swc megathread ➷ march 2024

silverlynx-

Critique

Overall, I think this piece is very creative and imaginative! I love the way that you incorporate the flower language into the writing! <3

tapdancer707 wrote:
Sunlight danced through the window over hastily-scribbled notes, illuminating the blank paper beside them. Bree twirled a colored pencil in one hand as she looked over the notes. She knew exactly what she wanted to say, but the prospect of actually making the card had her freezing up.

In this paragraph, I love the way you begin it, especially how you describe the sunlight as dancing. Generally, I don’t think you need to change much on this apart from adding in another few adjectives or adverbs! <3

Tomorrow was her best friend’s birthday. The party wasn’t happening until the weekend, and Bree was confident she’d picked the right gift for then, but she wanted the card to be ready for her actual birthday. They always gave each other something on their actual birthday, and it was always comforting to see that someone remembered it for real, and not just for the celebration.

I think you could replace the ‘and’ with a ‘but’ for the second sentence, since this makes more sense as well as adding more about Bree’s feelings into this. You use ‘actual’ twice in this paragraph, so maybe replace one of them with a different word.

She wasn’t about to let her best friend down, but making the perfect card wasn’t going to be easy. Out of the two of them, Bree definitely wasn’t the artist or the poet, or anything useful for card making (unless imitating other people’s handwriting counted). She could tap dance and play sports and be a good friend, but when it came to something this artsy, she usually had to ask for guidance.

I like how you make it so you add more of Bree’s hobbies into this, as the reader will be able to feel like they know her more. Again, I think you could add in some more description! This paragraph is a great bridge between the previous and next paragraph, and flows beautifully!

But she’d planned for this. A few months ago, around Bree’s own birthday, her best friend had gone through a flower-language phase and given her a fancy bouquet that probably had a secret message or something in it (although she’d insisted that it was okay if Bree didn’t want to decode it, since she wasn’t as interested in that sort of thing).

I really like how you explain the flower language in this paragraph!

I think since you used brackets in the last paragraph, you could change it to a dash, to mix up the punctuation a bit! You also get to know Bree’s friend a bit more in this as well, and you manage to thread this in really smoothly!

Though the flowers had long since dried up, she still had several pictures of the bouquet, and carefully began drawing them on the front of the blank card: yellow dandelions (the only ones she really recognized), bigger light purple flowers, a cluster of tiny white ones, and little pink blooms with what looked like clover leaves.

Halfway through, she nearly convinced herself to stop. What if the drawings weren’t good enough, or she did something wrong that changed the flowers to have a bad meaning? What if that bouquet wasn’t supposed to have a message after all, and the flowers meaning actually were bad, and she was about to accidentally tell her best friend that she hated her or something?

I'm gonna start doing the paragraphs in twos now so it isn't too long btw! I would recommend adding more description to the flowers, as you have quite a lot of freedom describing nature and things. For example, you could say ‘mellow pastel pink blooms’ or something like that. In the second paragraph in this section I think you could do more about Bree’s feelings again.

She was in too deep to stop now, though. And they were understanding with each other over these things, so if she accidentally drew the wrong flowers, at least the rest of the card would still be nice.

Bree carefully filled out the last dandelion and opened the card to the inside, switching from the colored pencils to a bright magenta pen. Once she was done writing, she doodled a few more flowers alongside the words, to brighten up the inside of the card.

She closed the card again and started to question if she should start over- then, before she could stop herself, put it in an envelope and sealed it shut. On the front of the envelope, she wrote “To Nancy” in bright pink letters with a little heart at the end.

There. It was finished. There was nothing she could do but wait for tomorrow.

I quite like the way this flows. Again, more description would elevate this piece and I would suggest changing ‘There. It was finished’ to something that is slightly softer, maybe join them together.

School was out, the card was in her pocket, and Bree was more nervous about the whole situation than she should have been. She’d originally planned to give Nancy the card that morning before class, but she’d chickened out. Now, she was standing outside by the school’s entrance, waiting for her best friend to appear.

Finally, a puff of strawberry blond curls in a sparkly pink shirt appeared in the crowd, and Bree waved her over. Their steps matched as they turned down the sidewalk together, beginning the walk towards home.

I really like the way that Bree is shy about delivering the card. I love ‘a puff of strawberry blond curls’ as this is a very nice description. I wouldn’t change anything about these two paragraphs!

At first, they had the usual conversation asking how every class went, and Bree wondered for a moment if she should just save the card for the party. But then Nancy told her how a few of their old classmates decided they wouldn’t go, since they supposedly had better things to do- and as her best friend, Bree was not about to let some sad news ruin Nancy’s birthday.

“They’re being ridiculous,” Bree decided. “You’re the best at making parties, they’re totally going to wish they came! And I’ll still be there,” she added with a grin, offering a high five that turned into a reassuring hand squeeze.

“At least I won’t be completely alone,” Nancy said with a sigh. “At this rate no one else is going to show up!”

I think these two paragraphs are really nice! I love the idea of how Bree had to comfort Nancy, as this reveals even more of her personality. You use speech very effectively in this!

They walked in silence for a minute, and Bree put her hand in her pocket, hesitating before she took out the card. “I have this for you,” she said quickly, handing Nancy the envelope.

That finally put a smile on her face, which only brightened more when she pulled out the card. “Bree, this is amazing! It’s the same flowers I gave you before!”

“I’m glad you like it- I know the drawings aren’t as good as yours, but I tried. I hope the flowers don’t mean something terrible,” she added with a slight laugh.

“Not at all, these are perfect,” Nancy responded, tracing one finger over the colored pencil marks. “And I don’t care if you think the drawing are bad. You made them, so it’s perfect.” They both stopped walking for a few seconds as she read the inside, and Bree held her breath as she waited for a reaction.

Nancy gently folded the card, tucked it back into the envelope, and put it safely in the front pocket of her backpack. Then she turned to Bree, grinning, and threw her arms around her in a tight hug. “Thank you so much! It’s perfect. Just like I said.”

Bree just smiled and hugged her tighter, then stepped back. “So what do the flowers mean?” she asked.

Nancy pointed to each flower on the card as she explained. “Dandelions are for faithfulness,” she began. “Elder blossoms are for compassion. Wood sorrels, they’re kind of like clovers, for joy. And periwinkles are for friendship.”

“That is perfect,” Bree agreed, as they continued walking down the path to their twin next-door houses. “Happy birthday, again.”

Nancy smiled, back to her usual bright self. “This makes it the happiest.”

I’m just gonna finish the rest like this! I love the speech in this and how Nancy explains the flowers near the end. It ties it all off beautifully!

In general, more description would really improve this piece! You have lots of skill in using speech though and make it flow really smoothly, which I often struggle to do! Hope this helps and good luck in writing to come! <33

surfdudewave

weekly : 1532 total words

weekly : part 4 : swc fanfiction : 869 : 3/17
Featuring @BlauHourglass, @Zionykon, @smartypantschlo, @HermioneVoiceActress, and @silkworm9–thanks for volunteering

Surf ran up through the servers, calling out dejectedly to Zion. “They’re not in this row!” It was the day before cabin wars, and sci-fi’s stash of mangoes had gone missing. Surf had noticed when they had gone to tally up the mangoes in preparation for cabin wars, but had found nothing there. They had quickly called Zion over, who had been working on . The two of them had checked and double checked the Database, which was usually very orderly; even with the glitches caused by the AI, the cabin’s mango storage was carefully regulated, and it couldn’t have vanished into nowhere.
Surf sighed frustratedly. “What in the world could have happened?” It would be an absolute disaster if sci-fi’s mangoes couldn’t be found by cabin wars, so they would have to be furtive about what happened, lest other cabins find out.
Zion frowned, unsure. “I don’t know… I mean, betrayal is always a possibility. Sci-fi has more enemies than I can count, who wouldn’t hesitate to pull something like this,” they said, formulating a plan. “We can try checking the cameras by the doorway, see if we can catch someone sneaking inside,” he offered.
“Good idea!” Surf pulled up the video feed, but as they scrolled through the footage, there was nothing out of the ordinary. There were only sci-fi campers hanging about, chatting, and writing.
“No one in sci-fi would take the mangoes,” Zion said with finality. “It has to be another cabin.”
“How about we check the main cabin, see if we can figure out who did it there?”
Zion nodded, and the two of them headed to the main cabin, eying the other campers suspiciously. They planned to split up, and would see if they could find anything out of the ordinary. No one looked as if they were carrying contraband mangoes, but Surf wanted to be sure. Herm had a large bag, which possibly could contain a bunch of mangoes.
“Hey, Herm! What do you have there?” Surf curiously asked the fantasy camper who was typing away at her laptop for a new writing project.
“Oh, just a bunch of books I recently got from the library! Want to take a look?” Herm offered the bag to Surf, which was filled to the brim of novels in a crooked pile.
Though Surf noticed one of the titles–a book they loved–but couldn’t get distracted. “I might have to borrow some another time, if you don’t mind, but I have to go. Have fun reading!”
Zion rushed over, having gathered some information, and pulled Surf aside. “I think Silk from myth is hiding something, we should talk to them.”
Silk was in the corner of the main cabin, looking rather nervous. Surf waved, and she and Zion headed over. “How’s myth doing?” they asked.
“Actually… terrible,” Silk said, biting their lip. “I was listening to music and had gotten distracted from writing. And then when I went to check on our mangoes on the Argo II, they were missing! I don’t know what’s happened, and cabin wars are tomorrow!”
Surf and Zion exchanged glances. “We’ve actually been having a similar issue…” Zion said slowly. “We can–”
All of a sudden, Chlore rushed into the main cabin, frantic, with her honey blond hair flying out behind her. “Something’s happened in the fantasy cabin,” she said with a dramatic gasp. “All of our mangoes are missing!”
The main cabin erupted into chaos, all the campers panicking and running around. Surf raised their eyebrows as other campers began reporting the same thing–missing mangoes. Binary, who was programming on her computer off to the side of the cabin, calmly told Surf, “If it’s happened in every cabin, there must be only one culprit. They have to have a good knowledge of the camp, if they can break into the Letter Terminal, Database, the Fan-fiction Variance Authority, and all the other cabins.” Binary thought for a moment, her long black hair falling in waves over her face and her eyes shining like the starry sky as she ran calculations. “Has anyone been missing for a while? It would take a while to raid all of the cabins, probably about an hour if the thief was rushed.”
“Great idea! I’ll go check with the hosts to see if any camper has been reported missing. You want to come?” Binary said she would rather wait for the chaos to end, but wished Surf luck.
Minutes later, Surf was told that no campers had been missing by the mysterious hosts. That left only one suspect…
With the help of Zion, they located Gurtle the turtle hiding out in one of the corrupted server rooms. He had left no traces of mango behind–he had eaten them, pit and all. Because Gurtle had been banned from eating links, Surf deduced that he had reverted to consuming all of the cabin’s mangoes as part of a snacking withdrawal. All the campers forgave Gurtle for all the chaos he had caused, but made sure he was kindly reprimanded. Fortunately, the hosts arranged a new shipment to arrive right before cabin wars the next day, so the chaos had been resolved–for now, as cabin wars had yet to begin!

