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- Vienradze
-
Scratcher
500+ posts
SWC Megathread ࿔*:☘︎･ November 2025
Kādu dienu trīs bērni sēdēja sava tēta zoloģiskajā dārzā.
“Kāpēc Tu mēri medūzu?” Tims vaicāja.
“Jo gribu uzzināt vairāk par to, kādu Dievs radīja šo pasauli,” Terēze atteica.
Tobrīd durvis atsprāga vaļā. Pa tām iebrāzās vīrs baltā halātā. Viņš izrāva mērlenti Terēzei no rokām un to izmeta pa logu. Bērni saskatījās.
“Nekādas zinātnes!” viņš iesaucās.
“Nekādu grāmatu!” viņš apgāza grāmatplauktu. “Un absolūti NEKĀDAS matemātikas!” viņš teica, nodzēšot Tima rakstīto vienādojumu no tāfeles.
Tonakt pie vakariņu galda tētis teica: “Bērni, man ir sliktas ziņas. Vīrs, vārdā Dumību Dāvis no mūsu pašvaldības mūsu pilsētā aizliedzis mācīties rakstīt un lasīt, un pavēlējis jau rīt nojaukt muzeju un bibliotēku.”
“Bet kā es iemācīšos burtus?” mazais Miks tonakt vaicāja. “Varbūt bez tā var iztikt?” vaicāja Tims. “Bet kā es rakstīšu vēstules? Kā es veikalā zināšu ko pērku? K-k-kā es lasīšu Bībeli?” nerimās Miks. “Nebaidies, mazais,” mierināja māmiņa. “Lūgsim Dievam, lai parāda, ko darīt. Turklāt mēs zinām, ka tiem, kas Dievu mīl…” “…VISAS lietas nāk par labu,” bērni pabeidza.
“Es vēlētos… es vēlētos… es vēlētos izcept Dumību Dāvi!” mazais Miks iesaucās, nākamajā rītā ieraugot buldozeru tuvojamies bibliotēkai. Tims nometās ceļos. “Kungs,” viņš lūdza, “palīdzi mums mīlēt savus ienaidniekus ar Tavu mīlestību. Palīdzi viņu apturēt, bet tomēr atcerēties, ka Viņš radīts pēc Tava tēla un līdzības!” Miks iespurdurdzās.
Tad bērni satika savu tanti detektīvi Dainu. Viņa skrēja. “Es atklāju… viņš nav īsts domes darbinieks.” “Tad jau Dievs mums neliek viņu klausīt!” Tims iesaucās. Bet Daina turpināja: “Steidzami jāaiznes pierādījumi mēram. Bet uz otru pilsētas galu es laikā neaizskriešu.” “Kā ar autobusiem?” mazais Miks vaicāja. Daina pakratīja galvu. “Dumību Dāvis liek visiem izlikties, ka nemāk burtus un ciparus. Līdz ar to autobusu vadītāji nezin, kur jābrauc. Viņi pat nevar pārdot biļetes!” “Let uz zirga!” ierosināja Terēze.
Daina uzlēca uz zirga un devās ceļā. Cilvēku iepleta acis, redzot viņu jājam cauri pilsētai.
Pēdējā mirklī viņa paspēja nogādāt vēstuli tētim! Mērs nekavējoties piezvanīja būvinspekcijai un izglītības un zinātnes ministrijai.
“Labdien! Vai jums ir atļauja nojaukt šo muzeju?” vaicāja sieviete ar melnu zirgasti. “Nuu…” “Vajadzēs atļauju.” Celtnieks pacēla telefonu, lai zvanītu Dumību Dāvim. Taču Dumību Dāvis nemācēja izlasīt, ka zvana celtnieks. Viņš domāja, ka zvana frizieris. “Man, lūdzu, milzīgu frizūru, nu, tādu spīdīgu un gludu, un ar zvaigznītēm. Zilām. Paldies!” Dumību Dāvis nometa klausuli.
Tā nu celtnieks devās mājās.
Smaidīgs vīrietis ar sirmu bārdu ieradās Taureņzemes Sākumskolā. “Labdien! Es esmu no valsts izglītības inspekcijas. Vai ir taisnība, ka mācāt bērniem visu dienu skatīties TikTokus? Un ka vakardienas matemātikas nodarbība bija par to, ka matemātika nav vajadzīga?” Skolotāja pamāja ar galvu. “Es jūs aicinu ierasties uz pārrunām par izglītības likuma būtiskiem pārkāpumiem bez desmit četros pēcpusdienā. Pārrunu adrese rakstīta šajos dokumentos.”
Skolotāja nemācēja izrēķināt, kad būs bez desmit četri. Skolotāja nemācēja izlasīt adresi. Viņa mācēja tikai paslēpties skapī.
Kāda meitenīte pieklauvēja pie skapja durvīm. “Atvainojiet, vai tagad drīkstam lasīt?”
Drīz vien pilsētā atkal bija kārtība. Visi drīkstēja lasīt, rakstīt un rēķināt. Tajā pašā vakarā mazais Miks pirmoreiz izlasīja vārdu “Dievs”.
“Kāpēc Tu mēri medūzu?” Tims vaicāja.
“Jo gribu uzzināt vairāk par to, kādu Dievs radīja šo pasauli,” Terēze atteica.
Tobrīd durvis atsprāga vaļā. Pa tām iebrāzās vīrs baltā halātā. Viņš izrāva mērlenti Terēzei no rokām un to izmeta pa logu. Bērni saskatījās.
“Nekādas zinātnes!” viņš iesaucās.
“Nekādu grāmatu!” viņš apgāza grāmatplauktu. “Un absolūti NEKĀDAS matemātikas!” viņš teica, nodzēšot Tima rakstīto vienādojumu no tāfeles.
Tonakt pie vakariņu galda tētis teica: “Bērni, man ir sliktas ziņas. Vīrs, vārdā Dumību Dāvis no mūsu pašvaldības mūsu pilsētā aizliedzis mācīties rakstīt un lasīt, un pavēlējis jau rīt nojaukt muzeju un bibliotēku.”
“Bet kā es iemācīšos burtus?” mazais Miks tonakt vaicāja. “Varbūt bez tā var iztikt?” vaicāja Tims. “Bet kā es rakstīšu vēstules? Kā es veikalā zināšu ko pērku? K-k-kā es lasīšu Bībeli?” nerimās Miks. “Nebaidies, mazais,” mierināja māmiņa. “Lūgsim Dievam, lai parāda, ko darīt. Turklāt mēs zinām, ka tiem, kas Dievu mīl…” “…VISAS lietas nāk par labu,” bērni pabeidza.
“Es vēlētos… es vēlētos… es vēlētos izcept Dumību Dāvi!” mazais Miks iesaucās, nākamajā rītā ieraugot buldozeru tuvojamies bibliotēkai. Tims nometās ceļos. “Kungs,” viņš lūdza, “palīdzi mums mīlēt savus ienaidniekus ar Tavu mīlestību. Palīdzi viņu apturēt, bet tomēr atcerēties, ka Viņš radīts pēc Tava tēla un līdzības!” Miks iespurdurdzās.
Tad bērni satika savu tanti detektīvi Dainu. Viņa skrēja. “Es atklāju… viņš nav īsts domes darbinieks.” “Tad jau Dievs mums neliek viņu klausīt!” Tims iesaucās. Bet Daina turpināja: “Steidzami jāaiznes pierādījumi mēram. Bet uz otru pilsētas galu es laikā neaizskriešu.” “Kā ar autobusiem?” mazais Miks vaicāja. Daina pakratīja galvu. “Dumību Dāvis liek visiem izlikties, ka nemāk burtus un ciparus. Līdz ar to autobusu vadītāji nezin, kur jābrauc. Viņi pat nevar pārdot biļetes!” “Let uz zirga!” ierosināja Terēze.
Daina uzlēca uz zirga un devās ceļā. Cilvēku iepleta acis, redzot viņu jājam cauri pilsētai.
Pēdējā mirklī viņa paspēja nogādāt vēstuli tētim! Mērs nekavējoties piezvanīja būvinspekcijai un izglītības un zinātnes ministrijai.
“Labdien! Vai jums ir atļauja nojaukt šo muzeju?” vaicāja sieviete ar melnu zirgasti. “Nuu…” “Vajadzēs atļauju.” Celtnieks pacēla telefonu, lai zvanītu Dumību Dāvim. Taču Dumību Dāvis nemācēja izlasīt, ka zvana celtnieks. Viņš domāja, ka zvana frizieris. “Man, lūdzu, milzīgu frizūru, nu, tādu spīdīgu un gludu, un ar zvaigznītēm. Zilām. Paldies!” Dumību Dāvis nometa klausuli.
Tā nu celtnieks devās mājās.
Smaidīgs vīrietis ar sirmu bārdu ieradās Taureņzemes Sākumskolā. “Labdien! Es esmu no valsts izglītības inspekcijas. Vai ir taisnība, ka mācāt bērniem visu dienu skatīties TikTokus? Un ka vakardienas matemātikas nodarbība bija par to, ka matemātika nav vajadzīga?” Skolotāja pamāja ar galvu. “Es jūs aicinu ierasties uz pārrunām par izglītības likuma būtiskiem pārkāpumiem bez desmit četros pēcpusdienā. Pārrunu adrese rakstīta šajos dokumentos.”
Skolotāja nemācēja izrēķināt, kad būs bez desmit četri. Skolotāja nemācēja izlasīt adresi. Viņa mācēja tikai paslēpties skapī.
Kāda meitenīte pieklauvēja pie skapja durvīm. “Atvainojiet, vai tagad drīkstam lasīt?”
Drīz vien pilsētā atkal bija kārtība. Visi drīkstēja lasīt, rakstīt un rēķināt. Tajā pašā vakarā mazais Miks pirmoreiz izlasīja vārdu “Dievs”.
- Eabha2023
-
Scratcher
100+ posts
SWC Megathread ࿔*:☘︎･ November 2025
The pain creeps under my skin. Stinging me, biting me, clawing at my chest until I can't breathe.
I don't shimmer like a scaly eel or glide like a dolphin.
I'm still thrashing under the surface, gasping for air.
(You're the one holding me down.)
I'm not new to the torture you submit me to, but that doesn't stop the shadows from creeping in with every new day. Water seeping into my lungs, killing me slowly. Ever-so-slowly.
I don't die. No.
(You don't have the decency to kill me.)
I can't do this anymore.
My memories haunt me, and every night, I hear your voice resonating in my head.
(Look at what you've done. Look at what you did to me.)
(I hope you're happy now.)
(How much longer can you thrive on my pain?)
When a jellyfish dies, it doesn't realize it. You see, you can't feel death if you never really lived. Its watery body just floats through the deep myths of the ocean. Slowly, without purpose. It doesn't care about anyone or anything. It can't feel. It can't feel anything, no pain, no nothing. No one can hurt it. To me, that's the ultimate power. Your silly titles are meaningless.
I wish I were a jellyfish.
Jellyfish don't rule; they dominate. A silent dictatorship that we all oversee. No one gets hurt, no one gets their dreams shattered into a million pieces.
We'll all be dead by then anyway.
Jellyfish don't linger on the pain; they don't spread salt on your wound. They wouldn't even care. They can't feel the burn of the poison you pour down their throats. I do, though. I taste every single drop.
They don't want you; they can't. But they'll get you no matter what. You'll feel the sour sting of their tentacles if it's the last thing you do.
It doesn't matter to them.
I wish it didn't matter to me either.
Like I've mentioned before, a jellyfish doesn't have a purpose; it doesn't need one to destroy you. All it needs is for you to simply pass by. Maybe you're distracted, maybe you're hurt, maybe you're feeling. None of those things could ever pull a jellyfish back.
They do it better.
But most of all, the reason I want to be a jellyfish is that they keep going, no matter what.
And I'm just about to give up.
——-
daily, 400 words (-> <400 after final edit–after submitting, so reached the limit)
TYSM TO SUNNY (She's awesome, and a super talented writer, go check out her profile!) https://scratch.mit.edu/users/ziqing11/
I don't shimmer like a scaly eel or glide like a dolphin.
I'm still thrashing under the surface, gasping for air.
(You're the one holding me down.)
I'm not new to the torture you submit me to, but that doesn't stop the shadows from creeping in with every new day. Water seeping into my lungs, killing me slowly. Ever-so-slowly.
I don't die. No.
(You don't have the decency to kill me.)
I can't do this anymore.
My memories haunt me, and every night, I hear your voice resonating in my head.
(Look at what you've done. Look at what you did to me.)
(I hope you're happy now.)
(How much longer can you thrive on my pain?)
When a jellyfish dies, it doesn't realize it. You see, you can't feel death if you never really lived. Its watery body just floats through the deep myths of the ocean. Slowly, without purpose. It doesn't care about anyone or anything. It can't feel. It can't feel anything, no pain, no nothing. No one can hurt it. To me, that's the ultimate power. Your silly titles are meaningless.
I wish I were a jellyfish.
Jellyfish don't rule; they dominate. A silent dictatorship that we all oversee. No one gets hurt, no one gets their dreams shattered into a million pieces.
We'll all be dead by then anyway.
Jellyfish don't linger on the pain; they don't spread salt on your wound. They wouldn't even care. They can't feel the burn of the poison you pour down their throats. I do, though. I taste every single drop.
They don't want you; they can't. But they'll get you no matter what. You'll feel the sour sting of their tentacles if it's the last thing you do.
It doesn't matter to them.
I wish it didn't matter to me either.
Like I've mentioned before, a jellyfish doesn't have a purpose; it doesn't need one to destroy you. All it needs is for you to simply pass by. Maybe you're distracted, maybe you're hurt, maybe you're feeling. None of those things could ever pull a jellyfish back.
They do it better.
But most of all, the reason I want to be a jellyfish is that they keep going, no matter what.
And I'm just about to give up.
——-
daily, 400 words (-> <400 after final edit–after submitting, so reached the limit)
TYSM TO SUNNY (She's awesome, and a super talented writer, go check out her profile!) https://scratch.mit.edu/users/ziqing11/
Last edited by Eabha2023 (Nov. 8, 2025 22:16:41)
- Asha-the-SWC-fan
-
New Scratcher
22 posts
SWC Megathread ࿔*:☘︎･ November 2025
WEEKLY 1:
Poem :
And Yet
Hope is not a song.
It is a scream
choked down
so no one else has to hear it.
It is rising
when your legs are dust,
when your spine is splintered
with every yesterday
that didn’t let you live.
Pain teaches.
But not kindly.
It carves its lessons
into the marrow,
leaves you fluent in silence,
a scholar of absence.
We wear love like a wound,
call it beautiful
because if we don’t,
what was the point
of all that bleeding?
No one tells you
that the ones who shine the most
have often stood the longest
in the fire.
And suffering—
oh, it is faithful.
It does not forget your name.
It comes to sit beside you
when the rest have turned away.
A companion. A curse.
A mirror.
But still—
still—
somewhere inside the breaking,
there is the faintest breath
that whispers:
“And yet.”
And yet, you rise.
And yet, you hope.
Not because you are fearless—
but because fear has kissed your hands
and you carried on anyway.
There is a love
in surviving
when you were not meant to.
