Lax's SWC Weeklies and Writing

Galaxy_Awesome

♜ 10th of July - Main Cabin Daily:
845 words

Guessed words:
Ducks
Ports
Amber
Zines
Berth

“Oh, come on!”
Namo winced, the mounds of clothes in her lap left forgotten. Her needle lay beside her, thread looped around the little hole at the top.

“Scales! Get off the upper berth, you rotten-!” roared the Captain. “And get your darn blasted ducks off, too!”
At this point, Namo was sure the Top Bunk Feud would never end. Louie Scales and the Captain had been at it for weeks - fighting over who got the upper bunk: Louie, or Felix Jinxxev, their youngest crew member.

In the end, they'd decided on a schedule: on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, Louie would be able to claim it, and on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, the top bunk was Felix's. Sundays were when one other member of the crew got it.

This was a Thursday night.

“No way!” came Louie's protests, as he huddled atop the bed, his pet ducks held closely to his chest. He huffed, turning away. “Why not change up the schedule once in a while?”
Setting down her needle, thread, and the recently patched up clothing, Namo stood up to join the growing ring of crew members jostling around the site of the current Top Bunk Feud.

“We agreed on this, you bloomin' witch!” hollered the Captain, shaking the wooden poles that held up the bunk. “The top berth is yours on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays! Now get you and your blasted ducks off now, or so help me!”
“You can't make me!” said Louie, paying no mind and simply smirking back at them.

The Captain's eyes twitched. They held in more yelling, sighing. Deadly calm, the Captain gripped the wooden poles.
“If you happen to have forgotten,” they said, voice low. “I am your Captain, so if you don't want to end up sleeping in the darn crow's nest tonight, you'd do well to follow my bloomin' orders and let Jinxxev take the berth,”

Seconds passed, ticking by. The crew held their breaths. The ducks quacked.

“No!” Louie refused. He leaned over the railing to stick his tongue out triumphantly at his Captain.

Chaos erupted.

.

Out on the docks, just outside of the port town, more people milled about, crowding around the ship. No doubt, they were watching the increasingly loud ruckus on the ship.
Namo glanced at them, then back again to Louie and the Captain. Beside her, Skyes frowned.

“Captain?” he questioned, pushing his way to the front of the ring of crew members. His cat curled around his shoulders like a feather boa, purring. “The whole port is coming to listen. Wouldn't it be better to take this somewhere more private?” he eyed the gaping open door that led on to the deck.

Skyes's words fell on deaf ears. The two continued to argue, with the Captain wound up tight and frustrated while Louie continued to act like a cat toying with its food. He sighed.

This Feud wasn't coming to an end any time soon.

.

Soon enough, an hour had passed, and Louie and the Captain showed no signs of stopping. Most of the crew had already dispersed, leaving to work on their own things or run some of their assigned errands. The crowd out front of the ship, however - it showed no signs of leaving soon. In fact, it seemed to be growing, just as the Top Bunk Feud grew louder as the minutes passed by.

It looked like Skyes was right, Maple thought absently. From the looks alone, it seemed almost everyone had come - the whole port, even; only a few left behind in their houses.

Eventually, the crowd began clamouring, raising their fists and demanding the two take their fight somewhere else.

“My babies can't sleep, thanks to you two!” shouted one angry mother from her vending stand.
“Quiet down, you ragtag group of freaks!” complained another: a fisherman, wielding two buckets of bait.
“Cease this at once, or we'll have to force you out of our harbour!” said someone else.

The last one was what did it. Despite all his tendencies, the witch still cared deeply for his Captain and the crew. Reluctantly, Louie clutched his ducks and dropped out of the bunk, much to the Captain's tired pleasure and Felix's slightly disgusted happiness at finally getting his bed for the night (with some added duck feathers as a bonus).

“Come on,” said the Captain, once all had been well and sorted. They held their palm out. “Hand over your amber stones. No troublemaking for you tonight,”
Sighing, Louie reached deep into his pockets. “Alright,” he said, dropping the enchanted fossilised resin in the Captain's outstretched hand. The amber glowed slightly as they were brought away from their thing powering the spells imbued in them - Louie's magic. “Night, Captain,” Louie rolled his eyes.

The Captain nodded in, both in approval and in reply.

But, just as the rest of the Crew made for their beds and bunks under the darkening sky and the rising moon, a shout came from the Captain's cabin.

"Who replaced all my maps with these blasted magazines?!"

Last edited by Galaxy_Awesome (July 10, 2022 13:20:32)

❝it may not be particulary wise,
but it’s a thrill to be disguised.❞
— Isadora Quagmire, A Series of Unfortunate Events

Galaxy_Awesome

♜ 11th of July - In-Cabin Daily
308 words

Fairy Tales: Hansel and Gretel, Red Riding Hood

“Gretel, dear, would you mind bringing this over to the Hoods?”
Gretel looked up to see her father standing over her, his arms burdened by a small stack of logs and firewood. She nodded. Reaching up to grab them, Gretel hoisted them into her own arms, uncaring when some twigs met her dress and tore a short rip through the hem.

“Yes, Pa- Father,” she replied, about to turn away when a thought struck her. “What are they giving us in return?” asked Gretel.
Her father paused, searching his memory. “…A loaf of bread, butter, and some cabbages,” he said.
Gretel nodded again.
“I’ll be going now, Father,” said the girl, turning away to walk the path to the Hoods’ house. Absently, her father waved goodbye.

Not ten minutes later, Gretel rapped quickly against the wood of the Hood family’s front door.
“Hello?” She called. “Ms. Hood, are you there?” Gretel paused, then added, “I have your firewood,”

The door swung open. In the doorway was not kind, motherly Ms. Hood, but her daughter, the youngest member of the Hood family. Little Red Riding Hood.
“Hi, Gretel,” grinned Red, arms stretched out. “Mother’s at the back, tending to the chickens,”
Gretel smiled back, glad to see her best friend. “Hi, Red,” she greeted, stopping only to hand the firewood over into the other girl’s outstretched arms. “Here you go,”

“Thanks,” said Red Riding Hood, making to run off inside and dump the stack somewhere. “Wait just a moment - I’ll be right back with your stuff!” She bolted.
In record time, Red sped back, a basket hooked on her arm. “Bread, butter, and cabbages, just like you asked!” She held it out for her friend.
“Thanks, Red,” said Gretel, taking it gratefully. “See you tomorrow?”
Red nodded. “See you tomorrow!”

Gretel grinned, trudging off back go her house.

Last edited by Galaxy_Awesome (July 11, 2022 23:55:39)

❝it may not be particulary wise,
but it’s a thrill to be disguised.❞
— Isadora Quagmire, A Series of Unfortunate Events

Galaxy_Awesome

♜ an apple a day keeps the Doctors away

“Come here, little girl…” whispers a Doctor. You stiffen, hands grasping at the apples in your pockets. The dim lights flicker. “We only want to help you…”
Frantically, you shake your head.

No. The Doctors in this forsaken demon hospital don't want to help you, and you're well aware of what happens if they catch you.

The lights flicker again. You check your watch. Still two hours until visiting hours are over. You sigh, making your way to the only safe place in the entire building: the hospital lobby. The skin on the back of your neck prickles.

“Little girl…!” a Doctor hisses. You whip around, searching the shadows for them. Where there's one, there's always more. “It's time for your appointment…!”

Once more, the lights flicker. Eyes peer at you from above, and more from all around. Scratchy voices tear at your ears.

“Come on, little girl…”
“A sticker for when it's over…!”
“…It won't hurt a bit…”

The lights turn off.

Suddenly, you're surrounded. Demonic, distorted faces crowd around you, shallow imitations of reality, warped beyond recognition. Something happened to the doctors here.
“There you are, little girl!” one giggles, claws reaching out in mock reassurance.

Your hands clutch at an apple. You eye the Doctors in the hallway, one by one. There's dozens of them, so many that you can't count. And there's more too, lying hidden in the dark. You grip the apple tight-

And scarf it down.

The Doctors freeze in their steps. The ones hiding fall from the ceiling like rain, dropping like stones to the ground. The timer on your watch starts beeping.

30.

You take one last look at the frozen creatures around you. Motionless, waiting. Hungry.

29.

It's time to go.

28.

Pushing your way through the horde, you bolt towards the stairs. The elevators don't work - you've tried. Using the shafts only attracts more Doctors.

27.

26.

25.

The seconds tick by.

24.

23.

22.

You're on the third floor, by now. Still far from the lobby.

21.

20.

The pounding of your heart fills your ears. Your legs threaten to give out under you. Days of running begins to take its toll.

19.

18.

More Doctors come, attracted by your weakness. They shriek.

17.

You wolf down another apple.

16.

15.

14.

They stop in place, just like their kin standing still in a ring a floor above.

13.

12.

You breaths come in pants. You can barely breathe.

11.

The second floor is only a few more steps away. You force yourself to keep going.

10.

Sweat breaks out on your brow. More doctors arrive, hindered only by more apples eaten.

9.

The stairs leading to the lobby are dust and crumbled. You can hear the thundering of dozens more Doctors, come to take their kin's places.

8.

Apples. More apples, you need more apples. Your fingers grasp at the last one left.

7.

Your pockets are significantly lighter. Emptier, too.

6.

You fall onto your knees.

5.

Tired. So, so tired.

4.

When will the running stop?

3.

The lobby is safe. There, you can stop. There, you can rest.

2.

With the last of your energy, you take the jump. Your legs buckle underneath you.

1.

"Welcome to the Happy Hospital lobby! Feel free to sit down while you wait for your appointment."

Last edited by Galaxy_Awesome (July 14, 2022 13:18:20)

❝it may not be particulary wise,
but it’s a thrill to be disguised.❞
— Isadora Quagmire, A Series of Unfortunate Events

Galaxy_Awesome

♜ 2nd Weekly
3,836 words in total

♜ Part 1: Thief Breaks Into Martian King's Palace - Moonfolk Are At Fault (Fake Crime)
1,235 words

The perpetrator wanted for last week's Friday night break-in at the Martian King's palace was caught just a day ago, at approximately 12:30 PM Tuesday afternoon. For days the Martian police (with the help of some of our very own Earthen forces) have inspected the scene of the break in and investigated the clues left behind, and now that the culprit has finally been caught, their suspicions have been proven correct. Just three hours ago, the culprit finally revealed some significant information on their crimes - information that will rock your world. This information will be used in the on going investigation attempting to shed light on more of this conspiracy.

Here is a transcript of part of the interrogation in which the culprit, with their name redacted due to legal purposes, revealed crucial information and clues (also conveniently translated into English):

OFFICER L5-WAI: We have reason to believe you are hiding something, sir. Now tell me, what were you doing in King M9-Jea's palace, on a planet where you shouldn't have been?

CULPRIT (NAME REDACTED): I was just interested in some of the King's trinkets, okay? Now just get this over with and let me live out my sentence in peace.

OFFICER L5-WAI: Unfortunately, (REDACTED), we cannot do that. Please bear with us and answer my question truthfully, this time: what exactly were you doing in the King's palace, and what was your purpose of going there?

(REDACTED): I already told you, I just made a dumb decision and did something that I should have thought through before I did it. What more do you want from me, Officer?

OFFICER L5-WAI: (REDACTED). We have a considerable amount of evidence that you were not, in fact, there to steal. Evidence which includes eyewitnesses, handprints and footprints, AI scans, DNA samples, and more. Now let's try this again: what were you doing inside the King's palace? What was your initial objective? We know it wasn't to steal.

(REDACTED): With all due respect, Officer, data and evidence can be wrong, right? You must be mistaken - I was there to steal, and nothing else.

OFFICER L5-WAI: Alright. Next question-

(REDACTED): We're not done?

OFFICER L5-WAI: Not yet. Anyway. Next question: what did you steal?

(REDACTED): Not much, honestly. Only a few of those things were interesting, and most of them were really big and/or heavy, so…

OFFICER L5-WAI: Try again, (REDACTED). Avoiding the question won't let you out of this chamber sooner, so it's best if you just cooperate. So, answer me - what did you steal?

(REDACTED): Ugh, fine. What's with all the questions, anyway? You already know that I stole and what I stole, considering as it's missing from the King's palace.

OFFICER L5-WAI: Do not avoid the question, (REDACTED).

(REDACTED): …The King's private 4D-hologram projector. That's what I stole. I stole the King's private 4D-hologram projector.

OFFICER L5-WAI: Okay. What did you steal it for? Why did you steal it?

(REDACTED): More questions? Can I please go back to my holding pod now, Officer? I've been cooperative, haven't I? I answered your questions.

OFFICER L5-WAI: Somewhat, yes. But we aren't done yet, (REDACTED), so please answer my questions and stop dodging them, or we'll be forced to use more drastic measures.

(REDACTED): Okay, okay! Fine! I stole it to project holograms, obviously. And because he's been hoarding that technology to himself for far too long!

OFFICER L5-WAI: And what are you going to do with it, now that you've stolen it and no doubt hidden it away? Do you intend to also ‘hoard’ it, just the same way the King apparently did?

(REDACTED): No, of course not! I wouldn't hoard it and keep it all to myself - I know better. You shouldn't think so lowly of me, you know. I'm not going to go that.

OFFICER L5-WAI: (REDACTED), please cease avoiding my question and answer it.

(REDACTED): What made you think I was avoiding it?

OFFICER L5-WAI: (REDACTED), answer the question. What are you intending to do with the projector, after this?

(REDACTED): Sorry, sorry, I'm just… uncomfortable, you know? Mostly because of this really weird lighting, and the whole being interrogated thing in general.

OFFICER L5-WAI: (REDACTED).

(REDACTED): Woah, woah, woah! No need to point that blaster at me, okay? Are we cool? Cool. I'll answer the question, don't you worry. Just, give me a few minutes. To calm down from getting a blaster suddenly pointed at me.

OFFICER L5-WAI: (REDACTED).

(REDACTED): Okay, okay okay! I'll answer, I'll answer! (voice lowers. they curse under their breath). And they said the interrogation wouldn't be too hard to shake off.

(pause)

OFFICER L5-WAI: They? … Someone told you to do this.

(REDACTED): What? No, no! You've got it wrong. They're just… the guards at the palace. They were talking about people potentially trying to break in, and one of them joked that the following interrogation and investigation wouldn't be that hard to shake off. Said you guys were incompetent, or something.

OFFICER L5-WAI: You did not run into any guards on your… route through the palace.

(REDACTED): Uh, no, I didn't. I just overheard them from across one of the hallways, and… eavesdropped.

OFFICER L5-WAI: You weren't in hearing reach of any guards on your route, either.

(REDACTED): I was, I was! I just, they-

OFFICER L5-WAI: Thanks you. That is all. Officer A2-Kif will escort you out.

Transcript was recorded this Monday morning, at 5:53 AM, by Earthen assistant Arthur O'Colin. As you see, there are many discernible clues contained within this transcript.

“If you observe closely through the text, there are in fact several tells of when something the culprit says is true and when it's false, as well as other ways of finding out the clues they accidentally left,” says expert Y31-Ged, from xir home at Mars' most famous city, Kayten-18, after being prodded for an interview. “Their phrasing and word choice, inconsistencies with what they claim, their attitude, the mindset they have that you can glean from what they say, and more,”

And there's more, dear readers! After prying into the culprit's past, tracking down their hideout, and confiscating all the items and tools in their possession, the RAGC (the Red and Green Coalition between Earth and Mars) has managed to conclude that the real culprits behind this incident are the Moonfolk.

Evidence pointing to this includes the perpetrator of the break in being of Moonfolk origin and hailing from Titan, the capital of Moonfolk territory, some of the tools being high-grade Moonfolk technology with the official seal on them (which bootlegs do not have, meaning they were either stolen, which is unlikely considering the perpetrator's formerly clean record, or given directly), the Moonfolk's sudden interest in acquiring higher technology, especially 4D holographic technology, their recent mysteriously empty cargo ship that drifted over to Mars, documents and files found in the perpetrator's home that link to official data on the King M9-Jea's palace that was only given to the Moonfolk's main representative, the discoveries from the perpetrator's interrogation (which are discussed, listed, and dissected on page 12 of this news file), the perpetrator's strange ties to higher-ups in the Moonfolk hierarchy, and the rising tensions between the Moonfolk and the Martians.

However, that is all we have and are permitted to reveal for now. Look out soon for more news and follow-up articles on this new, mysterious, interplanetary conspiracy!