theme: exploration (from constellations daily)
weekly : part 3 : 317 : https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/984345062/

weekly : part 2 : constellations : 346 : 3/17
“Look out into the night sky,” Rena urged her brother. “Do you see that set of five stars? They look like a kite on a string–a diamond with a tail. More like a quadrilateral than a diamond, though.” It was a dark evening, and the air was brisk. It was a perfect night for stargazing, seeing that there were no clouds in the sky.
“Where are they?” Case questioned, trying to pick out the individual pinpricks of light.
“Look a little more to the right. Just above the outline of that tree.”
“Ohh, I think I found it,” Case said with a smile. “What’s this one?”
“Delphinus,” Rhea replied.
“Like a dolphin?”
Rhea smiled. “Yep. It’s Greek. Some say the constellation represents the mythical dolphin who was the messenger for Posiedon…”
“The Greek god of the ocean and sea!”
She ruffled the springy curls in Case’s hair. “Precisely. Delphinus carried messages of love from Posiedon to the sea nymph Amphitrite. She was one of the fifty Nereids. The sea god’s love was unrequited… Eventually, Amphitrite was convinced to meet Poseidon, and that led to their later marriage.”
Case frowned. “A dolphin messenger?”
“That’s right. But another story is about Arion. He was a famous musician and poet and played the lyre, which is a type of harp. He had accidentally boarded a ship full of pirates who wanted to take Arion’s riches he earned by playing, and they were about to kill Arion when the lyrist begged to be able to play one last song.”
As Arion played, a group of dolphins surrounded the boat. This was a sign from the god Apollo, and Arion leaped off the ship and was carried safely to shore by one of the dolphins. Justice was enacted, and the dolphin–Delphinus–was turned into a constellation by the grateful Apollo, as was Arion’s harp, forming the constellation Lyra.”
The siblings fell silent, staring into the sky. Case could have sworn he saw the tail of the constellation move, like a dolphin flitting over the ripples and waves of the celestial Milky Way.

weekly : part 1 : flowers : 341 : 3/17
They met in the flower glade.

He had been walking near the outskirts of town, but had gotten lost and couldn’t find his way back. He wandered into the glade, and noticed a girl surrounded by blossoms.
In a worn, cornflower blue dress, she sat amongst the flowers. She was lonely, finding comfort in nature. She had braided daffodils in her blond, long wavy hair. When he came, he noticed she was holding a lily in her hands, rotating it gently. “Hello,” she said.
“I’ve never noticed you in town before,” he said slowly, hesitantly. “Where are we?”
“Just outside the borders. Head about a five minute walk through the woods in that direction,” she said, pointing towards the east, “and you’ll make it back.”
She watched him leave.

He returned to the glade a week later, bringing with him a basket with rolls, still warm and dusted with flour. She smiled at the sight of him, and he offered the bread with an outstretched hand. Her hair was braided with snowdrops, this time.
“It’s not much, but I hope you like it.”
“It’s nice to see you again,” she said with a smile.
He noticed he had a sketchbook and pencil to the right of her, in the grass. “You can draw?”
She nodded.
“Can you draw me?”
They sat in silence, as she traced his features onto paper with a careful hand. When she had finished the sketch, she ripped the page out, and placed it into his hand, with a periwinkle on top of the drawing. “Come back another afternoon, and I can do a watercolor.”

He returned every midday, and she was always there. He was her first friend, and she was the only one he could really talk to. She listened, she was always there. In the spring, she stretched out amongst the vivid colors. Even when the flowers withered and snow coated the ground, she came, faithful.
As he left one noon, he smiled back at her, having confided in the girl among the flowers.

nerdyme2

Daily // 3/17/24 //
I know who I am when I'm alone.
Word count // 710

Different words can have different meanings. Take dirty for example. It can mean unclean, or inappropriate. Or cleave, which means to put together, or take apart. I'm a little like those words. I can have many different meanings. It just depends on who I'm with. Sometimes I'm a nerd, sometimes I'm a jock. That's just how things were, at least, for a while.

One day, I was walking with my friends, (Jock) and we met some of my nerd friends. They had never met, so I didn't expect them to get along, and guess what? I was right. When they walked up, my friend Jackson had an immediate reaction.

“What are you nerds doing here?” Jackson asked.

“Talking to our friend?” Janice said.

He laughed. “Sure. Like she'd be friends with you.”

Then the argument started. They started with insults, then bullying, then it got physical. Jackson pushed Janice, and Paul, who everybody knew had a crush on Janice, Pushed Jackson, and Jackson, being the biggest kid at school with anger issues, punched him. That's when I stepped in, even if I should've earlier.

“Jackson, stop.”

“Why are you defending this loser?” He asked, rubbing his fist.

“Because he's my friend.”

“Not anymore.” Paul said, standing up. The blow from the punch knocked him down. “I thought you were going to defend me from the beginning, but I guess I was wrong.”

I started to cry. “I know I should've stopped him sooner, I'm sorry.”

He rolled his eyes. “Come one, guys.” They walked off, glaring at me.

I cried even harder now, though silently.

“Oh, come on. Now you have those losers off your back. Let's go get some ice cream.”

“Not with you.” I said. “That was a jerky thing to do, Jackson. Did you really think I was going to want to hang out with you after that?”

He shrugged. “Well, yeah.”

“No.” I put my hood on and walked away, crying. I felt like such an idiot for hanging with jerks. Why did I let myself get caught up with them? When I got home, nobody was there, thank goodness. I went to my room and laid down on my bed, the only friend I knew wouldn't act like a jerk. As I laid on my bed, staring at the ceiling, I tried to figure out who I was. Was I an artist? Oh, heck no. The best thing I could draw was a stick figure. Was I a dancer? No. A singer? No. Who was I?

My eyes drifted to my notebook on the ground next to my bed. I saw all the writing on it, and decided to pick it up. It was filled with stories I had started, but never finished. I read through all the different things, and the longer I did, the deeper I dove into it. Not long after I started to read, I started to write. It felt natural, like it was what I was made to do.

The next day, I decided to sign up for the writers club at school. It was amazing. I made new friends, dove deeper into my passion, and found the things I loved about myself. The real things. Not like the things with the jocks or the nerds. By the end of the year, I made bonds that would never break, friendships that would never go away, and a passion I would never forget.

On the last day of school, I thought about why it took me this long to find what I loved, and why it was so hard. Is it because it wasn't who I was. No. This passion was always a part of me, I knew that, but why didn't it show? Then I realized. It was because I didn't take any time to figure it out. I was always with the people who wanted somebody they could shape, I never gave myself a minute. I needed to give myself a minute by myself, that's all I needed to do. It was that simple. That day, I promised myself, from then on, when it got to the point I didn't know who I was, I would take a minute to figure it out, and you know what? I did.

WestEndLover15

daily 17 for tragedy!

tw: apocalyptic themes

‘and that day that we watch the death of the sun
that the cloud and the cold
and those jeans you have on
and you gaze unafraid
as they sob from the city’

the sun sets for the last time.
we have only seconds before the entire world goes black. isn’t it strange how only when you are about to lose something that it becomes dear to you? i had always hated our city - the noise, the sound, the people. but in the last flash of light, i look around the once-green park where everyone on our side of the country is lying, waiting.
waiting for the end of the world.
and watching their faces - just does something to me. maybe it’s because everything we have is about to be taken away, but it suddenly occurs to me; each and every person here has their own world. their lives have been just as complicated and tumultuous as mine, as beautifully intricate. and still, despite anything that may have come in our way, we made it to the death of the sun. the world is about to end, so why do i feel so calm? there are people behind me sobbing, but i gaze unafraid into the horizon.
sunsets are so beautiful. why did it take me so long to realise it? why did everything take me so long?

oh well. it doesn't matter now, anyways.

there it is. everything has turned pitch black. only seconds now, till our world is eradicated from this universe forever. we never did much with everything we had, did we? whatever else is out there will forget us, if we even made enough of an impact in the cosmos for them to take notice, anyways. i can’t hear or see anyone or anything now. all i feel is my sister’s head on my shoulders.
then, suddenly, a burst of light. we’d known it was to happen for centuries but accepted that it was inevitable, left it to the next generation.
‘it’s not our problem,’ they said 1,000, 500, 300 years ago. it’s boiling hot for a moment, then the coldest i’ve ever felt. it was beautiful, even if it caused the destruction of our planet.

well, that’s it. the sun has exploded.

