daily - july 13
456 words … last updates 07.12.2025

Just to let you know, this daily may seem really confusing, so just a heads up! By the way, Bubble is a platform for idols to talk to fans, it's one-sided, I think (I don't have it sadly </3)

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For today’s daily, write an alibi explaining why you’re innocent. Your defense must be at least 350 words

Detective:
“Hello Willow…would you care to tell me where you were last night?”

Willow:
“Hmmm….Nah, I'd pass.”

Detective
“What- You can't just do that.”

Willow:
“Yes I can. You asked if I wanted to tell you, and I said no. Also, I invoke the fifth.”

Detective:
“I'll give you Stray Kids concert tickets if you tell me.”

Willow:
“But I already went?”

Detective:
“How about Enhypen concert tickets?”

Willow:
“I already have those.”

Detective:
“Alright fine. A Bubble account with a paid subscription to ALL of the members-”

Willow:
“'YES YES I ACCEPT! So basically last night I was just vibing to Stray Kids as usual, and that's pretty much it.”

Detective:
"That's it? So, could you perhaps explain how you wrote so much according to Trackbear. Clearly you had some motivation."

Willow:
“Well yeah. I was able to stay up extra, and cabin wars were going on.”

Detective:
“Hmm…Interesting. Could you explain to me why you listened to Stray Kids so much last night-”

Willow:
“SKZVERSE LORE. IT'S LITERALLY LIKE THE BEST. Ahem ahem. So basically with their 313+ songs, Stray Kids has some lore to go with it-”

Detective:
“Alright, that's enough-”

Willow:
“-I have my own personal theories. So basically Stray Kids is under control by someone and they escape the control world. While they were escaping, they discovered their powers which are slowly revealed throughout the music videos and trailers. Jeongin also sees his clone, and Han is the first one to escape through the Hellavator. Where does it go? Levanter of course! It's a beautiful purple flower field. I'm not sure about the rest because there are too many videos for me to watch. But the clones basically help each other escape the controlling people. So I think I know some of their powers. Felix is really important, and I think controls the universe because it was revealed in a music video that he has powers and did something to the universe while in the Hellavator-”

Detective:
“Willow-”

Willow:
“Seungmin is Felix's right hand and helps him out a lot. For example he opens the door in ”Venom“ and is given the matches in ”Circus.“ Jeongin is either a clone that knows everything or just simply knows everything and what's going to happen. Hyunjin seems to be dealing with illusions because he's able to make clones of himself and turn into others. That was discovered in the ”Megaverse“ music videos. I'm not exactly sure about the rest, I think I once figured it out but forgot. But like it's super entertaining and the summary is just-”

Detective:
“NOPE, you're done. Leave, please, for the sake of my sanity. Just get out of here, you're innocent, I'll send you the Bubble password.”

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456 words

Daily 13:

Oh no! Last night while the campers were sleeping, Smarlls the ibex’s stash of mangoes was stolen, and everyone here is a suspect. For today’s daily, write an alibi explaining why you’re innocent. Your defense must be at least 350 words, and you can collect 250 points (and an additional 100 for sharing) for your cabin.

I didn’t steal the mangoes because I was busy stealing something else— Uh. I mean… Can we start over?
*Ahem* Well, I couldn’t have stolen the mangoes, because I was with Kit! Oh. She was on a walk? Well, I was with her before then! And then after that, I was with Chuey! So therefore, I cannot be guilty, nor can Chuey, because she was with me. Oh, what were we doing? Um. We were feeding Steve! Y’know, Steve McSquideeny? The giant squid from one of the rifts? He has a GIANT appetite, so we have to feed him lots of food so he doesn’t break out of the rifts and eat Gothic, or Thriller, or Apolyptic or something. Wha— What’d you mean? Are you saying that STEVE, sweet little baby squid Steve, would eat Smarlls’ mangoes? I can’t believe you! First you accuse innocent SWCers, now you’re accusing Steve, of all people?! Maybe Gurtle took them, or Kevin (not the Script camper), or Kit, she stole my popcorn once. Or Rose, or maybe Smarlls themself! Or maybe YOU took the mangoes! What if it was the geese, from November ‘24 cabin wars! They’ve stolen mangoes before! We caught them! What if they broke out and stole Smarlls mangoes! *Ahem* Sorry. I probably shouldn’t be accusing random people, I guess. Anyway— Wait. Are you from the ITP? I’ll never tell you were Kevin is! Or Bartholomew! Um. Anyways, I’m not suspicious at all. Also, I was writing for cabin wars the whole time. Expect for that time I was talking a break… But all I ate was chocolate! No fruit at all! Expect pineapple and lemonade… But other then that, no fruit! I promise! Don’t arrest me! Ah. Okay. How about I draw you an ibex? Maybe Smarlls will like that? Okay. *drawing* here! A nice ibex! Now how about we forget about those mangoes and… AH! NO! SMARLLS! *crashes* …………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
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Okay. I’m back. Um. This bag that for some reason Smarlls really really wanted? Um, there’s nothing in there! It’s none of your business what’s in my suspicious shopping back! It’s food for Steve! No! Leave me and my m— squid food, out of this!

383 words.

•┈๑⋅⋯ ꒰ ꒱ ⋯⋅๑┈•

i. “mangoes are out of season? not at swc!”

⋆˚✿ day 11
mango thief alibi . sci-fi . 644

Ahem. Oh, sorry. Is this on? Wait, are we recording? Already? Okay. Sorry. Um, can we restart? Thanks. I’m just gonna- oh shoot- sorry-
Thud.
Sorry, sorry! That was just a mango. No, no, not Smarlls’. I got it at the uh, grocery store. Yesterday. Where did I go? SWC, the Store of Working Coupons. They have a lot of stuff. Including mangoes. Mangoes are out of season? Not at SWC! Every four months, they restock. Mhm. So I went yesterday to get some. How many? Um… four hundred seventy-one? That’s the number of mangoes Smarlls had? Wow, maybe Smarlls went too! Okay, sorry. Yeah, I’ll start.
Thud.
Oh- sorry! Sorry, oh, that was the mic. Sorry!! Okay, I’m just gonna move it-
Static.
Sorry! Sorry! Okay, okay, I’m going to start now. Um, do I talk to the camera? No, the microphone. Okay, sorry. Into the microphone, got it. Ahem. HELLO. MY NAME- OH, NOT THAT CLOSE? SORRY. OKAY. IS- is this better? Yes? Okay, great. Hello! My name is- sorry, I thought you wanted like a podcast introduction or something. Sorry! Sorry, I’ll hurry. You have one hundred thirty-four more people to interview? Oh- it’s interrogate? Sorry. I’ll hurry up. Ahem. My name’s Sky. Was that good? Okay, great. Where was I on the night of the theft? Um, let’s see… I was at SWC! I’d saved a lot of coupons, so I was able to cash in all those points… how many points?
No- I didn’t ask that-
About thirty-three thousand, four hundred points? Something like that. I go there a lot, I’m always checking for their mango stock. I typically go weekly, sometimes even daily… yup. I know, very impressive. Thank you. Ahem. So I was there, and I was getting mangoes and I was cashing in all of my coupon credits. I got there at… 6 PM, I believe? The theft happened at 6:30, right? Oh, wait! You know what- I remember something! There was a lady in front of me, I think her name was Celeste? Yeah. I don’t know, it was some funky star name thingy. Anyway. She had a cart full of mangoes and she… and she…
Audible swallow.
She had more… SHE HAD MORE COUPON POINTS THAN ME.
Sniffle.
Sorry, sorry. I’ll get on with it. So she was there, and she was cashing in her forty-two thousand, one hundred fifty or something points- YES, I KEEP TRACK! I need to know how many more points I need. So she said to the cashier, “I don’t have enough mangos for the Apocalypicnic I’m hosting!” Was that verbatim? Ye- I mean, noooooo. No, she said, “UGH YOU PUNY-BEETLE HEADED DEWBERRY! THIS STORE DOESN’T HAVE ENOUGH MANGOES TO FUEL MY APOCALYPICNIC! IT STARTS AT 7 PM! WHERE AM I SUPPOSED TO FIND MORE MANGOES?! GRR GRR STOMP STOMP I’M SO EVIL!!” Yes, it was definitely that. Verbatim. Especially the whole “grr” part. I know- weird person. Anyway.
Interrogator speaks.
Oh, she’s here today? Good call on that one. I mean, she could’ve decided that she needed more mangoes and then stole them from Smarlls! I know…
Sniff.
How cruel. So yeah. I think it was probably Celeste person and the people in the Apocalypicnic. Oh, what’s that you say? I’m a suspect, not an investigator? But my theory is so good- oh, sorry!
A series of thuds.
What’s that? Heh. That’s just my store of four hundred seventy-one mangoes. The ones I got from SWC. Mhm. Yup. Can I go now? I’m hoping to make mango salad. Thanks! Want a mango?
Mango passing sounds.
Okay! Bye! Yes, yes, thank you! I’m tellin’ ya, look into that Celeste person. She’s fishy. Yes. Okay. Thank you. Yes, yes, I’m getting out! No need to yell. I’m just saying though… my theory is pretty good- OKAY! SORRY- I’m going!!