In building,
with bare hands,
a life the world tried
to bury.
There is beauty
in those who stay soft
after the world made them hard.
Who bend,
and break,
and bend again—
but do not vanish.
So don’t speak to me
of light
without the dark.
Don’t preach joy
without naming grief.
Tell me the truth.
That it hurts.
That you are tired.
That you wish it was easier.
And I will look you in the eyes
and say—
Me too
And yet
We go on
Song – “Hearts Don’t Break in Silence”
(~220 words)
Verse 1:
I walked through the ashes of yesterday,
Footprints fading where dreams used to lay.
Every promise, every tear-stained vow—
I can still feel your heartbeat somehow.
Pre-Chorus:
They say the sun will rise again,
But I’ve been standing in the rain—
Afraid to hope, afraid to mend,
Afraid to lose, afraid to gain.
Chorus:
Hearts don’t break in silence,
They scream without a sound.
Even in the quiet violence,
Love is still around.
It hides inside the hollow,
It hums beneath the pain—
Hearts don’t break in silence,
They learn to beat again.
Verse 2:
I built a bridge of broken words,
Across the distance we never deserved.
Every scar a map, every sigh a star,
Guiding me back to who we are.
Pre-Chorus:
You taught me how to lose with grace,
To see your ghost in every place.
And though the night still wears your name,
I’ve learned to burn and not to blame.
Chorus (reprise):
Hearts don’t break in silence,
They echo through the pain.
Even when we’re dying—
Love still calls our name.
Script – “The Last Light Left”
(~330 words)
INT. HOSPITAL ROOM – NIGHT
A dim light flickers. The sound of a heart monitor hums softly. ELENA (late 30s) sits beside her father’s bed. His breathing is shallow but steady. She holds his hand like it’s a fragile flame.
ELENA:
You used to tell me that stars were just souls who refused to stop shining.
I used to laugh—said it sounded like something from a movie.
But now… now I look up and I think maybe you were right.
She brushes his hand gently.
ELENA (whispering):
It’s strange, you know?
How grief feels like both drowning and breathing at once.
Like the ocean is inside you, and it’s made of memory.
FATHER (weakly):
You’ll be okay, Lena. You always were.
ELENA:
I’m not ready to be “okay.” Not yet.
You’re the only person who ever believed in me without needing proof.
Silence. The monitor slows. She stands, tears trembling, but no sobs.
ELENA:
When you see Mom… tell her I still talk to her when it rains.
And tell her… tell her I finally found the courage to write that book.
The monitor flattens into a single tone. She closes her eyes, lays her head on his chest.
ELENA (softly):
Thank you for teaching me that love doesn’t end—it just changes shape.
She stands, opens the window. The night air carries faint city lights.
ELENA (to herself):
Stars… just souls refusing to stop shining.
Fade to black.
Speech – “The Grace of Holding On”
(~420 words)
There are moments in life when everything we love fractures—quietly, suddenly, without reason.
And in that instant, we are left holding the broken pieces of what once felt whole.
But what I’ve learned—what I continue to learn—is that there is grace in the act of holding on.
Not to the pain, not to the past, but to the possibility that light can still find us, even in the dark.
We talk so often about strength, as if it’s something loud and obvious.
But real strength is quiet.
It’s the trembling hand that still reaches out after loss.
It’s the whisper that says, “Maybe tomorrow will hurt a little less.”
Grief does not mean you are weak—it means you have loved deeply enough to feel its absence.
And love—love is what turns suffering into meaning.
It’s what lets us look at the ruins of what was and still say, “I am glad it existed.”
Because joy and sorrow are not opposites—they are siblings.
One cannot exist without the other.
You do not understand light until you have walked through shadow.
So when life feels unbearable, when everything inside you screams to give up—
Remember this: every sunrise that has ever risen did so after night.
Every heart that has ever healed did so by first breaking.
You are not defined by what you’ve lost, but by what you choose to love again.
Hope is not blind—it’s defiant.
It’s the soul’s rebellion against despair.
And someday, maybe not today or tomorrow,
You will wake up and realize the ache has softened.
You will hear laughter again and not feel guilty.
You will love again—and that love will carry the weight of all you’ve survived.
That is the grace of holding on.
That is the miracle of still believing in light.
Poem :
And Yet
Hope is not a song.
It is a scream
choked down
so no one else has to hear it.
It is rising
when your legs are dust,
when your spine is splintered
with every yesterday
that didn’t let you live.
Pain teaches.
But not kindly.
It carves its lessons
into the marrow,
leaves you fluent in silence,
a scholar of absence.
We wear love like a wound,
call it beautiful
because if we don’t,
what was the point
of all that bleeding?
No one tells you
that the ones who shine the most
have often stood the longest
in the fire.
And suffering—
oh, it is faithful.
It does not forget your name.
It comes to sit beside you
when the rest have turned away.
A companion. A curse.
A mirror.
But still—
still—
somewhere inside the breaking,
there is the faintest breath
that whispers:
“And yet.”
And yet, you rise.
And yet, you hope.
Not because you are fearless—
but because fear has kissed your hands
and you carried on anyway.
There is a love
in surviving
when you were not meant to.
In building,
with bare hands,
a life the world tried
to bury.
There is beauty
in those who stay soft
after the world made them hard.
Who bend,
and break,
and bend again—
but do not vanish.
So don’t speak to me
of light
without the dark.
Don’t preach joy
without naming grief.
Tell me the truth.
That it hurts.
That you are tired.
That you wish it was easier.
And I will look you in the eyes
and say—
Me too
And yet
We go on
Song – “Hearts Don’t Break in Silence”
(~220 words)
Verse 1:
I walked through the ashes of yesterday,
Footprints fading where dreams used to lay.
Every promise, every tear-stained vow—
I can still feel your heartbeat somehow.
Pre-Chorus:
They say the sun will rise again,
But I’ve been standing in the rain—
Afraid to hope, afraid to mend,
Afraid to lose, afraid to gain.
Chorus:
Hearts don’t break in silence,
They scream without a sound.
Even in the quiet violence,
Love is still around.
It hides inside the hollow,
It hums beneath the pain—
Hearts don’t break in silence,
They learn to beat again.
Verse 2:
I built a bridge of broken words,
Across the distance we never deserved.
Every scar a map, every sigh a star,
Guiding me back to who we are.
Pre-Chorus:
You taught me how to lose with grace,
To see your ghost in every place.
And though the night still wears your name,
I’ve learned to burn and not to blame.
Chorus (reprise):
Hearts don’t break in silence,
They echo through the pain.
Even when we’re dying—
Love still calls our name.
Script – “The Last Light Left”
(~330 words)
INT. HOSPITAL ROOM – NIGHT
A dim light flickers. The sound of a heart monitor hums softly. ELENA (late 30s) sits beside her father’s bed. His breathing is shallow but steady. She holds his hand like it’s a fragile flame.
ELENA:
You used to tell me that stars were just souls who refused to stop shining.
I used to laugh—said it sounded like something from a movie.
But now… now I look up and I think maybe you were right.
She brushes his hand gently.
ELENA (whispering):
It’s strange, you know?
How grief feels like both drowning and breathing at once.
Like the ocean is inside you, and it’s made of memory.
FATHER (weakly):
You’ll be okay, Lena. You always were.
ELENA:
I’m not ready to be “okay.” Not yet.
You’re the only person who ever believed in me without needing proof.
Silence. The monitor slows. She stands, tears trembling, but no sobs.
ELENA:
When you see Mom… tell her I still talk to her when it rains.
And tell her… tell her I finally found the courage to write that book.
The monitor flattens into a single tone. She closes her eyes, lays her head on his chest.
ELENA (softly):
Thank you for teaching me that love doesn’t end—it just changes shape.
She stands, opens the window. The night air carries faint city lights.
ELENA (to herself):
Stars… just souls refusing to stop shining.
Fade to black.
Speech – “The Grace of Holding On”
(~420 words)
There are moments in life when everything we love fractures—quietly, suddenly, without reason.
And in that instant, we are left holding the broken pieces of what once felt whole.
But what I’ve learned—what I continue to learn—is that there is grace in the act of holding on.
Not to the pain, not to the past, but to the possibility that light can still find us, even in the dark.
We talk so often about strength, as if it’s something loud and obvious.
But real strength is quiet.
It’s the trembling hand that still reaches out after loss.
It’s the whisper that says, “Maybe tomorrow will hurt a little less.”
Grief does not mean you are weak—it means you have loved deeply enough to feel its absence.
And love—love is what turns suffering into meaning.
It’s what lets us look at the ruins of what was and still say, “I am glad it existed.”
Because joy and sorrow are not opposites—they are siblings.
One cannot exist without the other.
You do not understand light until you have walked through shadow.
So when life feels unbearable, when everything inside you screams to give up—
Remember this: every sunrise that has ever risen did so after night.
Every heart that has ever healed did so by first breaking.
You are not defined by what you’ve lost, but by what you choose to love again.
Hope is not blind—it’s defiant.
It’s the soul’s rebellion against despair.
And someday, maybe not today or tomorrow,
You will wake up and realize the ache has softened.
You will hear laughter again and not feel guilty.
You will love again—and that love will carry the weight of all you’ve survived.
That is the grace of holding on.
That is the miracle of still believing in light.
- dolphin_branding
-
Scratcher
6 posts
SWC Megathread ࿔*:☘︎･ November 2025
ᴇɴᴛᴇʀɪɴɢ : ᴊɪʏᴇᴏɴ's ᴅᴀɪʟɪᴇs
open folder? 「yes」 no
⋘ … ⋙
██ 20%……joining session NOV25…..
███ 40%……acquiring mangoes…..
████ 60%……visiting enemy cabins…..
█████ 80%……threatening to war action…..
██████ 100%……loading complete!…..
DAILY #3: WORLD JELLYFISH DAY
words: 440
jellyfish don't know how to procrastinate
Jellyfish don't have brains. Jellyfish don't have to go to school.
They don't have to try not to fall asleep in Geometry, knowing that if they do they'll fail. They don't steer clear of checking their grades because they're scared of the numbers they see. They don't need to stay up until midnight just to finish their homework, then wake up five hours later so that they don't miss their bus.
In fact, jellyfish don't even have brains.
They don't even need to worry about keeping all the information in their heads ten minutes before that test all their friends said was brutal. It's of no concern to them whether they're going to have a pop quiz tomorrow, or whether their freshman year grades will ruin their chances of making it into college. Some people said they do, some said they don't. Who would they believe?
A jellyfish floats through life without a care in the world.
They don't rush to eat and change clothes so that they won't be late to their dance class. They don't leave their house for almost 12 hours straight every weekday not counting extracurriculars. And they don't panic at three in the morning wondering if they can keep doing this for four years.
Can I keep doing this for four years? Is that even possible?
Not when I'm still this version of me, the version that procrastinates on everything. The version that says she's farther along on her homework than she is. The version that writes their dailies instead of studying for math. This version of me, if I keep it up, is not a version that is sustainable for me. Nothing good will come out of me continuing on this path.
But I know that it's not going to change. I've tried to change before. I've tried countless different ways to organize myself. Three types of planners. A journal. A whiteboard in my room. All tools abandoned in favor of my own laziness and procrastination. It seems the only time change ever happens for me…is when I'm least expecting it. When I'd like nothing more than for it NOT to change.
I am not a jellyfish. I do procrastinate. I do care. And I do have a brain that feels like it's about to burst with all these new responsibilities and deadlines. I'll never be a jellyfish, on top of all my work and have ample time to sit in my bed and just do nothing. My work will be on top of me, and that's just the way it'll be.
But I'll pretend to be a jellyfish. And maybe that'll be okay.
open folder? 「yes」 no
⋘ … ⋙
██ 20%……joining session NOV25…..
███ 40%……acquiring mangoes…..
████ 60%……visiting enemy cabins…..
█████ 80%……threatening to war action…..
██████ 100%……loading complete!…..
DAILY #3: WORLD JELLYFISH DAY
words: 440
jellyfish don't know how to procrastinate
Jellyfish don't have brains. Jellyfish don't have to go to school.
They don't have to try not to fall asleep in Geometry, knowing that if they do they'll fail. They don't steer clear of checking their grades because they're scared of the numbers they see. They don't need to stay up until midnight just to finish their homework, then wake up five hours later so that they don't miss their bus.
In fact, jellyfish don't even have brains.
They don't even need to worry about keeping all the information in their heads ten minutes before that test all their friends said was brutal. It's of no concern to them whether they're going to have a pop quiz tomorrow, or whether their freshman year grades will ruin their chances of making it into college. Some people said they do, some said they don't. Who would they believe?
A jellyfish floats through life without a care in the world.
They don't rush to eat and change clothes so that they won't be late to their dance class. They don't leave their house for almost 12 hours straight every weekday not counting extracurriculars. And they don't panic at three in the morning wondering if they can keep doing this for four years.
Can I keep doing this for four years? Is that even possible?
Not when I'm still this version of me, the version that procrastinates on everything. The version that says she's farther along on her homework than she is. The version that writes their dailies instead of studying for math. This version of me, if I keep it up, is not a version that is sustainable for me. Nothing good will come out of me continuing on this path.
But I know that it's not going to change. I've tried to change before. I've tried countless different ways to organize myself. Three types of planners. A journal. A whiteboard in my room. All tools abandoned in favor of my own laziness and procrastination. It seems the only time change ever happens for me…is when I'm least expecting it. When I'd like nothing more than for it NOT to change.
I am not a jellyfish. I do procrastinate. I do care. And I do have a brain that feels like it's about to burst with all these new responsibilities and deadlines. I'll never be a jellyfish, on top of all my work and have ample time to sit in my bed and just do nothing. My work will be on top of me, and that's just the way it'll be.
But I'll pretend to be a jellyfish. And maybe that'll be okay.
Last edited by dolphin_branding (Nov. 3, 2025 19:08:16)
- dolphin_branding
-
Scratcher
6 posts
SWC Megathread ࿔*:☘︎･ November 2025
ᴇɴᴛᴇʀɪɴɢ : ᴊɪʏᴇᴏɴ's ᴡᴇᴇᴋʟɪᴇs
open folder? 「yes」 no
⋘ … ⋙
██ 20%……joining session NOV25…..
███ 40%……acquiring mangoes…..
████ 60%……visiting enemy cabins…..
█████ 80%……threatening to war action…..
██████ 100%……loading complete!…..
WEEKLY #1: different writing styles!
words:
PART ONE - poetry
text
PART TWO - songwriting
lyrics
instrumental link
PART THREE - script
text
PART FOUR - speech
text
PART 1 TOTAL -
PART 2 TOTAL -
PART 3 TOTAL -
PART 4 TOTAL -
TOTAL WORDS:
open folder? 「yes」 no
⋘ … ⋙
██ 20%……joining session NOV25…..
███ 40%……acquiring mangoes…..
████ 60%……visiting enemy cabins…..
█████ 80%……threatening to war action…..
██████ 100%……loading complete!…..