…

so why am i still here?

Last edited by WestEndLover15 (March 17, 2024 20:27:51)

hey, i'm westy

she/her

“august slipped away into a moment in time,”

unercornshine

Swc weekly 2:

Part 1: Flowers:

I furiously jumped onto the wooden crate before leaping of it whilst pushing it back to block the way, as I thrust myself into the nearest alley, flattening myself against the wall, staying on my toes until I heard their nearing footsteps behind me pass into the distance. I stayed there for a few seconds, keeping a close eye on everyone that passed by, standing by my motive – trust no one. I fell to my knees, finally giving in to catch a few breaths before wearily eying my surroundings.

There was litter flooding all over the floor and the walls were thick with graffiti. The place smelt like my mums burnt cottage pie left to rot in the summer for more than a month – basically, it smelt BAD. I turned my focus to the back wall of the alley, though there didn’t seem to be one. In its place was darkness, a never-ending void of darkness, that seemed to claw into my brain, reaching for my worst nightmares. I shook my head. I’m not afraid of the dark, I’ve never been afraid of the dark. But this dark sent shivers down my spine.

With trembling hands, I reached into my pocket, feeling for the comforting handle of my torchlight. *click* the satisfying noise of the light turning on echoed in the deafening silence. Pointing my torch towards the black, I plastered on a worried face. The light seemed to give little, if any impact on the void of darkness at all. It was like a thick stubborn fog, slowly wrapping itself around me, choking me in its foulness, forcing me into its evil layer.

Just as those thoughts engulfed me, I heard a sound deep into the alley. Ok, this is too hard to ignore now, I took a deep breath and walked right into the darkness, regretting my life decisions. The sound sounded again, then, all of a sudden something happened. I collapsed to the floor and the darkness became darker, my thoughts seemed to disintegrate. That was when all consciousness I had, was gone.

My eyelids seemed like led, as I reluctantly opened my eyes, finding myself in an unfamiliar place. Without even properly observing my surroundings I locked up all my self-defenses and natural instincts: I already knew I was in their headquarters.

“Ah, Echo, you’re finally awake!” a feminine melodious voice welcomed.

I furiously turned my head, to see a woman who looked around in her 40’s with piercing blue eyes and dazzling blonde knee-length hair. She wore a smart, sharp black and gold jumpsuit with a blazer hanging on her shoulders and thin tall heels. Stood firmly next to her was a dark-haired man with tanned skin who looked around in his late 40’s. He had solemn looking eyes and highlighted, sharp jaws. He gave the impression of a no-nonsense businessman. He wore a black all over tuxedo with formal derby shoes.

“WHO R U, WERE AM I AND Y DO U KNOW MY NAME!!!!!!” I screamed as my tummy rumbled, “also, do u have food?” I added hopefully. They raise their eyebrows. “I'm just hungry, no need to be rude,” I mumbled.

“Who are we, we are the Begonia White Rose foundation (the BWR) some call us the BBR rebels but that isn't formal. We are the counter act organization of the Begonia Black Rose’s. If you’re asking who we are personally, I’m Nat, short for Natalia, he’s Magnus, we’re the senior representatives of the organization. Normally we aren't the one to welcome new recruits, but you, are a special case.” Nat calmly explained.

“As to where you are, you have probably already worked out, you are in the BWR headquarters. Also, we know your name because we’ve been keeping a close eye on you for a while now.” Magnus announced. “Also, yes, we do have food if u RREALLY need it.” he sighed.

I smiled, “you really expect me to believe that there is this ‘secret organization’ called the Begonia White Rose foundation and you’re some sort of repellants to the BBR. Nice try but I’m not fooled that easily, if u rlly have been keeping a ‘close eye’ on me, then u’ll know my motive – TRUST NO ONE!!!” I leaped into the air back flipping of the chair I’de been sitting on, neatly landing on the floor behind it. Slowly, I retreated towards the door, just as it shut behind me. DANG IT! I bent down to all fours perking my ears.

“There is nowhere to run,” Nat softly purred.

“There is always somewhere to run,” I firmly replied, “But,” I stood back up onto 2 legs, putting a hand on my hips. “I may be able to believe you’re not cappin’, IF, you can show me good, solid, FLAWLESS proof.”

A smile spread across Nat’s face, but Magnus’s stayed spotlessly emotionless.

“Please-” Nat started “Allow us to give you a tour-” Magnus continued “around the BWR-” “headquarters.” Nat stretched her arms wide out and Magnus simply folded his.

‘Welp, this is gonna be fun,’ I thought to myself as I followed the over- enthusiastic female SR, with the male SR following sternly behind…

Authors note: When I got to this stage of the story, I realized that I won’t be able to finish this as part of my weekly as it was turning out to be a fully-fledged story. Since I haven’t yet introduced the flower symbolism, I'm just going to say what part they play in the story here. I’m not going to spoil the story so I'm just going to explain the actual flower symbolism in it. So, the logo for the BBR (the organization Echo was running away from at the start) is a half purple begonia, half black rose. These flowers together mean: Warning, stay clear, death ahead. So, since the BWR was made to be the counter-act organization of the BBR, their symbol is half a yellow begonia because the opposite of purple is yellow, and a half white rose, because obviously the opposite of black is white. The yellow begonia and white rose symbolize innocence, loyalty, harmony and peace. So, this is how I managed to weave flower symbolism into the plot.

Part 2: Constellations:

Prologue (blurb):

A science organization decides to build the biggest rainbow fireworks the world has ever seen. Sabrina Cloud and her friends have been hired for the first time to sing the sparks fly on the launch of this memorious day. Will the launch of the fireworks be a success? Will Sabrina Cloud and her friends wow everyone with their singing? What does this have anything to do with constellations? Well, what are you waiting for, did you really expect me to answer you here? *Smack my head* Go on then, read on.

(perspective of Sabrina)

“You go guys, you can do this!” My mom encouraged as she shuffled us onto the stage. I took a deep breath in and took a step forward onto the stage. Oh no, I don't think I can do this. I glance across to Ayesha and she gives me an encouraging smile. I sighed, before opening my mouth and miraculously, something amazing came out. It felt as if I wasn't listening to my own voice. It was beautiful, melodious; all I've ever wanted. When we finished off with a last chorus of the sparks fly, the sparks really did fly, as they launched the fireworks, which were as big as a full-on rocket. I glanced upwards, preparing myself to see gargantuan rainbow fireworks exploding in the sky, yet I saw nothing. I waited for a few minutes before realizing they weren't going to come. My heart sank. Suddenly a bright light flashed in the sky, and when it passed a constellation stood in its place, the constellation looked like fireworks, frozen into the sky. I stood there in mock surprise, before letting out an enormous sigh of relief and going off to hug my friends.

*A few years later*

AS we finished of our song, I looked up to the sky, gazing at my favorite constellation, the one that marked my first concert. Sometimes I wonder if it comes to every one of my concerts, just to wish me luck. I smiled to myself. My constellation. My secret.

Part 3: Aesthetics:

aesthesticsetoncanva

Part 4: SWC Fan-fic

(in the script theatron)

“Good morning, guys, how is cabin wars going?” I enthusiastically enquire as I walk into the theatron, sinking in all the cheery faces and writing persons.

“We’ve won 4 wars and are in one right now; we have around 1,500 words left of it.” Luna explains to me.

“Let’s go guys, I'm nearly done writing my weekly, and it’s around 1,300 words long so we really just have 200 words left,” Pepper encourages.

“Ok, I’m going to try and write the daily, but I need a prompt, theme or just something that will help me write it.” I look around to see if anyone has any suggestions.

“Did someone say ideas? Kit is here to lend you some imagination!” She thunders in, her cape swirling behind her, her skirt dancing around as she walks down to me, a smile plastered on her face. She bends down to my laptop, to read what the daily is about. “SWC fan fiction, my favorite! I can see you already have some kind volunteers to feature in your story, all you need now is some inspiration. Let’s go down to the main cabin, just to get in the vibes, you know what I mean?”

“Did someone say main cabin, I’m in! Wait, just let me get my frying pan.” Luna grabs a frying pan from her back pocket.

“I totally want in too!” Pepper joins in the conversation.

“Ok, everyone here, well, we must be of now!” Kit leads us all to the main cabin as we march behind like soldiers in an army. When we get there, Kit’s confidence seems to melt as she sinks in to the rest of us. “Yeh, you can lead now Pepper,”

“You don't want to do it anymore” Pepper replies, a trace of concern in her voice. She shakes her head as Pepper shrugs and opens the doors to the main cabin and lets us all in.

“Hey guys, I’m Herm, from fantasy. I’m a BIG HP fan and an actor and writer!” A girl with wavy brown medium-length hair and beautiful pale green eyes welcomes us. She wore dusty pink cardigan sweater, boot-cut jeans and converse high-top platforms zip-ups. “I hope you guys have a great time here and manage to make lots of memories from this session, Thank you!”

“Hi Herm, I’m a big HP fan as well, my favorite character is Lupin and I’m a Gryffindor! By the way, my name is Unicornshine, but pls call me Vicky, she/her, script.” I enthusiastically try to start a conversation with her.

“Aster, how are you, I didn’t notice you there!” Luna interrupts.