Daily July 13th

What? Mangoes were stolen? Here, in swc, where nothing ever goes wrong and there is no chaos at all? And of course, no one would ever have any mango related mishcief and certainly nothing involving stealing! Never! I mean, I could imagine that happening in a less normal, calm, place but never here. Okay…you know what. I’m going to drop the act. SWC is certainly the kind of strange, mango stealing (and loving), place where that would happen. But the act that I am not going to drop is the one proving that I am innocent. Because I am innocent and it isn’t even a act, I promise. But my word doesn’t mean much, so I’m going to prove it so no one will be able to doubt my innocence. Alright. So my allibi is that…uh darn it, I actually don’t have great proof. Not in like a suspicious way, just that I wasn’t around for most of cabin wars. I did write and add some words though, so there. That’s proof. Come on, if we go ask my teammates working to fix the rift I’m sure they’ll say that I’m innocent…not because they’re protecting me or anything, just because it’s the truth! Let’s see…go on, go talk to everyone and collect the evidence. I’ll wait. …okay you’re back, great. What did everyone say? Yeah, everyone said that I was busy writing and submitting words! There you go, great proof. And okay fine ignore that fact that I left near the end of cabin wars…uh because I needed to leave swc to do actual things! Like not writing stuff, but also not mango stealing stuff. There is a in between, not everything is either “writing so much your fingers ache and you almost feel asleep and hit your face on the screen” and “frantically stealing and escaping with mangoes”. Wait, okay in swc there might not be a middle version but remember the phrase life > swc? I’m doing that. I was actually dealing with stuff in real life, so there. But you say that isn’t good enough proof? Well what do you want, me to catch the actual suspect? Oh wait, you actually want that. Okay then, I can prove with absolute certainty that it was not me by proving with absolute certainty that it was a apocyliptic camper. Uh apocyliptinc. Uh help. See, they’ll try to debate and say that they didn’t do it, but don’t trust them. I saw them leaving a crisis debate and then while they left the room, pushing mangoes into their briefcases. That’s right. I think it was not just a few campers, but all the apocyliptic campers working together! So there. Go investigate their briefcases and come back when you’ve found that I’m innocent. …you found no mangoes? What, huh? I swear that there were mangoes in those briefcases…um I don’t know why there wouldn’t be. Oh hey that’s Ayla, what’s she doing here? Oh okay, Ayla has a way to prove my innocence because the mango tip didn’t work out despite the fact that it was totally legitimate. Hang on, we need a squid translator. Does anyone speak squid? Wait alright Steve is a writer so Steve can just write us a message. Steve, here is a pencil and here is some paper. Write away. Okay yes! Thank you to Steve, my proof that I’m innocent is right here. Steve says that “This camper was being super nice. They were showing me how to type on a phone but then my tentacles kept hitting all the buttons at once. So then they showed me how to write with pencil and paper but they had to keep getting me new pencils because I kept breaking them. They are very nice and didn’t steal any mangoes.” So okay here is proof. And yeah I know you don’t want to accept proof from anyone in sci-fi, but seriously, Steve wasn’t even aware about giving proof. Steve was just saying the truth. Don’t question it, just keep moving, clearly I am innocent. Thank you Steve!

679 words

Weekly / Week 2 (Jul. 10 - Jul. 16) <3

Part 1:

For today's weekly, I'll be examining two variations on the classic tale, Beauty and the Beast — the original French version La Belle et la Bête (translated, ‘Beauty and the Beast’) and the Italian version, Zelinda e il Mostro (translated, ‘Zelinda and the Monster’).

A difference between both tales is that in the French version, Beauty has three brothers who offered to kill the Beast. When they heard that the monster had demanded that the father bring a daughter willing to live with the Beast, they reacted with this chivalrous offer, but Beauty refused.

This may have been because the French culture may encourage chivalry to a greater extent than Italian culture.

One thing I noticed and found interesting is how the young woman in both stories go by two different names. In the original French version, the main character goes by the name ‘Belle’ (which is translated in English to ‘Beauty’), while in the Italian version, she goes by ‘Zelinda’, which translates to ‘victorious shield’, or ‘guardian who brings triumph in battle’. While both characters act with bravery — deciding to be cordial with the beast, despite initially feeling afraid — only in the Italian version is this sense of courage and strength reflected in her name.

Both cultures place great value on bravery — in French culture, there's a particular emphasis on bravery shown everyday for even the small challenges in life. (An aside here, but I found this beautiful quote while researching “In French the word ‘courage’ has a whole other meaning. If someone’s having a bad day or is faced with the slightest challenge, it is common to tell that person, courage. Be brave.”). In Italian culture, boldness and living life to the fullest is encouraged.

Both stories reflect how, at the time, daughters would be given for marriage by the fathers, and very often, they would have to marry husbands they had not seen or met before. In such a setting, it was important for them to have courage.

(334/200 words)

Part 2 / A magic spellbook

I am a mighty spellbook, compiled over three centuries by seven archmages and one witch-turned-poet, and yet here we are—being used to summon sparkles and impress a boy. Worst of all, it's in the middle of a battle. I've seen this enemies to lovers arc countless of times, trust me. And I'm sick and tired of it, sick and tired, I tell you.

I see the young girl stare at him. He's beyond my line of vision, of course. She has that look in her brown eyes that screams, “I can change him”.

A fireball arcs over her head. I see another coming from the right.

IDIOT. THERE COMES ANOTHER ONE.

It nearly smashes into her head. I want to scream my non-existent head off.

And now she's holding me wrong.

Oh God, no, don't point that heart shaped wand like that. You'll surely miss. And then there'll be a darned love triangle.

She missed. Of course she did. It hits another boy, a blonde-haired boy, because of course it did.

I'm not paid enough for this. Wait, no, I'm not paid at all. I should be.

The fairy could've picked a sensible combat spell, but noooooo. This is the result of reading way too many romance books at a tender age.

I wanna go homeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

(218/200 words)

Part 3 / The Elves and The Shoemaker, in a video diary format <3

The room is dark, and in the soft moonlight, you can see meagre supplies. A scrap of leather lies on the floor, along with a shoemaker's supplies — a hammer, pliers, glue, a thick thread and large needle. A medium sized wooden workbench waits at a distance, where there is an unfinished shoe. Next to it, a sole.