♜ Part 2: Kids Shows Do Not Equal Bad Shows (Real World Opinion)
832 words

Several times while perusing through various sites online, I find myself finding a lot of people who seem to underestimate kids shows, or think that, just because a certain cartoon or tv show is aimed for kids, the show itself will automatically be either bad, dumb, or shallow and childish. Some people also tend to think that it's childish or shameful or bad in some way for people older than the target demographic to be watching kids shows. However, in my opinion, shows aimed at children, shows labeled “for all ages”, and cartoons in general aren't automatically bad or bad quality because of that, and watching does not equal immaturity.

And, as we'll touch on first, kids shows aren't always all dumb, filled with nonsense, childish, or and/or overly lighthearted. They're not all shallow, and sometimes can actually be quite deep, as you'll see in several modern cartoons cropping up these days. They're in fact capable of being quite thorough with topics you wouldn't expect to appear in a classic feel-good-only children's television series. Surprisingly enough, despite how many more shows are proving themselves to be able to touch upon topics like these, several people both on the Internet and off are still quite surprised by this.

This is a reflection of their inner thoughts and perceptions - when we see people react with surprise at this, we know immediately what their initial expectations were. Which, if I am to be honest, is somewhat the problem. These perceptions are what lead to people underestimating kids shows, and showing the world that cartoons do not equal bad or childish is a way to rid them. Also, these perceptions will also effect the kids themselves, as well as the other people who watch them despite being “too old”.

Kids who are frequently exposed to these perceptions might start to develop inner worries and low self esteem if they find themselves still liking something they're taught is childish despite everything. They'll think lower of themselves because of this.

Oh, and the term “kids shows/cartoons” in and of itself is a stereotype that slaps a label on a type of show in an attempt to define it and limit it, and make it seem as if it's only meant to be watched by little kids. I know it's for the sake of labelling what the target demographic is, but in my opinion it would still be better to change the term into something like “child-appropriate shows/cartoons”, which is still used, but also less constricting.

However, for efficiency and legibility's sake, I'll still refer to these shows as “kids cartoons/shows”, though I'll try not to use it too much.

Now, another thing that I think these cartoons don't deserve is people being so surprised at how many of these have good- nay, excellent, animation. The exception to this is people who grew up in older generations and therefore didn't have the same level of animation technology for the shows they watched, which is completely and very understandable.

But, for the people who should be aware of these but are surprised nonetheless because they've held on to their notion that these kinds of shows have bad animation because they're targeted mainly to kids, this is slightly uncalled for.

In my opinion, more people (especially older people who stay away for various reasons, including the ones mentioned above) should give these shows a chance before jumping to conclusions, because who knows? Perhaps they'll be surprised at the wonder that these can actually be.

It's not always even enjoyable because of how deep it is or how brave it is in touching on usually somewhat taboo topics - sometimes, these shows are just so amazing because of their sheer enjoyability, whether it be from charming characters that are well-written, an interesting plot, or just how fun it is! Things don't need to be Deep or full of drama to be fun to watch - as long as there are aspects there are written well or appeal to people, there'll always be someone enjoying it.

Anyways, in conclusion: in my opinion, “kid's cartoons/shows” are severely underestimated by certain people who think lowly of them or just assume they exist to pander to a small child's undeveloped mind and cannot be enjoyed by any other older person, and are actually really amazing, fun to watch, funny, capable of invoking emotions (would you believe that I cried harder at the ending of Amphibia season 3 than at any other shows more recommended to my age?), and well animated, and should be given a chance, and the people who still watch them despite being older than the target demographic are not immature or childish in any way, and should not in any way be ridiculed for watching them!

Also, before this ends, some parts of my article above also apply to other types and pieces of media that are given the label “for kids”, like kids books, kids movies, and such.

♜ Part 3: Ask, and We'll Answer - Welcome to Our Advice Column!
1,063 words

Kat (@koolkatz38): I have this problem that I have been pondering for my entire existence. Why is everyone here obsessed with mangoes?

182 words
Well, Kat, that is a wonderful question! It's a question that I've pondered quite a bit myself, actually! Why exactly, is everyone in Scratch Writing Camp so incredibly obsessed with mangoes (and of all fruits, too)?

Unfortunately, if I am to be truthful: I don't know. The ancient SWC tradition of being obsessed with mangoes is an old one - one that dates back to even before the Scratch Update That Stopped Cabin Destruction*, which happened about three sessions ago. The original source of the mango obsession is untraceable, especially considering my status as a mere camper who does not know the goings-on of mangoes in the minds of the hosts and leaders.

But we can only assume that it is because of a mango's appeal and the sheer deliciousness it brings, as well as how amazing it is, and the fact that it is clearly the best fruit. However, that is where my (absolutely correct) theories end, and you will have to take it upon yourself to find out more (which is very hard considering the destructed state of the old cabins).

WC (@TheWarriorCat0416): My pet rock isn’t growing at all! I’m worried it’s not a real rock, but a stone. What should I do?

214 words
Hello, WC! Thank you for asking us a question - and a quite worrying one, if I might say. Pet rocks are a very integral part of our lives and the worldly balance of the earth, and problems regarding them should be fixed immediately, with maximum efficiency. Therefore, you did a very good job contacting us, which gave us ample time to get in contact with our resident pet rock expert: Roxanne “Rox” Nostownes.

After conducting some research and receiving Mx. Rox's advice, we have concluded that the best thing to do would be to immediately collect some Healing Glitter, sprinkle your pet rock with it, wash it off with Oobleck, and keep it in a hot but enclosed space. Wait three days and continue caring for your pet rock as usual, and if it still doesn't show any signs of growth (the appearance of spots, or its four eyes growing bigger to accompany its big smile, for example), then bathe it in cold water, rub with a hot towel, cover it with a layer of Speedy-Growth salve, and keep it in a cold place at nights.

Observe for a week, and if this still doesn't work, we recommend going to contact your closest Pet Rock Care Centre for urgent help.

We hope this helps!

Ayla (@FairyAyla): Does anyone know how I can tell if my uncle is a monster from the 21st dimension?

159 words
As you might have heard, there have been questions recently popping up about family members potentially being monsters from the 21st dimension, a place whose inhabitants have remained in hiding for years, even after humanity opened up the Gateway for communication and travel between dimensions.

Monsters from the 21st dimension have since refused to reveal themselves, despite other dimensions already being publicly allied and showing themselves interacting with us normal humans for decades. Recently, they've only been showing themselves to a select few, usually to their families - families who have had histories of having run-ins with the 21st dimension.

So, Ayla, the best way to find out would be to either ask your uncle if he's a monster directly, or research into your family's history and check for any old incidents your predecessors might have gotten into relating to the 21st dimension (especially those that may have resulted in mixing bloodlines and having children). Good luck on your investigation!

Goose (@GraceOBrien13): What do you advise if my washing machine ate all my socks, and is now walking around my home?

254 words
Now, Goose, what you need to understand is that this is actually a fairly common problem that owners of washing machines run into. This is often a result of the washing machine either feeling lonely and lacking the attention it needs to function well emotionally, or being sick after having been fed the wrong detergent (usually any detergent significantly different from its usual).

To fix this, the first thing you need to do is sit down and have a talk with it after it finishes washing your clothes. Make sure you're both comfortable and that you have no other issues to attend to. Offer to give your washing machine a wash too, if need be. Remember: your washing machine is your companion, not your servant.

If they confirm that they feel sick, quickly give them a spoonful of their regular detergent and check for any socks stuck in uncomfortable places. Next, remind them gently that they are not allowed to roam your house, and give them more items to entertain them in the laundry room.

If they don't feel sick, or don't admit to it, but also don't admit feeling neglected, do the routine above anyway, disguised as something else so as not to worry it. Then, make sure to make time to care for it over the course of your day and your week, just in case it does need more attention. Also, tell it not to eat your socks else it gets sick.

Thank you for seeking our help on this matter!

Peggy (@gh0stwriter): What should I do if I realize I forgot the milk but just came home from the store?

254 words
Unfortunately, Peggy, we'l have to advise you not to return from the store. The milk store is rumoured to have… strange effects on the people that enter it to buy milk, especially people with children (whether biological or not), as well as the store simply being strange and eldritch in nature.

And, after some hard research and consulting some of our best eldritch experts, we have come to the conclusion that the milk store is in fact a very dangerous place to be. The rumours are all true, and if you would like to get milk, I would recommend ordering it from a third-party source and having it delivered to your house, as the milk store never lets a victim go willingly. Not even milk aisles are safe now, so it's best if you avoid buying milk directly for the time being.

Some side effects of going to the milk store include amnesia, irritability, increased aggression and the urges to focus only on the things you want and ignoring others and their existences, as well as “getting lost” inside the store or unknowingly staying there for far too long - in some cases, even years or centuries.

Since you just got out, please contact your family immediately and get in touch with a Milk Store Recovery consultant as fast as you can, and resist any strange urges. If you happen to get the urge to go back to the milk store, repress it and don't give in. Stop yourself from going by any means necessary.

♜ Part 4: Is Tomi Alright? (Comic Script)
706 words

PAGE 1

Panel 1: Quill, Rin, and Tomi sit in front of the campfire in front of their ring of cabins. Silhouettes of their cabins and a few other contestants mill about in the background (doing various things in the case of the contestants). The fire is the foreground, and there are expressions of slight discomfort on Quill, Rin, and Tomi's faces. Tomi's brows are creased, and she is trying not to cry.

1. RIN: …

Panel 2: The same surroundings and scene as Panel 1. If need be, remove the background silhouettes.

2. RIN: So…

Panel 3: Close up to Tomi's face, where she's staring determinedly at her shoes.

Panel 4: An even closer close up to Tomi blinking, with added pressure like she's being a bit forceful. (Panel is shorter, but longer. Height is about half the height of the previous panel)

Panel 5: The same close up shot of Tomi's eyes as before, this time showing her eyes back open with tears welling up in the them. (Panel is the same shape as Panel 4, just set below)

Panel 6: A close up bust or headshot of Quill and Rin, with Quill being half out of the frame (opt). Rin is perking up, slightly surprised. His expression is concerned.

Panel 7: Quill and Rin look at each other worriedly, both unsure of what to do. Quill is more visible in the frame, and the and Rin are drawn smaller, like the camera is taking it from a lower angle.

Panel 8: Quill is only again out of frame. Anxious, Rin is fidgeting, while closer to the camera is Tomi, whose head is down and turned away form view. Beside Rin, Quill's hand lays on his shoulder as both backup and reassurance. She's squeezing it slightly.

3. RIN: Tomi?

PAGE 2

Panel 9: Tomi perks up to the attention from her right hand side (our/my left), the tears trickling smaller and flowing down her face a little. She sends a look an Rin that is simultaneously apologetic, confused, and questioning. (Camera angle is a headshot, and Rin's speech bubble coming in from the left of the panel)

4. RIN: …

Panel 10: The camera pans out and steps back again. Rin is leaning towards Tomi, a hand outstretched as if he wants to comfort her. Tomi is also slightly visible from the right, her tears almost having dried out completely. Her hands are clasped together and she is looking at Rin despite her shaking and clear hesitance.

5. RIN: Are you okay?

Panel 11: A headshot of Tomi looking away to the bottom right corner. There are still small tears in the corners of her eyes, and her shoulders are visibly hunched.

6. TOMI: …

Panel 12: The camera is pulled further away slightly, showing Tomi looking at Rin with reassuring, completely tearless eyes. She seems apologetic and reassuring, despite the fact that her hands are still clasped together and her shoulders are still a little hunched. Thankfully, she's stopped shaking.

7. TOMI: Yeah.

Panel 13: Tomi fidgets and twiddles her thumbs. The camera is closing up on them, leaving nothing else visible. (Panel is smaller than usual)

Panel 14: Set below Panel 13, it shows the area below her twiddling thumbs. (Also contains one speech bubble leading from above, from the roof of Panel 13)

8. TOMI: Just…

Panel 15: The same scene as Panel 13 and Panel 14 combined, though Tomi's hands are now hanging limply (speech bubble is connected to the one from Panel 14)

9. TOMI: …Just worried about not winning.

Panel 16: Tomi is smiling, presumably to not worry the other two. Her posture is now a bit more relaxed, though there are still hints of hidden tension.

Panel 17: Quill and Rin are looking at each other again, not sure how to react and whether to believe if it's really that simple. Tomi doesn't usually burst out into tears while watching the campfire for entertainment.

Panel 18: Rin is looking back at Tomi. He looks slightly disbelieving, but also clearly trying to hide it and continue on for Tomi's sake. His mouth looks strange, like he's not sure if he should say something more or not.

10. RIN: …Alright.

END

Last edited by Galaxy_Awesome (July 16, 2022 10:10:38)

❝it may not be particulary wise,
but it’s a thrill to be disguised.❞
— Isadora Quagmire, A Series of Unfortunate Events

Galaxy_Awesome

♜ 13th of July - Main Cabin Daily

Map of Seasand

Welcome to Seasand! Here's a quick guide on how to read our map:
△: Settlements, towns, and villages. However, there may be smaller, unofficial camps and settlements set up scattered around our wonderful desert, so don't be surprised if you find any on your travels!
▢: Sandbulb farms, where the Sandbulb farmers of Seasand work hard to gather our precious Sandbulbs from the bodies of the Sandflies.
♢: Our very own capital city, Sunstream! Divided into the Northern, Eastern, Southern, and Western sectors, it's also where you are now.
☆: The home and palace of our wise and dutiful Lord of Seasand, Lord Sun.
◯: Monster dens, and the homes of other dangerous creatures that inhabit our land. But don't you worry about them - just keep and eye out and make sure to stay away.
Darker-coloured patches of sand: the territory of the people that live in that area (the residents of the settlement).

Not pictured is The Ring of Life, also known as The Living Ring, The Green Ring, and The Guardian Ring, a ring of forest that surrounds and guards the whole of Seasand, and the home of our allies the Ringfolk. The Ring of Life is chock-full of incredibly diverse flora and fauna, hence its name.
Also not pictured is the Tidemoor Ocean, home to the Wandermoons and their sea beasts.

For more about our lovely desert, flip to page 6!
225 words

Last edited by Galaxy_Awesome (July 13, 2022 09:47:49)

❝it may not be particulary wise,
but it’s a thrill to be disguised.❞
— Isadora Quagmire, A Series of Unfortunate Events

Galaxy_Awesome

♜ 14th of July - Main Cabin Daily
495 words

Hours of sleep that I got last night: 8
Amount of words that need to be written: 400

Ryan Linke's sleep schedule is absolutely atrocious. He barely sleeps, and is known in Town for being almost constantly awake. Unfortunately for him, he is human (unlike some of the Town citizens), and staying up for so many nights in a row is not worth it, no matter how many theories and clues and conclusions he can put together about what lies outside of Town and its forest, as well as the humans that live out there. As a result, his health is in poor condition, and he is almost always drowsy, tired, uncoordinated, and physically not very well able to handle exertion.

Also, he tends to spend most of his time not sleeping with investigating and theorising about the human world outside of Town, pouring over dozens of books, stalking and sleuthing around town, taking pictures, writing things down, theorising some more, inspecting things, and sometimes just sitting there for hours with theories buzzing around his mind. Sadly, he rarely comes up with answers, and a good portion of his theories are just a little too crazy anyway. His conspiracy/theory board is full of more questions than answers - not that any of these things stop him anyway.

Thankfully enough, his friends are there to force him to sleep. And remind him that the'll probably be more productive if he actually sleeps.

Bronagh O'Clery is another character and citizen of Town who doesn't sleep much, but her undead condition and fae-ness lends itself to her favour, allowing her to go without sleep for much longer while still being able to function. However, in contrast to Ryan, who willingly and purposefully neglects sleeping, Bronagh is forced to stay awake due to needing to keen any time something rather unfortunate happens, or simply because she's an extremely light sleeper, and only became even more so after her undeath and her actual need for sleep disappeared.

At this point, Bronagh is rather resigned to being unable to sleep uninterrupted for long periods of time, but very much longs she was still able to sleeep normally, as it distracts her from her current situation and makes her feel more normal. As is, you'll often glimpse her catching as many naps as she can throughout the day.

Also, she occasionally suddenly gets very sad about not needing and not being able to sleep, and cries to herself for a long time over this.

Out of the main characters, the only one who probably actually sleeps normally and regularly and like a regular human being is Aisling Willow (ironically, she's fae), despite also not needing to either. She enjoys the calm and regularity of it, and the chance it gives her to breathe and recharge. She also enjoys how it feels to have something that's steady, stable, and a routine.

Other than that, Aisling sleeps to set an example for her friends like Ryan and Bronagh, because no one else in the main cast is responsible enough to do so.