A fairly short girl with short + fluffy black hair, dark eyes, light brown skin, and a button-up shirt with sweatpants – all of them being dark colours, stepped forwards bringing herself into the light. “I'm okay.” She smiled and it seemed like all the stars had gathered up into that one smile: her smile was like the rays of the sun. “Lily, Luna’s here!”

Another girl emerged from the shadows, wearing a black and white hoodie, a short leather skirt and black converses. “Hi, I’m Lily, from sci-fi, I think it's quite a pleasure to meet you all!”

A tall girl with small, rather delicate facial features walked in behind them. She had clear glasses, full lips, brown wolf cut hair with pink bangs, which were a bit on the shorter side. She wore baggy jeans, a black and white flannel, black Star Wars graphic tee, high top vans with stars on them & neon green laces. “Hey, Guys! What’s up! Pleasure to meet y’all, I’m puppy from poetry!”

“A rather nice introduction, but you guys are really blocking the entrance.” said a girl with brunette hair, dark eyes, and olive skin. She was wearing a dark blue hoodie, on top of a black dress. “Also, my name is Rush, she/her, Utopian, book worm etc.”

WE all shuffled in as she introduced herself. I let out a big gasp of amezement as I saw how beautiful the cabin was with buzzing faces everywhere and people from all around the world. I glanced around at all the new people I'de just met, Luna, Kit, Pepper, Astley, Lily, Rush, Herm and Puppy. I felt my heart give a sigh of content at satisfaction of the many friends I'd made during my first session. I’m definingly going to apply next session.

“Imagination is more important than knowledge, for knowledge is limited, whereas imagination encircles the world”
~Einstein
Hi, I'm Unicornshine, call me Vicky, your multipotentialite here!

-vanillamochabear-

swc weekly 2! by yours truly (did this entirely in the past 5 hours, with a lunch break and a hundred breaks :thumbsup:)
total: like 1909 ish words

part 1 - flowers

orange blossom: purity
buttercup: childishness
daisies: innocence
marigold: grief?
zinnia: thoughts of absent friends??

the summer sun shines lovingly on two young girls. one of them is swaying gently on the playground swing set, while the other lies face-up on the grass. she lets out a deep sigh, enjoying the simplicity of it all - warmth on her face, winds that didn't do much to cool the air, and the light scent of mowed lawns.
“daisyyy, come make flower crowns with me,” begs the girl laying in nature. she abruptly sits up, which scares away a number of birds and sends a bunny scampering into the woods.
“okay,” says the child named daisy. she hops off of the swing not-so-gracefully, flying in the air for a split second before her knees make impact with the sand. seemingly unbothered by the gash that had spawned on her right leg, she giggles, then runs to sit in the clovers next to her friend.
“mari, do you even know how to weave flower crowns? where're the flowers, anyway?” she asks.
“no,” mari pouts, “but i learn fast! look, there's grass, and clovers, an' ooh, some small yellow flowery things - ”
daisy's already gathering every plant in sight, storing them in an empty box of orange juice. “okay!”

before long, the sun starts to disappear beneath the line of trees. mari and daisy run around the field, laughing, messily tied circlets of flowers adorning their hair. finally, they both collapse, tired but happy.
“see you tomorrow?” mari asks brightly.
“of course!”

the next day's just as sunny and bright. daisy is full of energy as always, and just after lunch, she runs to her mom, tugging on her sleeve.
“heyy, can i go to mari's house today?” she pleads.
her mom looks a bit taken back, and her eyes widen for a brief moment before that mask of calm settles again. “i'm sorry, my blossom, not today.”
“please? you promised!”
a smile finds it's way onto her mom's face, and although daisy doesn't realize, it's pained and forced. “really? when?” she shakes her head sadly. “your friend's a bit sick, blossom.”
daisy's excitement quickly fell - she could understand ‘sick’. “aw. okay. tomorrow?”
“we'll see,” she says gently.

but tomorrow turns out to be a ‘no’, and so does wednesday, and eventually, the whole week. daisy does end up going to the park again, but her mom's right - she's alone. having no one to play with, she trudges home after only a few minutes, holding a yellow ball in her hands.
on her way home, she decides to make a stop - mari's house. if she really was ill, perhaps she could say hi, at the very least. she presses the doorbell gingerly, something she loved doing, and waited for the cheerful tune to echo through the house. the door isn't answered immediately, so the young girl waited patiently on the wooden steps, admiring the colorful wreath of zinnia.
it's not mari who answers the door, like she usually does when daisy visits - instead, a women she recognized as her friend's mom greeted her, looking a bit shocked. her eyes are rimmed with red, but she smiles.
“oh… hi, daisy. we've met before, i'm ms. ray?” her voice is soft and crackly, which daisy thought sounded pretty.
she nods, addressing her with the politeness her own mom always told her to have, “nice to see you again, ms. ray!” after a pause, she adds, “um, where's mari?”
ms. ray studies her for another long moment. “do your parents know you're here?”
“kinda. they think i'm still at the park.” she answers happily. her parents - they wouldn't be mad at her, right?
ms. ray lets out a really long sigh, the way her daughter always did. “sweetie, i don't know how to tell you this…”
“tell me what?”
“mari's in a better place now, sweetie.” her voice cracked even further, if it were possible. daisy pays no mind to it.
“really? like a vacation? when's she coming back?” she asks eagerly.
mari's mom meets her eyes for the first time since the start of their conversation. they're filled with surprise, and the bite of grief tears into her even harsher than before. “coming back? i… don't know, sweetie.”

daisy doesn't fully know, either. it goes that way for a couple of weeks - endlessly waiting for a friend that wouldn't come home. it's not until her mom takes her hand and gently guides her to a headstone, decorated with fresh marigold, that she truly understands. (+741)

part 2 - constellations

by now, after countless sessions of writing and many buried dailies beholding the beauty of the heaven's game of connect the dots, you've likely heard all there is to hear about constellations. you've successfully learned all there is to learn, and you're practically a master at the subject. sure, that's great and all, as knowledge generally tends to be - but what now? as a scholar, that endless yearning to discover more is never yielding. what do you do with your eternal existence, once there's nothing left to explore?
it's quite simple, actually - you create. yes, that's the fun of it. it's impossible to run out of things to make, to stop creating. the only thing in the way is your own will and imagination. and how hard could it be? you're an artist, and author, an expert at your crafts - it was time to move on to bigger things, to move the stars themselves.
oh. but, hmm. how it hurt to interfere with what was already there - masterpieces left by those who had come before you. the canvas was already full, and the pieces of art on it, weaved together, all had names, stories. bears, brave lions, scorpions and hunters, kings and queens, gods and heroes, immortalized in a place where the entirety of the world wouldn't, physically couldn't ignore them. the stars themselves were a million years away, older than you yourself. and yet their individual stories were felt so dearly and personally by people who've lived only a fraction of your life.
no. you could never bring yourself to interfere with something as precious as the twelve zodiacs themselves, a power so ancient. you look up at the night sky, which sparkles like an ethereal disco ball. what if, just maybe, you looked at the stars a little differently? an ability to rearrange the constellations, only temporarily, and only… for fun?
and so, that's what many do, once they get bored of the real constellations - they create fake ones, if only to live in their head and to be shared with dearest of friends. with a canvas as big as the sky, anything was possible, like spelling out a name, a word, or even connecting the dots to create a cat. the only thing needed for this was an imagination, and a little bit of childishness. (+388)

part 3 - aesthetic (based on part one!)

part 4 - swc f4nfic (bruh really scratch)!

centered around the same themes of childhood innocence, fun, imagination, and firsts :)

it's 2030 - and, in that time, scratch writing camp had managed to make itself known all over the world. it's as alive as ever, still bearing the name of it's original coding website despite having moved off of it not too long ago. and the biggest update of them all, scheduled to start occurring today, the first of july, and every one after that, was that swc had opened its very first in-person camp.

it was big, indeed - a full month of chaos, to be participated in by children and to be lead by children as well. there was no promise that it'd be completely safe, there was sure for some arson or defenestration to occur. the only thing it did promise, though, was wholehearted fun and a session full of fun memories never to be forgotten. in real life, no longer held back by the limits of a screen.

so, on that historical day, eager writers flooded through the golden gates like water - fast-moving and also extremely disorganized, in a good way. chatter filled the forest, as cars pulled in and out of the narrow road, and as campers either tearfully or happily bid their goodbyes to their parents or guardians for the time being. many of them quickly found their friends, laughing and reuniting, and even some meeting each other for the very first time. whichever way it was, the crowd vaguely flocked towards the huge, lakeside amphitheater.

once the majority had arrived and found themselves a seat, the hosts stepped up to the platform holding a red megaphone. the microphone system had failed them, despite numerous tests - oh well, this would have to do. as soon as the six of them were spotted, the campers quieted a little, but whispers could still be heard. that was fine, as well - the six knew that they would be dead before the entire camp could be quieted. they were just like that.
“welcome one, welcome all!” one of them started. she had dark hair and a friendly smile. “my name is angelica, one of the six hosts for… our first ever, in person, scratch writing camp session!”
applause and cheers erupted like a firestorm, and the rest of the hosting team joined in with a whoop. it had been a full five minutes of celebration before another one of the hosts finally called for attention. they each introduced themselves, passing around the megaphone and shouting their names to be heard. luckily, the amphitheater had an echo, which was nice.
“so,” angelica said, once the megaphone had found it's way back to her. “this is exciting! anyways, the main cabin is the really big, oval building in the middle of the camp - you'll find it, literally every single path leads to it. it also has a huge flag waving on top of it.”
lots of the campers turned around to try and find it, and she was right - the flag, serving as the main cabin thumbnail, was impossible to miss against the bright sky.
“the rest of the cabins are positioned around it,” she continued, “if you're having trouble finding yours, which you should've been informed of in an email around a week ago, just head to the main cabin and walk around it in a circle. there's signs positioned at the head of every pathway. besides being a signpost, the main cabin also serves as a common workplace and holds the leaderboard!”
she passed the megaphone to another host - alicia. “hi guys!” she said to another round of applause. “anyways, that's the main cabin! thanks, angie! next up is the mess hall. it's right next to this structure, actually, with a brilliant view of the lake…”

the round of introductions went on for another half-hour, being anything but boring. the hosts had great humor, and kept the audience on the edge of their seats with interesting and important details. finally, it was done, the megaphone finding it's way to angelica once again -
“alright, everyone, that's it! we recommend heading to your personal cabin first, your leaders should be waiting. that'd also be a great way to meet your cabinmates!”
the campers needed no further guidance - the chatter and laughter immediately started up again as they were dismissed, all skipping to go see their cabins, start a fire, or meet the famed gurtle.
this would be a session for the history books, without a doubt. (+734)