The camera shutters, a soft, low sound. A young man looks directly into the camera. His brown eyes are soft, tired. He runs a hand through his hair.

“It is 11:32 pm. Friday. I've completely run out of leather, and the funds to buy more. I have just enough for one more pair of shoes.”

His eyes dart away, to an open doorway shrouded in the shadows, in the distance.

“In truth, I'm worried. Isabella's been sick. She's been running a fever. We'll need the money for the doctor. ”

“God,” he whispers. “I don't want to see her like this.”

And then louder, “I've been trying to do the best I can.”

“Oliver?” A thin young woman, blanket wrapped around her body, comes up from behind him. She plants a kiss on her husband's head. Her brown hair is frazzled, her eyes are dull.

“My love, you're burning up.” He touches her arm, turning around.

“It's late, love. Come to bed.” Her voice sounds exhausted.

“Go rest. I'll come in a minute, yeah?” He says gently.

She walks away, the sound of her bare feet hushed on the floor.

He gives one tired look at the camera. Leans forward to reach for something beyond it, or perhaps on it.

There is a low click.

He gets up and goes into the room.

The shoe sits on the worktable, in the moonlight. For a few minutes, the lighting in the room shifts and changes as clouds pass.

A soft chime echoes near the window. There is a glimmer in the air, the whisper of kindly voices and laughter.

There is a fleeting glimpse of a smile. The needle is picked up. Neat lines of thread are made along the edge of the shoe. Laces are woven in. Another scrap of leather is picked up, and carefully cut and then — bleep.

The recording ends.

The recording starts up again.

“Saturday, 7 am.” There is a light in the man's eyes now. Excitement, hope, even. “You wouldn't believe this!”

He beams. Waves two shoes in front of the camera.

“Finished! I'd left them incomplete for today morning! I checked the recording from yesterday - it seems like we have helpers! I intend to thank them, from the bottom of my heart!”

“Bella?” He calls, angling his face towards the room. “I have good news, Bella, good news!”

He smiles at the camera once more, and shuts it off.

Recording ends.

The recording starts up again.

All is quiet. You can only hear the softest shuffle of footsteps, excited whispering.

A pair of unfinished shoes are on the table. Again, there is the soft ringing of bells and for a few frames, tiny human figures show.

They stitch up the shoes and dart quickly away.

“I suppose this couldn't really capture much,” Oliver says, coming into the view, and taking the camera in his hands. The video wobbles a bit. “But that's okay - this was in case we couldn't see anything ourselves. And we did!”

“Elves — tiny elves,” the young wife pipes in. There is a glow in her face now, though her eyes still look tired. “But barefoot. They are wandering about in this freezing weather. Not if we can help it, eh?”

They share a smile.

“Monday — no, Tuesday. 12:05 am. Over and out!” He says.

There is a bleep, and the video ends.

This time, there are tiny shoes on the work table. There must be at least three pairs, alongside a large sheet of leather, many tools and a small cloth bag containing medicine.

There is the soft chiming of bells. A few moments of silence, then delighted peals of laughter.

The tiny shoes are whisked off into the air.

Glimmers dance about in the room, lighting everything up. From the window, you can see the sun coming up, slowly.

There is hope, and joy in the atmosphere.

The recording ends.

(709/400 words)

Part 4 / my own fairytale:

The Moon was unraveling, which made Nella put her tea down with an anxious thunk.

“Quit being dramatic, man,” Her cat muttered to the moon, head sticking out of the window into the night.

Nella gave him a good smack on the head.

She dropped from her bed, which was a little too high for her feet to reach the floor. Honestly, she could just phase into an older, more age-accurate form — but she liked this. It gave her the license to take most things lightly and laugh in life's face.

“I'm coming, Selene. I'm coming,” She whispered. She pulled a blanket off the bed. A box of tea, two chocolates. Anything that might help.

She collected them into a basket, jumped out of the window and ran, her bare feet meeting with empty air as she climbed higher, higher.

The emerald grass sped past her feet, speckled with tiny grass, lanterns, howling wolves.

Her pink frock billowed about her. There were stars about her, twinkling, almost indifferent.

She burst through a layer of cloud, water gently dusting her face. Then another, and another, until she was high up, very high.

The moon looked huge to her now. Small, silver threads snaked out from it. They would be barely noticeable from below.

Up, up, up she went, until she burst out of the atmosphere. She dusted the debris off a little, before crossing the distance to the pale white surface.

“Seleeenee?” She called, moondust whispering against her small legs. “Are you there?”

Selene was huddled in a crater, and she raised a head when Nella approaches.

“Yep! I'm here!” She smiled, but it didn't reach her silver eyes. They were glassy, drooping.

“What's wrong?”

“No, don't worry, I'm good.” Selene nodded, violently.

“Selene, I'm worried about you, that's all. You look… I don't know, tired, sad….?”

“Fine! Okay - I don't feel so good.”

“Want to tell me about it?”

“No.” She curled up into a ball.

“That's okay.” Nella settled down in the crater next to her. “I'm here for you, yeah?”

“Thanks,” she whispered. Nella reached to grasp her friend's hand, hesitantly. Then Selene responded, curling her pale fingers around Nella's brown ones.

Nella morphed into an adult, getting bigger, taller. Her frock changed into a pink gown.

Selene just put a head on her shoulder, now that the opportunity had opened up. Nella wrapped one arm around Selene's waist.

Then they just sat there, in silence, listening to the crunch of moondust shifting under their bodies and the soft humming of the stars. Selene's eyes had acquired a sad, far off look.

Nella swallowed her feelings of helplessness and just settles for rythmically tapping her fingers against Selene's hand. Then tracing her thumb over Selene's knuckles in quiet circles.

A comet streaked past, a blinding white against the black canvas, disappearing in a matter of seconds. Nella placed her basket between them, unwrapping a chocolate and keeping one in front of Selene.

They sat like that for a long time, just breathing.

Just before Nella got up to leave, the silver-haired girl pressed her face into the girl's shoulders and whispered, “Thanks for being here, Nells.”

(530/500 words)

Total word count: 1794/1300 words

Daily - 362 words

Me? Steal a stash of mangoes? Why would I do that?
There are many people here who are obsessed with mangoes, and would do anything to get their hands on a stash. To many, once the skin is peeled or cut away, the inside is pure gold, not simply fruit. These mangoes mean so much to so many people, but I would never sacrifice what someone has to get my hands on one. After all, the shop down the road has as many mangoes as I could need.
Last night, I was asleep, for many hours (probably about 7-8, which is pretty good, although I normally get more). Well, I went to sleep at about midnight - before that, I was writing about Sam the cat and Jim the mouse and Bob the rabbit, who all became very good friends after Sam decided not to eat Jim. Members of the Space UN could testify that I was, in fact, writing. I was working very hard and therefore had no time to steal the mangoes. The Space UN was under attack all day and night yesterday, and we had extremely difficult challenges to fulfil, but we managed. If I had stolen the mangoes, there would've been no way I would have had time to help my team fight off all the wars. After I had finished that, I did go to bed and slept until 8 this morning.
However, I did have a mango for breakfast today… Pure coincidence of course, I found it in the fruit bowl along with a melon and some nectarines - delicious. Mangoes are my favourite fruit, but that does not mean I would steal them. I value justice and morality more than mangoes, which can unfortunately not be said for all the people here.
I do not know who stole the stash of mangoes, but we simply must find out before we have a serial thief on our hands. Once someone tastes the life of crime, who knows what they might do next. The only thing I can know for certain, is that I didn't steal them. I am the only person I can trust in these dark times.