Last edited by Galaxy_Awesome (July 14, 2022 09:11:55)

❝it may not be particulary wise,
but it’s a thrill to be disguised.❞
— Isadora Quagmire, A Series of Unfortunate Events

Galaxy_Awesome

♜ 14th of July - In-Cabin Daily
111 words

Genre: Non-Fi (opinionated essay) (is that what you call it?)

In my opinion, octopuses are far inferior to squids. They are far lesser, and squids are far more awesome, as well as more majestic. Squids are also far more diverse in shape, having any different and varying appearances that are all incredibly unique and interesting, such as the alluring look of the vampire squid, the delicate glass squid, the adorable piglet squid, the haunting bigfin squid, and the enchanting firefly squid. Also, squids have colossal and giant squids. Which are both definitely better than octopuses. Need I say more?

Oh, and squids have long been the subject of sea creature legends, which are loved by plenty of people around the world.

Last edited by Galaxy_Awesome (July 14, 2022 10:06:15)

❝it may not be particulary wise,
but it’s a thrill to be disguised.❞
— Isadora Quagmire, A Series of Unfortunate Events

Galaxy_Awesome

♜ 15th of July - Main Cabin Daily
1,146 words

The object I gave away

The object I chose

The paper fortune teller was an ancient thing, existing before even the first form of paper was invented. Over the centuries, it was found and used by many different people. It travelled all over the world, and, eventually, to other universes. Everywhere it went, from town to town, country to country, world to world, it left behind a trace and an aftermath. There was nowhere safe from it and its victims.

And so, this is the tale of one of the three people who picked up the fortune teller, and payed for it with their minds.

.

The first of the three was August. He was the son of the kingdom's best blacksmith, but had no interest in the art himself. Every night, he unsuccessfully attempted to sneak out to the grasslands just outside of the city, eager to have fun after a long day of being forced to work and train to take his father's place. It had gotten tiring, over the years. The only thing present in his life was work, work, work, and train, train, train. What was the use of becoming the kingdom's next greatest blacksmith if he had no passion for it himself? If it wasn't enjoyable, wasn't fun?

Fun was what August sought almost every waking hour, sick of working himself to the bone for his father's expectations. Fun was what he sought after in the day, and at night. It was what he sought after when he tried to sneak out, and it was what was written on his fortune when, the one night he managed to escape his home, he found a lone little piece of strangely folded paper lying on the ground outside his window.

He picked it up. It was almost as if there was a voice, urging August on and telling him what to do. He shrugged. No harm in doing so, right?

Wrong.

He followed the steps, and opened the flap that held his fortune.

The line between enjoyment and imprisonment in your life will be blurry, but your wishes (as well as change) are coming. Your barriers to it will fall.

On the paper, the words were crammed together, yet somehow August had no trouble reading them, a voice in his ear whispering what they said into his mind.
He frowned.

What could those words possibly mean?

.

The next day, August woke up on his own. A distinct feeling of wrong-right-different wormed its way into his gut. Usually, it would be his father who woke him up, smacking the flat side of a sword onto the side of his cot, yelling for him to wake and start their morning duties.

But this time, his father was nowhere to be seen. Not inside their home, or their workspace, or anywhere he could find.

It wasn't until their neighbour came over that August found out what had happened.

His father was injured. Just this morning, just before he came over to reprimand him, he had tripped, knocked over a stand with some of their swords on display, and had an incident that left the swords bloody. Now, he was being tended to by their neighbourhood healer. But he'd lost much blood, and the chances of him surviving were slim.

The moment his neighbour's words entered his ear, an image of the paper fortune teller flashed in his mind, and the niggling voice at the back of his consciousness that had been bothering him since he woke up arose.

Fun, it whispered. No more Father. No more work. Fun, fun, FUN!

August slammed the door in his neighbour's face.

FUN!

.

And so it went. For days, then weeks, then months, August lived with the urging voice at the back of his mind that told him to have fun, that told him and whispered to him how many opportunities to have fun he had, now that he'd isolated himself in his house for so long, and the customers has stopped coming, and his father was gone, and there was no one to stop him. After all, boredom was just as bad as work!

At first, August had managed to fight it. He ignored it, and attempted to go about his day as normal, working in the forge despite how he still couldn't bear to go outside, or to open the doors and windows, or to throw away the accursed paper fortune teller that still sat on his cot.

But then, he began slipping. The voice in his brain appeared less and less, and in conjunction he needed less and less prompting to start thinking of fun, of having fun, of all the things he could do and all the things he could play.

As the weeks went by, and they stretched into months, August was barely lucid. The only thought that rang constantly in his head was fun, and fun, and having fun.

Sometimes, he'd have moments of ‘waking up’, where he snapped out of his thoughts and look at his hands and think: what's happening to me? What am I doing?
Then, August would try to distract himself, heading ot the forge once again.
Then, the thoughts would slip back in, because work was forbidden, and because he seemed to be physically unable to without the gut wrenching screaming of no, no, stop! Stop! Why am I working? Fun, fun, FUN, not work! Stop!

It was like he was a prisoner to his own mind.
.

It was during one of those moments of lucidity that he finally tried to burn the paper fortune teller. And it was as he watched it burn that he realised it simply wasn't burning up, and it was as he watched it burn that August had his final true, aware, thoughts, and it was then that he slipped under, as the chanting in his mind grew louder and louder and louder, watching the fire with awe and inspiration.

August perked up, eyes bright. He grabbed more sticks from the firewood. The chanting grew. Lighting them, he watched as the fire spread. Uncontrolled. Free.

Fun.

He eyed the King's castle through the gaps of the planks boarding up his window, gripping the torches. A smile crossed his face.

Wouldn't it be nice to share the fun with the rest of the kingdom, right from the highest point, from the position of the King?

August's smile widened. With him as King, the fun would never end, and the rest of the kingdom could enjoy it too!
Making his decision, plans for taking down the King unfolded. Just a fun little game of knives and conquest. Nothing more.

Meanwhile, inside, the real August faded away, never to be seen again.
The paper fortune teller blinked out of the world. Its job here was done, now.

On to the next one.

Note: Sorry if it doesn't make sense XD I mostly just winged it

Last edited by Galaxy_Awesome (July 15, 2022 10:32:10)

❝it may not be particulary wise,
but it’s a thrill to be disguised.❞
— Isadora Quagmire, A Series of Unfortunate Events

Galaxy_Awesome

♜ 18th of July - Main Cabin Daily
__ words

Fairy Tale:

❝it may not be particulary wise,
but it’s a thrill to be disguised.❞
— Isadora Quagmire, A Series of Unfortunate Events

Galaxy_Awesome

♜ 3rd Weekly
3,996 words in total

♜ Part 1: High Fantasy and Worldbuilding
1,203 words in total

Facets:
1. High mountains setting
2. Pebbles as both a good luck charm and a source of superstition
3. Fashion with lots of furs
4. Long hair seen as a sign of shame
5. Sky kingdom setting
6. Dirty water as a sign of good luck
7. Trailing and lacy fashion
8. Language structure focused on efficiency
9. Technologically advanced
10. Small farming town setting
11. New settlement setting
12. Old settlement, full of ancient history
13. Weaving as a highly prized job/other
14. Focus on the past (as a society)
15. focus on the future (as a society)
16. focus on the present (as a society)
17. Jokes as a high form of entertainment
18. Disdain for non productivity
19. Fashion as an influential aspect of society
20. Socially advanced (very communicative)
21. Magic is sacred
22. Magic is sentient

Connnections:
595 words

In the skies of the world, just above the snow-capped mountains of Ozmore and to the west of the great kingdom Ringle, is the city in the clouds: Breeze. This city is known to many for its technology: all winding cogs and pipes, the continues click-turn-whirr of their machines at work. For as long as nearly everyone has known, the city has always been there, even from the days when Ozmore and the other mountains held the sky from crushing the ground, thousands of years before today. Evidence of this is seen in carvings in the Ozmore mountains' sides, drawn by the hands of giants, and the little sparks of giant magic lingering in the clouds.

The citizens of Breeze know this very well, and their city's history is the largest source of their pride. For centuries have they held the leftover magic in the clouds on a pedestal, cherishing it and treasuring it in their safest containers - rarely using it, for fear it would disappear. To them, it was near-sacred. An act against the cloud city's precious magic was an act of war against the sky itself.

And so it was that they taught themselves how to survive without the magic, using only the tiniest shreds of it to spin threads from the clouds and teaching themselves to weave tapestries and houses of cloud-fabric in the sky that were, light enough to float on the clouds and still be able to house them, paintings of thread that preserved the stories of their history forever, and tunics and robes of lightest cloth and most intricate lace.
Now, the fashion one wore showed how excellent of a weaver you were, and how much gratefulness you showed for the sacred magic that kept them afloat. It became tradition for one to weave and embroider their family history into their robes, shown proudly for all to see.

And so it was that they also taught themselves how to create cogs and pipes and pulleys and systems and machines out of minerals delivered up from below, and how to use those machines to supply them with what they couldn't get easily themselves. Their city became full of machinery and parts, bringing pride to the magic, for it saw how much they cared for the times when there was more of itself.

Bringing pride to the magic was what brought a smile to everyone in the city's face, and soon enough they were working non-stop, constantly improving their technology, weaving more, sowing more, eager to impress their sacred magic. This led to disdain for those who were unproductive, causing those people to be viewed as ungrateful freeloaders.

These people were looked down on in shame, and a law made it so their hair was not allowed to be cut, for it showed the rest of the city how shameful they were, and how undeserving they were of their places in Breeze, where short hair was a sign of care for themselves and the environment, where long and messy and tussled was not tolerated.

The citizens of Breeze were forever known for being so intensely focused on being grateful and appeasing the sacred magic, the last remnant of the time before the giants disappeared, that they were too grateful for what came from below. Pebbles and rocks from the Ozmore mountains appearing up in the clouds was a sign of good and a sign of the giants' spirits still being with them, and pebbles knocked below was a surefire way of showing or saying that you were dishonouring the great giants.

Narrative:
608 words

Life in Breeze was hard, sometimes. There were days when I was tired, tired, my legs near about to fold in on themselves then and there, but couldn't, because I still had work to do, and taking a break from work when it wasn't the assigned break time was a crime, and I didn't want to be thrown in jail, or cast off the clouds, or, even worse, forced to grow my hair out with magic and let it whip in my face for hours on end in the winds.

On these days, when my lace was beginning to feel false and imperfect, when the family history weaved onto my robes felt more like a burden than an honour, I would squeeze my lucky Ozmore pebble in my pockets, and stand still, and whisper to myself that I wouldn't fail my family - wouldn't fail the magic.

That day was one of those days. That day, I was tasked to watch over the magic, in its glass case adorned with ribbons and surrounded by tapestries. But I'd spent the entire night before working until my face was stained with the soot from the machines, weaving until my fingers were sore and tangled, studying until my eyes turned too glossy to blink away. Yet still I had to watch over the magic.

Not that it was a bad thing, of course. Watching over the magic was an honour, and a very high one at that. Families dreamed of their children being tasked with it one day, and those children dreamed of it in turn.

But something felt… wrong, with the magic, that day. It had begun to feel wrong for years, steadily growing more and more different in its magical energy. It felt… greedy, somehow.
I can't explain what was up with it. It was like a creeping feeling on the back of my spine, shoving disappointment into my face and down my throat, telling me to do more, more, more.

Back to the story. The rest of the day went on as was expected for a day of guarding the magic. Nothing came, no one did anything, and it was as boring as ever. Occasionally, I would use that time to take breaks and nap, because I just couldn't hold it anymore, and I needed to sleep.
No one saw me. No one would find out. Or at least, that's what I thought.

When I woke up, the magic was pulsing angrily, blanketing me like a thick smoky fog from inside its case. I tried apologising, I really did! I didn't mean to. I was just so, so tired.
Please, you have to believe me.
Then, when the higher-ups came to check on me, the magic flashed. Images appeared in the air just outside its case. It was showing them something.

Dread downed me like a bucket of Ozmore pebbles kicked off the clouds.

It was showing them visions of me, napping. Taking breaks. From before. The magic's dissatisfied emotions swallowed me whole.

That moment, as the high-ups rounded on me with blazing frowns on their faces, I realised that there really was something wrong with the magic. And if no one else had realised, then that meant it was up to me.

I will find out what happened and what's wrong with the magic. I swear on it.

Thanks for listening to my story. Just- just don't tell anyone, alright? I only barely got out of a serious punishment, that time. If someone finds out about this… I'm doomed.

I have to go now.

May the giants' spirits always stay by your side, no matter what.

♜ Part 2: Magical Realism
1,438 words in total

1. How is the magic in the world used in the character’s everyday lives? What are the different abilities?
209 words

The magic is used more as a tool than as an actual power, used to carry out specific jobs and tasks. Several things that we have in real life that are used to power/make something function (for example, lights and electricity) are replaced by magical things (such as Will-o-the-wisps and magic crystals). The magic is rarely used for fun or frivolous reasons, which will be explained in the answers to other questions.

As for the different abilities, magic in this world is a lot more vague in terms of what abilities and categories there are, though the magic used by witches, wizards, mages, warlocks, sorcerers, and other magic users do have a little bit of a system. This is mostly categorised by how the magic is channeled; for example, Imbuing magic is the magical ability of, that's right, imbuing objects or things with magic, or channeling it through said object to help perform magical tasks. Meanwhile, other types of magic include Word magic (magic channeled through written/spoken words, such as magic Contracts), Diagram magic (using runes, symbols, spell circles, or other diagrams), and a few others.

There aren't that many limits to the abilities of magic aside from anything reality-breaking, but there are some rather severe repercussions.

2. What are the laws of your world, specifically about magic? Punishments?
118 words

There are several laws about misusing magic for bad intentions or just misusing it in general. Some of these include laws against using magic to sabotage someone else's work, using it on people without consent, tampering with someone's completed/finished magic without their consent, tampering with houses and infrastructure with magic, using magic to mess up the workings of technology, breaking someone or something's magical wards, and, curiously enough, using it for personal reasons (though the punishments for this aren't as serious)

As for punishments, these can range from death, to getting your magic ripped away (which is a very peculiar feeling that often leaves the victims of this looking and acting somewhat… lost), to simply a fine.

3. What is the origin of your magic?
177 words

In-universe, there is no clear explanation for what the origin of magic is. It's just a thing that has existed since the start of time, and is something that can be learned by anyone any time. The people who live in this world have many theories, whether it's from stray cosmic energy leaking from the universe, heat from the earth's core warping the atmosphere and energy, or it just being woven into the fabric of time and space from the start.

However, the true origin of the magic is the stray cosmic energy from the asteroid that killed the dinosaurs mixing with the suddenly dead souls of prehistoric supernatural creatures and their ancestors, and combining to create learnable, harnessable magic. It's been here in the air of the Earth for a long time, but this magic was only discovered once humans (and their sentience) came into the picture and a select few discovered how to use magic. Since then, it's always been used as a tool to help complete tasks, and this tradition has only solidified since.

4. What are the limitations of your world’s magic?
206 words

My world's magic is still vastly unexplored, with its users mostly preferring to used tried and tested ways o use it, though there are certain exceptions. The limitations are mostly imagination, and how resistant the subject the magic is being aimed at (or something of the like, such as being cast on or imbued into). Sentient beings are much more capable of resisting the effects of magic, and in some rare cases throw the magic off entirely.

Other limitations are using magic to permanently and significantly bend time and space, as well as reality. There's a reason only the strongest and most specialised and well trained magic users can create pocket dimensions (which are always small nonetheless) and reach into it at will. There's also the user's control over the magic energy and what they're channeling it into (different materials and things channel different spells and different magics better, and the loss of control over magic can result in severe malfunctions or an explosion), overexposure to magic that's too strong or uncontrolled or for extremely long and routine amounts of time (causing unstable emotions, harmful manifestations of magic on the body, aches, fatigue, deliriousness, and the body just becoming an empty vessel for magic), and such.

5. How is magic viewed in your world (ie. as a boring normal, as a fascinating element of their life, or as a curse on society etc.)?
120 words

It's generally seen as boring and just another aspect in life, due to the long tradition of it being a tool gifted to humans to help them keep up with the other sentient species, and not misusing it for petty or frivolous reasons (after all, we have to prove the universe that we're worthy of and worthy of keeping it, as the species with the most need for it). Most people regard the magic with a somewhat kind of respect or gratefulness, but other than that don't bother to view it as something special.

Apart from this, it's also occasionally poked fun at and seen as a crutch for ‘helpless, pathetic humans’ to lean on by people of other species.