WEEKLY #1: different writing styles!
words:
PART ONE - poetry
text
PART TWO - songwriting
lyrics
instrumental link
PART THREE - script
text
PART FOUR - speech
text
PART 1 TOTAL -
PART 2 TOTAL -
PART 3 TOTAL -
PART 4 TOTAL -
TOTAL WORDS:
- Piper_Camps
-
Scratcher
500+ posts
SWC Megathread ࿔*:☘︎･ November 2025
Daily: “Did you know that jellyfish are 95% water? You might be wondering why this daily contains such a random fact — and that's because today is World Jellyfish Day. In honour of these weird and wonderful creatures, your task today is to incorporate jellyfish into a story of 400 words for 400 points (and claim an extra 100 points for sharing proof)!”
Words: 1,018TW: Mentions of d3ath and grief
The first jellyfish had washed ashore just a week after her father's funeral.
Maren was walking down the beach as she often had since her father died; he had loved the sea, and being close to it made her feel like maybe he wasn’t so far gone after all. It was then that she spotted the jellyfish, trembling in the foamy remnants of the tide that came up and down around it.
It was a small thing, glassy but oddly looked as if it might even be glowing. First, it seemed a pale blue, then a sea green. Maren came closer and crouched beside it, unsure whether she should touch it or apologize for disturbing it.
“Poor thing, you really shouldn’t be here,” She said quietly, gazing at the creature
The jellyfish brightened as she spoke.
At first she tried to tell herself that it was simply a trick of the light; her mind playing tricks on her. But something in her heart, not quite grief but something close, told her that it wasn’t a trick at all.
She didn’t want to know what it meant, only sensing that it was making her feel things she didn’t want to feel. So she ran off back towards her house, leaving the glowing jellyfish there and hoping that maybe this was all just a weird dream.
…
The next night, though, Maren couldn’t ignore the tug in her chest, and so she eventually slipped out of bed and pulled on her coat. She slowly crept downstairs, past her sleeping mother’s bedroom, and out the back door. She closed it quietly as she could behind her and began to retrace her steps to the spot where she had found the jellyfish before. She isn’t quite sure what she’s hoping to find; she just has this sense that something is out there and she needs to find out what.
When she finds the spot from yesterday, she looks around but doesn’t see the jellyfish on the shore anymore. She searches for it, and just as she’s about to give up and go back home, she notices something in the water. There they are. Floating close to shore are a good eight or nine jellyfish, simply waiting for her (or so it seemed).
She’s not so sure what she thinks is going to happen, but she slowly sits down right behind the tide line and begins to talk.
She talks about her father, things she remembered, but things she’d been keeping inside for her mother's sake. She talked about her father’s old fishing boat (The Celandine, it was called), how the boards were creaky but he refused to replace them since he’d had the boat for years. She talked about how he’d hum sea shanties when the nets came up heavy, and whistle tunelessly when they came up empty. She told them about her father’s hands, thick and calloused, and how he’d cup hers between them when she was small, saying:
“A sailor’s hands should always be warm.”
The jellyfish shimmered in the water, growing brighter the more she spoke, and for some unexplained reason, Maren felt at peace.
…
Maren returned to that spot almost every night, and every night it seemed that more jellyfish would appear. She would talk more about her father; sometimes laughing and sometimes crying, but she felt safe.
She had heard talk from the people in the town, saying the ocean was haunted and they’d seen glowing lights appearing every night for a week now. Maren wasn’t sure what these creatures were, but she was sure they weren’t haunted. No, rather, they felt like her own personal angels that her father had sent to keep her company now that he couldn’t.
She told them about the time her father taught her how to read the constellations. About how he’d tilt her chin toward the sky and say,
“The sea doesn’t end, it just turns into stars.”
She remembered the last night they sailed together, the air so still the lantern flames didn’t flicker. He’d laughed when she asked if he’d ever stop fishing.
“When the sea stops breathing,” he’d said.
That was before the storm took him. Before they found the wreck of The Celandine days later, its mast was broken like a snapped bone.
Now, when the wind blew, she could almost hear his voice woven into the waves.
…
One evening, she brought down her father’s old compass. It was brass and had long since dulled with age, the needle frozen in place.
She knelt at the water’s edge, holding it out toward the glowing jellyfish.
“You always said the sea keeps everything it loves,” she murmured. “Do you think it kept you, too?”
The jellyfish glowed brighter. Gold, then violet, then a steady amber that reminded her of the lanterns they used to hang from the mast. She reached her hand into the water, feeling the faint brush of their bodies against her skin. It wasn’t cold. It was warm. Impossibly, gently warm.
In fact, for a moment, she felt her father’s calloused hand in hers again.
The tide rose softly, curling around her knees, and she stayed there, speaking to the sea until her voice grew hoarse. She told it all the things she’d never said: that she’d forgiven her father for staying out too long, that she’d learned to mend nets without him, that she missed the way he’d whistle to the wind when he thought no one was listening.
…
Each day, when dawn came, the jellyfish were gone. Only a faint glow lingered in the wet sand, like fingerprints made of light.
Maren tucked the compass into her pocket and stood. The sun was just rising, a slow, golden spill over the waves. For the first time in weeks, she didn’t feel the weight of her father’s death pressing down on her.
She turned toward home. Behind her, the sea breathed in and out, endless and alive.
And in the hush between waves, she could have sworn she heard her father’s voice, low, rough, and laughing; carried on the wind that never stopped moving.
Last edited by Piper_Camps (Nov. 4, 2025 23:05:44)
- minoriisbestgirlpjsk
-
Scratcher
8 posts
SWC Megathread ࿔*:☘︎･ November 2025
Daily 3- fairy tales- 484 words
(This is a story abt my OCs btw)
Jeli flopped down in the sand, her legs spread out.
Sigh… I’m not ready for our big live show tomorrow…
“I’m not ready… But if I can make people smile, then I’m ready for anything!” she said happily. “I’m not ready either…” Octipi said shyly.
“I’m ready!” Ray said with a confident smile on their face.
“I’m ready too! Let’s do this guys!” Coral said, like the leader she is.
—————————————————————————————–
It had been a little less than a year since the group formed.
How the ocean creatures somehow became human is still a mystery.
They were just hanging out in the ocean, like any other day.
Then there was a flash of light…
And they somehow found themselves washed up on shore, with human legs, human head, human arms, and a human heart.
A human body.
Jeli (the jellyfish) said,
“Huh? Why am I on shore? Wait… I can actually talk now?!”
“I’m… a human?!”
Coral (the starfish) laid down in the sand next to her, like she was making a snow angel.
“What’s going on…” she said sleepily.
“Wait… my voice…”
“Did the same happen to you too?!” she questioned Jeli.
“Y-yes…” Her voice cracked a little, she was still learning how to use it.
“I have… hands? And legs?” Ray (the stingray) looked at her body in confusion.
“That’s… So cool!!! I have always wanted to be a human! And now my dream has come true…”
Another person in the same situation… or should I say creature… Jeli thinks.
“Ah!” we hear a voice exclaim behind us.
“I… only have 4 tentacles? And 1 brain? And… and… 1 heart?!”
We see Octi (the octopus) struggle to walk, and comprehend the situation.
I don’t think any of us understood what was going on, to be honest.
“I want to be an octopus again!” Octi cries.
“I’m scared… what is going on?”
“It’s okay…” I tried to calm her down.
“None of us know what is going on…”
“Hey, want to be friends?” I asked.
“Yes! Let’s all be friends!” a bright smile suddenly appeared on her face
“More friends! Yay!” Ray said excitedly.
“Count me in!” Coral says.
——————————–
We started hanging out every day, learning about human life.
One day we saw a flyer for a “music festival" that was happening nearby.
We decided to go check it out.
There were loud sounds blasting from every corner.
“Is that ‘music’?” Ray asked.
It was very crowded, and some people on a platform were using instruments, and screaming into a shiny stick called a microphone.
“That looks cool.” Ray looked at the performers in awe.
“It says this group of people is called a “band’… want to be in a band together?”
“ A band? Sure! That sounds cool!” I say before I can regret it.
“A group… then what would our name be?” Coral asked.
“How about…”
(This is a story abt my OCs btw)
Jeli flopped down in the sand, her legs spread out.
Sigh… I’m not ready for our big live show tomorrow…
“I’m not ready… But if I can make people smile, then I’m ready for anything!” she said happily. “I’m not ready either…” Octipi said shyly.
“I’m ready!” Ray said with a confident smile on their face.
“I’m ready too! Let’s do this guys!” Coral said, like the leader she is.
—————————————————————————————–
It had been a little less than a year since the group formed.
How the ocean creatures somehow became human is still a mystery.
They were just hanging out in the ocean, like any other day.
Then there was a flash of light…
And they somehow found themselves washed up on shore, with human legs, human head, human arms, and a human heart.
A human body.
Jeli (the jellyfish) said,
“Huh? Why am I on shore? Wait… I can actually talk now?!”
“I’m… a human?!”
Coral (the starfish) laid down in the sand next to her, like she was making a snow angel.
“What’s going on…” she said sleepily.
“Wait… my voice…”
“Did the same happen to you too?!” she questioned Jeli.
“Y-yes…” Her voice cracked a little, she was still learning how to use it.
“I have… hands? And legs?” Ray (the stingray) looked at her body in confusion.
“That’s… So cool!!! I have always wanted to be a human! And now my dream has come true…”
Another person in the same situation… or should I say creature… Jeli thinks.
“Ah!” we hear a voice exclaim behind us.
“I… only have 4 tentacles? And 1 brain? And… and… 1 heart?!”
We see Octi (the octopus) struggle to walk, and comprehend the situation.
I don’t think any of us understood what was going on, to be honest.
“I want to be an octopus again!” Octi cries.
“I’m scared… what is going on?”
“It’s okay…” I tried to calm her down.
“None of us know what is going on…”
“Hey, want to be friends?” I asked.
“Yes! Let’s all be friends!” a bright smile suddenly appeared on her face
“More friends! Yay!” Ray said excitedly.
“Count me in!” Coral says.
——————————–
We started hanging out every day, learning about human life.
One day we saw a flyer for a “music festival" that was happening nearby.
We decided to go check it out.
There were loud sounds blasting from every corner.
“Is that ‘music’?” Ray asked.
It was very crowded, and some people on a platform were using instruments, and screaming into a shiny stick called a microphone.
“That looks cool.” Ray looked at the performers in awe.
“It says this group of people is called a “band’… want to be in a band together?”
“ A band? Sure! That sounds cool!” I say before I can regret it.
“A group… then what would our name be?” Coral asked.
“How about…”
- Lyrids-
-
Scratcher
50 posts
SWC Megathread ࿔*:☘︎･ November 2025
‹‹ go back to writing archive‹ ⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼ ‹ ☕︎ › ⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼ ›
Daily #3: Jellyfish || 401/400 words
Did you know that jellyfish are 95% water? You might be wondering why this daily contains such a random fact — and that's because today is World Jellyfish Day. In honour of these weird and wonderful creatures, your task today is to incorporate jellyfish into a story of 400 words for 400 points (and claim an extra 100 points for sharing proof)!
It was a beautiful day. The sky was blue, and there were no clouds. I was swimming in the sea with my friend, Lia, and we were enjoying the last days of summer. The weather was warm, perfect for the beach. None of us would have guessed what was about to happen.
“Look, a jellyfish!” I said, pointing at the water. It was a small and semi-transparent jellyfish, and it did look like jelly, unlike other species of jellyfish.
“Won't it sting us?” Lia asked, worried.
“Not all jellyfish sting. This one doesn't. And the ones that sting people usually don't live near the beach” I replied.
“Alright. You're the expert” Lia said, before diving into the water again. I smiled, looking at the beach, full of tourists who wore colorful clothes. I was about to follow Lia when something grabbed my arm. Well, someone.
Lia's head emerged from the water. Something was wrong. I could feel it even before she started talking.
“It- It stung me” She sounded scared.
“What?” I asked. It wasn't possible. But it was. Lia's grip weakened. “No” I muttered, terrified.
“I feel… sick” Her voice was just a faint whisper. I could barely hear her.
“Everything is going to be alright” I tried really hard to believe my own words. I wasn't even sure she had heard me. She didn't reply.
How was that possible? I had been passionate about the ocean since age six. I had read so much about sea creatures. But I had made an error in the worst moment. And now, my best friend had been stung by a jellyfish, probably a dangerous one.
I stopped thinking and swam towards the beach to find help, feeling horribly guilty. I didn't stop to try to identify the jellyfish. I didn't want to stay there, waiting for them to sting me too, because we would both drown. I just swam as fast as I could, hoping it wasn't too late, hoping that that jellyfish's sting wasn't deadly.
I wanted to cry, to add a few drops to the ocean. I wanted to wake up from the nightmare. I wanted to erase the past, to change my decisions, to delete what couldn't be changed. Because even if Lia recovered, I would feel bad forever. I knew it.
Alright, you're the expert.
It was my fault. My friend had trusted me, and I had failed.
Last edited by Lyrids- (Nov. 3, 2025 23:49:55)
- silverlynx-
-
Scratcher
100+ posts
SWC Megathread ࿔*:☘︎･ November 2025
Daily 3rd November - Jellyfish!
I plunge into the cerulean water beneath me, its still, mirrored surface distorted by ripples ploughing through it. I expect a rush of bitter cold to run through my body, but my wetsuit clings tight to my body, preventing a single droplet to tough my skin. I wave my gloved hands through the water, amazed at how peaceful it is down here. I tread water, the silence pressing in on me, both tranquil and eerie.
Splash! I swivel around just in time to push myself backwards as Laurel launches herself towards me. Divers are required to have a dive buddy with them, in case of any trouble. Seeing as this was my first proper expedition, I was grateful for Laurel’s experience and comforting presence. She gave me a thumbs-up and signalled for me to start going down.
I held my nose and blew out, equalising the pressure as I clasped my hands onto the rope that led down into the icy depths. I gazed in awe as the azure water faded into cobalt into a deep indigo.
I glanced behind at Laurel, who nodded at me in reassurance. We were so deep that I could almost reach out and touch the sea floor, with branches of pearly white coral reaching towards the sunlight, hermit crabs scuttling into fissures in the rock. The view that spread out before was bleak and desolate, a carpet of crumbling dead coral, snagged with plastic bags and litter.
I slipped my litter-picker out of my bag, and nodded at Laurel. I clamped its handle around a shredded milk carton and dropped it into my bag. This was going to take a long time.
We scoured the seabed, collecting rubbish as we went, our bags slowly filling up until they were crammed with cardboard boxes, fizzy drink cans, Haribo packets and many more bizarre objects.
Now that our work was done, we could begin our ascent. Bubbles exploded around us as we began to rise, hauling our bags with us.
A glimmer in the distance caught my eye. We were still in a reasonably dark area of the ocean, deep enough that we needed torches to have clear vision, so any source of light stuck out like a sore thumb. Well, this didn’t. It shimmered in the distance, glowing tendrils gliding around its pulsing centre as it floated towards us. I squinted as it came closer and closer, until I could finally make out its shape.
I gazed at the creature in awe, then back at Laurel in pure excitement. We had just stumbled upon a jellyfish.