13.07.25 ⟢ 377/350 words - My Alibi :0

To Mr. Detective,

Here is my letter explaining how I am innocent and why I did NOT steal Smarll’s stash of mangoes. Why would I even want to, when I’ve got a basement full of them? Some slightly stale mangoes are not on my shopping list this week. Furthermore, I had no idea the stash existed until today, so how could I have gone to steal the mangoes? And even if I did know that Smarll had a stash of mangoes, a) I can assure that my stash is bigger and b) I wouldn't be bother to go steal them, anyway <3

It would be impossible for it to be me, anyway, since I was extremely busy writing some cues for the cast, who were trying to attack us with Barbie dolls for no apparent reason! It was a chaotic day yesterday, and I wouldn't have had time to go climb some rocks and steal some mangoes. Members of the Script department can back me up on this. So it is clear that I am innocent- there is no way that I can be in two places at once and I would never steal anything, even if it were a stash of mangoes. :eyes:

You can trust me, I’m telling you nothing but the truth. There are a lot of SWCers who could've committed this terrible crime, but I'm telling you: I'm not one of the!. If you really want, I’m sure there are some unedited clips we filmed last night that might have me running around somewhere, taking cover under a clipboard- video proof I was in the studio, not the mountains. I'm sure that the mountains, where Smarll lives, is not within walking reach of the studio. To be honest, it's not likely that anyone would like to go hiking at night.

Hang on- maybe there were some people at the mountains, though? Maybe it was someone from last session- yes, that’s it! You know how Adventure was stranded in the mountains? Maybe they got desperate for food and decided to steal the mangoes! I’m sorry, detective, but I think I should be taking your job.

Who I am (a mango lover) is not where I’ve been (Smarll’s mango stash)- I’m still an innocent!

Elly

Daily: Defendant Azure's Alibi
Word count: 382 | 07/13/2025
Oh no! Last night while the campers were sleeping, Smarlls the ibex’s stash of mangoes was stolen, and everyone here is a suspect. For today’s daily, write an alibi explaining why you’re innocent. Your defense must be at least 350 words, and you can collect 250 points (and an additional 100 for sharing) for your cabin.

The simple truth of the matter is that I, Azure of the Horror Cabin, could not have possibly stolen Smarlls the ibex’s mango stash. At the time, I had never even heard of the ibex or his mangoes. Only this morning have I been (quite forcefully) made aware of the existence of Smarlls and his oddly significant stash, when I was dragged out of the comforts of my dingy wooden chair and put on trial.

Furthermore, to quell any more accusations stating that I stole a bunch of fruit that I was never cognizant of, allow me to present one more crucial piece of evidence, proving that I was safely within the Horror Cabin when the crime was committed and was not present during the theft.

To start, it is to be noted that I did not sleep right away. This was due to a combination of both the noxious slimes dangling from the ceiling and the fact that I was busy writing (or, more accurately, struggling to write) new developments for my novel series. Rather, I fell asleep (or, more accurately, passed out), at around 12 AM at the desk.

And now, here is the notebook that I was writing on – on this page you will find dried patches of the noxious slime that appears to spell out “TONIGHT YOU SLEEP BUT TOMORROW THEY MOURN.” That serves as evidence that I had both fallen asleep, and fallen asleep in the Horror Cabin.

You can also see here unintelligible foreign writing inked in blood. I assume that was from the gaunt, glassy-eyed creature that was lurking by the door to the bathroom. These phenomena could have only occurred in my cabin, and nowhere else.

While it is somewhat reasonable to assume my involvement in this case, all due examination of the provided evidence will indicate my innocence. I did not know about the mango stash, nor was I in a position to steal it. Besides, I would gain nothing out of deceiving the court today. Two days ago I opened a drawer and was cursed by a vengeful spirit to have my fingernails ripped out if I ever told a lie, but that is irrelevant. I am as innocent as the day I was born. Now, may I please eat my breakfast?

return to the pit where the horrors dwell

Critique for @-forgott3n-void- ‘s poetry - 1142 words


Hi! Thanks for letting me read your poems. I’ll start with some overall feedback then go to some more specific critiques.
The first thing that struck me before I had even started reading your poems was how each is one continuous stanza with very little punctuation. Of course, for some poems, this can be a conscious and effective stylistic choice, however I think you would benefit from a bit more structurally.

First off, paranoia. I like the images and words that you have used, I think they really match the vibe that you are going for. However I do think the drama and uncertainty could be pushes further - I already love the tone, but even more could make it even better! First off I would consider changing your line breaks, as each line is a complete phrase. Whilst it makes the rhythm quite steady and the poem easy to read and understand, it seems quite safe. I think by carrying phrases over lines you could emphasise certain words a bit more and start using structure to increase emotional impact. Punctuation can also help you achieve this, as simple as some commas throughout could make a real difference. I also think for this poem and the theme it has, some dashes or elipsis could really help to increase the feeling for the reader and build tension.

I would also consider splitting the stanza up, unless you purposefully want it to read with a quick pace - if so, you can keep it as it is. I might put a stanza break before ‘so here I am/ sitting’ as well as other places, just to help clarify it. Also, you could experiment with having short stanzas somewhere - one or two lines that you really want to stand out, and make the reader linger on, perhaps ‘and you’ve denounced god'. But probably only do this once in the poem (or twice if you want) and choose the line that carries the most weight for you personally. Here, I have edited the first few lines for you, just to give you an example of what playing around with structure and punctuation could look like, and how it could change how it is received. (Of course, your edit could be completely different, which is absolutely ok, I'm just suggesting!)

Eyes are in the walls, I swear -
Footsteps.
Up the stairs…
Dark descent of
Panic
Weighing down the skin and bones

Of course, everything I've said is only suggestions regarding structure, but I love the rest of the poem. I like the disjointed rhyme scheme and the lines feel really creepy, which works amazingly.

Right, now onto your second poem - coffee shop. I like how you have chosen to write about something very normal, but I would consider giving it a bit more of an emotional focus. It is a good representation of a coffee shop, but the tone is quite observational rather than having any emotional depth. Of course, not all poems have to be emotional, but if this were my poem, I might write about the contrast between the calm focus and warmth of inside the shop, compared to maybe a wild outdoors, yet that calls the people inside the shop. I also think the first part of the poem could benefit from some sensory imagery, maybe like ‘the smell of spiced coffee wrapped around me, warmer than my knitted jumper’ or something focusing on the smells, tastes and feeling (warmth etc) of the coffee shop, which are nice images that could add to the poem. Make sure to integrate these smoothly, don't overdo it and also consider the tone you want to create if you add them. I like the detail in ‘college-lined paper’, and think it really makes the poem relatable, which is lovely. I think especially as a large chunk of the poem is a list, you do need some punctuation throughout. For example:

After school study:
Warm coffee shop light,
Where focus is easily beckoned
And problems and projects
Simplify.

Also I noticed ‘glanced’ should probably be ‘glances’. I think the end of the poem might be a little confusing, as ‘cars going somewhere’ is a nice image but I'm not really sure where it fits with the rest of the poem. I would consider expanding these images outside the coffee shop, and thinking about whether the tone should be that you wish to go outside and be free of studying, or something different, completely up to you.

Ok, this is getting quite long, sorry, but on to your final poem, Marilyn Monroe. I like the structure of this more, and especially like the rhyme, which really adds to the rhythm of the poem. I would consider changing a few lines, for example, ‘Mysterious beckoning beauty’ might feel a little clunky and maybe too many syllables, possibly disrupting the nice rhythm you have, especially surrounded by short lines.I would switch it for a short line such as ‘alluring beauty’ to match the other lines, unless you specifically want this one to be emphasised, in which case, leave it as it is. I really like the volta (change) in the middle, but think some structural feature could emphasise it and make it hit harder. You could possibly put ‘who would have known’ in its own stanza, which I think could really help emphasise that message. Again, I would add some more punctuation throughout. I don't think this ones needs as much as the flow is quite nice, but some would help. Such as:

Who would have known?