6. Compared to our modern society, what do the characters do differently in your world, now that magic is incorporated?
154 words

Like I've said before, it's mostly just jobs and every day tasks being done differently, and only by characters who actually bothered to learn magic. However, since the people and magic users are not allowed to use magic for increasingly trivial reasons (mending a broken and non-special glass or plate, healing a small cut, using it to make your vehicle faster so that you can get to work/school faster, etc), small things are often done just as we do them.

But if you must know, celebrations (official ones organised by a formal organisation) are often a lot more flashy and magical (to us) than in our world. Other than that, though, there's not much. Most of the differences with how the characters in this world do things compared to ours is tied to the existence and coexistence of supernatural creatures and beings alongside humanity, which I'm pretty sure is a different thing entirely.

7. How is the education system in your world? What do your characters learn (or hypothetically would learn)?
90 words

There are often campuses an universities and colleges made specifically for training magic users, with lessons and majors or classes dedicated to teaching a student about each type and subtype of magic, as well as studies relating to or heavily involving magic. For some types of magic, and for some classes/lessons/majors, things involve a lot of field work and observing or trying the thing being taught out first hand.

Other than that, knowledge of magic and the basics on what it is is taught in nearly every school.

8. What happens when magic gets out of control in your world?
141 words

In my world, when magic goes out of control, several things can or may happen: these things vary in chance or happening and severity and impact on the person witnessing it, but all are always harmful. Sometimes, it's just an explosion (of varying strength and size), and sometimes it's a malfunction of the spell (for example, someone trying to heal a cut might loose control of the magical energy and cause too much flesh to grow - malfunctions in medical magic often result in body horror - , or someone trying to make themselves be able to talk to and understand their cat might overdo it and either find themselves being able to understand all other animals or find themselves being unable to speak the human language again), and other times it causes the user's mental state to implode and them to go insane.

9. What are some slang terms or other words used in your world that are related to magic?
106 words

There aren't that many, since magic is treated as a work-only thing an all, but recently some people have come up with terms and others like that. Here's a list of some of the words, terms, and slang terms:

- Summoner: one who uses magic to summon beings (usually demons or undead)
- Truemage: A master of magic, usually one who is in personal contact with a very high ranking authority figure who they've pledged to work for.
- Twinkle-fizz: A slang term for magic, often used in a mocking way or in an indifferent way.

There are, of course, others, but they are a little… harder to describe.

10. What are some noteworthy examples of problems (in your world) that characters solved with magic?
117 words

Usually, the problems solved with magic in this world are related to every day needs or every day problems. There's also usually specialised people with jobs that are specifically for handling these problems, such as maybe healing the broken light crystals in one's home, or mending the relationship between a will-o-the-wisp and its owner to convince it to do its job and power the stove (usually includes placidity spells and the like), or even fixing a broken water pipe with magic.

Problems fixed by magic can also be a little more serious, like casting wards on a person or house if they're in the big danger of being attacked, or using healing balms and potions in hospitals.

♜ Part Three: Types of Fantasy/Fantasy Genres
1,355 words in total

Sounds of Work(Dystopian Fantasy)
340 words

Argloth shuffled obediently through the factory. Around him toiled many workers just like him - only with different jobs. They were humans, most of them. And the ones that weren't were changelings, working side by side with the humans they were raised with. The monotone sounds of their work continued on, strangely grounding in the sodden air.

Clink. Whirr. Zip. Whizz.

Clink. Whirr. Zip. Whizz.

On and on it went, sounds repeating endlessly in the everyday cycle. Clink, then whirr, then zip, then whizz. Over and over. Hands moving through familiar motions, adept fingers flying about, faces hiding their winces when iron touched their skin.

“Miner Argloth, what is the hold up?” asked a voice, startling him out of his trance.
“N-nothing, Director,” stammered Argloth, shivering. The void being in front of him seemed to harrumph in disdain. Their long, trailing cloak is drawn about their inky shoulder, twisting elegantly as they turn away.
Their bright white mouth frowned. “See to it that there are no more… distractions,” sniffed the Director. “Or you'll have to be brought to the City's refocusing facility.”
Argloth nodded. “Yes, Director,” he bowed.
“Good.” said The Director. They floated away, the tips of their empty, dark toes only slightly skimming the floor.

Hurriedly, he moved forwards in the line of dwarves, inching ever closer to the tunnel entrance down to the City Caverns. His pickaxe shook in his hands, and as the noises of the factory started up once more, Argloth willed himself to focus on his duty to the City, and not on the factory workers with their shoulders slumped in relief after the Director retreated away, or the hypnotising sound of the factory at work.

Or, Argloth's mind supplied, as he finally stepped into the dark, metal tunnel, the anxious pinch in the Director's shoulders when they reprimanded him, no doubt because of the sheer fear that reporting failures and slowness in the system one is tasked over to the High Cosmic Rulers brought to everyone in the City.

The Director was no exception.

Injustice (Urban Fantasy)
579 words

“See you tomorrow, class!” smiled Hill, waving goodbye at their students as they traipsed out of the classroom, talking excitedly about their plans for the weekend. Soon, they had all trickled out, and none were left. Hill smiled fondly, gathering their things and heading back to their home. It wasn't a long way - only a few minutes, nothing more. Nothing should have bothered them.

And yet, as they stepped inside and their glamour washed away, revealing them for the vampire they were, dread clouded their unbeating heart. They glanced at the letter pinned on to their fridge, then to their calendar, the crossed-out days coming ever closer to the marked date. Suddenly, a burst of anger shot through their veins.

They stared intensely at the letter and its contents, at the thing from the blasted human government that dared order them to leave the city due to their ‘posing a danger to her environment’ when all they'd been for the last five decades was good and obedient and controlled, at the thing that they knew had been sent to many of their innocent, supernatural brethren of all species and types, at the thing that showed just how little the human government actually cared for them.

Didn't they know that Hill and other supernatural folk had lives, jobs, people they loved, people they cared for, people to care for? Didn't they know that they were being as good as was possible, that they had nowhere else to go outside the city?

Thoughts of the dark, magical underworld surfaced in Hill's mind. They were powerful, somewhat, and the only people with the ability to permanently resist the human government's unfair demands. But they were also immoral, and greedy, and criminals.

“I won't sink that far,” Hill murmured to themself, clutching the letter in their hands. “I refuse to get help from them,”

And so it was that they looked at the remnants of their last encounter with the magical underworld, and tore it to pieces.

No, Hill decided. They wouldn't sink that far.

If they had to, they'd figure out a way to not move out on their own, in a way that was harmless, and right, and not cruel. A way that could help them and make sure the children (both blissful humans and their own supernatural kind) that they cared so much for, that they were responsible for, still had a math teacher and an adult to rely on.

A way that could, perhaps, also help the selkie across the street whose skin was held hostage by their adopted parents, and the banshee at the park who never dared open her mouth for fear of keening and getting into trouble, and the sorcerer who taught chemistry but was also forbidden from casting the spells and using the magic that was an entire part of his soul, and their fae neighbour who could do nothing but watch in fear as the human government killed her garden and forbade her from ever taking care of plants for fear of her enchanting them even though her garden was perfectly ordinary, and the werewolf who'd been charged with more money than he could ever repay simply for howling one night, and the many other paranormal folk who lived in fear.

Hill looked back at the calendar. Two days until they were evicted from the city.

They clenched their fists.

Two days to do something and end this injustice, once and for all.

Incompatibility (Science Fantasy)
436 words

“Pirinnus?”
Pirinnus glances up from her seat in the control room of the Striking Spear, the first inter-species spaceship to ever explore the planet Keilon. In front of her stands the captain of the ship: the one and only Captain Jii-1, and her best friend since diapers.

“Yes, Captain?” she replies, hands twitching slightly. The magic in her fingertips fizzes, yearns, and yet she watches with anxiety as the thrum jolts back the second they make contact with the control panels.
Jii-1's feelers droop, and gently, they extend a hand, moving to comfort her. Pirinnus flinches.

A moment of silence. The two friends' energies collide, one worried, one on edge, both anxious. For a nanosecond, it feels like they're hundreds of lightyears away, like the few months they hadn't been in contact had been turned into years, decades.

Jii-1 draws themselves away. “You don't have to call me that when it's just the two of us, you know,” they buzz. The crackle of their translator hits Pirinnus's magical aura like a truck, and she gasps. Their eyes widen.
“It's the technology here, isn't it?” they whisper, feelers extending. This time, Pirinnus lets them. She breaths out a sigh.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, and shoots her friend a look when they instantly start reassuring her that she doesn't need to say sorry. "It's just- I don't- I've been practicing technomancy for years, and I'm just so- so frustrated, because I've- I've never had problems before.“
Pirinnus strokes her fizzling, magic-charged fingers.
”I've never been incompatible before,“ she finishes lamely.

More silence. For a tense, freezing, moment, Pirinnus wonders if this was a good idea. Soon enough, her worries fall to rest.

”It's alright,“ Jii-1 comforts, and Pirinnus is taken back to their past, to the years before, to when they weren't the Captain and the Technomancer - when they were just Jii-1 and Pirinnus, two hopefuls studying hard for their future.
”Sometimes,“ Jii-1 continues. ”Sometimes, a technomancer and a system just don't- don't click together, you know?“

She raises an eyebrow.

”A-and!“ Jii-1 presses on, feelers straightening. ”Sometimes they don't, at first, but as time goes on they start to do, and suddenly- suddenly they fit together like any other technomancer and system! So- so it'll be okay, got it? Just… give it some time - all the time. You'll get used to the Spear's technology eventually, and it'll get used to you too!“ They smile.

Pirinnus looks up and squeezes their hand. ”Really?“

Jii-1 nods, and finally, finally, Pirinnus feels like it just might be okay.
”Really,“ they say. ”And we have all the time in the world,"

Last edited by Galaxy_Awesome (July 23, 2022 16:24:18)

❝it may not be particulary wise,
but it’s a thrill to be disguised.❞
— Isadora Quagmire, A Series of Unfortunate Events

Galaxy_Awesome

♜ Cabin Wars
1,497 words in total (words counted in seperate pieces initially)

About the rulers of Beamset, and their kingdoms:

Lord Sun, the lord of Seasand Desert and all the creatures and people within it, is an interesting man. He is rather strict and careful in his rule, especially considering the fact that he lives in a scarce desert filled with wild and dangerous beasts - resources should be used only as much as is necessary, and the kingdom's focus must be directed at developing the sufficient technology that will help them survive better. Because of this, Seasand is considered the most technologically advanced out of the three Beamset kingdoms, though they do rely on the other kingdoms a lot for trading the things that they have and make (they're very large producers of tools and et cetera) for the things that they don't have in abundance.

Other than that, Lord Sun is known for being very calculating and, ironically enough, sometimes rather cold. He prefers not to let the other kingdoms know of the problems in Seasand unless he's absolutely sure he needs international help, and often tries to play the kingdom up as something greater and safer than it is.

Unfortunately, he tends to shut himself off in his palace and not go outside or do things in person in preference of staying behind the scenes, figuring out the things that require thinking and making sure things run properly as well as focusing on the larger, general problems or things/arrangements that need to be done steadily in Seasand so that the kingdom can have its basic needs met.

This means that he doesn't usually notice the smaller, or more out of sight problems that require field observation to be found, as well as social problems that aren't big or (potentially) catastrophic.

Back to Seasand.

Seasand's main exports are Sandbulb jewellery, metal weapons for the other two kingdoms, and things like vases, pots, sculptures, and other pieces of art like that. After all, there is a reason Seasand is known for it and its people's legendary craftsmanship skills and inclination towards crafts.

Now for the ruler of the Ring of Life: Sovereign Sylve.

Sovereign Sylve is an interesting person and ruler; unlike Seasand, a monarchy, Ringfolk Sovereigns are choosen from a competition determining which is the most competent. These competitions include things like testing the fighting ability of the competitors, their ability to survive, diplomacy skills, education, and respect for the traditions of the Ring. There are several requirements required to be able to compete and potentially become Sovereign, like:

- Age (Sovereigns must be relatively young and cannot be over 30 years old)
- Education (Must be capable of at least basic information about Beamset and basic maths)
- Skills (Must be capable of hunting a deer in daylight, must at least be able to climb a small tree, must be capable of using a bo staff, and some others like surviving and foraging)
- Health (Must have good eyesight and hearing and agility)

And so it is that Sovereign Sylve is the youngest of the Beamset monarchs, and by far the most active and possibly the strongest. They are kind, and easy going, but under their surface lies extreme cautiousness, and they are definitely not against doing less than moral things, such as dirtying their hands.

Since they were little, they have been taught to consider all life within the Ring a gift, to be treated gratefully and protected at all costs. The tradition of the Ringfolk follows that every five years, a specimen for every single type of plant and one animal for every single species in the Ring must be collected (if their predecessor from the previous Preservation ceremony is no longer there), to ensure the Ring will always live on and never die off completely.

The Ringfolk are also taught to be aware of the fact that if an invasion comes from either of their allied kingdoms, they would have nowhere to run.

Sadly, since the Ringfolk and the ctiizens of the Ring are so spread out and divided into many little groups across the length of the Ring, it's hard to keep track of them, and thus Sylve is always keeping a very observant eye on all goings on, leading them to being somewhat nitpicky at times and anxious about how the Ring will be able to fare for the next period of time.

Sylve is genuinely affectionate of their fellow monarchs, believing that they must all rely on each other to survive and thrive properly, and tending to be the peacemaker between them, for fear of the Ringfolk being caught and dragged into any wars, which would lead to the death of many lives both human, animals, and plants within the Ring.

Because of their occasional paranoia, Sylve is very devoted to training and being strong and ready to defend the Ring and its people at all costs, and threats to those are the only things that can make them truly mad.

They try their best to be as involved with the kingdom as possible, as Ringfolk are taught that communication and working together is necessary for survival and efficiency. Sovereign Sylve personally oversees the exports of the kingdom, most of them being wood, herbs and flowers, and fruits, which the other kingdoms don't have a steady or enough of a supply for.
Despite not being the centre of education that Seasand is, the Ring is still known for being rather scientifically and environmentally as well as medically knowledgeable due to the sheer amount of nature available in their area.

Combined, their trades and knowledge make for some good safeguarding against attacks from other kingdoms.

And last, but not least, is Queen-Captain Selena, the queen of the Tidemoor oceans and the Wandermoons: like the rest of her people, she is proud and sharp, all spiky edges and ruthless quickness and a soft inner core. Queen-Captain Selena cares deeply about her Wandermoons, and believes in acting fast and acting quick, stopping issues before they snowball into something bigger, not hesitating when given the chance to.

This attitude leaks into her duty as ruler of the Wandermoons: she makes sure they stay absolutely on schedule, moving according to the migration patterns of the sea creatures they hunt, staying for precisely the right amount of time for them to farm and collect enough oceanic materials before the Great Lunar Whale comes into their waters from the north, starting on their trade routes and following it at the perfect speed.

As such, the Wandermoons prize sleeping and waking on time, as well as pulling your own weight the best you can. The only people excused from duties are children, who spend their days being taught how to do their future jobs and also treasuring the precious free time they have while they're still young. They're taught to be independent and not dependent on their guardians or the Queen-Captain.

Speaking of guardians, Wandermoons are separated from the rest of the kingdoms in that they are raised by the community or ship that they're on (or the fleet they're part of), as opposed to being raised by individual parents. This is the best example of Wandermoons pitching in together and working together while still retaining their individualistic ideas.

Unlike the other rulers who prefer to keep their worries or secrets or plans close to their chests and only to their respective kingdoms, Queen-Captain Selena has the tendency to be rather blunt and truthful - sometimes brutally so. The only times she doesn't are when comforting someone, as she knows that to reach peak productivity, one has to be at their best mental health.

She has no reservations about revealing current problems the Wandermoons and the Tidemoor oceans are, as well as talking veyr openly to her fellow rulers. Like the Ringfolk, she considers communication a highly important aspect of ruling, though hers focuses more on truthfulness and honesty and trust rather than honour and efficiency. Of course, Selena still makes sure to break the information as carefully as possible as to not create a panic.

As for Tidemoor's exports, it mainly delivers things like salt, oceanic goods, decorations, and treasures such as shells and seaweed, seafood, sea beast skins, oil, and some medicines and food ingredients. Other than that Tidemoor also plays a large part in Beamset's transport and travel system to other continents and areas, as well as being what trade ships from other continents need to pass through to get to the main island. Being in charge of the beaches of Beamset helps a lot, too.