Its graceful tentacles stretched far below us, gleaming against the inky black waters. Its body was a luminescent cacophony on colours - vivid purples and striking blues, emerald greens and vibrant pinks. Its iridescent flesh glimmered and glistened as it drifted towards us silently, aimlessly. It was impossibly close to me, so close that I could make out the separate stingers than were lined up on its luminous tentacles. I shivered as it brushed past me effortlessly, my skin protected by the thick material of my wetsuit. I stared at it intently, until it dwindled to a mere spot in the distance…
I plunge into the cerulean water beneath me, its still, mirrored surface distorted by ripples ploughing through it. I expect a rush of bitter cold to run through my body, but my wetsuit clings tight to my body, preventing a single droplet to tough my skin. I wave my gloved hands through the water, amazed at how peaceful it is down here. I tread water, the silence pressing in on me, both tranquil and eerie.
Splash! I swivel around just in time to push myself backwards as Laurel launches herself towards me. Divers are required to have a dive buddy with them, in case of any trouble. Seeing as this was my first proper expedition, I was grateful for Laurel’s experience and comforting presence. She gave me a thumbs-up and signalled for me to start going down.
I held my nose and blew out, equalising the pressure as I clasped my hands onto the rope that led down into the icy depths. I gazed in awe as the azure water faded into cobalt into a deep indigo.
I glanced behind at Laurel, who nodded at me in reassurance. We were so deep that I could almost reach out and touch the sea floor, with branches of pearly white coral reaching towards the sunlight, hermit crabs scuttling into fissures in the rock. The view that spread out before was bleak and desolate, a carpet of crumbling dead coral, snagged with plastic bags and litter.
I slipped my litter-picker out of my bag, and nodded at Laurel. I clamped its handle around a shredded milk carton and dropped it into my bag. This was going to take a long time.
We scoured the seabed, collecting rubbish as we went, our bags slowly filling up until they were crammed with cardboard boxes, fizzy drink cans, Haribo packets and many more bizarre objects.
Now that our work was done, we could begin our ascent. Bubbles exploded around us as we began to rise, hauling our bags with us.
A glimmer in the distance caught my eye. We were still in a reasonably dark area of the ocean, deep enough that we needed torches to have clear vision, so any source of light stuck out like a sore thumb. Well, this didn’t. It shimmered in the distance, glowing tendrils gliding around its pulsing centre as it floated towards us. I squinted as it came closer and closer, until I could finally make out its shape.
I gazed at the creature in awe, then back at Laurel in pure excitement. We had just stumbled upon a jellyfish.
Its graceful tentacles stretched far below us, gleaming against the inky black waters. Its body was a luminescent cacophony on colours - vivid purples and striking blues, emerald greens and vibrant pinks. Its iridescent flesh glimmered and glistened as it drifted towards us silently, aimlessly. It was impossibly close to me, so close that I could make out the separate stingers than were lined up on its luminous tentacles. I shivered as it brushed past me effortlessly, my skin protected by the thick material of my wetsuit. I stared at it intently, until it dwindled to a mere spot in the distance…
- Rey_venclaw
-
Scratcher
1000+ posts
SWC Megathread ࿔*:☘︎･ November 2025
Part 1 — Poetry
you’re not crazy, luz said
over and over, she said it
you’re not crazy, you’re not crazy, you’re not crazy
you’re just like me
autism.
it’s a new word for me
things like this don’t really exist in the boiling isles
luz had been surprised by that
really? everyone here is so neurodivergent!
neurodivergent.
another new word.
it feels scary to learn new things
especially because these new things
are about me
i thought i knew myself
i thought self-discovery was a teenage thing
once you grew up, you were done
you understood who you were
now i’m learning that’s not true
now i’m learning self-discovery is forever
it’s a process
it never ends.
and that scares me,
but i’ve done scarier things before
i’m scared
but with luz by my side i can do anything
what’s autism compared to saving two worlds?
Part 2 — songwriting
sleep, my love
sleep tonight
and in your dreams
come visit me
i am waiting here alone
and it is you i long to see
rest, my love
rest tonight
and when you sleep
sleep carefully
i am working here till morning
but it’s with you i’d rather be.
breathe, my love
live your life
and please don’t cry
breathe easily
i am no longer here with you
but my spirit will always be
sing my love
your voice is bright
songs for your child
sing quietly
I cannot help you anymore
but her mother I will always be
sleep, my love
sleep tonight
and in your dreams
come visit me
i know you’re feeling so alone
but cared for you will always be
rest, my love
rest tonight
and when you sleep
sleep peacefully
i see you working every day
i long to wipe your tears away
breathe my love
it’s alright
i’ve watched you grow
so beautifully
i may not be right here to hug
but loving you, it’s so easy
sing, my love
your voice is bright
songs for your world
sing vibrantly
i’m proud of you for ever more
and your mother i will always be
Part 3 — script
INT. CHUEY’S STOMACH
an average sized stomach stretched to accommodate the nineteen members of the Psychological Fiction cabin and one hamster.
ENTER RIS, ENCRYN, MADDIE, ALANA, MOSS, ZAI, LUNA, WARI, DAWN, JIYEON, SOKI, EEVEE, EMILY, JERO, FINLEY, VIENRADZE, REVOLUTION999, MANGO, EMBER, and YUME CHOCOLATE SERRIE THE HAMSTER AKA PRINCESS FELICIA MARIA UNICORN PEGASUS III, cramped tightly into the space of the stomach
ENCRYN
My, it’s very cramped in here. Why did Chuey have to go and eat the entire Psycho-Fi cain again?
SOKI
I’m not sure, but I’m not complaining. Sure, it’s cramped, but so many of my friends are here, so it’s not too bad.
YUME CHOCOLATE SERRIE THE HAMSTER AKA PRINCESS FELICIA MARIA UNICORN PEGASUS III
(squeaks indignantly several times)
JIYEON
Oh no…
EEVEE
I think she might be hungry?
ZAI
The irony of being hungry while inside a stomach. We have nothing to feed her.
ALANA
We need to be careful. Yume Chocolate Serrie’s bones are far weaker than ours, we could crush her to death accidentally if we’re not careful.
WARI
Pretty sure we’re all going to die in here anyway, so what does it matter?
SOKI
No, I trust Chuey. She’ll regurgitate us back up eventually. We just have to wait and be patient
LUNA
(almost forlornly) I’m really bad at patience…
DAWN
Wait, we could make her puke! Everyone start punching the stomach walls!
(a commotion as everyone reaches for the edge of the stomach and begins to agitate it however they can)
MOSS
(weakly) Ow… Hurts
RIS
Moss, you’re right in the middle, so don’t move and you’ll be fine. Don’t worry about the puking. The rest of us can handle it.
MADDIE
Punch! Punch!
FINLEY
Harder! Hit it with whatever you can! kick it or bite it if you have to!
(commotion resumes as everyone except MOSS and YUME CHOCOLATE SERRIE THE HAMSTER AKA PRINCESS FELICIA MARIA UNICORN PEGASUS III kicks and punches at the stomach walls)
DAWN
I can feel it! We’re almost free!
INT. CHUEY’S BEDROOM
ENTER CHUEY, breathing heavily
(all nineteen members of the Psycho-Fi cabin and one hamster get regurgitated by CHUEY)
CHUEY
Ah, there you are. I was wondering when you’d show back up again. I know I should apologize but I just don’t feel like it. I am glad you’re all still alive though.
Part 4 — speech
Have you ever heard of a zine? If not, I’m about to change your life.
A zine is basically a small, self-published magazine. Since it’s self-published and made either by one person or a small handful of people, it can be about anything you want and look like anything you want. It can be tiny or huge, rough or polished, art heavy or text heavy — the possibilities are endless. The only limits are the bounds of your own creativity. So let your brain take you where it wants you to go, and create a zine (or several) of your very own!
There are many different kinds of zines, but the general defining factors of what makes something a zine is that it is self-published, focused on self-expression rather than making money from sales, ads, or whatever else, and often it is less expensive to produce, making it less shiny, polished and perfected. The three most popular kinds of zines are fanzines, perzines, and educational zines. A fanzine is a zine made about a fandom, and was actually the first type of zines to be called zines. These can have fanfiction, fanart, fan theories, or anything you can think of related to your fandom of choice. Perzines are short for personal zines, so they can be about anything related to you. You can tell stories from your life, share your views on something, talk about something that’s important to you or your community, or anything else you can think of that’s focused on you. And finally, educational zines are zines that try to teach the reader something. What’s something you know a lot about, or are passionate about? Make a zine about it! Educational zines could take the form of lists of facts, essays, or anything else you want them to look like as long as the reader learns something.
You can make zines with supplies you already have in your house — Just scissors, paper, and a pen. Or you can get really fancy with it, use photoshop or canva, get it printed professionally. You could make your zines small, folded out of just one sheet of paper — these are called mini zines — or you could make it the size of a full magazine or even a book. You could make your zines alone, with family, with friends, or even with strangers that come together specifically to make a zine. You could keep your zines, give them away, trade them, sell them… Make your zines however you want, express your true authentic self. Just go out there and make something cool. You won’t regret it.
you’re not crazy, luz said
over and over, she said it
you’re not crazy, you’re not crazy, you’re not crazy
you’re just like me
autism.
it’s a new word for me
things like this don’t really exist in the boiling isles
luz had been surprised by that
really? everyone here is so neurodivergent!
neurodivergent.
another new word.
it feels scary to learn new things
especially because these new things
are about me
i thought i knew myself
i thought self-discovery was a teenage thing
once you grew up, you were done
you understood who you were
now i’m learning that’s not true
now i’m learning self-discovery is forever
it’s a process
it never ends.
and that scares me,
but i’ve done scarier things before
i’m scared
but with luz by my side i can do anything
what’s autism compared to saving two worlds?
Part 2 — songwriting
sleep, my love
sleep tonight
and in your dreams
come visit me
i am waiting here alone
and it is you i long to see
rest, my love
rest tonight
and when you sleep
sleep carefully
i am working here till morning
but it’s with you i’d rather be.
breathe, my love
live your life
and please don’t cry
breathe easily
i am no longer here with you
but my spirit will always be
sing my love
your voice is bright
songs for your child
sing quietly
I cannot help you anymore
but her mother I will always be
sleep, my love
sleep tonight
and in your dreams
come visit me
i know you’re feeling so alone
but cared for you will always be
rest, my love
rest tonight
and when you sleep
sleep peacefully
i see you working every day
i long to wipe your tears away
breathe my love
it’s alright
i’ve watched you grow
so beautifully
i may not be right here to hug
but loving you, it’s so easy
sing, my love
your voice is bright
songs for your world
sing vibrantly
i’m proud of you for ever more
and your mother i will always be
Part 3 — script
INT. CHUEY’S STOMACH
an average sized stomach stretched to accommodate the nineteen members of the Psychological Fiction cabin and one hamster.
ENTER RIS, ENCRYN, MADDIE, ALANA, MOSS, ZAI, LUNA, WARI, DAWN, JIYEON, SOKI, EEVEE, EMILY, JERO, FINLEY, VIENRADZE, REVOLUTION999, MANGO, EMBER, and YUME CHOCOLATE SERRIE THE HAMSTER AKA PRINCESS FELICIA MARIA UNICORN PEGASUS III, cramped tightly into the space of the stomach
ENCRYN
My, it’s very cramped in here. Why did Chuey have to go and eat the entire Psycho-Fi cain again?
SOKI
I’m not sure, but I’m not complaining. Sure, it’s cramped, but so many of my friends are here, so it’s not too bad.
YUME CHOCOLATE SERRIE THE HAMSTER AKA PRINCESS FELICIA MARIA UNICORN PEGASUS III
(squeaks indignantly several times)
JIYEON
Oh no…
EEVEE
I think she might be hungry?
ZAI
The irony of being hungry while inside a stomach. We have nothing to feed her.
ALANA
We need to be careful. Yume Chocolate Serrie’s bones are far weaker than ours, we could crush her to death accidentally if we’re not careful.
WARI
Pretty sure we’re all going to die in here anyway, so what does it matter?
SOKI
No, I trust Chuey. She’ll regurgitate us back up eventually. We just have to wait and be patient
LUNA
(almost forlornly) I’m really bad at patience…
DAWN
Wait, we could make her puke! Everyone start punching the stomach walls!
(a commotion as everyone reaches for the edge of the stomach and begins to agitate it however they can)
MOSS
(weakly) Ow… Hurts
RIS
Moss, you’re right in the middle, so don’t move and you’ll be fine. Don’t worry about the puking. The rest of us can handle it.
MADDIE
Punch! Punch!
FINLEY
Harder! Hit it with whatever you can! kick it or bite it if you have to!
(commotion resumes as everyone except MOSS and YUME CHOCOLATE SERRIE THE HAMSTER AKA PRINCESS FELICIA MARIA UNICORN PEGASUS III kicks and punches at the stomach walls)
DAWN
I can feel it! We’re almost free!
INT. CHUEY’S BEDROOM
ENTER CHUEY, breathing heavily
(all nineteen members of the Psycho-Fi cabin and one hamster get regurgitated by CHUEY)
CHUEY
Ah, there you are. I was wondering when you’d show back up again. I know I should apologize but I just don’t feel like it. I am glad you’re all still alive though.
Part 4 — speech
Have you ever heard of a zine? If not, I’m about to change your life.
A zine is basically a small, self-published magazine. Since it’s self-published and made either by one person or a small handful of people, it can be about anything you want and look like anything you want. It can be tiny or huge, rough or polished, art heavy or text heavy — the possibilities are endless. The only limits are the bounds of your own creativity. So let your brain take you where it wants you to go, and create a zine (or several) of your very own!
There are many different kinds of zines, but the general defining factors of what makes something a zine is that it is self-published, focused on self-expression rather than making money from sales, ads, or whatever else, and often it is less expensive to produce, making it less shiny, polished and perfected. The three most popular kinds of zines are fanzines, perzines, and educational zines. A fanzine is a zine made about a fandom, and was actually the first type of zines to be called zines. These can have fanfiction, fanart, fan theories, or anything you can think of related to your fandom of choice. Perzines are short for personal zines, so they can be about anything related to you. You can tell stories from your life, share your views on something, talk about something that’s important to you or your community, or anything else you can think of that’s focused on you. And finally, educational zines are zines that try to teach the reader something. What’s something you know a lot about, or are passionate about? Make a zine about it! Educational zines could take the form of lists of facts, essays, or anything else you want them to look like as long as the reader learns something.
You can make zines with supplies you already have in your house — Just scissors, paper, and a pen. Or you can get really fancy with it, use photoshop or canva, get it printed professionally. You could make your zines small, folded out of just one sheet of paper — these are called mini zines — or you could make it the size of a full magazine or even a book. You could make your zines alone, with family, with friends, or even with strangers that come together specifically to make a zine. You could keep your zines, give them away, trade them, sell them… Make your zines however you want, express your true authentic self. Just go out there and make something cool. You won’t regret it.