Last edited by -vanillamochabear- (March 17, 2024 21:53:45)

-NightGlow-

Weekly 2
total word count - 1367 words

Part 1: Flowers (378 words)

As the droplets fell down hard, the exterior world began to crumble from the inside out. Gloomy clouds were starting to form, growing darker in both color and opacity by the minute. They covered any bit of sunlight that tried to seep through them - as if acting like a barrier by protecting the sadness from the hope. It may seem unusual to hear someone say “protecting the sadness”, especially from something like hope, however in the case of healing, sadness was an emotion that would only help with the process of acceptance. A chance to understand and move forward amidst the struggles. At times, sadness, that deep feeling of grief can do harmful things to a person. It sometimes even makes a person lose their spark, that drive that keeps them going everyday no matter how hard things get. One thing that often instills these feelings in someone is death. A process, so unknown, yet so common in our world. It can be the breaking point for witnesses, not feeling a purpose to continue to bear with the grief that continues to fall on them.

At least, that’s what it did to me. I was a little older than 14 years when my older brother left us - not in the sense of going off to university, but really being gone forever. Tears began to trickle down my cheek, just thinking about it made my heart ache. X flowers surrounded our once vibrant and happening home - a message far too lost amongst the bitter ways of despair. I just need to see him one last time, his warm embrace, always there for me whenever I felt like I was losing myself. He was the one thing I often took for granted, and now that he was actually gone, I felt like I couldn’t breathe - it was as if I was trying to swim to land, but someone kept on pushing me underwater, not letting me escape. Feeling trapped was not a good feeling, but above that, I also had no support from anyone else. Part of me wished that I had taken his place. I know that no one would’ve missed me anyways, and besides that, I wouldn’t have to deal with this constant feeling of loneliness and guilt.

Part 2: Constellations (362 words)

Us four altogether, combined as one force, seemed almost unstoppable. It was as if the goodness in our hearts led to this destiny. Though with every little memory that we made and cherished, it was evident that a source of darkness lurked nearby. Always having to be alert, I was used to living in this constant feeling of fear - I knew it was only a matter of time before things got out of hand. Little did we know that a journey into the woods would change it all.

It was in the darkness that we decided to venture that night, just hoping that it's lack of light would provide us with coverage. We wanted to stay unseen, protected from the outside world - simply just a group of friends going out for a nightly excursion. One might even say that we were having a camp out, which is probably what the average person would say if they saw what we were doing. But our excursion had some other meanings behind it too.. some of which we didn't want to disclose at the time.

Yes, we wanted to spend some time together, but above that, we were on the lookout for ancient treasure that appeared to be missing. We had found a map earlier that day, and what was better than going out to find it? Most people would have used their common sense when thinking this through meaning that they'd choose to find the treasure in broad daylight - not when you could barely see anything outside. That's why we're here today, up in the sky - but don't let me get ahead of myself. Our night journey was both perilous and fun. We scavenged up the mountain, finally being able to see the universe all clear and shining. The stars above were illuminating themselves, reflecting off of the trees and into the center pond in the middle. As if there was an internal sensation, we immediately rushed towards the pond, each one of us placing our hands in. And that, that is when it happened. A chance to embark on a new adventure, while overseeing the world together - the Protectors of the Four Seas.

Part 3: Project Aesthetic (5 images)
link to project: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/984372411

Part 4: SWC Fanfic (627 words)

Narrator - It was the evening right before cabin wars; a camp wide battle between all 13 cabins. It was the first time this session, and everyone was busy formulating plans with their cabins. With that, one must also know that cabin spirit was as high as ever - everyone was stoked to live through such an eventful night! As dinner was being collected from the Main Cabin, everyone was hustling around the tents in order to obtain a large stash of mangoes. After all, everyone knew that the cabin with the most mangoes already had an immense advantage to begin with! I mean, think about all the motivational mangoes and mango cookies they could make. Although there was quite a bit of hustle in the Main Cabin, there were still others, eagerly waiting and devising plans to take down the other cabins.

Alana - Hey guys! I'm going to get some of our shield defenses up. Can anyone help me with that?

Amethyst - Ooh I'll get right to that! I need to find Fern though.. I think he may have accidentally went off with Grumpy the bridge troll. Speaking of which, I think he went with Tinkergoat.

Sienna - Hmm.. I'm not sure about that. Tinkergoat is right here with me, very alive and of course healthy as he should be. I can help you Alana! At least while Amethyst is looking for Fern that is. I can also get some other campers to help out. I did see Kiara, Chloe, and Kat hanging around.

Alana - Ahh thank you guys! I've finished the main defense. While y'all finish up, I'm going to start planting some attacks on our enemies to stay ahead of the game. You can never be too prepared, you know!

Marbles - YES! We've got this! Are you going to be attacking Sci-Fi first? They're our sworn enemies, you know?

Alana - Haha! I'm way ahead of you, Marbles! I've already planted an attack near Tragedy, Sci-Fi, Dystopian, and Fan-Fi. Basically all of our enemies that is - you can never be too prepared!

Nova - Hey allies! I just wanted to check in to see how it's going.. just before all the chaos of cabin wars comes kicking in. We just got a recent shipment of mythsy penguins, and I really wanted to show you the one I've adopted! It loves to eat noodles, just like me hehe.

Chloe - That's lovely Nova! Here's a basket of motivational mangoes for Myth - you guys are going to do amazing! Ooh would you happen to be hungry? We have apples that are very delicious!

Nova - Ooh, definitely! I'll take some on the way out. Also, thank you so much for the mangoes, I honestly can't thank you enough!

Sienna - Haha well, you can thank us by not betraying us during cabin wars. Just know that we have some pretty strong offense protocols, so we're ready to fire back any time hehe. I suppose that's just all a part of the magic in Fairy Tales.

Marbles - AHH I just finished the daily, so we should be climbing that leaderboard now! Are we going to war any of our neutrals.. I think we could get away with that.

Alana - AHAH I'm one step ahead of you! I've already set some traps to go off around the time their shield goes down for the first time. Being their first attack might be a bad decision on our part.. but if we slide our way in there as a second attack, I don't think they'll retaliate as much. What do you think, Gurtle?

Gurtle - Sounds like a plan - we might become those amazing legends in the sky! Though I'd like to think that I already am one. Honestly, I just want to eat some scrumptious links ;D

xXFierroOrFalafelXx

weekly 2

This is my flower story and my constellation story. Flowers: carnation: fascination; Amaranth: immortality; Trefoil: revenge; Tulip: wrath; Gladiolus: sword
Constellations: a stag and a girl who makes storms. My creations.

