands, and start stomping on it.

“Char…! Come on, the seamstress spent hours on it, and if you don’t put it on, she’ll get fired and so will I!” Mira says, facepalming.

I lift up the trampled dress. …It was inside out. Stupid Mira for knowing how to outsmart me. “Fine,” I say grumpily, turning around to trudge towards my quarters slowly, making sure to drag my feet.

I have to stay a princess and marry a prince. When I finally do that, I can put the plan into place. So while I don’t wanna wear these stupid dresses and follow all these rules and have good manners, I have to, or the kingdom will never be good and safe and equal.

I swing open the door and collapse on the bed dramatically, dropping the dress as I go. “I don’t wanna put it on,” I complain.
Mira glares at me but I know it’s all in good fun. “Put it on.” She demands, hunching over and shaking her finger at me. I burst out laughing.

“Fine!” I say, standing up, grabbing the dress, and ducking behind the standing fold-up thingy that I never bothered to learn the name of.

I step out, clearly annoyed. “I hate it! It feels so weird, and it looks terrible! Do I have to wear this?”

Mira nods. “For the entire ball. Now sit down so I can do your hair and makeup,” she says, and I plop down at the vanity. I suppose I like it when Mira does my hair- she doesn’t make it tooooo feminine and I like that. If only I were allowed to wear a suit. It would make me look so much for fabulous!

She does my makeup and then is required to leave. I have to go to this stupid ball on my own and find someone to marry- it’s my last chance.

To be continued…

TOTAL WORD COUNT 1128

Daily 9
total word count: 159
Everyone's laughing at me
I’m not where I’m supposed to be
I’ve worn the same skinny jeans
Since I was 15
Wish I was a stone, so I couldn’t feel.
Why do you let me stay here all by myself?
It seems like everyone's out to get ya ‘til they see you break
I don’t need the world to see
I’m climbing up your wall
Hear it in your tone
Is that even your house?
I’ve waited here for you
You hit me yesterday
There's writing all over the wall
Shadows of us are still dancing
Maybe they’ll leave you alone, but not me
You know where to find me
And I know where to look
I know that if you hide, it doesn’t go away
I do… love you
I gave you my future
And wish that it was me
You just think it
Don’t you forget about me
Yeah, you turned from me
I’m gonna chase it…

Daily 19
total word count: 324
“I wanna be me” (@-Raye-)

2/4
It’s weird. I don’t know anyone like this, but for some reason, I hate being a boy.

But being a girl doesn’t fit right either. All my friends say that I’m weird for that. That it’s bad. It is bad. I’m bad? I don’t even know anymore. I guess I’m keeping a journal now…
2/9
I’m questioning if I should see the school counsellor. I’ve decided not to bring it up around my friends anymore. If they say it’s wrong, it probably is. But their good people! Really, they are! Whatever they say is right!!
2/11
I talked to the school counsellor. She said to go to the library to use their computers for “resources”. She gave me a little sticky note with a bunch of websites written on it. The only problem is trying to find time to do it without my friends realizing…
2/19
Success! I was able to visit the school library and look up information! I think I am fine being a girl.. It's better than being a boy, that's for sure. The internet says that's called transgender, but I’m going to go back tomorrow to look.
2/20
I told my friends… let’s just say it didn’t go well. I sit alone at lunch now, to say the least.
2/21
I went back to the library. Nothing stopping me now!! I think I might be genderfluid. It’s where your gender doesn’t matter or changes! I also learned about pronouns, and right now I think I use she/they.
2/22
I think I’m genderfae, or genderdoe!! It’s basically genderfluid, but never, ever, he/him. I told the councillor, and she told me I should explain to my parents. I’ll tell them tomorrow.
2/23
… They don’t support. They told me I would always be a boy.
Can't I just be me for once?

To be continued >:3