- c4merha-girll
-
Scratcher
100+ posts
SWC Megathread ࿔*:☘︎･ November 2025
Daily #3 - 435 words
You would have never thought that a jellyfish wouldn’t be busy swimming in the ocean, but sitting inside a tank instead. Well, welcome to the life of Jubo the jellyfish. It would have never crossed Jubo’s mind, if he even had one, that the only thing he had to worry about was whether his human was giving him enough food. Well it’s not like he had to worry, he didn’t even have his own thoughts. Jubo was just a little moon jellyfish who didn’t have to worry about anything, it’s not like he had the capacity to care anyways. All he did was swim around the tank, swimming towards food whenever he sensed it. You would think that Jubo was lonely because he was all by himself, and for a while, he was. But eventually, he was graced with the presence of another jellyfish. Juba, another tiny moon jellyfish was finally here to be Jubo’s companion. They looked like twins, but don’t all tiny moon jellyfish look the same? In fact, sometimes it was hard to tell Jubo apart from Juba. They both moved the same exact way, looked the same, glubbed the same, did whatever jellyfish would do. There was apparently a myth that if you put two jellyfish together, they would eat each other. But that wasn’t the case for Jubo and Juba, they were like best buds. Their human was a bit worried that they might have gone berserk and started eating each other, but that had never happened. And for months, Jubo and Juba had always stayed together in the same tanks with absolutely no conflicts. Nothing really seemed to happen, since both Jubo and Juba did the same jellyfish stuff they would do everyday. But that was until one day, the 18th of October. The tank that day seemed a lot more empty than usual. As Juba swam around like normal, there seemed to be no trace of Jubo. In fact, Jubo was gently buried in the backyard of the house, the human made sure there was a little tombstone that said “here lies Jubo”. It was pretty depressing, losing a jellyfish who had swam around the tank the same exact way for months and months. In fact, Jubo wasn’t any jellyfish, but the first jellyfish of the house. And even if Jubo probably had no idea he was existing, it still seemed a bit more empty after losing Jubo. And Juba in the other hand, just kept swimming like nothing happened. Well, we respect Juba for that though, it’s not like Juba even knew Jubo existed, or vise versa.
You would have never thought that a jellyfish wouldn’t be busy swimming in the ocean, but sitting inside a tank instead. Well, welcome to the life of Jubo the jellyfish. It would have never crossed Jubo’s mind, if he even had one, that the only thing he had to worry about was whether his human was giving him enough food. Well it’s not like he had to worry, he didn’t even have his own thoughts. Jubo was just a little moon jellyfish who didn’t have to worry about anything, it’s not like he had the capacity to care anyways. All he did was swim around the tank, swimming towards food whenever he sensed it. You would think that Jubo was lonely because he was all by himself, and for a while, he was. But eventually, he was graced with the presence of another jellyfish. Juba, another tiny moon jellyfish was finally here to be Jubo’s companion. They looked like twins, but don’t all tiny moon jellyfish look the same? In fact, sometimes it was hard to tell Jubo apart from Juba. They both moved the same exact way, looked the same, glubbed the same, did whatever jellyfish would do. There was apparently a myth that if you put two jellyfish together, they would eat each other. But that wasn’t the case for Jubo and Juba, they were like best buds. Their human was a bit worried that they might have gone berserk and started eating each other, but that had never happened. And for months, Jubo and Juba had always stayed together in the same tanks with absolutely no conflicts. Nothing really seemed to happen, since both Jubo and Juba did the same jellyfish stuff they would do everyday. But that was until one day, the 18th of October. The tank that day seemed a lot more empty than usual. As Juba swam around like normal, there seemed to be no trace of Jubo. In fact, Jubo was gently buried in the backyard of the house, the human made sure there was a little tombstone that said “here lies Jubo”. It was pretty depressing, losing a jellyfish who had swam around the tank the same exact way for months and months. In fact, Jubo wasn’t any jellyfish, but the first jellyfish of the house. And even if Jubo probably had no idea he was existing, it still seemed a bit more empty after losing Jubo. And Juba in the other hand, just kept swimming like nothing happened. Well, we respect Juba for that though, it’s not like Juba even knew Jubo existed, or vise versa.
- moosywoosy
-
Scratcher
100+ posts
SWC Megathread ࿔*:☘︎･ November 2025
{ тιηу тαℓє 3: נєℓℓуƒιsн }
Did you know that jellyfish are 95% water? You might be wondering why this daily contains such a random fact — and that's because today is World Jellyfish Day. In honour of these weird and wonderful creatures, your task today is to incorporate jellyfish into a story of 400 words for 400 points (and claim an extra 100 points for sharing proof)!
୨┋◦ ʚ { ღ } ɞ ◦┋୧
They swam off of the horizon, glowing in the darkness like stars. In the beach below, they swam, drifting far away. They moved swiftly through the sea, dotting the ocean beautifully. It was days like these where the deep blue sea looked not unlike the night sky, with all the shining lights in the sea, the jellyfish could challenge even the stars themselves. Their lights were small, silent, and seen by hardly any. When the day grew longer, and the water turned warmer, the jellyfish lit up the ocean in a way that could challenge any galaxy in the world. Besides, when the lighthouse keeper looked up to the sky, he could hardly see the stars anymore. It was an unfortunate effect of light pollution. Though, perhaps the magnificent, glowing waters beneath him could serve as a replacement.
The lighthouse’s shine began to wane, a sign it was about time to refuel the lamp. Perhaps it was about time to clean the lamp as well, the light didn’t seem as clear as it had before. Though, the light coming from the moon jellyfish below was always going to be more magnificent than the light from the lighthouse overlooking it. It was only a fleeting thought, but the idea of putting a jellyfish’s excellent light into the lighthouse he always watched over, the idea filled him with euphoria. If his light could be as stunning as the ones from the stars of the sea, then his lighthouse could surely be called the most magnificent in the world. Alas, such fantasies weren’t possible. The lighthouse will never be able to shine in the same way as the sea.
That was nature’s beauty, after all, no matter how much humans tried, they’d never find a way to rival nature’s beauty just right.
The keeper walked up the rigid steps of the lighthouse. The staircase creaked with every step, echoing in the hollow domain the lighthouse was. It echoed, blooming with sound as he reached the top. The light, no longer with its artificial shine, had now waned. The keeper almost preferred it this way, but he knew it was simply nothing more than a selfish desire. Sailors wouldn’t be able to find their way out at sea anymore, after all, as the light’s shine was a compass against the dark night.
When the light refueled, it flickered back on. Artificial, nothing like the light of the jellyfish below. He hated it, of course, but it wasn’t his choice. Staring down, the jellyfish continued its rhythmic movement, creating art with its very body. It was the most company an old man like him was able to have these days, just creatures down there who weren’t even aware he existed. But their light was company in the cold and bitter night.
Next summer, it became warm enough for the sun to dig into your skin. Though the waters were warmer than they ever had been before, no lights shone in the sea. The sea only remained a murky darkness, blank and hollow like the sky had been after light pollution.
The lighthouse keeper felt very lonely that summer.
ᯓ | 523 ωσя∂s
୨┋◦ ʚ { ღ } ɞ ◦┋୧
Last edited by moosywoosy (Nov. 3, 2025 20:49:36)
- taylorsversion--
-
Scratcher
100+ posts
SWC Megathread ࿔*:☘︎･ November 2025
03.11.25 ★ Jellyfish Daily
478/400 words
Hello! I am a jellyfish. I can’t believe I’m actually using a computer. How cool! I didn’t even know these existed for-
Hm.
I’m going to ask Starfish.
Oh! The whole of my life, apparently.
It’s funny how I can type now. My tentacles are a little bit slippery, but I think that I’m getting there. You probably think it’s strange and unrealistic for a jellyfish to be typing. If you were to ask me one month ago, I would have said it’s strange and unrealistic too.
But then, one month ago, the most interesting thing to happen to me would be someone using up their non-flash camera roll to take a photo of me blobbing around in a dark tank.
Exciting, I know.
And that’s when Tiny Starfish came up to me.
Oh yeah. I didn’t exactly know what a starfish was either. Just picked up the term from the voices of the humans that stare at me because they paid to. They’re a little weird, those humans.
But yeah. Tiny Starfish came up to me through the little pipe that gives us our food. I nearly ate him, to be honest, but I did wonder why my food was talking, and that stopped me.
I know I don’t seem like a very intellectual jellyfish right now. But at least I’m not stuck in that painful, mindless, endless cycle of circling through the water, stuck in a glass box with my worst enemies…
Okay. Worst Enemy. Fellyjish is just SO ANNOYING, and while I miss my 15 siblings, I’m just wowed out that I’m able to type this. Wait, why was I here again?
Oh yes. So, after Tiny Starfish found me, he told me that I can escape through this thing called a door? I don’t know, it was a bit strange, but he just pushed a part of the wall back and suddenly, I was out, swimming through these tiny tunnels. It was quite fun, except I got a bit sick from all the different water.
Tiny Starfish certainly knew his way around the tunnels- well, “vents” is what he said- but clearly not enough, because we took a right turn one metre too early, and…
Let’s just say turtles are SCARY. They are so SLOW you don’t even have time to think before they GOBBLE YOU UP!!
It was terrifying, but I only screamed for about 20 minutes, so I definitely matured compared to when I first heard Tiny Starfish speak.
Eventually, we got out of the aquarium. The ocean is SO much bigger than my tank. I haven’t even found the edge of it yet! I told Tiny Starfish that I would try to do that tomorrow but he just laughed in my face.
For such a tiny being, his sass is certainly over the top. I’d think he gets it from me.
478/400 words
Hello! I am a jellyfish. I can’t believe I’m actually using a computer. How cool! I didn’t even know these existed for-
Hm.
I’m going to ask Starfish.
Oh! The whole of my life, apparently.
It’s funny how I can type now. My tentacles are a little bit slippery, but I think that I’m getting there. You probably think it’s strange and unrealistic for a jellyfish to be typing. If you were to ask me one month ago, I would have said it’s strange and unrealistic too.
But then, one month ago, the most interesting thing to happen to me would be someone using up their non-flash camera roll to take a photo of me blobbing around in a dark tank.
Exciting, I know.
And that’s when Tiny Starfish came up to me.
Oh yeah. I didn’t exactly know what a starfish was either. Just picked up the term from the voices of the humans that stare at me because they paid to. They’re a little weird, those humans.
But yeah. Tiny Starfish came up to me through the little pipe that gives us our food. I nearly ate him, to be honest, but I did wonder why my food was talking, and that stopped me.
I know I don’t seem like a very intellectual jellyfish right now. But at least I’m not stuck in that painful, mindless, endless cycle of circling through the water, stuck in a glass box with my worst enemies…
Okay. Worst Enemy. Fellyjish is just SO ANNOYING, and while I miss my 15 siblings, I’m just wowed out that I’m able to type this. Wait, why was I here again?
Oh yes. So, after Tiny Starfish found me, he told me that I can escape through this thing called a door? I don’t know, it was a bit strange, but he just pushed a part of the wall back and suddenly, I was out, swimming through these tiny tunnels. It was quite fun, except I got a bit sick from all the different water.
Tiny Starfish certainly knew his way around the tunnels- well, “vents” is what he said- but clearly not enough, because we took a right turn one metre too early, and…
Let’s just say turtles are SCARY. They are so SLOW you don’t even have time to think before they GOBBLE YOU UP!!
It was terrifying, but I only screamed for about 20 minutes, so I definitely matured compared to when I first heard Tiny Starfish speak.
Eventually, we got out of the aquarium. The ocean is SO much bigger than my tank. I haven’t even found the edge of it yet! I told Tiny Starfish that I would try to do that tomorrow but he just laughed in my face.
For such a tiny being, his sass is certainly over the top. I’d think he gets it from me.
- -KenzieCamps-
-
Scratcher
100+ posts
SWC Megathread ࿔*:☘︎･ November 2025
daily 3
454 words
Millie stared at the jellyfish through the glass as it gracefully glided through the water. She had silently named it Nalie, since the name was pretty and the glowing jellyfish reminded her of the letter N.
Someday when Millie was older, she wanted to work at the aquatic museum as a mermaid, swimming in the same water as fish.
Millie had always dreamed of sea life creatures ever since she was in kindergarten and during career week Mrs. Smith had brought in a scuba diver. The diver had shown a slide show filled with colorful coral, shiny fish, and warm waters filled with all sorts of creatures.
And now, Millie was finally one step closer to becoming a mermaid. Next year, she’d be sixteen meaning she would finally be old enough to submit an application and schedule an interview.
“It’s time to go, Lil,” her mother put her hand on Millie’s shoulder.
Millie sighed and her mom led her out of the museum. Her little brother had started whining that he was getting bored, so Millie had to go and leave Nalie.
A year later, Millie was finally inside the aquarium holding an application in her hand. She had filled it out right next to Nalie and now it was the day of her interview. Eventually, a middle-aged man came up to her.
“Are you Millie Brown?” He asked.
She nodded and gave him her application and then the man led her towards a table inside of the underwater cafe.
The interview went well, just as Millie was hoping. She sighed in relief as he told her that she’d receive a response back in a week regarding if she’d be hired or not.
A week later, a letter arrived in the mail from the aquarium. Millie squealed as her mom handed her the light blue envelope and Millie carefully opened it.
She scanned the letter and at the bottom the words “You’re Hired!” greeted her in navy blue letters.
Millie started working at the aquarium the next week and her first job was getting to feed the dolphins. She had finally achieved a step towards her dream where she’d be able to become a marine biologist.
When Millie had finally reached adulthood, she was swimming as a mermaid inside of the tank when a little girl with brown pigtails ran up the glass, holding her dads hand with her little fingers. The girl pointed at Millie in awe and waved her little hand.
Millie smiled. She made a bet that someday this little girl would become a marine biologist too. After all, her dream had started when she had been a little girl pointing at the mermaid behind the glass at the museum.
454 words
Millie stared at the jellyfish through the glass as it gracefully glided through the water. She had silently named it Nalie, since the name was pretty and the glowing jellyfish reminded her of the letter N.
Someday when Millie was older, she wanted to work at the aquatic museum as a mermaid, swimming in the same water as fish.
Millie had always dreamed of sea life creatures ever since she was in kindergarten and during career week Mrs. Smith had brought in a scuba diver. The diver had shown a slide show filled with colorful coral, shiny fish, and warm waters filled with all sorts of creatures.
And now, Millie was finally one step closer to becoming a mermaid. Next year, she’d be sixteen meaning she would finally be old enough to submit an application and schedule an interview.
“It’s time to go, Lil,” her mother put her hand on Millie’s shoulder.
Millie sighed and her mom led her out of the museum. Her little brother had started whining that he was getting bored, so Millie had to go and leave Nalie.
A year later, Millie was finally inside the aquarium holding an application in her hand. She had filled it out right next to Nalie and now it was the day of her interview. Eventually, a middle-aged man came up to her.
“Are you Millie Brown?” He asked.
She nodded and gave him her application and then the man led her towards a table inside of the underwater cafe.
The interview went well, just as Millie was hoping. She sighed in relief as he told her that she’d receive a response back in a week regarding if she’d be hired or not.
A week later, a letter arrived in the mail from the aquarium. Millie squealed as her mom handed her the light blue envelope and Millie carefully opened it.
She scanned the letter and at the bottom the words “You’re Hired!” greeted her in navy blue letters.
Millie started working at the aquarium the next week and her first job was getting to feed the dolphins. She had finally achieved a step towards her dream where she’d be able to become a marine biologist.
When Millie had finally reached adulthood, she was swimming as a mermaid inside of the tank when a little girl with brown pigtails ran up the glass, holding her dads hand with her little fingers. The girl pointed at Millie in awe and waved her little hand.