I probably could have done better lol… this story is probably going to go into some mythology for some world of mine because hey the lesson of revenge leading to wrath leading to destruction feels very forced xD
TW for violence.
Arya remembered when she had helped her grandfather the king and his gardener plant those gladioli. He had told her that they represented their unconquerable land and the bravery of their soldiers. They had been orange when they bloomed, and pink, and white, and purple. Now their petals were stained red with the bl**d of her family, her people. One of the soldiers who had betrayed them had her by her six-year-old wrist and had dragged her out to see.
“They were slaughtered like animals,” he spat at her.
She cried and looked away but he forced her to look. “You’ll join them soon and this land will be free from you mutts.”
She bit her tongue to keep from crying or saying she’d done nothing wrong. The Empire didn’t care. Though she was only six, she was her grandfather’s heir and so she knew some stuff. She knew that he had thought their generals were defending them, but suspicion had been rising that some of the generals had decided to sell them out to the Empire, and evidently that had been correct. She knew the Empire would take everything from her people. And she knew that as the heir to a recently conquered kingdom, she was being taken to the capital to be symbolically ex*cuted. But she did not know how to escape.
Her hands were chained together and tied to a horse, although it was walking she often had to run to keep up and they had not let her wear shoes so her feet were torn and bl**dy. The soldier who rode the horse ahead of her was gleefully narrating all the horrible things they had done in each place, and while she kept her eyes straight ahead on the horse’s rear since that was better than the carnage, she still heard the story. Entire villages razed, their people slaughtered for little more than amusement. The sprout of hatred was blooming quickly in her. She wanted these people d*ad, but she had no allies. She would spit on the Emperor when they brought her to him and would kick the prince in the place where it hurt the most.
Instead when she arrived and was dragged in front of the imperial family to a large stone block where the ex*cutioner waited with his ax gleaming, all these thoughts left her head and she kicked trying to get free from the soldiers and screamed for mercy. “Please! I’ll do anything! Please! Mama! Mama!”
She was forced down on the rock, she felt her hair pushed off her neck and she closed her eyes, crying as she waited for the end. But instead she heard a gasp and the ax did not swing. As she would find out, her flower shaped birthmark would save her life, or at the very least keep her alive. And the emperor immediately ordered for her to be given chambers in his royal library so that his scholars could study her.
The scholars always wore carnation crowns and each day they decorated her with different flowers, most of which she didn’t know.
“What are you looking for? Why won’t you let me go? Why am I so special?”
The scholars always shook their heads but finally one night one of them quietly told her. “You were promised by our gods. You will guide our empire.”
Arya lashed out at him, throwing a heavy tome. “I will not guide your empire. I hope this empire burns!”
The scholar sighed. “Your anger will subside soon.”
Her anger did not subside, but her faith in her gods did. For three and a half years she prayed and did every ceremony she was able to, but her gods never answered and she finally realized she had been abandoned. And as the shock of that settled in, she began to ask the scholars about their gods. Of course, they were only too happy to tell her about their gods and it made her hate them even more. But if she was going to try to get revenge she was going to need to start praying to the gods of these monsters.
And when she was sixteen, one finally appeared to her , the Great Stag. He knew the wisdom of the earth and the two of them learned from each other. He had great admiration for her faith in her people, but he also told her that war would not bring about the justice she so desired. However, he did agree to bring her to her people. At first Arya was fine with that, but then she saw how her people were treated, forced to live in shacks and work for barely any pay, not allowed to build their temples. She curled up by a tree and wept, but when she was done, she stood up. Peace could not happen, she would have bl**d.
Some of the elders urged her to let their people build up strength first, and to not risk war against such an empire, but Arya was consumed by hatred and so she led a few others who held her hatred and did not care if more lives were lost as long as the empire paid. Then she prayed to the gods of the conqueror’s again, but this time there was no wise god who answered. It was She of Storms. Her very mission was destruction and she fed off the anger in Arya’s heart. And so she armed Arya with lightning and wind, storms fueled by her wrath and Arya destroyed the empire. But Arya’s mission had gone far beyond one of justice and with this power she was destroying the world, k*lling even people who had nothing to do with her kingdom falling. So the Great Stag found her one day and ordered her to stand down. But Arya said his wisdom had no power against her and she was far too obsessed with vengeance to stop and so he charged at her and k*lled her.
The Great Stag brought her body back to her people and while he was there he learned of their gods and he chose to worship them, because they were gods of kindness and goodness and they would never condone this great destruction.
The gods Arya thought had abandoned her still took her soul to the life beyond, and they placed an image of her wielding the wind and lightning as a warning to others of how wrath and revenge can consume you and they welcomed the great stag as a messenger for them, glad for the earthly wisdom he held and placed an image of him in the sky as well.
The empire soon fell as all organizations founded on hate must one day die and the people of the kingdom wept for their princess who may have been a great leader if not for her wrath. The people would be conquered again and again, but from then on they remembered that a war for justice and for their own peace was good, but that they must never again be consumed by wrath and revenge for it only strengthened evil.

1199 words

Aesthetics: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/984379186

Swc fanfic
Zion excitedly began shoveling down mac and cheese as they read through the files he had accessed from the main cabin, looking for more areas where he could breach security. Ah yes, there he’d accessed one of the security cameras, a little zooming in. They giggled maliciously, this was so fun. He zoomed in on a strange orange flickering and his eyes widened. Someone was setting camp on fire! The arsonist spotted the camera and waved with a broad grin. “Bella,” he hissed. What was with those actors, always so dramatic and in Bella’s case interpreting, “put some flair in it” into “just light the entire thing up like flare.” Right, well… It would be a shame if camp burned down. Zion cracked their knuckles and sent out a mass em**l using a leader’s account, telling them to maybe check for a fire.
The message came to Ave in a scroll carried by an eagle. As soon as she had read it, she mounted her horse and rode off to find where the fire was and put it out. Of course. The flames were growing quickly when she arrived and she pulled her horse Chrysanthemum to a halt well before the flames. “Easy girl.” She dismounted and gave the horse a firm pat. “Go on, get on home now.”
“Oh Ave, good you’re here. Join the bucket brigades,” said Anna. “We are not letting this fire burn my instruments.”
“We should be more worried about the people,” Ave said while she passed bucket after bucket down.”
Meanwhile, using the distraction of the fire, Skye ran toward the mango grove, thinking nobody would find her. She would get the golden mango that the leaders were hogging and when she had that mango, their power would leave with it. Chaos like it had never been known would rule scratch writing camp, no. No, if the people had the power they would make it a scratch writing universe. Cabin wars would be so much more interesting on an intergalactic level. With the powers of the golden mango, they would be able to find wormholes into alternate universes where all of her favorite stories were true. With the golden mango maybe she could become a jedi. But most important of all, nobody would be able to tell her to go to sleep. She would never be controlled like that again.
But Sophia was waiting. Sophia was one of the gardeners of poetry, and she was here armed with a very large shovel and she was determined to protect the mango tree.
“Come on, Skye, let me have it. I’m going to free us.”
“We’re not trapped. This mango tree is what keeps scratch writing camp going,” Sophia said, attempting to brandish her shovel, but also shaking like crazy. “Skye, I really don’t want to fight. What’s going on? This isn’t like cabin wars…”
“Come on, just hand it over. The world will be so much better with the golden mango. Plus I’ve got a Taylor Swift ticket I can give you….”
Sophia groaned. “Oh it’s tempting. Buuut…I know you’re lying. “Nobody just gives away Taylor Swift tickets. Not even for a trade like this.”
The flames were still growing and the people trying to put it out weren't able to do much.
“Let’s get some firefighting equipment next session,” someone said.
“I feel like this kind of stuff happens all the time.”
They heard heavy lomping steps and turned around to see gurtle walking toward them over so slowly. They quickly stepped out of the way and Gurtle walked past them. He opened his great beak like mouth and ate the fire, letting out a little belch afterward.
The others stared in horror for a moment then immediately began clapping and cheering for him. Ave was even brave enough to pat his head. “Thank you, you saved us.”
Anna shuddered. “No way I’d do that. He eats everything.”

655 words

Last edited by xXFierroOrFalafelXx (March 17, 2024 22:26:05)

-NightGlow-

Daily 17
word count - 317 words

“I couldn't whisper when you needed it shouted, ah but I'm singing like a bird bout it now.”

Sometimes it feels like the whole world around you is falling apart, breaking at its seams, only moments before actually collapsing. I feel like everyone goes through tough times, where you want to speak up, but your voice doesn't give in. It's as if someone has forced you to be silent, against your own will. That suffocation, that feeling of anger, is often too much to handle. That pressure is enough to send a person down a spiral, questioning all the choices they've made thus far in life. It's the same when you lose someone, I couldn't whisper nor talk for that matter when you needed me there for you. Though now, now that you're gone, that anger has given me something new. A chance to start again, and make up for all those times I couldn't stick up for you. I want to make up for all those broken promises, and wishes we had, because I know that you would've done the same for me.

It's as if your passing has given me my voice. I regret all those times I made you fight your own battles because I couldn't shout when you needed it. But now, now I'm here, alive and happy - I'm living my best life, singing about like a bird. Though we may have parted on far from good terms, I wanted to let you know just how grateful I am for everything you've ever done for me. Whether that be some of the smaller actions, or the bigger things - like sacrificing your life for me. How and why? Why did you decide to burden me with that thought, that feeling. If I could've just stopped it all by standing up for myself when the time had come. If only I had spoken up and stood my ground. If only I hadn't cowered in fear.. you would still be here by my side.

minergold48

Daily 3/17 || 522 words

“I wanna be the shadow when my bright future's behind me / I wanna be the last thing anybody ever sees” - Anything But

Under the stars, three powerful entities stood together. They could be a master and his apprentices, or simply a group of friends. It was hard to tell anymore. A mix between a snake and a fox, a raven, and a…beast of shadowy energy. Three entities of darkness, each with a different motive, each with different thoughts on their companions.
Dusk was the eldest, the god of darkness, 10 billion years old, created when the universe was young. He used to have a warm heart, but like his father, time had not been kind to him, and time wasn’t even referring to his sister. By now, he was jealous of what his siblings had created, the life that feared his work. He didn’t want to be the evil hiding in the shadows, but at this point he was beginning to embrace it. He had created the other two entities of darkness, after all.
Expeeri was the youngest, although only by around a hundred million years. Although she had been created by Dusk, her deity status rendered the two siblings, and they did have a sibling dynamic. She was the goddess of death, and took a lot of enjoyment in weaving her abilities into Tempora’s thread. Every living thing died eventually, and although most of it was subconsciously automated, Expeeri often enjoyed visiting mortals on their deathbeds, the raven being the last thing that met their eyes before their souls moved on. She didn’t care much for whatever was stealing away Dusk’s soul, as either way she would have her fun.
The final one was what Dusk called a ‘wispmare’, and she went by Wither. It had been created as a little prank on Dusk’s twin, Dawn, but had later become a sort of second-in-command to Dusk, and it had been the best time of their life. Encouraging Dusk’s dark urges, she had watched the shadows consume him, and it was amazing. It was no deity, but they felt like one, with her power. In the shadows it would wait, and scare anyone who came past. The fear felt so good, and even if they couldn’t work alongside Dusk, even if she was trapped in a cave, it could still strike fear into any animal, bird, or bug that came by.
This night would be the last time these three would be together. When Dusk snapped, Expeeri and Wither’s thrill of watching their creator distort and possess the universe was enjoyable at first, but the result of this evil affected them as well.
Dusk was ripped of most of his consciousness, left as an empty spirit to float passively around the universe for a few billion years. Expeeri became overwhelmed by the population of both mortals and siblings, retreating into the background to simply exist, accepting that the cycle of life and death had to stabilize again, and that she could no longer visit the dying. And Wither had to suffer their own worst fear: trapped in an empty box, with no one to scare, until Dusk found a new body to reclaim his duty. And that Dusk may not be as…kind towards her.