Beneath the facade
Lurked her starving
Monsters -
Could only be tamed
By p*lls and drunken fame.
Ensnared by the cage,
Shaken by the mirage

Of course, completely up to you, but I think it would be worth trying to create some pauses and slightly disjointed moments to emphasise some words and phrases, as it does flow nicely already, but maybe too well to take it all in properly?

Overall, I like your voice, particularly in the first and last poems, and definitely encourage you to keep writing, as you will only keep on improving. It might help you to read your poems aloud, to help you think about the rhythm and flow a bit more, and see where the punctuation goes naturally. Also, be brave! Experiment with different stanza lengths and keep writing about topics with a bit of a deeper meaning, especially since you write a dark tone really well. Also as you go forward, maybe read a bit of poetry (I can suggest some if you want) to get some inspiration, particularly using imagery, which you don't always have to do but might help make your poems more visual.

But well done, I really enjoyed reading these and if you keep on going, you'll soon write some absolutely amazing poems - these are already very strong!

Word War: Vs. @CleverComment
Word count: 366 | 07/13/2025

You can’t possibly escape the slime apocalypse. Does the word apocalypse not mean anything to you? Slime. Apocalypse. Within the short time span of about three and a half hours from now, the entire planet Earth is going to be covered in slime. If that sounds like a fun time, trust me, it won’t be – how do you expect to have fun when you’ve suffocated from all the slime? And don’t even BEGIN on where all that slime is coming from. I think it’s from outer space. Mom thinks a factory somewhere exploded. But wherever it’s coming from, it’s coming, and coming fast. And soon there won’t be anything left. Have you even thought about what you wanna do for your last few hours? I think I’ll bury some stuff underground. You know, in case some new civilization pops up after the slime (or, maybe, in the slime) and they dig around for the ruins of our society. Yeah, I also heard that there’s a group in Germany that’s going to shove some of their buildings underground before time’s up so that future folks would know what Germany looked like. Honestly, I don’t get it, but you know, drastic times call for drastic measures. And I know what you’re thinking – why not be the heroes and stop the slime apocalypse? Well, that’s what I was saying. You can’t escape it. We don’t have enough time to cram people onto spaceships and send them off into outer space. There’s no determinable cause of the apocalypse, so there’s no way we’ll be able to identify it in time to stop it. And even then – how? Everyone’s so busy panicking, saying their last goodbyes, and all that other cliche apocalypse jazz to even think about putting together a coordinated effort to stop the slime. Some people have tried, and I’m pretty sure they’ve failed because there’s still no news about the slime apocalypse just… getting cancelled. We’re doomed. We might as well start doing stuff now. I’ve wasted, what, three minutes trying to tell you this? You need to go out and do something. Stop worrying about being a hero and just blow something up already!

return to the pit where the horrors dwell

Daily 21 - NATIONAL MANGO DAY HEHE

A few days ago we learnt that Ibex has suddenly lost a huge stash of mangoes. And we were led to believe that were stolen! But unfortunately, I have uncovered that was not the case. But first let's just go over what happened.

The night after cabin wars, when everyone including the mascots was extremely tired, the mangoes were stolen. And every single camper was accused. Some confessed, some pleaded that they were innocent. And those who were ‘guilty’, sorry that was just a lie because someone bribed them with mangoes to say so. But anyways, every single person was SO TIRED. So we ALL slept. We all did.

And so did Ibex. The mangoes were not misplaced, nor were they stolen! But Ibex sleep-ate them! Yes you read that right. Just like sleep talking and sleep walking, sleep eating is a thing! And those mangoes were eaten in the middle of Ibex's slumber. It's okay Ibex, I relate too. I think all swc-ers can, because sleep-eating mangoes is just the new normal.

The mangoes weren't stolen. But guess what. We still have HUNDREDS. Enough to flood the camp with. Wait you never heard me even mention that because that WILL NEVER HAPPEN. Right?
.

main post

Weekly 02 - Fairy Tales

part one - 448 words
comparing fairy tales from different cultures

Little Red Riding Hood, is a very well-known fairy tales, but the way it is presented in different cultures can be quite similar with some major differences.

The European/French Version might be one of the more known versions, its was written by Charles Perrault in the late 1600s. As many are already familiar with the tale I will just go over main plot points, a theme and the tone of the tale. In this version, Red goes to visit her grandmother, however the wolf trick hers, eats her grandmother and Red. The ending isn't happy, as everyone is eaten. The moral is aimed towards young children about strangers, especially those ‘wolves’ in disguise, symbolising predators. It's a dark and cautionary tale.

Another verison is the Grimm Brother's, or the German tale which was published around 1800. Unlike the French version, it has a hunter. So, Red goes to her grandmother, and the wolf tricks her and eat both of them. But the Hunter saves Red and her grandmother, but cutting open the wolf. In the end the wolf is killed and they learn their lesson. A theme that can be taken away from this telling is similar to the European version, it is Danger can be overcome; good can triumph with help. The tone is still quite dark, but it has more of a hopeful ending.

A lesser known version is Lo Po Po, a chinese version. I may not be entirely accurate in this one, as I wasn't able to find it only a summary. This one features three sisters instead of a singular girl. The wolf pretends to be their grandmother but they outsmart the wolf and kill it. It's theme is more focused on cleverness and teamwork, as well as focusing on the negatives of trusting strangers. It empowers children rather than saying a child needs someone else, a hunter or saying the child will die.

There are many more retelling and all of them have most of the same elements, such as a girl (or sisters) visiting a grandmother, a disguised predator, the girl/s is tricked, someone is eaten and the use of deception. However the thing that varies the most in the ending. Some notable differences is the ending, for example the Italian version has the girl escapes using her own cleverness and tricks the wolf which is different to the Grimm version. Some stories feature a rescuer like the Grimm version, whereas the Chinese version features the children themselves as a the rescuers. The general theme stays the same, with the strong message of stranger danger and saftey being the main points, with cleverness and wit being another main theme.





After the King and Queen ordered for all the spinning wheels to be burnt, one remained. Locked away in a tower, remaining solitary until it was time for the young girl to fulfill her prophecy.

As the years passed it remained. It's large wheel gently rattling as the wind squeezed through the cracks in the tower. It's wood remaining in perfect condition, evading signs of decay unlike what it would soon bring to the kingdom in due time. The young girl, Aurora, had been cursed as a child, and it would be enacted on her sixteenth birthday before the sun sets if she pricked her finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel.

Soon that day came. As the sun begain to slowly die out into the horizon, the young girl wandered off. Strangely being drawn to the tower the object resided in. As she climbed the worn steps, she heard the gentle rattling in the distance. As she got to the top she pushed the door open. Nothing was in the room, nothing except the spinning wheel.

She stepped inside the room, her hand gently lifting off the door allowing it to shut behind her. The spinning wheel stood in the room, starting to emit a strange glow. It called out to her.

And soon, the pristine object brought decay to the kingom. And the castle fell into a sleep along with all the citizens. As the climbing ivy sprawled up the walls, and to the spinning wheel. It too had to succumb to the decay it brought.



Before the sun rises, you must strike it into the Prince's heart, and when his warm blood bathes your feet they will grow together and become a fish tail. Then you will be a mermaid again, able to come back to us in the sea, and live out your three hundred years before you die and turn into dead salt sea foam. Make haste! He or you must die before sunrise.