Millie smiled. She made a bet that someday this little girl would become a marine biologist too. After all, her dream had started when she had been a little girl pointing at the mermaid behind the glass at the museum.
- AmazaEevee
-
Scratcher
500+ posts
SWC Megathread ࿔*:☘︎･ November 2025
Daily #3
11/3/2025
545 words
Stella kicks at the warm sand, standing far enough from the waves to not have wet sand stuck in between her toes. It's quite a gorgeous day, the breeze blowing with a hint of salt and the sun shining liquid gold, no clouds in sight. She's grateful for the break from the persistent storms they've been having; it's miserable to be stuck behind rain-streaked windows and surrounded by bright fluorescent lights. The soft rippling of blue-green waves is much more calming. As the sunlight warms her freckled skin, she puts her hands on her hips.
It's 5 minutes past. At the very least.
Now, she's not one to judge–too quickly–but Stella's usually the one running late, not Charlie.
Looking around at the moderately populated beach (it's only early afternoon; Real-fi's probably packed with guests right about now), she can't spot out any obnoxiously bright red shirts. Not a good sign.
Stella sighs, crossing her arms and squinting at the boardwalk in search for pops of primary colors. Charlie is never late, hates to be late. She pats her checkered shorts and- oh dear. She's misplaced her phone again. Probably at the counter at work or left at the farm. No way to contact. Great. She supposes that there’s no quick way to contact her now.
So… waiting it is.
Kind of a dull concept, don’t you think?
In a period of lull, in hopes that an expectant event will happen sooner than later.
Well, no matter. Charlie won’t keep her in a lull for much longer. She hopes.
—
At this point, Stella’s got sand sticking to her calves and sprinkled through her hair, hidden between brown and blonde streaks. At this point, she’s hoping that the sky will turn cotton candy pink and Twilight Sparkle purple, because if she’s going to be sitting out her for this long, she might as well get a fantastic sunset out of it!
The beach has far more families and more obnoxious red, though she supposes it is warranted, as they are the lifeguards and the last thing Stella wants to witness is a tragedy.
She pushes her feet deeper into the sand, the grains enveloping them and, she hopes, won’t get stuck under her nails. Charlie’s got a lot on her hands and Stella knows that she’s busy. It’s not always her fault and she knows firsthand how terrible it feels to be late to an event.
A cry of glee, splashes from kids, and a rapid sprint from behind her, skidding to an abrupt stop and sand kicks up, splaying across her back.
“Sorry, Stel,” Charlie plops down besides her, eyes focused on the horizon. “Emergency jellyfish scare and Mom needed the help. I tried calling you, but you didn’t pick up. Figured you’d left it at the farm and I couldn’t leave the poor thing there so-”
“Hey, it’s okay,” Stella stops her, grabbing her hands, catching her eyes. “We are both busy and it’s hard for us to meet each other, so this is good enough. Your presence is enough.”
They share a smile.
“Okay, well now you have to tell me about the jellyfish! Is it okay? At the aquarium for rehab or? I have so many questions.”
Charlie chuckles. “Okay, okay…”
11/3/2025
545 words
A/N: First appearance of the S.W.C. trio this session! Though no Winston yet </3
Stella kicks at the warm sand, standing far enough from the waves to not have wet sand stuck in between her toes. It's quite a gorgeous day, the breeze blowing with a hint of salt and the sun shining liquid gold, no clouds in sight. She's grateful for the break from the persistent storms they've been having; it's miserable to be stuck behind rain-streaked windows and surrounded by bright fluorescent lights. The soft rippling of blue-green waves is much more calming. As the sunlight warms her freckled skin, she puts her hands on her hips.
It's 5 minutes past. At the very least.
Now, she's not one to judge–too quickly–but Stella's usually the one running late, not Charlie.
Looking around at the moderately populated beach (it's only early afternoon; Real-fi's probably packed with guests right about now), she can't spot out any obnoxiously bright red shirts. Not a good sign.
Stella sighs, crossing her arms and squinting at the boardwalk in search for pops of primary colors. Charlie is never late, hates to be late. She pats her checkered shorts and- oh dear. She's misplaced her phone again. Probably at the counter at work or left at the farm. No way to contact. Great. She supposes that there’s no quick way to contact her now.
So… waiting it is.
Kind of a dull concept, don’t you think?
In a period of lull, in hopes that an expectant event will happen sooner than later.
Well, no matter. Charlie won’t keep her in a lull for much longer. She hopes.
—
At this point, Stella’s got sand sticking to her calves and sprinkled through her hair, hidden between brown and blonde streaks. At this point, she’s hoping that the sky will turn cotton candy pink and Twilight Sparkle purple, because if she’s going to be sitting out her for this long, she might as well get a fantastic sunset out of it!
The beach has far more families and more obnoxious red, though she supposes it is warranted, as they are the lifeguards and the last thing Stella wants to witness is a tragedy.
She pushes her feet deeper into the sand, the grains enveloping them and, she hopes, won’t get stuck under her nails. Charlie’s got a lot on her hands and Stella knows that she’s busy. It’s not always her fault and she knows firsthand how terrible it feels to be late to an event.
A cry of glee, splashes from kids, and a rapid sprint from behind her, skidding to an abrupt stop and sand kicks up, splaying across her back.
“Sorry, Stel,” Charlie plops down besides her, eyes focused on the horizon. “Emergency jellyfish scare and Mom needed the help. I tried calling you, but you didn’t pick up. Figured you’d left it at the farm and I couldn’t leave the poor thing there so-”
“Hey, it’s okay,” Stella stops her, grabbing her hands, catching her eyes. “We are both busy and it’s hard for us to meet each other, so this is good enough. Your presence is enough.”
They share a smile.
“Okay, well now you have to tell me about the jellyfish! Is it okay? At the aquarium for rehab or? I have so many questions.”
Charlie chuckles. “Okay, okay…”
Last edited by AmazaEevee (Nov. 5, 2025 04:04:01)
- FairyAyla
-
Scratcher
100+ posts
SWC Megathread ࿔*:☘︎･ November 2025
Daily 3:
Jenny the Jellyfish was an unspecified species of jellyfish. Her best friend, Amanda, was an immortal jellyfish. They were the same age (well, Amanda was actually many years older, being immortal, but at the moment, they were at the small stage in their life cycles). One day, as they were floating around in the ocean, as they usually did. “I’m booooored” Complained Jenny. “Well, what should we do?” Asked Amanda “I dunno” Jenny said. “Hmmm… Oh! I know! Let’s make a podcast!”
“Isn’t that more of something whales do?” Amanda said “Yeah, but we can do it too!” Jenny said, excitedly “Okay” Amanda replied “What kind of podcast should we do?”
“An interview podcast! We can interview all sorts of jellyfish!” Jenny said “We can interview my Grandma! She’s really old!”
“Yeah!” So they swam off to talk to Amanda’s grandma
“Oh yes, back when I first was a polyp…" So they interviewed Amanda’s Grandma. Then, they looked around for someone else to interview. Then they met a Portuguese Man ‘O War. “Hello! Can we interview you for our jellyfish podcast?”
“I’m not a jellyfish, though! I’m a bunch of little creatures.”
“Oh. Well, okay, I guess we can interview all different sea creatures, then! Tell us about yourself!”
“Well, okay. I’m a bunch of little creatures, as I said already. Oh, and I’m really really big. My tentacles are 30 feet long! And they can still sting even after I die!”
“Wow! Cool!” Amanda said “Well, thank you for your time!” Jenny said “No problem! Have fun, kiddos!”
As they swam, Jenny got an idea “Amanda! Why don’t YOU tell us about Immortal Jellyfish?”
“Okay!” Amanda said “So, we are kinda immortal. Well, not really. We can still get eaten, but we can’t die of old age! Once we get old, we turn back into polyps, and start our life cycle over!”
“Thank you Amanda!” Jenny said. So then they interviewed a whale, a comb jelly, a starfish, a mermaid, a crab, a shark (who did try to eat them), a giant squid, and school of tuna.
“Okay, I think we have enough interviews! Let’s put it together!” Jenny said. And so they did. With a bit of editing, it was ready for release! They released the first episode of their podcast, and everyone they interviewed listened to it, and recommend it to their friends, and they recommended it to their friends, and so on, and so on. And they kept making it, and they got very famous, and had lots of fun, and weren’t bored (most of the time).
431 words
Did you know that jellyfish are 95% water? You might be wondering why this daily contains such a random fact — and that's because today is World Jellyfish Day. In honour of these weird and wonderful creatures, your task today is to incorporate jellyfish into a story of 400 words for 400 points (and claim an extra 100 points for sharing proof)!
Jenny the Jellyfish was an unspecified species of jellyfish. Her best friend, Amanda, was an immortal jellyfish. They were the same age (well, Amanda was actually many years older, being immortal, but at the moment, they were at the small stage in their life cycles). One day, as they were floating around in the ocean, as they usually did. “I’m booooored” Complained Jenny. “Well, what should we do?” Asked Amanda “I dunno” Jenny said. “Hmmm… Oh! I know! Let’s make a podcast!”
“Isn’t that more of something whales do?” Amanda said “Yeah, but we can do it too!” Jenny said, excitedly “Okay” Amanda replied “What kind of podcast should we do?”
“An interview podcast! We can interview all sorts of jellyfish!” Jenny said “We can interview my Grandma! She’s really old!”
“Yeah!” So they swam off to talk to Amanda’s grandma
“Oh yes, back when I first was a polyp…" So they interviewed Amanda’s Grandma. Then, they looked around for someone else to interview. Then they met a Portuguese Man ‘O War. “Hello! Can we interview you for our jellyfish podcast?”
“I’m not a jellyfish, though! I’m a bunch of little creatures.”
“Oh. Well, okay, I guess we can interview all different sea creatures, then! Tell us about yourself!”
“Well, okay. I’m a bunch of little creatures, as I said already. Oh, and I’m really really big. My tentacles are 30 feet long! And they can still sting even after I die!”
“Wow! Cool!” Amanda said “Well, thank you for your time!” Jenny said “No problem! Have fun, kiddos!”
As they swam, Jenny got an idea “Amanda! Why don’t YOU tell us about Immortal Jellyfish?”
“Okay!” Amanda said “So, we are kinda immortal. Well, not really. We can still get eaten, but we can’t die of old age! Once we get old, we turn back into polyps, and start our life cycle over!”
“Thank you Amanda!” Jenny said. So then they interviewed a whale, a comb jelly, a starfish, a mermaid, a crab, a shark (who did try to eat them), a giant squid, and school of tuna.
“Okay, I think we have enough interviews! Let’s put it together!” Jenny said. And so they did. With a bit of editing, it was ready for release! They released the first episode of their podcast, and everyone they interviewed listened to it, and recommend it to their friends, and they recommended it to their friends, and so on, and so on. And they kept making it, and they got very famous, and had lots of fun, and weren’t bored (most of the time).
431 words
- aviva_
-
Scratcher
93 posts
SWC Megathread ࿔*:☘︎･ November 2025
❝daily 3❠
❝jellyfish❠
❝mizisua fish fanfic lol❠
okay so I couldn't figure out how to start it so why not make them meet for the first time and get to know each other and then start dating idk. also idk if jellyfish have eyes, I don't think so, but Mizi needs them so she gets them
The fish was a beautiful shade of purple. Her scales shimmered. But what was most eye-catching about her was the way she carried herself. Something about her seemed so beautiful, so loving.
Mizi's eyes widened.
Sua glanced over. A jellyfish was watching her. She was pink, a very pretty pink, Sua thought. There was also something about her. She seemed so kind, so innocent, so loving.
Sua made a silly face at her.
Mizi laughed and swam up to her.
They were just… together. Not really doing anything. Mizi seemed to be almost falling asleep. “I love you, Sua…” she mumbled through a yawn. Her eyes closed.
Sua looked at her, startled. Had Mizi really just said that, had she really just told her she loved her? Really? Okay, but of course she just meant it as a friend… right?
“…I love you too, Mizi,” she whispered.
Mizi's eyes snapped open. “REALLY?!?” she exclaimed.
“…yes?”
“Like, uhm… like… you would date me?” Mizi asked awkwardly, hesitantly.
So she had meant it romantically. Sua had been hoping for that, but she had been trying to keep herself from being disappointed…
“Of course!” she replied.
“YAY!” Mizi exclaimed. Wide awake now, she spun around in a circle. She grinned at Sua. “I've actually kind of been hoping that we could end up together since I first met you,” she admitted.
“Me too, actually,” Sua confessed. She flashed Mizi a smile. They were both so, so happy.
Maybe it was a miracle that they had stayed together for so many years, but they were still together now. Mizi's tentacles or jellyfish stingers or whatever they were had turned blue. Sua thought it made her look even prettier. It was funny to think that they had just been kids when they first met each other. It felt like so long ago, but at the same time, it felt like just yesterday.
Mizi hummed a song, swishing her tentacles. Sua swam up to her, leaning against her. They smiled at each other. They had both grown and changed a bit, and watched each other grow and change, so of course they were a bit different now than they had been when they first met, or even when they first started dating, but they had grown and changed together. And they still loved each other so much.
“Love you forever, Mizi, my love,” said Sua.
“Love you forever, Sua, my universe,” said Mizi.
❝456 words❠
❝jellyfish❠
❝mizisua fish fanfic lol❠
okay so I couldn't figure out how to start it so why not make them meet for the first time and get to know each other and then start dating idk. also idk if jellyfish have eyes, I don't think so, but Mizi needs them so she gets them
The fish was a beautiful shade of purple. Her scales shimmered. But what was most eye-catching about her was the way she carried herself. Something about her seemed so beautiful, so loving.
Mizi's eyes widened.
Sua glanced over. A jellyfish was watching her. She was pink, a very pretty pink, Sua thought. There was also something about her. She seemed so kind, so innocent, so loving.
Sua made a silly face at her.
Mizi laughed and swam up to her.
They were just… together. Not really doing anything. Mizi seemed to be almost falling asleep. “I love you, Sua…” she mumbled through a yawn. Her eyes closed.
Sua looked at her, startled. Had Mizi really just said that, had she really just told her she loved her? Really? Okay, but of course she just meant it as a friend… right?
“…I love you too, Mizi,” she whispered.
Mizi's eyes snapped open. “REALLY?!?” she exclaimed.
“…yes?”
“Like, uhm… like… you would date me?” Mizi asked awkwardly, hesitantly.
So she had meant it romantically. Sua had been hoping for that, but she had been trying to keep herself from being disappointed…
“Of course!” she replied.
“YAY!” Mizi exclaimed. Wide awake now, she spun around in a circle. She grinned at Sua. “I've actually kind of been hoping that we could end up together since I first met you,” she admitted.
“Me too, actually,” Sua confessed. She flashed Mizi a smile. They were both so, so happy.
Maybe it was a miracle that they had stayed together for so many years, but they were still together now. Mizi's tentacles or jellyfish stingers or whatever they were had turned blue. Sua thought it made her look even prettier. It was funny to think that they had just been kids when they first met each other. It felt like so long ago, but at the same time, it felt like just yesterday.
Mizi hummed a song, swishing her tentacles. Sua swam up to her, leaning against her. They smiled at each other. They had both grown and changed a bit, and watched each other grow and change, so of course they were a bit different now than they had been when they first met, or even when they first started dating, but they had grown and changed together. And they still loved each other so much.