(I’m in Thriller sobbinf but I still love Illu-Fi <3)

Gladiolus12

Part 1: Flowers
328 words

Poor Miss Florence had probably meant well when she attempted to coax Alexis and Tara to be friends. Hah. As if. The idea of that ever happening was laughable. And she had probably meant well when she suggested, as the two girls glared at each other across the room, that they each bring a present for the other the next day.

“Just to get you girls to get along,” she had said. “I think exchanging presents is a lovely idea.”

When the girls politely told her that, unfortunately, it did not seem such a lovely idea to them, Miss Florence waved it off. “I expect you both to be here tomorrow with a present for each other,” she said.

And so the battle began.

…

The next day, Alexis arrived to class carrying a bunch of daffodils.

Her friends crowded around her. Oooh, who are those for? they asked. Do you like someone? Are they for your crush?

“No,” Alexis smirked. “They’re for Tara.”

Then Tara walked into the room. She held a green cactus-looking plant in her hand. She and Alexis made eye contact with each other, and then Alexis walked over.

“Here,” she said, shoving the daffodils into Tara’s arms. “I got them especially for you. Did you know daffodils mean conceit? How fitting, I think. You are the most conceited person I know.”

Tara glanced at the daffodils and then smiled back at Alexis. “How thoughtful of you,” she said sweetly. “It seems we had the same idea. This,”—she extended the cactus plant to Alexis—“is a euphorbia. I thought it would suit you so well! It means vanity.”

“Oh, you got each other flowers! How lovely!” came a voice behind them, and both girls turned to see Miss Florence beaming at them. “I’m glad you girls are getting along!”

The girls smiled, but when Miss Florence turned away, they looked at each other with a different sort of smile. It wasn’t over yet.

Part 2: Constellations
742 words

My only friend in the whole world was my dog.

I found him years ago, abandoned on the corner of a street, when he was a puppy. He was so small and so vulnerable then, and when I saw him, in my childlike mind, I was his protector. It was my duty to shield him from the world. So I adopted him and from then on, I took care of him by myself. I fed him, bathed him, and loved him. I grew so attached to him that when I came home from school everyday, I would tell him every little thing that happened, and he would wag his tail and listen, just as if he understood. I named him Sirius.

Sirius grew over the years. He grew from a small runt to a giant, the biggest dog anyone had ever seen. People all over the neighborhood marveled at his size.The little children laughed with delight when they saw him bounding down the street. Sirius would grin and wag his tail. He had the most gentle disposition anyone would ever see in a dog.

But with every year he grew bigger, his health seemed to worsen. I noticed it one night when we were playing fetch in the backyard. He used to run so fast, but now, as I threw the stick across the yard and told him to go fetch it, he ran only a few yards before he suddenly flopped on the grass, panting like he’d just run a thousand miles.

“Sirius!” I cried in worry, and ran over to him. He lifted his head and whined.

That wasn’t the only time. There were other signs too. His eyesight was getting worse. He couldn’t see the furniture as well as he used to and always bumped into chairs. He couldn’t smell his food and only came running to eat because I called him. Sometimes, he didn’t come at all, because he couldn’t hear my voice.

I cried. I did everything I could. I gave him medicine, I massaged him every evening, I took him to the vet. But the medicine didn’t help, the massages only seemed to hurt, and even the vet, though she tried her best, couldn’t do anything.

I began to realize Sirius was dying.

One night, I took Sirius outside to sit on the porch. It was lovely and cold, and the stars shined bright in the expanse of the black sky. Sirius lay down beside me and panted. His tail still wagged.

My heart ached to see him. I grabbed a stick that was nearby and tossed it in the air. Sirius looked at me.

“Can you fetch it, boy?” I whispered. “For me? For old times’ sake?”

Sirius got up to his feet and trotted over to the stick. He picked it up and started coming back, but halfway, he lost his balance and suddenly crashed to the ground.

“Sirius!” I screamed. He didn’t move. I ran over to him and took his face, and saw to my relief that he was still breathing. But then I realized that his breathing was slowing down… slower… slower…

“No!” I shrieked. Tears sprung to my eyes. “Sirius, please… please, don’t… don’t… get up, boy, please..” He looked at me and managed the tiniest wag before he fell silent.

I broke into sobs. I held him close, buried my face in his fur, wished my tears could heal him and bring him back. He had been my only friend for all these years. I loved him. He could not be gone… he could not be gone…

The air grew colder and Sirius’s body began to quiver. I lifted my tear-stained face from his fur and saw, with astonishment, that he was beginning to glow. He glowed brighter and brighter and brighter, and I had to shield my eyes from the dazzling golden light. Am I going crazy? I wondered.

The golden light picked him up, and I stared as Sirius hovered in mid-air. Then, in one split second, he burst into millions of little white pieces, and I screamed. The white glowing dots rose up into the air, going higher and higher, until finally, they connected with the sky. I looked up to see a constellation where there had never been one before. And it was shaped just like Sirius.

“Sirius…” I whispered.

And in the middle of the constellation, one star glowed brighter than the rest.

Part 3: Aesthetics

https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/984368065 i cannot make aesthetics :sob:

Part 4: SWC Fanfiction
638 words

The sun filtered in through the room and pigeons squawked overhead, and it made me even sadder that instead of being out on such a beautiful day, I was stuck inside, sorting letters as usual.

“Our job is to sort all these letters!” my leaders had told me. “It’s an incredibly important job. People all over the world depend on us to deliver their news.”

I loved my leaders, and they were right—the job was important, but you can only do so much letter sorting day after day before you start to get tired of it. I had been doing this for two weeks. And I was already tired.

I sighed.

Then I caught sight of a strange letter on the ground, looking different from the others. It was a bright neon green (a color that clashed horribly with the neutral colors of the rest of the cabin) and had nothing on it—no name, no address, no stamp.

…Well, it did have one thing.

“A mango sticker?” I wondered aloud. “Who could this be from?”

It had to be from one of the other cabins. But which one? There was Poetry, Utopia, Fairytales, Dystopian, Thriller, Sci-Fi… Which one of them would have sent Epistolary a green letter with a sticker of a mango?

I pondered over it for a few minutes before I came to the conclusion that it didn’t really matter. So I set it aside and forgot about it.

The next day, I was in the room again when a bright flash of pink caught my eye. I looked down, and there was a pink letter! This time, it actually had more things on it. Still no name or address, but it was absolutely covered with pink mango stickers, and on the backside, someone had written “frying pan.”

I giggled at that. This definitely had to be a prank somebody was playing. I decided to ask the rest of the Epistolarians for to figure out who it could be. I went to the main terminal, but the first thing I saw were two people from Sci-Fi!

“What are you guys doing here?” I said in surprise.

“Oh, don’t mind us, we’re just here… um, to get our letters!”

Okay. That sounded very suspicious. I arched my eyebrows. Maybe Sci-Fi was the one sending us these letters?

“Well… okay,” I said, and went to find the rest of my cabinmates.

I soon found them. They were watching the pigeons doing tricks in the air. “Guys!” I hissed, and they all jumped in unison. “Yesterday, I found a neon green letter in the sorting room,” I said, showing them. “And it had this mango sticker on it. Today, I found a pink letter, and this one has dozens of mango stickers! Plus, someone wrote “frying pan” on it! Do any of you know who it might be?”

“Hmm, maybe it’s Poetry or Utopia,” suggested someone. “They’re our siblings, after all. They’re probably trying to prank us.”

“Oh yeah!” I said. Then I remembered the Sci-Fians who had been stalking(?) our cabin. I looked around hurriedly and then lowered my voice.

“But when I came here to tell you all, I saw two people from Sci-Fi in here,” I whispered. “I asked them what they were doing, and they said they were waiting to get their letters. Now that I say it out loud like that, it doesn’t really sound suspicious. But trust me, it was suspicious when they said it. You just had to be there.”

“Oh yeah, that is suspicious,” someone agreed. “Come to think of it, I saw them too. But they’re not here anymore.”

I turned to look, and sure enough, they had disappeared. Hmm, I thought, this was an interesting mystery. So far, on our list of suspects, there was Poetry, Utopia, and Sci-Fi.

Rey_venclaw

They’re all called after flowers. It wasn’t intentional, just what sort of happened.
Amaranth came first. We weren’t sure of anything with her. Her name was a hope, a possibility. But it was something we were okay without. So part of the reason was that it just sounded pretty and seemed to make sense with her. It turned out to be fitting, we were lucky.
Dahlia’s name might be the most fitting of all of them. She’s the most loyal girl I’ve ever met, by far. I’ll tell people that, and they’re all convinced she learned that from me. But I know better. Dahlia’s loyalty is a treasure that comes from deep within her being.
Jasmine, the third girl, she’s our brave one. And she’s deeply caring. She’ll rush into danger for stranger’s she’s just met, and come out of the ordeal entirely unharmed and with a new best friend. And that’s not just a one time occurrence. She has four best friends, and she met them all on different occasions like this.
Lotus is certainly special. She’s not really anything like anyone else in the family. The rest of us are all reckless fighters, but not Lotus. She’s calm, quiet, logical. Values peace and diplomacy, which is something the rest of us tend to overlook too quickly, so she keeps us in balance. She’s good at expressing herself and understanding others, and that talent makes her incredibly vital.
Magnolia was hard to manage from the beginning, but everyone adores her. Wherever we go, the first thing she does is run off into the woods. She’ll come back hours later with hands and pockets filled with interesting stones, nuts, and flowers. And she seems to never run out of space in her room for her growing collection of treasures.
I love them all.