Tidemoor is well known for being a very creative kingdom, especially creativity in the forms of stories, folktales, songs, shanties, and other verbal arts. Tidemoor myths are told all over Beamset, passed down from one Wandermoon fleet captain to another. Astronomy is also one of their other well-known aspects. They know many things about the stars and the world above, and aren't afraid to take advantage of that information to help with their goals.

Last edited by Galaxy_Awesome (July 24, 2022 03:41:36)

❝it may not be particulary wise,
but it’s a thrill to be disguised.❞
— Isadora Quagmire, A Series of Unfortunate Events

Galaxy_Awesome

♜ 4th Weekly
4,663 words in total

Note: I have not played Among Us in a while and know nothing about what the gameplay has been like after the update that added the Airship map, so this is mostly operating on Among Us mechanics pre-Airship update.

(Beginning of story)
254 words

Cyan raced through the ship, heart pounding fast, thump thump thump. His feet skid on the floors painfully, but still Cyan kept running.
All around him, the lights on the ship flickered on and off. The beeping of his tablet rang through the air like a blaring tracker. Anytime now, an Impostor (impostors? how many were there?) could run up behind him or pop up from a vent.
Cyan shook his head.

Focus, he told himself. Just get to Electrical, and turn the lights on.

A sound burst him out of his thoughts. Dreaded; the sound of the metal hinges of a vent opening and closing. Feet thumping just behind him.
Cyan willed himself to go faster. His legs hit the ground with increasing speed, and faintly, he realised he wouldn't be able to run away forever. Impostors were fast, and slippery: the one chasing him was bound to catch him eventually.

And so he ran as fast as he could, skidding to a stop and inside Electrical punching a button to close the doors. Heart pounding in his ears, he turned his sights on the light switches. With trembling fingers, Cyan flicked them on haphazardly. The door wouldn't hold the Impostor back for long - there was a vent right inside right next to him. He just- needed- to turn- all- these lights- back- on-

The last switch was flipped. The light above it turned green with a soft, resounding click.

Cyan sighed in relief as the lights in the Skeld flickered back on.

1. For five minutes, incorporate features of Mystery, Adventure OR Horror into your writing. What is something you like about one of the genres? Try to incorporate that in your story. Maybe it's the high stakes or suspense, or a specific trope within a genre (that fits your story idea)!
230 words

Savouring the sweet, sweet moments of space after the terrifying chase that was a few minutes ago, Cyan sunk down to his knees, his back against the wall. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. He buried himself in the comforting motions.
A beep from his tablet broke him out of his thoughts.

lenloop (Captain):
EMERGENCY MEETING. NOW.

Glancing back up, Cyan felt himself being slowly spirited to the cafeteria, his code reforming soon enough at the centre table. He looked around at his fellow crewmates, noticing fear and apprehension, and bruises and scars on a few. From the rush of the panic, no doubt.

“So.” said Captain White. She splayed her hands out on the table. “Now we know that there's an Impostor on board - does anyone have anything they have to say for themselves?”
The crew members at the table whispered amongst each other, shuffling uncomfortably. Yellow stroked his child's head, mumbling reassurances. No one said anything.
Captain White sighed. “Let's try this again,” she repeated. “Does anyone know anything about who the Impostor might be? Any run-ins? Clues? Evidence?”

“…Nothing?” White stared at them unbelievingly. “Fine. Just remember, crew: be on your guard. The Impostor could be anyone. …Meeting dismissed.”
At this, doubt crept into Cyan's mind. If the Impostor could be anyone… was even Captain White safe from scrutiny? Who could he trust?

2. Check the Main Cabin to see your cabin's ranking! Now, find the opposite ranking of yours (if you are first, the cabin you will find is last, if you are 5th, the cabin you would find is 11th place, if you are 9th, you would find 7th place). If you are in 8th place, you can choose any cabin that's not your own. Now ask one of the campers in that cabin for a prompt! You must write for 10 minutes with the prompt from a person in the cabin with the opposite ranking.
323 words

Cabin: Non-Fi Press
Prompt: ur mom. - Addie (@creatiivity)
(I tried my best with the prompt)

Slipping into the crew's sleeping quarters, Cyan was met with the sight of his roommate Pink sitting on floor with his head buried in his hands. Pink's crept and tugged frustratedly at his hair, his body shaking like a leaf.

Cyan padded closer, sliding the door to their room shut.
“Pink? he asked, moving to sit on his bed. ”…Is everything… alright?“
Pink shook his head. Slowly and carefully, Cyan knelt beside the youngest member of the crew. He tugged Pink's hands out of his hair gently.
”Do you want to talk about it?“ asked Cyan.

Minutes ticked by, with Pink shaking harder each second. Coughing, crying, clutching at the older man's shoulders like a lifeline.
”I- it's my mother,“ Pink choked out. Cyan pulled him closer.
”This morning, when we- when we found out there was an Impostor on board - she called me, in Communications. And- and we talked, and I- and apparently the news reached Earth already, and she- she told me to go home. But I said-“ rambled Pink. ”I said no, because I thought that it'd be- it'd be fine, and we'd find the Impostor soon. But then- then the lights turned off and the comms were sabotaged in the middle of the call and I haven't been able to get them to work since and- and- what are we going to do, Cyan? There's- there's an Impostor on our ship and you know what happens to ships with them on board and I never got so say goodbye or tell her how much I care about her or- or-“

Cyan held his fellow crewmate tightly. A hug; a tight one, filled with as much comfort and love as he could fit into it.
”It'll be okay,“ he whispered, rubbing the other's back. ”We'll be okay. It'll all be fine,“
Pink burst into tears.

”I just want to go home," he sobbed.

3. You know when you have sudden memories of past events? When characters experience them, they're called flashbacks. For this activity, write 300 words describing your character having a sudden flashback of a previous event.
371 words

At that moment, memories flooded into Cyan's mind. Memories from what felt like years ago, back before he had stepped foot on the Skeld-04 at all. Back before finding out there was an Impostor on board. Back before everything. He held his breath as the scene replayed in his subconscious.

.

“Koir, dear, are you absolutely sure you want to go?” whispered his mother all those weeks ago, holding Cyan's hand gently. Her old face creased in worry, lined by years of love and care. Cyan smiled, clasping his mother's hand in turn.
“Of course, mom,” he replied, squeezing her hand tightly. “You know I've wanted this since I was what, 3 years old?”

His mother sighed, letting go of Cyan's hand and allowing it to slip away.
“I know, Koir,” she said, smiling weakly back. Her glossy eyes shined in the yellow light. Silence, filled only by the sounds of the other crewmates saying goodbye to their families all around them.
She pulled him into a hug. Cyan was taller than her - much taller. But still he leaned down with pleasure, sinking into the hug.

“I'm so proud of you, Koir,” Cyan's mother mumbled into his shoulder. “You've come so far…”
Tears welling up, Cyan hugged tighter. “Thanks, mom,” he whispered back. “I love you,”
She pulled away, laughing and looking him straight in the eyes. “I love you too, son,” she grinned.

Slowly, the mother-son duo separated, clinging to each other as if they wanted to stay that way forever. Cyan stepped closer to the ship, ignoring the calls of his fellow crewmates and MIRA employees. He waved, turning away.
His mother's face turned wistful.

“I'll miss you, son,” she said, hands clasped together. A watery smile made its way onto her face as she waved back. “Just… come home safe, okay?”
He nodded. “Of course, Mom!” called Cyan, now at the ship's entrance. “I'll come home soon, I promise!”
And he slipped inside.

.

Jolting back to the present, Cyan gripped Pink's shoulder comfortingly. His heart pounded like he was still running from the wretched Impostor, a silent thump thump thump that only he could hear.

“We'll get home, Pink,” he said decisively. “I promise you - navigator's oath.”

4. Have you ever felt the intense rage in your body when yo have been wronged? Many of us have done things in order to gain revenge, because it does feel good to feel even, even for a short amount of time. In these 200 words, a character reveals one of their main motives is revenge. How do the other characters react to this? What changes now that this is revealed? Keep these questions in mind while you write the 200 words.
293 words

Meanwhile, in Lime's room, a knock came from the vent on the floor. Quiet, just a short tap that one could most definitely mistake for a production of their imagination. But Lime knew better, and in seconds she was kneeling at the vent, slowly pulling it open. The doors were already closed and locked. Only Lime and their roommate would be able to open the lock with their handprints.

Purple crawled out of the vent.
“…I think Cyan saw me,” they muttered, heaving themself up and out. Long tongues flicked distastefully. “When I was chasing him earlier.”
Making no effort to help her fellow Impostor, Lime plopped down onto her bed.
“Are you absolutely sure he saw you?” she asked, crossing her arms. At their nod, Lime frowned. “We'll have to go after him first, then,”

Purple flicked at a fleck of invisible lint on their shoulder, shutting the vent after them.
“And fast, too,” they grumbled. “Before he tattles,”
Lime grinned sharply with their stomach mouth, a violent red glint appearing in her eyes. “Don't worry about that,” she said, face darkening. “Once we take care of him and the rest, we'll get back to their dirty planet and have our revenge on MIRA,”
“They'll regret ever doing what they did,” Purple added. “Our leader's death won't be for nothing,”

.

Yellow trembled, holding the toys in his hands in a death grip. His face was white as a sheet - anyone's would, after hearing the conversation he'd just heard. Quietly, he tried to creep away from the doors, barely able to breathe. A voice made him freeze.

“First things first, Lime,” said Purple, appearing at the doors. They fixed him with a blank stare. “We have an eavesdropper on board.”

5. For 300 words, incorporate the songfic trope by including a short song lyric into your writing. If you can't listen to music, choose a different trope instead! Some tropes include Crossover, “Five Things”, Alternate Universe, Enemies to Lovers, Chatfic, and more!
419 words

Trope chosen (unable and cannot listen to music at the time of writing this while at school): Chatfic

Shaking violently, Yellow could do nothing as Purple led him inside the room, fingers digging sharply into his shoulder. His thoughts flung wildly to his little girl, alone in his room under the watch of Captain White. What would happen to her, now that the Impostors knew he knew? If he was no longer there, who would take care of her?

Or worse, what if the Impostors decided to target her instead of him?

“Yellow- earth to Yellow. Get yourself together, human,” hissed Lime, snapping their fingers in front of Yellow's face. He jumped.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” whispered Yellow, face twisted in fear. His head rang with worries - for his little girl Banana, for himself, for the rest of the crew. However, one thought rose above the rest: he couldn't let the Impostors think of Banana for even a second. As long as they didn't think of her, she would be safe. “Please don't kill me, please don't kill me,”

“Be glad,” Purple groused. Stomach-tongues flicked, licking their teeth. “We can't, yet. Too suspicious.”
Lime chorused an agreement as they tapped away at their MIRA-issued tablet. “That's right!” she nodded, typing something out. “But unluckily for you, we can do something else!”

koolio<3:
hey everyone
uh

lenloop:
Lime? What's wrong?

koolio<3:
yellows acting a bit off captain

lenloop:
What do you mean by off?

koolio<3:
he uh
kept hanging around the vents
and looking at me weird

ProudDad:
I wasnt doing that Lime
Captain I promise
I promise
I wasn't doing that
I have no reason to
Please Captain

Purple twisted around an inhuman speed, gaze locking right onto Yellow.

grapelover:
don't interrupt someone else's conversation Yellow

lenloop:
Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Lime.
Yellow, while this isn't much evidence to go by (and not very incriminating either)
Please refrain from stepping close to the vents
I'll be keeping an eye on you.

L0UDKOIR:
Yellow
You were near the vents?
What were you doing there

grapelover:
we don't know Cyan
he won't tell

.

Still shaking horribly, Yellow was ushered out of the room with promises of Purple watching him at all times, making sure he didn't slip up. As the doors shut behind him, he trudged back to his room, hoping against all hope that Captain White would still have enough faith in him to still help watch over little Banana.

With the situation he was in, hoping was all he could do.

6. Bonjour and many thanks for swinging by Bakie's art stand! We offer many handcrafted trinkets, look at how detailed each one is! They each have their own personality, unique in their own ways. For the next 15 minutes, work on one of your characters, and describe what makes them so special. Explore both their motivations and fears, what drives them to do the things they do?
428 words

An hour later, Cyan was still in his room, frowning down at his tablet. Something about the earlier conversation regarding Yellow felt off, somehow. A tingling, creeping feeling, telling him not to believe everything he hears. Thankfully, Pink had long since left to grab some food in the cafeteria, meaning he didn't have to worry about worrying him anymore.

Speaking of Pink… Cyan sighed.
Poor kid, he thought. He just wants to go home.

Like he did too, and like how the others no doubt did.

But despite what he'd said earlier, doubts still lingered annoyingly in Cyan's mind. Absently scrolling through the crew chat, Cyan eyed the recent messages with scrutiny, a glaring thought slowly growing even brighter:
If no one on the ship apart from the little Banana could be trusted or was guaranteed to be telling the truth at all times, how was he ever going to get the Impostor off, much less help vote against them, when everyone was a suspect? How was he going to narrow it down? How would he convince everyone?

What if Cyan got his guess wrong? What if he accidentally subjected some poor innocent crewmate to ejection instead?

What if he accidentally killed someone just because he thought they were the Impostor?

Cyan didn't want blood on his hands. He shivered. Ejecting an innocent would be the worst failure in his entire lifespan. Everyone here had families, people they cared about, lovers, other dreams, hobbies, things to live for, moments left to live. And ending it…
He would never forgive himself.

Cyan sighed. All he wanted was to just go home and bring everyone back with him to Earth where it was all safe, and simple, and where their families were. Where he could go back to babysitting his neighbours' kids for spare money, collecting and learning to play interesting instruments, talking with his friends on the inter-planetary systems, braiding his niece's hair, and just… living on Earth like a normal person and not one trapped on a ship on the way to Polus with a deadly Impostor on board.

He just wanted to go home with the crew, back to his family. Their families.

Except… there was so much at risk. And he wasn't especially smart, or strong, or clever, and he couldn't trust anyone enough to let them help him even though he knew just how much he would need help in this. He couldn't trust anyone. Not even Captain White. Not even Pink.

Cyan shrunk in on himself.

Why did everything have to be so complicated?

7. “They're dead, they're dead, the main character is dead!” You hear someone shout. You feel shocked at their death, as you can't find any words to describe your disappointment. In these 8 minutes, the main character dies a sudden and dramatic death. You can flesh out their death scene, as well as the aftermath of their death.
299 words

Still holding his tablet, Cyan stepped out of his room, looking around warily. One of the scheduled meal times was in a few minutes, and he needed to-

Pain.

White, blinding pain.

Filling his senses. Everywhere was bright, too bright, why was it all so bright?

More pain. Sharpness, something snapping and bursting through his face all the way to the back of his head. Tongues, a purple suit, the Impostor.

Then, numbness. Filling his very being, spreading to from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, a cold, enveloping blanket.
Cyan wrenched his eyes open. He screamed.
The only thing ringing through his mind was the sight of his luminscent, transparent body, floating above - was that him? - his physical self, lying on the ground just outside his room.

Cyan was dead. Dead, dead.
He'd failed before he'd even started.

He looked up to see the two people standing beside his body; the culprits of it all. The people to blame.
Yellow and Purple.

Yellow. The father, the man who tried who Captain White trusted the most. The one on the ship who had a child. Banana's father.
Lime was right.

Frantically, he reached for his tablet, which lay on the ground, its screen cracked and only just barely on. Swiping at it vainly, Cyan missed in his rush and panic the hissed threat that Purple let out.
“Remember,” said Purple, turning to Yellow. “If you don't cooperate-” they gestured at Cyan's remains.
Flying by Cyan's ears, made no pause to listen - for he hadn't heard it at all. Instead, he still tapped and grabbed desperately at his tablet.

When five minutes of trying yielded no improvement, a sinking feeling began to dawn on him.

He really was dead. He really was a ghost.

8. Cliche but classic is the ‘chosen one’ trope. Many fantasy books have this trope, where the main character is the ‘chosen one’. With at least 200 words, describe the moment your character is revealed to be a ‘chosen one’ of some sort, whether the person to fight a villain, to go on a quest, or to do an everyday task.
355 words

After cooling off from the initial crisis and following existential dread of being a ghost, Cyan set about experimenting with his newfound ghostly self, intent on still finding ways to help the crew. After all, they were going to need all the help they could get to go back home safe and alive, and not getting home… was not an option.

They'd get home somehow. He wouldn't rest until they could.

This was what Cyan swore as he floated through the walls, cursing how hard it was to find ways to communicate with the living. Pens didn't work, pencils didn't work, arranging objects didn't work, and neither did shouting or whispering or meditating.