“Love you forever, Mizi, my love,” said Sua.
“Love you forever, Sua, my universe,” said Mizi.
❝456 words❠
Last edited by aviva_ (Nov. 4, 2025 21:33:18)
- euphoriafall
-
Scratcher
500+ posts
SWC Megathread ࿔*:☘︎･ November 2025
jellyfish | 1075 words
You have a friend.
They’re your roommate. Or at least, you assume so. You’ve been friends for years, and sharing the same room for even longer, but lately you’ve been seeing less and less of them. Sometimes you forget you even live with another person.
It’s just work, they say, when you ask them. They’ve got me going all over the world for research. You wouldn’t know about it, so you accept the explanation with a shrug and continue on with your day, sparing glances at the empty dining chair or dusty coffee machine on the next occasion they leave.
This time, they’ve been gone for weeks. You wonder if perhaps you should have asked them where they were travelling to. Actually, you’re not even sure what their work entails exactly, except that it’s something to do with the ocean, and deep-sea exploration. Which is rather vague, now you think about it. Next time, you think to yourself. I’ll ask them when they come back.
In the end, you never get the opportunity to.
Oh, your roommate comes back alright. They come back soaked to the bone and smelling of brine, so you rush them into the bathroom, drawing a warm bath and finding them a clean change of clothes. You intend to wait for them to finish their bath, so you can finally question them because what has been going on all these years? but you fall asleep before they finish their bath.
In the morning, you clamber out of bed early and make breakfast. You almost forget to make two servings, but you catch yourself, and twenty minutes later you stand outside your roommate’s door, a plate of breakfast in one hand, the other knocking on their door.
A groan from inside, and you take that as your sign to enter. Your roommate remains tangled under their blanket. “It’s too cold…”
You roll your eyes. “Since when has that ever stopped you? I’m leaving breakfast on your desk.” You slide the plates on the edge of the desk, balanced precariously around the fish tank.
As you turn to leave, the mound under the covers shifts and you catch a glimpse of translucent skin—but no, that can’t be right, and in a flash it’s gone again, so you rub your eyes hard and call out a goodbye to your roommate.
The rest of the day passes in a blur. You answer a few emails and finish your next commission, and so you spend the remainder of your afternoon watching television and scrolling through social media. It’s only when you heat up dinner that you realise you haven’t seen your roommate all day. Which would be fine, except you’re pretty certain they haven’t left their room all day. And whilst that might be a normal day for you, it definitely isn’t for them. You decide to check on them. Just in case, right?
When you open the door, a faintly briny smell, the scent of the night your roommate came back, floods your nose, and you wrinkle it. “What have you got in here?” you ask.
The mound under the covers shifts. “I feel horrible,” they croak, breathing heavy.
“You smell it too,” you add, gathering the fallen bundles of clothing around the bed. “Have you eaten?”
“Yeah,” they respond, and you pause. Wait, really? A ghostly hand darts out of the covers to point at the empty fish tank. The fish tank that definitely had not been empty in the morning.
You freeze.
“Don’t worry,” their raspy voice murmurs dreamily. “Don’t worry about it.”
They shift, and the duvet falls down to reveal their face, translucent puffy skin stretched over bones, glistening with a dampness. Their hair feathers around them on the pillow, wavy and ashen. It almost looks as if they're rippling underwater, but that can’t be right. They’re still the same person, and yet everything is wrong about them.
You wonder if you’re losing your mind. Perhaps you stayed up too late one too many times and now you’re hallucinating your friend morphing into some sea creature. Excellent.
“In a few days, I’ll be ready,” your roommate soothes. “You can leave me in here. I’ll be fine.”
Despite your better judgement, you nod and leave the room. And you’re still not entirely sure why, but you obey your friend’s requests and drown yourself in your work for the next few days. It’s as if you don’t see what’s going on, it won’t be happening.
It’s a Friday night when your roommate starts crying.
It’s more of a quiet wail, but it goes on for minutes, punctuated only by your roommate’s sharp breaths and sobs. You try to ignore it for the first minute, but eventually you put down your pen and tentatively tiptoe over to your roommate’s door. You haven’t dared draw near since… well, whatever happened with the fish tank. You try not to think about it.
The room definitely smells of the sea now, but that might be due to the seawater pouring out of your friend’s body, seeping out of the very pores of their body and soaking their clothes and the sheets beneath them.
The bigger problem would probably be that fact that your roommate’s skin itself has completely melted away into a gelatinous, clear mess. Their entire body, actually—there are no organs, no muscles, no bones in sight. Just this. Your not-roommate.
Ribbons of tentacles flutter around when your not-roommate sees you. They seem to be trying to communicate something, if the erratic moving if their tentacles means anything.
You find yourself moving to the bathroom, oddly calm. Your hands pick out a bucket, the biggest one there, and you drag it to the room. You place it at the edge of the bed. Not-roommate tumbles in with a soft and wet slap. A singular eye, the only thing that seems to remain of their humanity, stares up at you with tears.
You carry the heavy bucket with you outside. The summer evening greets you with a cooling breeze as you make your path towards the beach. You haven’t been there in years, yet your feet pick out the path automatically.
The sun is setting when you get there. You wade into the shallows, and the cold water tightens around your chest. Just a bit further.
You stand in the water and tip your not-roommate into the water, and a jellyfish swims out to the ocean, free.
You have a friend.
They’re your roommate. Or at least, you assume so. You’ve been friends for years, and sharing the same room for even longer, but lately you’ve been seeing less and less of them. Sometimes you forget you even live with another person.
It’s just work, they say, when you ask them. They’ve got me going all over the world for research. You wouldn’t know about it, so you accept the explanation with a shrug and continue on with your day, sparing glances at the empty dining chair or dusty coffee machine on the next occasion they leave.
This time, they’ve been gone for weeks. You wonder if perhaps you should have asked them where they were travelling to. Actually, you’re not even sure what their work entails exactly, except that it’s something to do with the ocean, and deep-sea exploration. Which is rather vague, now you think about it. Next time, you think to yourself. I’ll ask them when they come back.
In the end, you never get the opportunity to.
Oh, your roommate comes back alright. They come back soaked to the bone and smelling of brine, so you rush them into the bathroom, drawing a warm bath and finding them a clean change of clothes. You intend to wait for them to finish their bath, so you can finally question them because what has been going on all these years? but you fall asleep before they finish their bath.
In the morning, you clamber out of bed early and make breakfast. You almost forget to make two servings, but you catch yourself, and twenty minutes later you stand outside your roommate’s door, a plate of breakfast in one hand, the other knocking on their door.
A groan from inside, and you take that as your sign to enter. Your roommate remains tangled under their blanket. “It’s too cold…”
You roll your eyes. “Since when has that ever stopped you? I’m leaving breakfast on your desk.” You slide the plates on the edge of the desk, balanced precariously around the fish tank.
As you turn to leave, the mound under the covers shifts and you catch a glimpse of translucent skin—but no, that can’t be right, and in a flash it’s gone again, so you rub your eyes hard and call out a goodbye to your roommate.
The rest of the day passes in a blur. You answer a few emails and finish your next commission, and so you spend the remainder of your afternoon watching television and scrolling through social media. It’s only when you heat up dinner that you realise you haven’t seen your roommate all day. Which would be fine, except you’re pretty certain they haven’t left their room all day. And whilst that might be a normal day for you, it definitely isn’t for them. You decide to check on them. Just in case, right?
When you open the door, a faintly briny smell, the scent of the night your roommate came back, floods your nose, and you wrinkle it. “What have you got in here?” you ask.
The mound under the covers shifts. “I feel horrible,” they croak, breathing heavy.
“You smell it too,” you add, gathering the fallen bundles of clothing around the bed. “Have you eaten?”
“Yeah,” they respond, and you pause. Wait, really? A ghostly hand darts out of the covers to point at the empty fish tank. The fish tank that definitely had not been empty in the morning.
You freeze.
“Don’t worry,” their raspy voice murmurs dreamily. “Don’t worry about it.”
They shift, and the duvet falls down to reveal their face, translucent puffy skin stretched over bones, glistening with a dampness. Their hair feathers around them on the pillow, wavy and ashen. It almost looks as if they're rippling underwater, but that can’t be right. They’re still the same person, and yet everything is wrong about them.
You wonder if you’re losing your mind. Perhaps you stayed up too late one too many times and now you’re hallucinating your friend morphing into some sea creature. Excellent.
“In a few days, I’ll be ready,” your roommate soothes. “You can leave me in here. I’ll be fine.”
Despite your better judgement, you nod and leave the room. And you’re still not entirely sure why, but you obey your friend’s requests and drown yourself in your work for the next few days. It’s as if you don’t see what’s going on, it won’t be happening.
It’s a Friday night when your roommate starts crying.
It’s more of a quiet wail, but it goes on for minutes, punctuated only by your roommate’s sharp breaths and sobs. You try to ignore it for the first minute, but eventually you put down your pen and tentatively tiptoe over to your roommate’s door. You haven’t dared draw near since… well, whatever happened with the fish tank. You try not to think about it.
The room definitely smells of the sea now, but that might be due to the seawater pouring out of your friend’s body, seeping out of the very pores of their body and soaking their clothes and the sheets beneath them.
The bigger problem would probably be that fact that your roommate’s skin itself has completely melted away into a gelatinous, clear mess. Their entire body, actually—there are no organs, no muscles, no bones in sight. Just this. Your not-roommate.
Ribbons of tentacles flutter around when your not-roommate sees you. They seem to be trying to communicate something, if the erratic moving if their tentacles means anything.
You find yourself moving to the bathroom, oddly calm. Your hands pick out a bucket, the biggest one there, and you drag it to the room. You place it at the edge of the bed. Not-roommate tumbles in with a soft and wet slap. A singular eye, the only thing that seems to remain of their humanity, stares up at you with tears.
You carry the heavy bucket with you outside. The summer evening greets you with a cooling breeze as you make your path towards the beach. You haven’t been there in years, yet your feet pick out the path automatically.
The sun is setting when you get there. You wade into the shallows, and the cold water tightens around your chest. Just a bit further.
You stand in the water and tip your not-roommate into the water, and a jellyfish swims out to the ocean, free.
- gigi_hyperfresh
-
Scratcher
22 posts
SWC Megathread ࿔*:☘︎･ November 2025
Weekly #1 (1,475 words)
Part 1 - Poetry (115 words)
Another strike
Pierce the mind
More noise
Could peace be mine?
No, of course not
It cannot be
Despite my cries
The war can never cease
A blow to eye
Blinded again
What must I do
To earn back a friend?
Is it possible
For the noise to stop?
All I want
Is what I’ve sought
Please, let me breathe
Let me rest
I can’t continue
With this much stress
Hands stretch out to help
But there’s too many
I can’t pick one
I can’t pick any
Trying to aid
Desperate for assistance
No one offers it
Just feels distant
Will it ease
For just one day?
Will something come
To take this anxiety away?
Part 2 - Songwriting (355 words)
[/b]Theme: Song about turning your back reality and turning to fiction
Mood: Hopeful, longing, wishful
Person: 1st
Tense: Past/Present
Events: Breakup, reading, watching films, drawing
Better in Every Way
I left a few months ago
Wanted a new start
But, despite what I thought
I left with no broken heart
Back at home
I picked up a book
A few moments later
Someone with a different outlook
Call me crazy
But I think I found
One I like a little more
Than that other hound
They tell me to come down from the clouds
But I tell them I would rather stay
Safe from reality
Somewhere far away
Who needs reality
When fiction
Holds perfection
Who needs a real man
When films and books
Have men with better looks
They might tell me it’s not wise
To fall for fictional guys
But what can I say?
They’re better in every way
Staying up
Reading books with him
And when I finish one
I start it again
If it doesn’t entertain me enough
To films I turn
Only to find another one
That makes my face burn
Hide my reaction
But there’s a dream sitting on the screen
I must admit
This is even better than what I read
They won’t take my books or films
In their worlds I’m safe
From the stress of real life
Held in a little fictional cave
Who needs reality
When fiction
Holds perfection
Who needs a real man
When films and books
Have men with better looks
They might tell me it’s not wise
To fall for fictional guys
But what can I say?
They’re better in every way
It may not be healthy
To live in fiction
But I’d much rather live there
Than reality’s false perfection
Love is harsh
In real life
But in a fantasy
There’s much less strife
Who needs a real man
Who’ll just ruin my trust
When I can have a fictional man
Who grants me stardust
Who needs reality
When fiction
Holds perfection
Who needs a real man
When films and books
Have men with better looks
They might tell me it’s not wise
To fall for fictional guys
But what can I say?
They’re better in every way
Better in every way
Better in every way
They’re better…in..every..way
Part 3 - Scriptwriting (364 words)
*heavily inspired by Hades 2*
AT THE CROSSROADS
MELINOË approaches the massive cauldron bubbling infront of HEADMISTRESS HECATE
MELINOË
(casually)
Has the cauldron been repaired, Headmistress?
HEADMISTRESS HEACATE
(proudly)
Yes, my dear, it has. Why don’t you make something in it?
MELINOË pulls some Moly from her pocket and tosses it into the cauldron
MELINOË AND HEADMISTRESS HECATE
(mysteriously)
So mote it be!
Liquid swirls and bubbles in the cauldron before a puff of smoke burst upward
MELINOË
(satisfied)
That should help my next trek.
HEADMISTRESS HECATE nods in approval as MELINOË walks over to BROKER to trade
MELINOË
(happily)
Have anything you’ll trade for these, Broker?
MELINOË holds out a handful of bones. BROKER bounces happily and hands MELINOË a few Ashes and a Nectar
MELINOË
(grateful)
Thank you, Broker!
BROKER bounces happily as MELINOË walks off
MELINOË walks by ODYSSEUS’S stall
ODYSSEUS
(pleasantly)
How did your last run go, Melinoë?
MELINOË
(nonchalantly)
Almost got through Erebus, but was slain by one of the creatures around here.
ODYSSEUS
(thoughtfully)
Well, best of luck for your next run!
MELINOË
(firmly)
Death to Chronos!
ODYSSUS
(firmly)
Death to Chronos!
MELINOË leaves the Crossroads after waving farewell to ODYSSEUS
TRAINING AREA
MELINOË meditates. Walks to grab her weapon and grab a relic. Greets COMMANDER SCHELEMEUS before entering Erebus
MELINOË
(briskly)
Greetings, Commander!
COMMANDER SCHELEMEUS
(pleased)
Hey, Melinoë! Want to get some extra training in before you head out?
MELINOË
(gratefully)
Unfortunately, I can’t stay long. I must be off. But thank you for the offer, Commander. Death to Chronos!
COMMANDER SCHELEMEUS
(proudly)
Death to Chronos!
MELINOË bids farewell to COMMANDR SCHELEMEUS and enters Erebus
EREBUS
MELINOË lands at the entrance of Erebus lightly. Before her lies a floating sun sigil
MELINOË
(pleased)
Well, I guess Olympus is sending aid after all.
MELINOË reaches out and touches the sigil. There is a massive glow of light before APOLLO stands in front of her
MELINOË
(gratefully)
Lord Apollo!