The young mermaid grapsed the knife, carved intricately into its blade was patterns of the sea, coral like patterns, reminding the young one of what she had. But her heart was focused on the prince, the one she had saved, the one she believed was to be hers. But now remained a simple choice, kill the prince or she dies. But it wasn't simple for her, her heart clouding her judgement.

“Come back to us.” her sisters hissed, she watched their tails one last time before they disappeared into the depths. She stood on the beach, the moon high in the sky as the tide was high. He toes intertwined with the sand, and her hair gently flowing in the wind. She slowly sank to the ground, taking fistfuls of sand and she stared across the vast blue.

The waves met her legs, the foam gently brushing against her skin as the waves whispered to her. Calling her back. She was only young, she was promised 300 years, yet she decided to give it up for one she barely knew. Her heart screamed at her to not kill him, even after his betrayal.

Come back to us.

She turned her head as the sound of the squeaking sand. She took a deep breath in grounding herself, the salty air filling her lungs.

Come back to us.

She stood, her hand wrapped the grip of the blade, so tight her skin turned paler than normal. She began moving to the ship, where her prince and his bride celebrated their wedding. She cautiously walked on, tucking the weapon in her skirt band. He confided in her, trusted her, yet never loved her. But she did. He was poised by the edge of the ship, staring out into the vastness of the ocean.

Come back to us.

She walked over to him, he smiled, recognised the young girl. But she pulled out the silver object, and before he could yell she ran, piercing his torso with its point. The pair fell overboard, and screams could be heard. She stared up at the deck as she fell, his bride rushed to the edge, her scream the most prevalent. His love, screaming for him.

The young girl and the prince hit the waves, and she grabbed onto him, the blade seemlingly dissolved into seafoam. The blue around the pair tinted crimson as the waves pushed the pair to the shore. She held the prince in her arms, staring at what once was her purpose. She was blind, and now she could finally see.

Her voice returned, and her legs dissapeared, her tail returning once more.

“I truly am sorry.” She whispered.

The prince whispered his final words, the name of his bride. His love soon approached and the young mermaid left for the sea. Diving into the seafoam, feeling whole once more.



i don't know where i was going with this, it started of good and I lost sight of what my goal was. so ignore it ahah
She was merely an infant when her mother passed away in childbirth, both her and the child tragically passed. Her father remarried, his new wife known in their community for her kind actions. Yet Elia knew her differently, her step-mother had never uttered a nice word to her. The young girl, now 16 years old had never left her house. Never recieved an education, because her role was to clean and to serve her step-mother. Her father knew none of this, he entrusted the girl in his wife's care after being elisted to serve in the kingdom's fleet.

Throughout her years, she'd watch the outside world. She'd only been around a few times, to collect food and necessities - but her step-mother ensured she'd do nothing more than such. “The world isn’t meant for girls like you,” she’d whisper. “You wouldn’t last a day out there.” She watched young kids kick a rock around the cobblestone streets, their smiles and laughter infectious, causing young Elia to want to leave. But never found the will.

One winter's night, Elia was cleaning up the chicken pen. Collecting eggs and scrubbing the floors to rid the chicken excrement. A cloaked figure walked up to her.

“Who are you?” she spoke, her voice wary.

“A friend.” The figure replied. “I can give you all you've ever dreamt of. For a price.”

She looked intrigued, she considered the offer, waiting for the conditions. The figure kicked over the bucket of cleaning water, allowing the liquid to spread over the stone floor. She looked down at herself, her relflection.

“My reflection? Why?

“It’s heavy,” said the woman. “It holds you back, all your doubts, your fears. You don’t need it where you’re going.”

It sounded foolish. But the world outside called louder than reason.

“I agree,” Elia whispered.

The stone cracked, and the water seeped into the fracture taking her reflection with it. She turned back to the figure and they were gone. She went back into the house, the door and gate both wide open. ”Step-Mother?“ she quietly asked. No response.

The young girl then left, stepping out into the real world by herself for the first time. She explored the first few day, as weeks passed she explored nearby villages, participating in festivals, kicking a rock around with a group of young kids. But soon enough her laughter sounded like someone else’s. She began to feel… hollow, like her joy belonged to another girl. As she walked passed ponds, shop windows and puddles no face stared back at her, not even an outline.

She forgot who she was, forgetting details of herself. Soon others did the same, forgetting she existed mid sentence. Her identity slowly dissolving.

One afternoon the girl went to a nearby lake. She sat on the bank, staring into the water. Looking at the reflection of the trees, the birds, rocks, everything but her. The water was silent. Then, from the surface, her reflection rose, pale, flickering, watching her with wide, sad eyes.

“You gave me away,” it said softly. “And now you’ve lost yourself.”

It dissolved again. ”You've lost yourself.“ The trees whispered, the birds began whistling a haunting tune, mimicking what was just whispered.

”I want it back!" She yelled, yelling into the woods and the lake around her. Begging for some hope, begging for herself.

You don't need it where you're going.

Elia screamed, wanting everything back, begging more. The water rippled. She stood up. Was it her reflection? She jumped in. The bubbles on the surface bubbling, until they stopped.

She dissolved into the water, just like her reflection.

critiqueaire for @pipxrm !!!!!
piper wrote:
3rd September 1666
Dearest Diary,
The fires have been burning for near two days now; the city has fallen into madness.
‘Tis like a beast has been set loose into the middle of London, its burning breath stretching along the north bank of Thames, devouring houses with a ravenous hunger. The masses have swarmed to the waterfront, seeking refuge from the fiery monster in water, begging salvation for children and treasures.
hmmm this part is good…. makes me want to keep reading…. I really like how you describe the fire. Maybe use a different word other than “masses”. It took me a bit to realize what you meant by it.
piper wrote:
I have never made such profit!

Even aristocrats and politicians who would previously scoff at me —a fisherman’s son, now clamour towards my humble boat like mice from a cat, all pride and possessions vanquished and irrelevant. Suddenly, the peeling paint and rusty nails become invisible. Rich and poor alike crowd the river, dirt-covered cotton brushing against the finest spun silk.

this part is also good, I almost burst out laughing when he said “I have never made such profit!” after such a grim description. I think you may be could've changed “who would previously scoff at me- a fisherman's son, now clamour….” to “who would previously scoff at me- a fisherman's son- now clamour….” or “who would previously scoff at me, a fisherman's son, now clamour…” I feel like it would be a little easier to read. But I really like how you describe the contrast between the poor and the rich.
piper wrote:
Every time I take a cherished heirloom, I feel malicious pride. A euphoric bloom after charging hundreds of pounds for a ride across the river. I am finally able to take vengeance on the greedy landlords, the scummy businessmen, the ignorant nobles, all of whom have willingly let the city grow sickly while remaining safe in their mansions. Well, they must crawl through the soot like the rest of us now, with this fiery beast who pays no heed to titles or folded bills.
Maybe explain further why the rides across the river are so important. I understand why, but it took me a little while to figure it out. Once again, though, I love how you describe the fire.
piper wrote:
After this ordeal is over, I intend on spending my newfound riches to benefit society. I refuse to become like those gluttonous, sanctimonious pigs who currently dominate society. They are almost deserving of this fire. In fact, I hope they watch as their homes collapse into ash. I hope they feel the pain of having all that they hold dear crumble away in a cloud of soot and smoke, smell their memories floating off into the skies, and I hope they know that this is only a portion of what I went through.
No matter what happens, they still would not have watched from a distance as their father deteriorated, too afraid to approach even on their deathbed. They would not have felt the anger after having the next 3 weeks of constant suffering almost mockingly acknowledged by just a simple white cross. And they wouldn’t feel their hands slowly growing calloused with the strains of earning bread for a mother and sister, only for them too to succumb to the plague.
With bitter thoughts,
Thomas Fischer
nothing that needs crituquing in this part. It runs smoothly!
piper wrote:
6th September 1666
Dearest Diary,
The fires rampage has now neared completion, and the city is sound again. The morn after the previous entry, I managed to take this pleasant house on the edge of the city as payment from this unfortunate looking man for my services. I have been bunkered here for the past 2 days, watching from afar as the once-terrifying monster succumbed to slumber, with the bucket brigade dousing its last fitful dreams.
maybe rephrase “The morn after the previous entry, I managed to take this pleasant house on the edge of the city as payment from this unfortunate looking man for my services” as “The morn after the previous entry, I managed to take this pleasant house on the edge of the city from an unfortunate looking man as payment for my services.”
piper wrote:
Speaking of the bucket brigade, they are such brave fellows. I really ought to make a donation of some sort to compensate them and show my boundless generosity.