“Why won't you let me open the crew chat?” Cyan hissed at his tablet (or the ghostly version of it, anyway), which was stubbornly refusing to cooperate. “I don't want to see my tasks, I want to talk to the crew!”

Wait.
His tasks.

At that moment, the pent up frustration in his soul disappeared almost completely. Replaced by determination. Desperation, too, filling each corner of his being.

Maybe, just maybe, he'd still be able to interact with the ship's systems.

.

“Yes.” murmured Cyan, crushed under a wave of intense, sweeping relief. Smiles tingled at the corners of his lips. Ghostly fists squeezed triumphantly. “Yes! It worked, it worked!”
With wonder and awe, he stared down at his translucent, see through, intangible hands. The hands which had just fixed some faulty wiring. Successfully. The hands which had just interacted with the real world.

Wires sparked happily, electricity dancing through them.

Cyan smiled, looking at his tablet with brighter eyes.

“It's up to me,” he told himself, gripping it tight. “If I can help do the tasks, save time, maybe even use them to talk to the crew and at least tell them who the Impostors are…” trailing off, he looked down at the list of tasks.
“I can help get us home,”

Cyan set his eyes on navigation. More tasks to do, more help to give.
It was all up to him. He could do this.

The crew was counting on him.

9. Do you ever remember an event in the past, and wish you could experience that once again? Nostalgia, what a heartwarming yet bittersweet feeling. For 250 words, your character feels a sudden burst of nostalgia and this mood is carried through the rest of the story.
617 words

“Where, where where…” mumbled Cyan, wandering the halls.

A pleased green shine of completed tasks shone from his tablet, illuminating his ghostly face. The bright halls of the Skeld stretched out in front of him, with everyone's peaceful snoring clouding the air. The doors to the crew's quarters were slightly open. Entering the quarters, Cyan raked his eyes over every inch of the place that he could see.

His body was nowhere to be found.

“…Where is it?” he asked to no one in particular. No one answered. Slowly, a lost, lonely feeling began to bloom in his chest. It wailed for company.
Cyan hovered over to his room. Empty. No Pink in sight.

Sighing, he sat down on his bed as best he could, trying not to float off. Being a ghost was tiring. Lonely, too, and full of passing right in front of people who couldn't even see you and watching Impostors walk amongst your unknowing friends without being able to warn them and trying in vain to figure out how to send a message to them by messing with the ship's systems and tech.

Cyan frowned, trailing a finger over his bedsheets. There was nothing else he could do to help the crew right now, and…
His body still hadn't been found.
Not by him, not by the crew.

The crew.

Looking up at the walls of his and Pink's shared room, a picture caught his eye. Not to big, not too small. Shiny and glossy, displayed proudly in the centre of the wall like some sort of prize.
It was a picture of the crew - everyone, from him to Red to Black to even Captain White - from the start of their journey to Polus. Bright smiles filled the photo, as well as waving hands and cheeky grins and funny faces that tugged at Cyan's heartstrings.

As he stared harder at the wall of photos, memories flooded his mind. Memories from before. Memories from their training at MIRA HQ, from before they set off of Earth, from the first week they were on board, from the time when things were simpler, and safer, and other things that he so, so wished for but couldn't get back, ever.

Cyan's hands raised to the photos, caressing them gently as the scenes replayed.

Having Captain White join their group of trainees for the first time. Welcoming their new Captain with open arms and ready smiles and full, complete trust.
Enduring the draining MIRA HQ specialised training, relying on each other to make it through the day. The jokes and fun and collapsing in tiredness at the end of the day, coffee cups in hand as they got ready for the next.
Celebrating each others' birthdays with everyone and their families. Brown's birthday, and the wonderful cupcakes they had all pitched in to make. Green's, filled with the excited laughs of both them and the children as they went to the best amusement park in the country. Blue's birthday, and Black's, and White's, and Orange's.

A faint smile made its way onto Cyan's face, bittersweet and melancholy and longing. Thoughts bubbled up, popping and bursting and restrained only by the heartwarming joy at reminders of the times when they didn't have to worry about Impostors, or death.

He touched the last photo, a small one in the corner right above his bed.

Meeting little Banana for the first time. Cooing over her. Watching over her as she eagerly observed her father training.
Banana.
Yellow.

Something nagged at him, chiding him, saying something felt wrong.
Annoyedly, he pushed the feeling away, looking back up to the picture with contempt.

Traitor. Impostor.

Cyan tore his gaze away from the wall.

10. Let's change how clean or dirty your setting is! For these five minutes, you will be changing your setting from clean to messy or messy to clean, depending on if your setting was clean or messy before. You can have the characters deliberately changing the setting or have your characters discover the setting has changed and react to it. All up to you!
374 words

Screams came from just outside the room. Just one, at first, but then two, and three, and the sounds of rushing feet pounding against the metal floors.
Cyan bolted outside, a heavy feeling weighing on his un-beating chest.
Several things stood out to him from the hallway, so unlike what it had been just half an hour ago when he came in.

It was dirty, for one. Dirty, dirty, so very much so. Grime and soot and dirt and dust streaked the floor, and little bits of… him did too, trailing a foul smelling liquid Cyan knew of much too well. Scattered pieces of cyan clothing lay around. The vent in the corner was open, and in the other corner…

Cyan froze, floating closer, a mixture of relief-worry-anger-wanting-danger bubbling up and up and up in his soul. Hands squeezed and grasped, tablet held in an unsteady grip.

His body. Cyan clothes, cyan suit, blood (so much, so much, why was there so much?), a broken tablet. Lying at a shaking Pink's feet.
Pink was screaming. Loudly. Sobbing, crying, begging for his roommate, for Cyan, not to be dead. Fat, pearly tears ran down his face, not stopping even as Captain White rushed into view, even as Lime and Black and Green and Yellow and Purple followed close behind, little Banana in tow, though Red pulled her away and covered her eyes before she could see.

Cyan's heart clenched. Floating closer, he raised a ghostly hand to caress the younger man's face and wipe away his tears, enveloping him in a cold, ethereal hug when it didn't work.
Pink stilled.

“I'm so sorry, Pink.” whispered Cyan, focusing not on the muffled talk of the crew and the sounds of Banana's panicked, confused cries, but on the feeling that somehow, on some level, Pink was aware of him.

Together, the two clung to each other. In the midst of bustling talking bodies, the remains of Cyan's dead body, red smearing the floors and walls, dragged around by tainted boots and feet, and items dropped in the rush, it was them, and them only.
It was just him and Pink, who Cyan had sworn to always be there for just twelve hours ago.

Just them.

(Ending) Leave your story unresolved with a cliffhanger. Write 500 words to end your story.
700 words

Slowly, Cyan drifted apart from Pink's hold, and the cold, ghostly hug faded. Still Pink stared at the floor, face betraying shock and fear and disbelief and relief and confusion, all at the same time. Vaguely, the faintest feeling of a squeeze on his shoulder jerked him out of his thoughts.
“Cyan?” mumbled Pink, and a wave of happiness crashed down upon Cyan.

He could feel it. Pink could feel it. Could feel him. Faintly, yes, but…
Cyan laughed. “I can't believe it,” he said, hugging himself tight. Quickly, he squeezed Pink's shoulder again, confirming the younger's suspicions.
Warmth filled his soul as Pink's lips split into a smile. Small, but one nonetheless, and Cyan would take what he could get.

“Well, what do you suggest we do about it?” screamed Black, waving her hands around frustratedly. Startled, the two looked up. "Cyan's dead, and the Impostors are getting braver, and who knows what could happen next? We don't even know who they are, yet! For all we know, it could even be you, Captain!“ she raged. ”I don't-“
”Black…“ murmured Yellow, kneeling next to his crying child.
Black turned to him.
”What? What?“ she snarled. ”Are you taking her side too? Are you-“
”Woah, there, Black,“ Orange gritted out, pulling her back and holding her. ”Easy, easy,“

Cyan frowned, his hand still on Pink's shoulder. He longed to just be able to reach out and pull them apart. Tell them to focus, to do before talking. But a heavy feeling pressed on him.
He could never help. He would never be able to. Not again. Not when he was only capable of the barest interaction with the living. Not when he'd failed.
His grip on Pink's shoulder tightened.

”Easy? Easy? What do you mean, easy?“ Black whirled around, thrusting her finger at Orange accusingly. ”Our dear Captain Len over here has just been suggesting one thing this entire time we've been standing here, and it's to do nothing. Nothing, Fruit. How can you expect me to take this easy?“

Every person in the room stilled.

No one was supposed to use each others' real names. Not now, not ever. The only names they were supposed to call each other were the ones they'd been assigned at the start of the Polus mission, the ones assigned to every crew on every Skeld as Impostor safety precautions.
Black had just broken one of the strictest rules MIRA set in place.

”Actually,“ said White coldly, clasping her hands and shattering the tense silence. ”I was simply suggesting we sit down and discuss what to do about the increasingly serious Impostor situation we have on our hands. Our ship is in disrepair and we'll never make it to any nearby planets like Minecraftia, let alone Earth.“

She let the statement sink in.
They weren't going home. Not any time soon, at least.

”So,“ White continued. ”How about we do as I, the Captain of this ship, said, and first figure out how to go about this whole… situation? And maybe not let our emotions cloud our senses, while we're at it?"

At this, Black glowered, but Cyan's gaze was drawn to another group, standing furthest away from him and Pink, right on the edge of the ring of crew members. Lime, Purple, and Yellow, who cradled Banana gently.

The Impostors. Or two of them were, at least.

Yet, as he watched Lime whisper something in the yellow-clad scientist's ear and a tight expression of fear dawn on Yellow's face, the nagging feeling of wrong came back.
Something was definitely off.

With Lime, and with Yellow.

Was Lime also…?

Too late.
A gloomy chorus of “Yes, Captain” and a tap of a button later, the emergency meeting had started. One by one, Cyan and the crew members felt themselves being spirited into the cafeteria.

The last thing he saw before reappearing at the main table was Lime, a threatening sneer on her face, whispering to Yellow as Purple held him in place. It wasn't much, but it was enough for Cyan to draw one conclusion:

Maybe there was more at play than he'd thought.

And so the meeting began.

PATHS TAKEN: 1-4, 3-1, 2-2, 5-1, 81-3, 7-3, 9-4, 4-1, 102-1, 6-3 | SABOTAGE RESULTS: 2- F, 1- F, 5- S;3- F, 6- F, 9- S;7- F, 4- S;8- S | ENDING: neutral

Last edited by Galaxy_Awesome (Nov. 23, 2022 00:23:08)

❝it may not be particulary wise,
but it’s a thrill to be disguised.❞
— Isadora Quagmire, A Series of Unfortunate Events

Galaxy_Awesome

♜ SWC July '22 Thank You Notes!!

So. It's the last day of this session of SWC. Which means…. (drumroll please)….. it's time for the annual thank you notes! Thank you notes are honestly one of my favourite things to do at the end of each session, and I have so many people to thank this time around and ohhhh I can't wait I can't wait

I can hardly believe the session's already ended!

Anyways, before I end up just rambling for five hours straight, let's get into it!

First, the Hosts, Co-Hosts, gHosts, MBC, Daily Team, and Writing comp judges:

To the wonderful, fantastic hosts of SWC July 2022:

Birdi: Birdi!! Hi!! You've always been a presence in all my past SWC sessions, and I can't tell you how much I'm thankful for everything that you do for this camp, from just running it, to doing and organising everything, to communicating with the campers and answering their questions and still participating in camp. I can't imagine how much work you're actually doing behind the Host-only scenes, but thank you. Thank you for everything you've done for this place, and thank you for being so patient with every camper that comes your way!

Robin: Hello Robin! I don't know you very well, but I've talked to you and seen you around camp a couple of times, and I know that you're also working very hard, so thanks! Thank you for stepping up and taking the role of another host and thank you for all you do <3 You're amazing - absolutely amazing.

Bakie: BAKIE BAKIE BAKIE!! I really want to bombard you with a bunch of emoticons but… I guess I'll just have to settle for these, haha: <333 You're such an kind person, whether it be as a host, leader, or friend, and I'm glad to have gotten to talk to you a bit more this session! Your kindness is incredible and knows no bounds. You're also a wonderful artist and writer and honestly whenever I see your stuff I just go ‘:O wow’. Thank you so much for being so nice and fun, and I hope we can hang out and/or chat more in the future!

Honey/Sawyer: It's been a while, huh? I know we don't talk much, but thanks! You're an awesome person, and very funny and it's always nice to see you around camp! Your work as a co-host will not go unnoticed nor unappreciated! Thanks for all your hard work on making this session so great and for all you did during past sessions! Thanks ^^

Now for the MBC and Daily Team: Thank you thank you thank you thank you (times infinity, but if I do that then I'd have no space left to write the other thank you notes, so I'll just have to settle for that XD)! The dailies and weeklies and workshops during this session were all so much fun and I think my writing definitely improved somewhat from what I learnt while doing them. I especially loved the Fantasy World building and Among Us weeklies, so thanks for those! The dailies were all really nice too, and I had so. much. fun. I cannot press this enough - the dailies and weeklies this session were spectacular. Good job and thank you all!

Also, the memory book isn't out yet, but thank you for that too! I can already tell it's going to be amazing.

Writing Competition Judges: Sometimes I wonder how you all are so enduringly patient with reading all the writing comp entries. There are so many of us, and yet you still manage to read them all and judge them fairly! That's a lot of work, and I want to thank you for doing it all. Good luck on judging (if you haven't already) and thank you!

And finally (in this section at least), the gHosts: I don't really now and I wasn't there for all of you, but I was still there for the majority of you and your times as hosts and co-hosts in past sessions, and I know that I definitely enjoyed the ones you were all in, so thank you! Thanks for all the things you did and made for SWC in the past, and thanks for the fun times you no doubt gave to everyone who was in past sessions with you ^^ Good luck on your non-SWC related endeavours!

Thanks to all of you (Hosts, gHosts, MBC and Daily Team, and judges, and more) for doing what you do and making SWC, well, SWC! Camp would be nothing without you all ^^

Now that those are done, it's time for my awesome leaders (of the Fairy Tale Trails) Vi, Sandy, and Hop!

To Vi: Vi, you were such a great leader this session. I'm so glad I finally got to meet and get to know you better, and I had so much fun in this cabin you crafted out of a bare, empty studio with your own hands! The lore was awesome, even if we were (as you said) a little bit behind on it, and the cabin theme and colours were great too (who doesn't love a little red and black and white/grey?). Without you, I know for a fact that this session wouldn't have been half as fun as it ended up being. So… yeah! Thank you, Vi! Thank you for the pfp, for the cabin, for the fun, and for all the work you put into it.

Thank you for the Fairy Tale Trails

Sandy: Sandy! When I saw that you would be one of the co leaders of Fairy Tales this session, I was ecstatic It's so great to see you again! You're always so nice and amicable with us regular campers, and I'm really grateful for that. Plus, you worked just as hard too, and you're just… a really cool person in general! Thanks for being such a cool (co)leader, Sandy!

Hop: Hi Hop! I didn't get to see you around both the camp and cabin that much, but I know for sure that you're a great person, leader, camper, writer, and more, and I know that you worked incredibly hard with Vi and Sandy to put all your ideas into fruition and make the Fairy Tales cabin the way it is now. Thank you so much for everything, and I hope I can get to know you a little better next time!

Thanks Fairy Tales leaders, for both all the times and memories!

On to the Fairy Tale Trails campers!

First, we have J/Air/Zia: J!! it was so good seeing you this session! I really enjoyed reading your Mog and Teddy pieces and critiquing your writing, and honestly? It was just fun to be in a cabin with you yet again. Can you believe it's our fifth session together? Time passes really fast, eh? Anyways, it was also really fun doing Lore Things together with you and hanging out with you in general. So… thanks for that, J! Thanks for that, and for how funny and sweet you always are, and for being in the cabin with me, and for being my scratch best friend!

(PS: I have that 10 things message you wrote for me screenshotted! It warms my heart every day )

Nayeli: Nayeli Nayeli Nayeli! It was so good seeing you again this session I've missed you! It's been great being in a cabin with you again, and even though you weren't online much it was just nice seeing you, you know? Thanks for being so fun and cool and just being, well, you! Keep doing what you're doing, and I really hope I can see you next session! Maybe talk a little more? Eh, either way, thanks Nayeli! Your vibes are the absolute best.