APOLLO
(proudly)
Need some assistance, Melinoë? My power is yours.
APOLLO offers MELINOË a special power connected to his abilities
MELINOË
(pleased)
Thank you, Lord Apollo
APOLLO
(happily)
Go wreck Chronos for us, okay?
MELINOË nods and darts off deeper into Erebus as APOLLO vanishes
Part 3 - Speech (661 words)
What makes a story impactful? Is it the characters? The setting? The plotline? The themes? Or, is there something more? Stories can be told by anyone, from young children to the elderly, a solo author to a huge company. I’d make a guess that everyone has heard stories, and have formed a connection with at least one. No matter what the connection is, it holds great importance. Stories have a power that everyone can recognize. They can change us, and can open our eyes to a new perspective. Personally, I have been changed and affected by numerous stories. I find comfort in them; an escape from reality, a loyal friend. This has led me to believe in the power of stories.
Stories have had a major effect on my life. Before I start sharing one of my experiences, I need to provide some context for why I’m so in love with it. In most video games, there are certain elements that they all have. One of those elements is the video game enemy, such as Goombas in Super Mario or Bokoblins in The Legend of Zelda. This role is filled by something that is just meant to cause the player inconvenience. They normally are nothing more than an obstacle that the player must deal with and destroy. The Splatoon series has this element too: Octarians, sentient tentacle creatures, and Octolings, humanoid creatures who can shapeshift into cartoony octopuses. Just like I stated a few moments ago, they’re purpose is to cause inconvenience. They serve as the main enemy of the series. From 2015, when the first Splatoon game was released, through 2017, when Splatoon 2 was released, that was all they were. But then, on June 13, 2018, that all changed; Octo Expansion was released. Finally, a story following the life of an Octoling, who’s called Eight, was about to be told. I personally didn’t play the DLC until 2022 in fifth grade, but I still fell in love with the new perspective. However, I still had yet to see the full picture. Semi-reccently, I replayed the entirety of Octo Expansion for the first time since fifth grade. Once again, I fell in love with Eight’s story. However, this time it hit different. After playing through Splatoon 2 and 3’s main story modes, I had a new view of the Octolings. I truly realized why Octo Expansion was so revolutionary. It took a video game enemy, gave them a full story arc, and made them real and relatable. The raw emotion that is conveyed throughout the story makes it even more real. We take in the world through Eight, her memories, and her ambitions. She’s portrayed just like the past player characters have, but she has much more emotional depth which makes her an incredible character in my eyes. Through her, we can see another perspective on the world. Although it is not exactly our world, it relates to ours in more ways than one, which makes its depth all the more real. Octo Expansion gives an enemy a story, emotions, memories, strengths, and weaknesses. It shows that, sadly, enemies are often painted as evil because we only have one perspective. But, in actuality, most are not too different from ourselves; they’re just in a different place. Octo Expansion means so much more to me now that I realize what a milestone it was for the series. Eight is now one of my favorite characters of all time, and this story has propelled Splatoon 2 to the position of one of my favorite video games ever.
In conclusion, I believe that stories have great power. They can change everyone, and open people’s eyes to new perspectives and mindsets. So, the next time you hear a story, whether it’s in a movie, a TV show, a video game, or a book, I urge you to embrace it. Let the story affect you. You’ll probably be surprised with what it does to you.
Part 1 - Poetry (115 words)
Another strike
Pierce the mind
More noise
Could peace be mine?
No, of course not
It cannot be
Despite my cries
The war can never cease
A blow to eye
Blinded again
What must I do
To earn back a friend?
Is it possible
For the noise to stop?
All I want
Is what I’ve sought
Please, let me breathe
Let me rest
I can’t continue
With this much stress
Hands stretch out to help
But there’s too many
I can’t pick one
I can’t pick any
Trying to aid
Desperate for assistance
No one offers it
Just feels distant
Will it ease
For just one day?
Will something come
To take this anxiety away?
Part 2 - Songwriting (355 words)
[/b]Theme: Song about turning your back reality and turning to fiction
Mood: Hopeful, longing, wishful
Person: 1st
Tense: Past/Present
Events: Breakup, reading, watching films, drawing
Better in Every Way
I left a few months ago
Wanted a new start
But, despite what I thought
I left with no broken heart
Back at home
I picked up a book
A few moments later
Someone with a different outlook
Call me crazy
But I think I found
One I like a little more
Than that other hound
They tell me to come down from the clouds
But I tell them I would rather stay
Safe from reality
Somewhere far away
Who needs reality
When fiction
Holds perfection
Who needs a real man
When films and books
Have men with better looks
They might tell me it’s not wise
To fall for fictional guys
But what can I say?
They’re better in every way
Staying up
Reading books with him
And when I finish one
I start it again
If it doesn’t entertain me enough
To films I turn
Only to find another one
That makes my face burn
Hide my reaction
But there’s a dream sitting on the screen
I must admit
This is even better than what I read
They won’t take my books or films
In their worlds I’m safe
From the stress of real life
Held in a little fictional cave
Who needs reality
When fiction
Holds perfection
Who needs a real man
When films and books
Have men with better looks
They might tell me it’s not wise
To fall for fictional guys
But what can I say?
They’re better in every way
It may not be healthy
To live in fiction
But I’d much rather live there
Than reality’s false perfection
Love is harsh
In real life
But in a fantasy
There’s much less strife
Who needs a real man
Who’ll just ruin my trust
When I can have a fictional man
Who grants me stardust
Who needs reality
When fiction
Holds perfection
Who needs a real man
When films and books
Have men with better looks
They might tell me it’s not wise
To fall for fictional guys
But what can I say?
They’re better in every way
Better in every way
Better in every way
They’re better…in..every..way
Part 3 - Scriptwriting (364 words)
*heavily inspired by Hades 2*
AT THE CROSSROADS
MELINOË approaches the massive cauldron bubbling infront of HEADMISTRESS HECATE
MELINOË
(casually)
Has the cauldron been repaired, Headmistress?
HEADMISTRESS HEACATE
(proudly)
Yes, my dear, it has. Why don’t you make something in it?
MELINOË pulls some Moly from her pocket and tosses it into the cauldron
MELINOË AND HEADMISTRESS HECATE
(mysteriously)
So mote it be!
Liquid swirls and bubbles in the cauldron before a puff of smoke burst upward
MELINOË
(satisfied)
That should help my next trek.
HEADMISTRESS HECATE nods in approval as MELINOË walks over to BROKER to trade
MELINOË
(happily)
Have anything you’ll trade for these, Broker?
MELINOË holds out a handful of bones. BROKER bounces happily and hands MELINOË a few Ashes and a Nectar
MELINOË
(grateful)
Thank you, Broker!
BROKER bounces happily as MELINOË walks off
MELINOË walks by ODYSSEUS’S stall
ODYSSEUS
(pleasantly)
How did your last run go, Melinoë?
MELINOË
(nonchalantly)
Almost got through Erebus, but was slain by one of the creatures around here.
ODYSSEUS
(thoughtfully)
Well, best of luck for your next run!
MELINOË
(firmly)
Death to Chronos!
ODYSSUS
(firmly)
Death to Chronos!
MELINOË leaves the Crossroads after waving farewell to ODYSSEUS
TRAINING AREA
MELINOË meditates. Walks to grab her weapon and grab a relic. Greets COMMANDER SCHELEMEUS before entering Erebus
MELINOË
(briskly)
Greetings, Commander!
COMMANDER SCHELEMEUS
(pleased)
Hey, Melinoë! Want to get some extra training in before you head out?
MELINOË
(gratefully)
Unfortunately, I can’t stay long. I must be off. But thank you for the offer, Commander. Death to Chronos!
COMMANDER SCHELEMEUS
(proudly)
Death to Chronos!
MELINOË bids farewell to COMMANDR SCHELEMEUS and enters Erebus
EREBUS
MELINOË lands at the entrance of Erebus lightly. Before her lies a floating sun sigil
MELINOË
(pleased)
Well, I guess Olympus is sending aid after all.
MELINOË reaches out and touches the sigil. There is a massive glow of light before APOLLO stands in front of her
MELINOË
(gratefully)
Lord Apollo!
APOLLO
(proudly)
Need some assistance, Melinoë? My power is yours.
APOLLO offers MELINOË a special power connected to his abilities
MELINOË
(pleased)
Thank you, Lord Apollo
APOLLO
(happily)
Go wreck Chronos for us, okay?
MELINOË nods and darts off deeper into Erebus as APOLLO vanishes
Part 3 - Speech (661 words)
What makes a story impactful? Is it the characters? The setting? The plotline? The themes? Or, is there something more? Stories can be told by anyone, from young children to the elderly, a solo author to a huge company. I’d make a guess that everyone has heard stories, and have formed a connection with at least one. No matter what the connection is, it holds great importance. Stories have a power that everyone can recognize. They can change us, and can open our eyes to a new perspective. Personally, I have been changed and affected by numerous stories. I find comfort in them; an escape from reality, a loyal friend. This has led me to believe in the power of stories.
Stories have had a major effect on my life. Before I start sharing one of my experiences, I need to provide some context for why I’m so in love with it. In most video games, there are certain elements that they all have. One of those elements is the video game enemy, such as Goombas in Super Mario or Bokoblins in The Legend of Zelda. This role is filled by something that is just meant to cause the player inconvenience. They normally are nothing more than an obstacle that the player must deal with and destroy. The Splatoon series has this element too: Octarians, sentient tentacle creatures, and Octolings, humanoid creatures who can shapeshift into cartoony octopuses. Just like I stated a few moments ago, they’re purpose is to cause inconvenience. They serve as the main enemy of the series. From 2015, when the first Splatoon game was released, through 2017, when Splatoon 2 was released, that was all they were. But then, on June 13, 2018, that all changed; Octo Expansion was released. Finally, a story following the life of an Octoling, who’s called Eight, was about to be told. I personally didn’t play the DLC until 2022 in fifth grade, but I still fell in love with the new perspective. However, I still had yet to see the full picture. Semi-reccently, I replayed the entirety of Octo Expansion for the first time since fifth grade. Once again, I fell in love with Eight’s story. However, this time it hit different. After playing through Splatoon 2 and 3’s main story modes, I had a new view of the Octolings. I truly realized why Octo Expansion was so revolutionary. It took a video game enemy, gave them a full story arc, and made them real and relatable. The raw emotion that is conveyed throughout the story makes it even more real. We take in the world through Eight, her memories, and her ambitions. She’s portrayed just like the past player characters have, but she has much more emotional depth which makes her an incredible character in my eyes. Through her, we can see another perspective on the world. Although it is not exactly our world, it relates to ours in more ways than one, which makes its depth all the more real. Octo Expansion gives an enemy a story, emotions, memories, strengths, and weaknesses. It shows that, sadly, enemies are often painted as evil because we only have one perspective. But, in actuality, most are not too different from ourselves; they’re just in a different place. Octo Expansion means so much more to me now that I realize what a milestone it was for the series. Eight is now one of my favorite characters of all time, and this story has propelled Splatoon 2 to the position of one of my favorite video games ever.
In conclusion, I believe that stories have great power. They can change everyone, and open people’s eyes to new perspectives and mindsets. So, the next time you hear a story, whether it’s in a movie, a TV show, a video game, or a book, I urge you to embrace it. Let the story affect you. You’ll probably be surprised with what it does to you.
- babyoda1546
-
Scratcher
500+ posts
SWC Megathread ࿔*:☘︎･ November 2025
✪ Daily Task 03: Jellyfish Daily ⊹ ₊
» — ⋙ 684 words ⋘ — «
The Adventures of Sage and the Wonderful Jellyfish Cabin of July 2025 (Currently discluding William the Sheep and Sunny’s tables but those tales shall be re-told another time)
01 Introduction:
I had stepped back in the Utopian Cabin that I had just been introduced to not even a day ago. Trees twisted together in odd, unnatural ways to support the cabin. Campers occupied the log bunk beds using a blanket of moss for comfort. The Utopian Cabin was beautiful and full of life. Vines crawled along the sides of the cabin. Flower pots and books occupied the shelves. It was beyond cozy. Finally, my eyes wandered to the jars. The jars contained lost storylines from sessions in the past and from SWCers before our time. Some of which are from the last session, which I was in and some from sessions way into the past. I recognize the red sparkles and bright pale blue spyder from the Mystery Infestation. Oh, and there’s Fantasy from March 2025! I definitely recognize that one, green and pink sparkles swirling double helix-esque shape. All broken fragments of stories with no completed ending. It was our job to finish what campers of the past didn’t get to.
02 The Great Renaming of the Utopian Inbetween:
Today, Livy (our cabin leader) was introducing us to our currency today. Every cabin had their own form of currency and today we got ours.
“Alright, beloved potatoes! Say hello to our Utopian’s currency! Lights!” Livy presented us with a glowing coin that’s shape oddly resembled a certain majestic sea creature
“Is that a jellyfish?” half the cabin asks in unison
“Well, no. They’re lights-”
“It does look like a jellyfish though, Liv” Vicky (one of our other leaders) commented
“I suppose it does, but that doesn’t mean-” Livy started but then got interrupted by the entire cabin chanting “jellyfish” including Sunny and Vicky.
“Okay! Okay! Fine! They can be jellyfish! Just quiet down, please,” Livy relented with a fond smile on her face.
“We should be the Jellyfish Cabin instead!” Maddie suggested with the enthusiasm of a child on Christmas morning.
“Yes!” I agreed immediately, “We shall no longer be the Utopians but from this day forward, we shall be known as the Jellyfish!”
“Now, children, that may be a little too far don’t you think?” Livy suggested but Maddie immediately denied, “Not at all, my friend! Jellyfish are superior”
“Yes,” I nod, “They are simply just superior and all-knowing creatures which we choose to be known as.”
“Fine.” Livy agreed with an almost motherly smile on her face.
05 Sunny Got Us A Jellyfish (no convincing needed!)
It was a rather somber day in the Utopian Inbetween if those even existed. We all knew that the session was coming to an end and all of us dreaded it. Today, we were all just working on our dailies and weeklies. The sound of pencil scratching against paper filling the Utopian Jellyfish Cabin. The silence was only interrupted by-
SLAM! Sunny had thrown the door open excitedly and practically bounced inside the cabin.
“GUYS! I HAVE A SURPRISE!!” That was all Sunny needed to say to have us all perked up and at attention, pencils and paper forgotten.
“What is it?” I asked the question everyone was wondering. I also wanted to know if the door was okay but that wasn’t more important at the moment.
“Come outside and I’ll show you all!” Sunny said and rushed back outside as we all filed out of the cabin. She stood beside a rectangle that looked as big as a 5 gallon fish tank and was covered by a tarp.
“You guys ready?” Sunny asked with a ridiculously huge grin on her face.
“YES!” We all replied excitedly and Sunny carefully pulled off the tarp and with a proud grin, revealed an ethereal purple jellyfish in a five gallon tank. The jellyfish was majestic and flowed like liquid moonlight. It looked as if swaying to an unheard melody.
“Ta-da! Introducing… Aurelia! Our new sea jelly friend!” Sunny smiled as we all swarmed the tank.
» — ⋙ 684 words ⋘ — «