On my notion to benefit society, I have already begun funding the reconstruction of our splendid cathedral. It has always been such an iconic landmark of London, but the wretched beast reduced it to just an ashy shadow of its former self —a very hideous one I might add.
I'm not sure what the bucket brigade are. My best guess is old-english firefighters? If most people know what this is and I don't, or this is purpouseful, feel free to keep it how it is. That is just my personal thought about it.
piper wrote:
This is a role of utmost importance – how else will the city be returned to its former grandeur? – and I plan on treating it as such. London shall be expecting much more subsidies in the coming days and they will all know who to thank.

The benevolent and munificent,
Thomas Fischer
Once again with words, what are subsidies? But otherwise, this part is good.
Great piece!!!!! I really liked it! All my critiques are pretty nit-picky, but that's only because this is a critiquaire and I have to critique it, but it was hard to find anything wrong with it….. in any case, great job. Sorry for my awful spelling!
358 words of critique

ˢʷᶜ ᵈᵃⁱˡʸ #¹ ︵

⋮ ⌗ the mango thief alibi ( ˶°ㅁ°) !!

light clicking on

Do I know why I was brought here today? I’m not sure, that light is kinda bright can we like shut that off? No? Ok uh, I was walking to my pantry when I saw this big adorable mountain goat looking- oh he’s here? He has a name? Oh I’m so sorry! But he came up to me and- oh he really is here I can see him through there. He looks quite mad, oh someone stole his food? His mangos? Nobody does that to my cute new goat best friend! Oh he has a name too? Smarlls? Huh. Anyways, does Smarlls have any idea who it could be? Me? I can’t believe him! I thought we were friends, how fake. Wait, I need an alibi? Why? You think I stole the mangos? How- Ok fine, I’ll give you an alibi.

It all started 13 years ago when I was born, Oh, not that far back? Yesterday I decided I wanted to go on a walk to work off some of the calories I had just gotten, what calories? Oh, um- I got the calories from these like orange-ish fruits I got from Aldi, what fruits? They were like peaches or something and Aldi had A LOT of them, I mean it looked like they robbed a mountain goat of his stash laughs nervously. And so once I ate the peaches the Aldi like disappeared!

detective pulls peaches out of my backpack

How did the peaches get in my backpack? My mom must’ve put them there! Oh, there’s exactly the amount Smarlls had? What a coincidence!

Anyways, I continued to the pantry and then ran into Smarlls!

checks time

This has been fun but I better get going!

mango thuds out of backpack

How did that mango get there? Oh yeah! My uhm mom! Alright gotta go finish my shopping! Make sure to look into Aldi! And their peaches! But anyways gotta finish my walk, good luck! Sorry!

I don't want to answer any more questions until I finish my peach! Oh and I want a lawyer next time! Why? Uhm..

sprints out the door

#357 words

╰┈➤ charlie’s swc writing thread ᢉ

⩇⩇:⩇⩇
from :: charlie
to :: you
subject :: swc writing thread (july ‘25)
✉️ open . close

「 ✦ introduction ✦ 」

hello fellow detectives!! i’m charlie, and welcome to my case file.
→ s.her
→ mystery
→ first swc session!!
→ sry if some info isn’t filled out yet ! <3

──────────────────── ↴

「 ✦ dailies ✦ 」
. evidence

⋮ ⌗ day | 11 | https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/post/8632500/ | 357
⋮ ⌗ day | 14 | https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/post/8633851/ | 251
⋮ ⌗ day | |

──────────────────── ↴

「 ✦ weeklies ✦ 」
. connecting the dots

⋮ ⌗ week | |
⋮ ⌗ week | |
⋮ ⌗ week | |
──────────────────── ↴

「 ✦ word wars ✦ 」
. suspects

⋮ ⌗ | |
⋮ ⌗ | |
⋮ ⌗ | |

──────────────────── ↴

「 ✦ critiques ✦ 」
. interrogation

⋮ ⌗ | |
⋮ ⌗ | |

──────────────────── ↴

「 ✦ goals ✦ 」
. checking the boxes

⋮ ⌗ total word goal | 1420/5k
⋮ ⌗ total word wars | xx/xx
⋮ ⌗ total dailies | xx/xx
⋮ ⌗ total weeklies | xx/xx
⋮ ⌗ total cabin wars words | xx/xx
⋮ ⌗ total critiques | xx/xx

──────────────────── ↴

「 ✦ outro ✦ 」

good luck investigators!!
charlie

p.s. format by @skyblssxm-unwriittcn

Daily #13
398/350 words hehe

OFFICIAL STATEMENT/INTERROGATION - EM
CABIN: GOTHIC
TIME: SWC O’CLOCK
LOCATION: MAIN CABIN (DUH)

THIS STATEMENT HAS BEEN TRANSCRIBED BY BLAHAJ FOR THE SWC POLICE DEPARTMENT. THIS STATEMENT HAS BEEN TRANSCRIBED WORD-FOR-WORD. BLAHAJ CABIN = BEAUTIFUL. GOTHIC FOR THE WIN.

STATEMENT STARTS NEXT LINE.
Um- okay- wow, that’s a really bright light- um so what’s the question again? 5 times 5? Oh did I steal the mangoes? Um- no, of course not. Why would you say that? It’s not like I love mangoes more than anything in the world? *laughs nervously* Ha, ha, very funny- oh, you’re serious. What was I doing last night? Sleeping, of course *laughs nervously again*. What do you mean SWCers don’t sleep? I, for one, was forced to go to sleep very early. Yeah… well at least that’s what my parents think. I may or may not have been reading a book called Thunderhead in bed until way past my bedtime- wait- please don’t tell my parents… let’s just say that they wouldn’t be happy… Um- what is that yellow stain on my shirt? Oh, it’s just… lemonade! Yep, lemonade! Because I definitely drank lemonade this morning *nods sagely*. Okay next question - why are you looking at me like that? DON’T PULVERIZE ME PLEASE! Fine, fine, I’ll answer your questions. Yes, last night I was sleeping mostly and also reading and most definitely not stealing mangoes. Cuz it’s not like I need motivation or anything *checks word count* nevermind. I may or may not have needed motivation- but I DEFINITELY didn’t steal the mangoes. Yep. Mhmmm… Can I go now? Please? No? Why? Why are my hands sticky? From sleeping. YEs. I sleep in a bed that is… sticky sometimes? Anyways, why would I steal the mangoes? *produces a mango from nowhere and starts eating it* I’m not even in possession of any! Well-um- except for this one, which I got from… um… er… smarlls! Yep, smarlls gave it to me from his secret stash like 2 days ago. Isn’t that right smarlls? *smarlls looks angry* um. I think it’s time for me to go! *quickly stands up and tries to escape while being glared at by smarlls* smarrls? I’m sorry! AAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!