Delta: Hi Delta! First off, I'm so glad I met you this month. You're incredibly talented and amazing and you helped so so much during cabin wars and you write so well! I had a ton of fun writing with and alongside you when we got wars from other cabins, and you're so creative too! Thanks so much for being my cabin mate and for everything you did for our cabin <3

Starthorn: Starthorn (or Star - is that what you go by?)! I didn't talk with you much, but you were a pleasure to chat with whenever we did, and you're always so kind and nice! Oh, oh, oh, and you wrote so much, too! Seriously, I don't think I've ever seen any other camper (or at least one who I've shared a cabin with) write that much. Nearly 100k words! 90k words is already so much, and I admire you a lot for it. Thanks for all you've written and contributed to the cabin!

Fenn: Fenn, do you have any idea how cool you are (though I suppose you do, considering you have ‘certified cool kid’ on your profile. Which you definitely are, by the way)? Your writing skills are fantastic, and I never expected to enjoy writing for cabin wars with you so much either! It was great getting to officially know you (after just seeing you around camp a few times during previous sessions), and I hope your writing skills continue to progress in the future ^^ Thanks for being so funky and being such an awesome cabin mate and writer/author!

Icy: Thanks for being so active around the cabin! Not only that, but I find you to be a very nice person and cabin mate, and I'm so glad I was put in the same cabin as you! Your contributions and activity during cabin wars was also really great and helpful, and we couldn't have done it all without you! So thanks, Icy! Thank you for everything! I hope I can get to know you more next time!

JoJo: Hi JoJo! Thanks a ton for being an awesome camper, cabin mate, and SWCer. Wait, no, not just awesome - kind, friendly, helpful, and all those other things that I could say but I think you get Like for Icy, I hope I can get to know you better and see you around camp more next time around (if you're joining next time, that is)! I would love to be friends with you! Thanks for being one of the nicest campers I know <3

Mishel: Mishel, I may not have talked with you or chatted with you as much as I wanted to this session, but I just want to let you know that you're an amazing person and I love the aesthetic on your profile and you're very creative and thank you for being there - for being here in Fairy Tales! Thank you

Other/additional thank yous:

Neon Horror cabin: Hey Horror! You guys are the coolest siblings and allies ever and your theme and aesthetic is awesome <33 Thanks for being so awesome and nice to our cabin!

Everyone else (from both my cabin and outside of it): Thank you all so so much for making this session as good as it was <3 I had such a blast writing and learning and hanging out with everyone this month and doing the dailies and weeklies and cabin wars and, well, everything! I'm sorry if the thank yous got a little generic or repetitive; I really do mean each one and I tried to jazz them up a little! Plus, it's kind of hard putting my feelings into words, haha. Anyways, thank you all again, and I hope I can see everyone next session (even if I might not join, I'll be sure to hang around and pop in every now and then! There's just too many cool people in SWC not to)!

Last edited by Galaxy_Awesome (Aug. 2, 2022 14:14:27)

❝it may not be particulary wise,
but it’s a thrill to be disguised.❞
— Isadora Quagmire, A Series of Unfortunate Events

Galaxy_Awesome

♜ Lax's SWC Writing, November 2022 ♜

♜ Current Word Count: 1,051/10k

♔ QotD's: 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 3
♕ Main Cabin Dailies: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 3
♖ Main Cabin Weeklies: 1 2 3 4
♗ Writing Competition Entries: 1 2
♘ Cabin Wars: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20
♙ Other: 1 2 3 4 5

Word Wars
Thank You Note

#Sci-FiFTW!

Last edited by Galaxy_Awesome (Nov. 29, 2022 00:02:11)

❝it may not be particulary wise,
but it’s a thrill to be disguised.❞
— Isadora Quagmire, A Series of Unfortunate Events

Galaxy_Awesome

♖ 1st Weekly
2,100 words in total

Cabin: Sci-Fi
-
Note: the views of the POV character/Sci-Fi don't reflect both me and the Sci-Fi cabin's views on the other cabins! This all based on who are enemies, allies, or neutrals of the Sci-Fi cabin and other inter-cabin relationships
-
Unglitched letters can be read here

♖ Non-Fiction
139 words

To Nolan Shawn,

How have you been doing? I trust everything in your breadhouse is going well. Are you still doing your bread showcase at Rea's inn in two days? I was hoping to perhaps find out more about what you have organised for it, as I plan to stay in the inn for a few days before making my way back to my compound. Perhaps you'd also be willing to stop for a chat? There has been quite a lot going on lately, which I'm sure you'd appreciate getting caught up on. I've realised recently that I have not yet repaid my favour from a month ago to you, which I will do soon. There is also an upcoming project of mine that I'd like to hear your thoughts on.

I hope to see you soon,
Silas Fye

♖ Mystery
141 words

To Maisie Terry,

Would you be willing to allow me to have two to three seats to myself? I previously asked for a first class carriage seat, and I'm aware that has been granted. However, I happen to currently be lugging with me a decent amount of equipment and machinery for a certain project, which I confided in your in my previous letters. I have a lot of plans for this project, and unfortunately cannot leave any of this behind, especially the currently a work in progress loading pod for my plans. I'm afraid my luggage cannot be put in the cargo carriage either, as it is far too fragile and cannot be handled improperly. As such, it would most likely be best if I was given a little more space to keep my things with me.

Thank you,
Silas Fye

♖ Realistic Fiction
157 words

To Rea Ficson,

Thank you for allowing me to reserve the room in your inn with no windows, and stopping by to join Nolan and I on our chat. It was quote enjoyable if I do say so myself, and I look forward to potentially doing so again the next time I stay at the inn. On the topic of our talk, I've thought about what you said thoroughly, and decided that I would be glad to let you help fund my future project - now hereby titled Project SCP - for the price of being allowed to utilise the Metaverse for your inn. The Metaverse is potentially groundbreaking and should not be kept from anyone. In addition, I have great news regarding the project, which I will get into in my next letter, to be sent after I arrive in my compound.

Please stop warning me against taking the Mystery Express. It will be fine.

Sincerely,
Silas Fye

♖ Adventure
151 words

Dearest sibling, Addeline Venture,

Thank you very much for sending me your concerns over conducting Project SCP. However, I have decided that that the benefits far outweigh the risks of the project, and will continue my efforts in proving my hypothesis regarding the Metaverse. Do you not always seek the thrill of an adventure, of a quest? Think of the many expeditions we could send inside if the project proves a success! Your kingdom could benefit greatly from this. The potential of the Metaverse is limitless, Addeline. If we could simply stabilise it and conduct a few test runs, it could be groundbreaking! Perhaps even drag your kingdom out its (excuse my wording) primitivity or end the war currently rampaging its lands.

In the case that you reconsider, my offer for a partnership still stands. With both our resources combined, Project SCP will be a guaranteed success.

Your sibling, Silas Fye

♖ Script
179 words

Dearest sibling S. Kree Pits,

No, I will not let you use any (I repeat: any) of my equipment in your play. I understand that it is supposed to be your ‘grand masterpiece’, but I do not need more props stuck inside them, and nor do I need any broken parts, and nor do I need non gloved hands dirtying my sensitive machines. So please make do with whatever props you are able to make, because I very much do not want a repeat of the Reactor Incident of our childhood. I imagine you do not want your cast members and backstage crew to be injured. While it would be amusing to watch the results of meddling with my equipment, it would also ruin your masterpiece of a play, and as your older sibling, I believe it is my duty to make sure things work out for the best for you.

Also, I am in need of said equipment for a certain project of mine. I'll inform you about it after your play.

Your favourite sibling, Silas Fye

♖ Fantasy
129 words

To Francis Tasy,

Don't think I have not yet caught wind of what you do in your workshop. My assistants inform me of everything that happens in our laboratories. I am very aware of where my Project SCP documents went yesterday evening during my unfortunately timed supper break. And do not even attempt to bring up last year's (accidental, may I remind you) surprising similarity between my papers and your current studies. I did not steal your work, and as a fellow intellectual you should know that I would never sink so low. So I am politely asking you to hand me back my documents and leave me and my project well enough alone.

Do not go within a mile radius of my lab. Thank you,
Silas Fye

♖ Folklore
162 words

To Fall Klaure,

Frankly, I can't believe I have to resort to this, but… might you have any idea where your sibling Francis keeps their private documents? They may have… borrowed some of mine. I'm afraid I can't find anything between all the stray cogs and parts in their workshop (please don't ask how I was able to get in there). Maybe they mentioned something? I know you're good at following trails and finding things. Anyway, I have some questions I'd like to ask you regarding historical encounters with fae and entering their world. I have managed to collect a few written records, but I can't quite make sense of them. Perhaps we could meet at one of my laboratories. Are you free on Monday, 8:00 PM? If so, remember to don the correct protective gear. There are many potential hazards there.

Don't take anything Francis says about my facility to heart. They are - most likely - lying.

Sincerely,
Silas Fye

♖ Historical Fiction
133 words

To my friend and ally, Hiroshi Phict,

As you might have heard, a certain someone may have taken a couple of the documents I need for Project SCP. Very important documents, might I add - ones that have proved to be of the utmost significance during my research for the project and its planned conduction in two days. Without it, the whole test run may in the end be a complete failure. All that potential, wasted because a fellow scientist and engineer couldn't wait longer. It would be such a mighty shame. My attempts to find it via Fall Klaure haven't proved successful, either. However, with your skills, I'm sure you could nick it far too easily. Would you mind perhaps popping over to their Sanctuary workshop to grab it tonight?

Thanks,
Silas Fye

♖ Thriller
158 words

To Tiran Ler,

I've finished the requested modifications to your diving equipment. However, I will not be able to deliver them myself due to a test run of a project I plan to do later in the day, and as such you may have to pick them up yourself. The preparations for this test run are very specific and will most likely be on going by the time that you arrive, so I strongly suggest that you follow my assistants closely and not repeat the incident of last year (though I admit on my part that I was insufficient in securing the machinery at the time). Do not, and I repeat do not, touch anything. Though fortunate for you, you are very much welcome to observe the conduction of the test run, which will hopefully banish your previous skepticism.

You're very lucky I agreed to modify your equipment for you. Be here before 5:00 PM,
Silas Fye

♖ Poetry
144 words

To my friend Pollux Tee,

I'm afraid I'll have to decline your invitation to celebrate the grand opening of your Isle of Fame, as a pressing matter has come up: after a recent discovery, I have found that I simply cannot wait longer to do my (and the world's) first expedition into the Metaverse. All the necessary precautions have been taken, my laboratory compound has been prepared, secured and sterilised, and the pod has been readied. The last thing remaining is to load in. I am conducting the test run in an hour, and by the time you read this I will most likely have already gone in. Trust me, this will be worth it. I have full confidence in this experiment.

Congratulations on the Isle of Fame's debut and first ever camp, and my sincerest apologies for being unable to come,
Silas Fye

♖ Fan-Fiction
138 words

To F̷͕̖͐͛a̵̼̒̊n̸̢͚̿ni Kitesen,

How does it feel to have once more been proved wrong? Currently, I am writing from the depths of the M̵e̷t̵a̸v̵e̷r̵s̷e̶, after a very successful first ever test of P̴̭̂r̷͉̈́oject S̶͔̾C̵̜͒P̸̰̄. This simulation is frankly fascinating, and I'm surprised you and your time travellers have not yet thought to try and explore it. I'm quite sure your agency has the technology for it. Of course, the fact you haven't yet done is your loss, and now I suppose I'm f̶r̶e̸e to harness the potential this place and make it even more useful for the world. I told you that it would work. In fact, it more than just worked. This has had to be one of my smoothest-running proj̸e̶c̷t̵s yet.

N̴e̴v̵e̸r̸m̵i̷n̷d̷ that it's a little bit g̶l̵i̶t̴c̵hy. Everything will be fine.

Triumphantly,
Ṡ̵͙i̶͓͠l̸̬͝a̶̢͊s̷͓͘ ̸͍̌F̴̳̒y̷̙͘ę̷̈

♖ Horror
156 words

to Ḧ̷̯́o̴͂ͅn̵͔̋o̷̡̓r̴͕͌a̸̻͐ ̵̢̅ȓ̴̤o̷̪͂w̸̧̒ĕ̷͕,

As promised, I am contacting you as fast as possible to let you know the moment I load into the M̸̦̐ẽ̸̮t̸̝͑a̷͕͊v̴̘͂e̶͚͌r̴̘̈ś̶͇ë̴͈. I haven't ye̵t̵ explored very far, as the terrain and the many, many obstacles in the form of the w̷͗͜e̵̹͛b̷̬͊'s contents have revealed themselves to be rather d̵i̴f̵f̷i̴c̶ult to traverse. However, I have full confidence that I and soon others will be able to, given the time and right amount of resources. There seem to be a few things in here that could aid y̸̭͗ǒ̷̦ù̶̳ in e̷̟̕s̴͈̉c̶̗͊â̷̘p̴̎ͅi̸̦̊ń̶͉ġ̷̪ your grav̸͕̈́e̶̺̋ỵ̶̊ard and/or regaining your p̶o̴w̶e̵r̸s. p̷̹̕ḣ̸̭o̵̳̕t̷̤̂o̵̧̊s̷̱̑ of these items will be sent with th̶̪̉e letter.

P̵r̶o̸j̵e̴c̸t̵ ̸S̸C̸P̷ itself ran quite smoothly, and so far everything about it has proven my h̴y̷p̷o̸t̸h̵e̸s̷i̷s̸ right. I may be in slight… I'm not sure what it is, but I should very well be okay soon enough. It's just some trans-d̸i̸m̴e̴n̶sional jet lag, I'm sure.

sincerely,
Ŝ̸̢i̵̬̊l̸̺͘ä̵̘s̴̰̿ ̵̫̐F̷̦̊y̶̖̌ë̶́͜

♖ Dystopian
132 words

tO D̶́ͅi̷̜̽l̷̠̓ŷ̴̘s̶̝͗ ̸̼̽Ṭ̴́o̸̅ͅp̵̥͝i̸͈̋ä̸̮́ (friend and ȃ̴̝͈͝l̸̮͎̉̎l̷͓̎ŷ̴̙̕),

i'm not even sure if Y̶̬̊o̸̫͌u'll recieve this, but you'rë̸̳́ ̵͝ͅo̶̳͛N̶̛͕e of the l̶͈̽a̵̠̾st people who might be able to. I'm̸̯̔ ̸̲̀i̴̬̿'̷̩̏m i'm̸̲̏ in tt̶͙͋ṟ̵̓r̵̒ͅtouble, I think. the̶̩̽ ̵̲̒ȩ̶͑N̷̛̼ẗ̶̤́rance and log in into the M̴͍̆ę̷͒t̶͙͂a̷̪͆v̸̜͊ȩ̶͘e̷͇̍r̶͉͒s̶̆͜e̴̤͂ was not smooth at all ̶̺̈́and i'm afRaid somẻ̷͚t̷̼̀h̸̯͗ị̵̃n̷̟͆g̷̳̅ ̸̣̚m̷̰̃ust have ggone wrong. i do not know what exActly ̷͔͒ḭ̴̔s̵̳̈ ̷̅ͅB̶͛͜ú̶͉t̴̲͘ ̵̮̆I̸̛̭'̴̟͂ ̶̺̈m̶̱̚ sure of it. the dimensionA̸͖̽l plane here is un̷̟̚s̵̯̿s̸̪̀t̷̡͋à̷ͅble. there are Ģ̴̐l̴̙͝i̷̛͖t̷͍͝c̸͍͑h̸̠͝e̵̗͝S̸̩͐ ̷̰̈́ȅ̵̪veyrwhere and i fear the wo̴r̴l̶d̶ might be falling apart. i my̷͉͒self appear to be glitch̴̭̏i̶͕͝n̷̝̎g̵͍̓ ̷̪͝-̶̮̈́ it doEsn't p̸̬̀ȧ̶̺i̷̫͆n me, not much, but I made a critical mistake in Not anticipating thiss and now I have n̸̖͐o̸̥͝ ̵͙̂c̴̫̚l̵̼̍u̵̩͝e what mIght hap happe en to me. i do̸n̸'̵t̸ ̵k̷n̷ow what to do.