END OF INTERROGATION
YOU’RE WELCOME
ALSO WE’RE PRETTY SURE SHE’S INNOCENT
NO CERTAIN PEOPLE OR CERTAIN IBEXES WERE HARMED IN THE PROCESS OF THIS INTERROGATION.
BYE.
P.S. BLAHAJ TIME FOR NAP ZZZZ

js ignore this _P:_

RECORDING 1

Bea just blinks at you tiredly. “What?” she asks. “Someone… huh?” she blinks. “Wait, wait, why are you recording this??”

Without warning the tape cuts off, accompanied by a familiar, but annoying BEEP! as rainbowy static fills the screen. It cuts to the next tape.

RECORDING 2

“Oh, you think I stole the mangoes?” she asks, and a smile touches her face. “Sorry, but I couldn't have. The most I did was sleep,” she starts to count off on her fingers, “participate as much as I could in cabin wars.”

She glances over to the camera and winks, “Dystopian for the win, by the way.”

“Anyways! Sleep, cabin wars… oh, yeah and run around doing errands pretty much all day. It was really hot out, by the way.”

There's a long pause.

“Wait, who even is Smarlls, again?”

Abruptly, the recording cuts off again. HOLD PLEASE! is written in big white letters on a black background. A cartoony doodle of Bea looks embarrassed in the corner, a few sweatbeads trickling down her brow.

RECORDING 3

“Ohhh, ibex, got it,” Bea says, nodding as she adjusts her scarf. “An-y-ways. No, for the record, I didn't steal the mangoes.”

…

“What are you talking about the mangoes I have back in the void?” she asks, and then places her hands on her hips. "I had those before this whole incident. You should know, I toss them at anyone who needs them.“

…

”What do you mean ‘what is the void?’ that's where I live! It's very cozy, by the way, you should come over. But only if you stop accusing me of a crime I didn't commit. Because then you aren't welcome because it's rude.“

She turns to walk away.

”More questions?“ she asks, in a whine. ”Why? Please, I just want to sleep. Please. Please? Plea-"

The recording stops. But quickly starts up again.

RECORDING 4

Bea is just flopped over on the floor.

There isn't much going on in this recording, honestly, you don't know why it's in here.

She sits up after about five minutes of silence.

“Why…?” she starts and then stops. “Uhh, okay, you're still here. Hi. Uh. Again, I didn't do it.”

…

“… are you going to leave, now?”

The recording clicks off. There's no further tapes.

Daily - Alibi - 382
What am I here for? Huh…mangoes were stolen?! Oh my gosh that’s terrible! Wait…you think I did it? I swear I didn’t! I was reading last night because I need to have three books read this summer. Sure, i was up till almost midnight, but I couldn’t help it! I was reading The End of Oz by Danielle Paige, the final book in the Dorothy Must Die series. Ten out of ten recommend reading it; it’s really good. Don’t believe me? *pulls out book* I’ve had this with me for most of camp. Yesterday, the bookmark was at the start of the book. Now, it’s at the end of the book. I had nowhere else to put it, okay!I don’t want to loose it. Really? Oh, you think I stole the mangoes so I’d have some snacks while I was reading. For the record, I had dinner just 2 and a half hours prior. Why would I be hungry. It was a very filling, delicious dinner of homemade pizza. Ugh, still on my back? I wouldn’t even have been able to leave my room. My parents don’t really let me leave my room after like 10:00pm, unless I need to use the bathroom. Think I lied about going to the bathroom and stole the mangoes? How could I? My bathroom is only 5 feet from my room. And the floor is really creaky. Anyone would have heard me leaving my room. And I didn’t. There was any creaking near my room. You’re still stuck in the whole snacks thing?There would be no point in stealing them if I were hungry. It probably wouldn’t be filling enough. Besides I’m the only one in my family who eats mangoes. That makes you suspicious? Well, since I’m the only one who really likes mangoes, they’re never in my household, otherwise they’d go to waste. You still think i’m suspicious? Well, if I stole them, my hands would be sticky. They aren’t. Explain that. Yeah, didn’t think you could. So clearly I’m innocent. Oh, now you think I’m being defensive? I think you’re being pushy. Very pushy. Are you pushing the blame on me to hide yourself? Show us your hand. Are they sticky? Well, would you look at that. I think we found the culprit.

Intro (180 words)
Hello! I’m Jinx, an aspiring writer that is terrible at multitasking and INCREDIBLY talented at misplacing things by accident! I’m a very silly person, and I go by she/her. I love reading- I read every day for many hours on end. My record for hours spent reading in a day is eight hours! (Because I don’t count reading on flights) My hobbies are reading, writing, coding, drawing, texting my friends, loving on my pets, and being silly! I’m actually an introvert, but I’m open to chatting. I have a pretty interesting history with pets. Over the years, my family has fostered seven cats, owned three cats (two of them are still with us), thirteen rabbits (long story-), nine hamsters (no more than two at a time) and lots of mice. Some of my ocs (many of them very traumatized) are: Ghost, Adara, Jinx, Honeydew, Lemmingpaw, Melody, Wish, Hope/Tragedy (yes her name is a big disclaimer to her backstory) Fliss, Ginger, Jewel, Violet, Zip, Flame/Ember (one of those lovely villains), and lots more! That’s all for now
Daily Challenge- the theft of the mangoes (475 words)
The detective marched forward, towards the branch where Jinx was napping, with a paw hanging casually. Her tail twitched gently as she heard him coming, her ears rotating to follow his loud movements. /ahh,/ she thought to herself. /he’s questioning me next./ Jinx was not in the mood for conversing, but she also knew if she refused to be questioned, the lousy detective would probably pin it on her. She knew what he planned to ask, as he had already blatantly insisted on questioning every other animal around, including animals that by themselves could not have possibly stolen the mangoes by themselves. She nimbly stood up as the ridiculously dressed llama waltzed up to her tree. /I bet he has a nasty ego/ she thought. Instead of voicing that, she instead said,
“Hello, detective,” she said, calmly, carefully keeping her tone in check. She walked along her branch above him, long and lithe, her tail swishing gently with an elegant air. She did not meet his eyes, and pointedly did not move down the branch she stood on, about a foot above him. He clearly did not like it, but could not voice this displeasure without sounding silly.
“What do you want?” Jinx said, cutting straight to the point. He glowered at her, but she did not make a comment.
“You know this,” he said sharply.
“Do I?” She asked airily. She did, in fact, know why, but refused to give him an easy time. “Pray. Do explain.”
“Last night, while most everyone was sleeping, Smarll the ibex’s mangoes were stolen.” He looked at her pointedly. “You weren’t asleep.”
She looked him in the eyes, finally. “I’m a cat,” she said, as if she were explaining it to a child. “Cats hunt at night.”
The llama adjusted his bow tie. “Do you have anyone who could confirm you were hunting?” He asked, glaring.
She smiled gently. “I would say the mice could,” Jinx said, “but it was they who were being hunted.” Looking at the llama, she said, “Truthfully, I believe they would want me to be framed.” She paused, realizing she might be pushing him too far. “However, Violet saw me when I was out hunting, and Zip saw me leave and return to my den with mice.”
“Really,” the detective said coldly. “Do you often see them on your.. ‘hunts’?” He said the last word like it was bitter.
“Not usually,” Jinx said. “But today was different.” After the detective questioned that, she added, flushing a little, “I was hunting with Zip.”
“Ahh,” the detective said. “Nice gentleman, is he?” After an awkward pause, he said, finally, “Then I suppose you must be innocent. No getting out of a date, I suppose.” Jinx glared at him and turned away, laying back down on her tree branches. “Begone,” she muttered, and the llama left.