Pp̶p̶l̶ease help me,
S̵͚̊̀ï̴̺̙l̸̖̽a̶̦̹̓̚s̴̩̕ ̵̙̈́͝F̸̼́ỳ̷̬̱ĕ̵̩̝

♖ Bizarro Fiction
181 words

de̵̤̚ä̵̦rest sibling Z̶̼̎a̵͓̠̽̏r̸̺̉̆r̴̖̺̈o̸̹͛͠ ̷̛̦F̵̡̈́̕ỳ̸̮̈e̶̝͂

i`m so, so sȯ̷̫r̵͙̋R̷̹͑y. I'm aware I sssaid P̶̱͝r̸̖̕o̵̙̊j̷͕̋e̵̡̐c̸̘̄t̴͊ͅ ̷̧̋S̷̤̿C̴̬͠P̸̩͂ Went perfectly, but it didn`t, not at aLl. I was an ̸̰̊i̴̫̒d̴͈̈́í̸̤ot and I should hav ̶̛̟e̶͇̍ ̷̞̇admitted it, but I didn̸̞͑;̷̘̎t. Somethi̷̞̒n̷̘̿g̷̝̑`̷͈̐s̵̪̔ ̷̭̀v̶̲͠ery wrongg wi̸̲͗t̴̡͝h̸̠͒ ̸̙͌w̵̞͋ith with the M̵͙̌ḙ̸͗t̴̤̒a̸̤͛v̴͈̽ȅ̸̦r̶̪͐s̸̭͛e̶͑͜. I'm barely able to write̴̝͋ ̶̠̐t̴̼͑T̸̮̿h̸̩́ĩ̸̻s as we speak. I don`t do̶̦͝n̸̞̅ ̷̡̽t̸̘̉ ̵̱́t know where I am, or what part of this placce I'm in. at̵̬̓ ̴̝͗t̸͉̓į̵̈́M̶̬̿es it looks like there are s̵̤̎ẗ̶̡́ȁ̸͉r̸̬̾s̶̫̕ all around me and no a̸͈͂i̷͋͜r̵̹̀ for me tO breathe. and Then the w̶͔͆ọ̵̚r̴͔͝l̷̠̈d̵̝͠ is full of fog and bright splashes of colǫ̸̂ṳ̴̋r̴̮̓ș̸͠, then it gli̷̮̎t̶͓̉c̵̯͛h̸͕̿es liKe everyrthing else appears to and it reverts back to ̸̖̔N̵͝ͅn̵̢͐o̴̮͗r̷̹̈́mal normal, though something is every so sLig̶̳̚h̶̥̊ṯ̶͝l̷͙̾y̸̥͛ ̸̗͋w̴̧͆rong, or off.

Pplease Z̵̖̄a̵̭̅r̴͖̊r̵͜͝ò̸̭, help me. you`re mmY la̷͚͗s̷̰̽t̸͓͛ ̴̦͑ḫ̵̀o̸̡͠p̶͓̚e, dearest sibling. Everything̵͕̐ ̵̧̎h̵̠͊U̸̜̇rts - why does everything h̵̨͒ú̸̮r̶̛̙t̶͈͋¿ I cannot move an iNch. it burns (freezes¿). I fear I'm bbeing torn in three, and I am at ă̷͙ ̸̠̐l̶̤̿o̵̩͐s̶͈͊s as to how this will è̴͇n̵̤͝d̵̰͑. what's going to happen to me?

please, Z̸̦͆a̴̺͠ŕ̶͜ŕ̴̩o̷͖̾. I'm so sorry,
S̶͍̒ī̴̟ĺ̵͓a̴̙͆ṡ̶̰ ̷̼͝F̸̻͂y̵̜̾e̵̲͆

Last edited by Galaxy_Awesome (Nov. 7, 2022 13:32:00)

❝it may not be particulary wise,
but it’s a thrill to be disguised.❞
— Isadora Quagmire, A Series of Unfortunate Events

Galaxy_Awesome

♖ 2nd of November - Main Cabin Daily
357 words

Cabin Rivalries

During all previous sessions of Scratch Writing Camp (SWC), you'd be hard pressed to find one that hasn't had some major rivalry between two or more cabins. These cabins duke it out in the camp's most intense battles of the month - cabin wars. Wars are sent between each cabin, with campers on each side ruthlessly writing and typing their fingers off. Cabin wars are a natural habitat for SWC's famous late-night warriors: procrastinators and the sleepless. This is where the rivalries reach a peak, where after the passiveness of the past days, cabin wars brings an opportunity to settle things once and for all.

Wars are exchanged, poisonous cookies are sent, and war cries are likely to ring out. Until it all comes to a standstill as the day ends.

Not to fret, though, for this is all in good fun. Enemies and rivalries are all a natural part of the session, and none of them are serious! The cabins may fight fierce battles of words, but at the end of the day, they are all in good terms with each other. It's not just poisonous cookies, wars, or words that are sent out. It's also jokes and memories, kept forever in the immortal archive of the internet. Major cabin rivalries are an exciting part of SWC, especially when they seep out of just cabin wars and make it into daily SWC.

However, these, along with the enemies, neutrals, allies, siblings, and everything else in the inter-cabin relationships system, are simply to add some spark to camp and make it an even better, more fun, and more memorable experience for everyone!
So the next time you see two cabins seemingly have hostile* (yet strangely friendly) interactions most often filled with SWC jokes with each other, worry not. Just observe, participate, and have fun!

*There have been occasions where two or more campers get into very real arguments with each other, though hopefully it's easy to tell the exaggerated rivalries of cabin wars between actual arguments. If these actual ones happen, it's most likely best to contact a leader about it and try not to make things worse.

Last edited by Galaxy_Awesome (Nov. 5, 2022 10:40:31)

❝it may not be particulary wise,
but it’s a thrill to be disguised.❞
— Isadora Quagmire, A Series of Unfortunate Events

Galaxy_Awesome

♖ 3rd of November - Main Cabin Daily
348 words

Object: Laptop

Have you ever felt witheringly weak on a hot, sunny day? Ever looked around, searching for cold drink to relieve your senses only to find none? Well, you're in luck! Due to some simply interdimensional tweaking, our new hit drink the LP-Smoothie is now available anywhere at any time, at any price! Just hold your hand out, think of it, and it'll appear in your hand with one little pop. Containing only the healthiest, mango-est, and most nutritious ingredients kept at a constant cold temperature no matter the surroundings, the LP-Smoothie is the perfect drink for a hot day. Say goodbye to sunburns, because once you drink this, you'll be so fresh and cool that you might even freeze!

The LP-Smoothie's main ingredient is a brand new, top of the charts, high tech laptop. Blended perfectly and topped with a sprinkle of LED lights, this drink will provide many benefits to your average SWCer. According to our researchers and scientists, the chopped up pieces of the motherboard are a great way to stimulate and improve brain functions, therefore letting you come up with creative new ideas and storylines! Wiring and other hardware has been proved to provide support for bodily functions. Many an SWCer has started typing and writing faster after drinking the LP-Smoothie due to this. Other benefits include a gaining automatic mental access to the internet and its many features, as well as having a handy and always accurate mental calculator.

However, the LP-Smoothie isn't just about benefits to your health. It's also about taste! This smoothie is widely considered by many to be the most refreshing drink in the world. Its cool metal taste and the slight tinge/aftertaste of copper provide excellent sensations to the tongue, and it is said that the camera tastes amazingly glassy, a sweet relief from the burning sun. All of these traits, from healthy benefits to the metallic taste, combine into one fantastic smoothie, ready to freshen your day!

If you're looking for a cool drink after a long afternoon walk, the LP-Smoothie is the right one for you!

Last edited by Galaxy_Awesome (Nov. 6, 2022 02:49:00)

❝it may not be particulary wise,
but it’s a thrill to be disguised.❞
— Isadora Quagmire, A Series of Unfortunate Events

Galaxy_Awesome

♖ 4th of November - Main Cabin Daily
342 words

Based on my Part 3: Dystopian Fantasy piece from July 2022's 3rd weekly, found here

Original Lyrics from Feed the Machine by Poor Man's Poison:

Hey, you, feed the machine
Bring them all back down to their knees
There's no time to waste
Remind the slaves
They ain't gonna make it out alive today

Translated (English –> Icelandic –> Scottish Gaelic –> Sundanese –> Filipino –> French –> Spanish –> French –> Filipino –> Sundanese –> Scottish Gaelic –> Icelandic –> English):

Hey feed the machine
Bring everything to its knees
no time is wasted
remember the boy
They can't get out alive now.

The Cosmis Rulers huddled above the skies, uncontent. Their growing power had halted and slowed in the past months, and they knew something was wrong down below, and that someone was at fault for it.
Feed the machine, they whispered into the soul of their eyes and ears.
We are hungry.

“O-Of course,” The boy shivered at their words. He strode towards a pair of grand doors, waving over some servants.
“Tell the Directors we need more people manning it all,” he ordered, face suddenly blank and devoid of emotion. “Immediately. We cannot waste time. More changelings and humans to work the factories. More dwarves to mine from the Caverns, elves to reinforce the rules, gnomes to collect resources, anything else we need. Now.”

The elven servant nodded. “Y-yes, sir,” they said, wringing their hands. “But you might- might have to look outside first, sir,”
Shooting her a questioning look as the Cosmics whispered and grumbled above, the boy stepped forward. He pushed the grand doors open.
Chaos. Bloodshed, fire, and the war cries of two factions, slashing and fighting mercilessly.

And at the front of it all, two leaders. A Director and a dwarf, back to back against the Cosmic's army of wisps and dead celestials.

He drew back abruptly, whirling on the servant. The Cosmics rumbled.
“What is this?” the boy demanded, gesturing at the brutal fight outside. The City was nearly unrecognisable. “Why did no one tell me of this?”
“It's- it's the rebellion, sir,” the elf quaked. “They're- they're attempting a coup,”

DESTROY THEM. The Cosmics thundered, and the sky shook with their rage.
DESTROY THEM ALL. BRING THEM DOWN ONTO THEIR KNEES AND MAKE THEM SUFFER.

The world seemed to freeze.

Argloth looked the Director in the eyes.
"We forgot about him.“ he whispered, deathly still.
”The boy,“ the Director breathed. ”Their eyes and their ears."

The Cosmics roared once more.
NOTHING IS GETTING OUT OF THIS ALIVE.

Their words rang through the air.

And death rained from the sky.

Last edited by Galaxy_Awesome (Nov. 5, 2022 10:40:50)

❝it may not be particulary wise,
but it’s a thrill to be disguised.❞
— Isadora Quagmire, A Series of Unfortunate Events

Galaxy_Awesome

♖ Unglitched/Plaintext Version of ‘Glitchy’ Letters - 1st Weekly

♖ Fan-Fiction

To Fanni Kitesen,

How does it feel to have once more been proved wrong? Currently, I am writing from the depths of the Metaverse, after a very successful first ever test of Project SCP. This simulation is frankly fascinating, and I'm surprised you and your time travellers have not yet thought to try and explore it. I'm quite sure your agency has the technology for it. Of course, the fact you haven't yet done is your loss, and now I suppose I'm free to harness the potential this place and make it even more useful for the world. I told you that it would work. In fact, it more than just worked. This has had to be one of my smoothest-running projects yet.

Nevermind that it's a little bit glitchy. Everything will be fine.

Triumphantly,
Silas Fye

♖ Horror

to Honora rowe,

As promised, I am contacting you as fast as possible to let you know the moment I load into the Metaverse. I haven't ye̵t explored very far, as the terrain and the many, many obstacles in the form of the web's contents have revealed themselves to be rather difficult to traverse. However, I have full confidence that I and soon others will be able to, given the time and right amount of resources. There seem to be a few things in here that could aid you in escaping your graveyard and/or regaining your powers. photos of these items will be sent with the letter.

Project SCP itself ran quite smoothly, and so far everything about it has proven my hypothesis right. I may be in slight… I'm not sure what it is, but I should very well be okay soon enough. It's just some trans-dimensional jet lag, I'm sure.

sincerely,
Silas Fye

♖ Dystopian
(Fixed grammar, punctuating and spelling)

to Dilys Topia (friend and ally),

i'm not even sure if You'll receive this, but you're one of the last people who might be able to. I'm in trouble, I think. the entrance and log in into the Metaverse was not smooth at all and i'm afraid something must have gone wrong. i do not know what exactly is But I'm sure of it. the dimensional plane here is unstable. there are glitches everywhere and i fear the world might be falling apart. i myself appear to be glitching - it doesn't pain me, not much, but I made a critical mistake in not anticipating this and now I have no clue what mIght happen to me. i don't know what to do.

Please help me,
Silas Fye

♖ Bizarro Fiction
(Fixed grammar, punctuation and spelling)

dearest sibling Zarro Fye

i'm so, so sorry. I'm aware I said Project SCP went perfectly, but it didn't, not at all. I was a fool and I should have admitted it, but I didn't. Something's very wrong with the Metaverse. I'm barely able to write this as we speak. I don't know where I am, or what part of this place I'm in. at times it looks like there are stars all around me and no air for me to breathe. and then the world is full of fog and bright splashes of colours, then it glitches like everything else appears to and it reverts back to normal, though something is every so slightly wrong, or off.

Please Zarro, help me. you're my last hope, dearest sibling. Everything hurts - why does everything hurt? I cannot move an inch. it burns (freezes?). I fear I'm being torn in three, and I am at a loss as to how this will end. what's going to happen to me?

please, Zarro. I'm so sorry,
Silas Fye

Last edited by Galaxy_Awesome (Nov. 7, 2022 12:37:17)

❝it may not be particulary wise,
but it’s a thrill to be disguised.❞
— Isadora Quagmire, A Series of Unfortunate Events

Galaxy_Awesome

♖ 6th of November - Main Cabin Daily
649 words

Flowers:
- Amaranth (immortality)
- Dandelions (faithfulness)
- Marigold (grief)
- Snowdrop (hope)

Days after what had seemed to be the end of the world, Argloth sat beside the Director. Behind them spanned the ruins of the City - now barely anything more than ashes, after the rage of the Cosmics rained from above. The rebellion had won, in the end, but at a cost. All homes above land destroyed completely, a tear in the permanent clouds, and dozens, if not hundreds, dead. And while some were innocent civilians, most were not. Most were fellow rebels, hurtling with passion into the crossfire and the aftermath, and not making it out.

Argloth clasped the Director's hidden hand as they kneeled in front of the crumbling remains of the Cosmic champion's castle. A crowd of the surviving members of the rebellion gathered behind them, watching and mourning silently. Abruptly, the Director's movements ceased.
“I- i can't do this,” they murmured. “I don't-”
Argloth squeezed their hand tighter, looking up to meet their dim gaze. He stared back, his own eyes blazing with deep, determined flame.
“No.” he said, with a finality ringing about it. "You can do this- we can do this. Together.“
Their trembling touch steadying, the Director nodded slowly.
”Y-you're right,“ they echoed. ”We can do this. We can do this.“

Pulling themselves upright, Argloth and the Director turned back to the crowd. Drawing themself to their full, towering height, the Director's voice rang out above the grieving faces.

”Today, my rebels, we gather - though we do so for a different cause,“ they announce, holding in their hands the ceremonial floating lantern, with the empty bowl attached to its bottom. ”Today, we gather not to fight, but to honour. We will honour our fallen the way they would honour us. We will preserve their lives and legacies, sending them out into the sky to be sent to the realm of celestials and heroes. And there they will stay, their souls at peace forevermore.“

”But first,“ Argloth piped in. ”The Picking.“
And from his feet he drew flowers - an armful of them, all shapes and sizes, a bright spot of colour among the sea of grey. Reaching down, he picked the first.

”First,“ said the Director, kneeling so their partner could place them in the lantern's bowl. ”Snowdrops, for all they did to give us, and the rest of the city, hope. Without them, none of this would have been achieved, and we would never have freed ourselves. Their brave souls were a light in our darkness, a burning flame for the hopeless to follow.“

”Second,“ they continued, as Argloth placed more flowers in the bowl. ”Marigolds, for they were part of us, and part of our whole, and forever will be. Our brethren and our kin. We shall mourn them with all our hearts, until the celestials themselves might hear our cries, for that is what they deserve.“

”Third,“ they said, hands starting to tremble once more. ”Dandelions, as a thanks for all they put into our cause. Their loyalty was unwavering, and it was because of that that we have managed to achieve so much. Without them, we would not have stood a chance. They did our peoples a great service, and loyalty to the rights of others is an treasured value in deed.“

”Fourth, and last but not least,“ said the Director at last, after a long pause. ”Amaranths, for immortal they were not but immortal they shall be, for from now on we will never forget the day they sacrificed their lives for us, and from now on they will be remembered until the true end of days, until there will no longer be anyone on our planet to honour their memory. In writing and in prose, they shall live forever."

And with that, Argloth stepped backward, and the Director raised their hands to the sky. And the lantern floated on, carrying a trail of brave souls.

Last edited by Galaxy_Awesome (Nov. 6, 2022 23:42:43)

❝it may not be particulary wise,
but it’s a thrill to be disguised.❞
— Isadora Quagmire, A Series of Unfortunate Events

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