(303 words)

alternate prompt:

If you’ve ever tried to calm down, heal, or access support where the edges are blurred, you choose to fall outside the boundaries of demand.
Growth comes as no surprise.
People are educated about the ability to heal.
Important, natural, consistent, and focused.
This family all are good.
Quality and integrity.

I’ve tried so many things, but the world just isn’t the same as it was when I was younger, when my mother was the one raising small children. Back in my childhood, back when my mother was still around, back when everyone’s mother was still around, it wan’t unheard of to lose a child, but it was rare, and it was a tragedy. Nowadays most people who try to become parents won’t have even one kid who reaches ten. Statistically, one child in every forty live past ten. I’ve already lost four, all in the first year of life. My fifth child and third daughter reached two, butt now she’s deathly sick, doctors say she won’t last the week, and I don’t even have enough money to feed us so I don’t know what to do except run away. It’s my last option. Everyone I know is gone, this past year I even lost my husband. I have nothing keeping me here.
Not one soul has been brave enough to turn to the forest dwellers in generations, everyone turns up their noses at them, calls them conmen, or witches. But I don’t have another option. If I want to keep me and my baby alive, I’m going to have to risk it. I leave early in the morning to avoid getting caught, with nothing but my daughter and the clothes on our backs. We head into the forest, away from everything either of us have ever known, away from the graves of everyone we’ve ever loved, towards the only hope we have left of survival.

(316 words)

aesthetic: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/984376959

Why I love Scratch Writing Camp, explored through the meanings of three different flowers:
Amaranth — Immortality:
Scratch Writing Camp maybe won’t last forever in the most literal sense, but if I know anything, and people seem to think I’m pretty smart, I’d willingly make a bet that it’ll be about as close to everlasting as possible. My time in Scratch Writing Camp may be soon drawing to a close (because I am currently experiencing that unfortunate side effect of life called growing up) but even if this is my last session (unlikely) or my last year (more likely) in this beautiful, vibrant community, the memories are going to stay with me for my whole lifetime, and they’re always going to be the most treasured possession of mine. Lasting forever, being immortal, that doesn’t necessarily mean change is impossible. Even in the three years I’ve spent participating in Scratch Writing Camp, it’s gone through a lot of changes, good ones, ones we choose, and less nice ones, often ones that are out of our control. But through all that, we’ve persevered. And it’s still just as magical, albeit smaller, as it was in the days of 2021 when I first came to this beautiful community.
Dahlia — Yours ‘til the end:
Scratch Writing Camp, as made clear by the title, focuses on writing. And being in Scratch Writing Camp, if you’re active, means you’ll devote a lot of your free time to this writing. But this isn’t all Scratch Writing Camp has to offer. I’d argue that the best part of Scratch Writing Camp isn’t the writing. In fact, it has nothing to do with writing. It’s the people. Some of my very best friends, some of my favourite people in the whole world, I met through Scratch Writing Camp. Others, I’d met already and it was because of me that they first joined this wonderful community. Some of these people are now some of the most well-known SWC-ers out there, having lead and co-lead many stunning cabins.
And then, in one very special case, there’s a certain person who I knew before SWC, who joined for the first time in the same session as me, without either of us knowing the other had signed up as well. And this right here, this magical coincidence, is the thing I’m most grateful for in my life. If this hadn’t happened, I would not be where I am today. My life would be vastly different. And by vastly different I mean much worse. (Thank you, Luna)
Scratch Writing Camp people, this beautiful community we have, I’m fairly sure we’re the best the universe has to offer. I’ve never encountered a group of people who are more kind, caring, intelligent, talented, clever, and utterly chaotic. I love you all.
Lotus — Eloquence
This flower has a most obvious connection to Scratch Writing Camp. Ironically, I don’t think I’d be able to put into words how much being in SWC has improved my writing. Part of this is definitely dailies, weeklies, and workshops. But I think the biggest factor, the biggest reason for the drastic improvement in writing since the time I first joined Scratch Writing Camp, is that I’ve felt encouraged and motivated to write so much more than I was previously. I easily write an average of a thousand words a day, even during those long and boring months when Scratch Writing Camp isn’t actively happening. And when you practice something that much, improvement is inevitable. I love my writing now. I’ll look at it sometimes and be shocked that “Wow, I wrote that? Me?” Because it just seems far too good to be something that originated in this chaotic and faulty mind of mine. I’m aware that I definitely still need to improve my writing, but I never thought I’d get to this point, and without SWC, I never would have.

(647 words)

❝ I'm Soki, co-leader of Non-Fi, and I am burdened with vacuums and ice cream❞

-lxve-bug-

-lxve-bug- wrote:
pup's thread (boy am i late :skull: )

AYYYY IM 100TH LMAO

weekly for poetry !! 2028 words and rushed over the span of 2 days :skull: enjoy !!

.1 (flower symbolism- Ashphodel - my regrets follow you to the grave Buttercup - childishness Daisy - innocence Pansy - you occupy my thoughts Dahlia - yours till the end Ash’s name symbolize their deep regrets and dark past/present, pansy’s name means she is occupying ash’s thoughts & makes them feel better, its like a sweet thing yk their always thinking about her. And then the flowers ash crushes are symbolizing their lack of innocence & childishness, like they were forced to grow up fast because of their familial situation and stuffs. The small handful of dahlias symbolizes pansy’s dedication to ash, and sort of saying like “hey im here for you & i love u”)

Asphodel trudged up the flower laden path, the slope of the hill and the weight of their pack making it a bit difficult to walk. They took a deep breath when they finally reached the top, turning to overlook the valley beneath them. They sighed contentedly, allowing the warm spring breeze to wash over them. They enjoyed nature. It helped distract them from…well, everything. They shook their head, refusing to allow themself to think about anything except the current moment. They slid their backpack off their shoulders and it fell to the ground with a thud. They didn’t really like the spot they’d picked out though, so they stranded their backpack and walked around the hill for a few minutes, looking for a spot to hold their solitary picnic. The daisies and buttercups that peppered the landscape were crushed under their chunky combat boots as they roamed. They gave up, and went back to their backpack, settling for the original spot. They got their blanket out of their pack, and laid it on the ground, careful not to crush any more flowers. They sat down with a sigh, sprawling out on the blanket. They stared at the sky, noticing the clouds and the receding sun. Dusk was their favorite time of day. The world wasn’t yet asleep, but it was still somewhat dark outside. They opened their backpack once again, this time pulling out a rather dented wicker basket containing a sandwich, a few slices of watermelon, and a bag of Fritos. They began to eat, chewing slowly to stay outside and escape for as long as possible. It began to get dark, so they pulled out their lanterns, setting them on the edge of their blanket to illuminate the early night. Suddenly, they heard a voice. “Ash!” it called. They whipped their head around so hard their neck cracked and their small ponytail came loose. “Hello?” they called into the night. There was no reply. They worriedly undid their hair, allowing the choppy strands of their wolf cut to wave freely in the cool breeze. The figure approached quickly, holding what appeared to be a few flowers. “Ash! Hi!” The figure came into the lantern light, and gave Asphodel a bear hug. They laughed, returning the hug with equal force. “Hey, Pansy,” they said with a chuckle. Pansy presented them with a small handful of flowers, clearly freshly picked. “Aw, thanks Pansy. You’re really sweet, you know that right?” They smiled at their girlfriend, holding her close as they watched the moths flitting around the lanterns. “Of course,” Pansy replied, “it’s been a while since I’ve seen you; I didn’t realize you would be here, though.” Asphodel smiled again. “I’m always here.” They examined the flowers they’d received. On closer inspection, it appeared to be a bunch of dahlias. Asphodel felt a sudden wave of affection for Pansy for this small action. They leaned over, and kissed Pansy on the cheek. She turned her head to lock their lips together, turning a small kiss into a passionate one under the stars.

.2 constellation: aquarius “water bearer” aquarius was the finest boy in ancient greece. Zeus became enthralled with his beauty and turned into an eagle to abduct him.

“Aquarius!” I turned at the sound, wondering which girl was pining over me this time. It was one of my more “dedicated” admirers, and by that I mean a stalker. I was surprised she didn’t just come directly to my house. I sighed, but put on my best “I’m hot and I know it” face.
“Well hello, Chrysanthe. What might you be doing out at this hour?” I gestured at the dark sky around us, well past midnight. I really didn’t want to be talking to her right now, but I needed to be somewhat civil. As she stood there and talked, infatuated with me, I zoned out, thinking of ways to politely dismiss her and promptly run away. “Isn’t that just so wrong? What do you think, Aquarius?” I hadn’t been listening at all. What did she say? “Sorry, what was that?” I questioned. Chrysanthe looked rather hurt.
“Oh…Nevermind. Have a good night, Aquarius,” she said curtly, turning and walking away. “Shoot,” I thought, “I’ve gotta stop doing that.”
“Chrysanthe! Wait! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to dismiss you,” I chased after her, filled with guilt at hurting her feelings. I was a rather bad people pleaser, and no matter how much I didn’t want to talk to her, I had to make sure she felt better. She turned, and smiled.
“Thanks, but I really should head home anyway. It’s late.” She turned around again, and continued walking, a bit faster this time. I didn’t want to seem like a creepy guy, so I simply bade her goodnight, and wandered back to where I was before. I looked up at the stars, marveling at their beauty. It’d be cool to be a star, I would think. Just sitting there twinkling and not having to worry about stalkers and making people happy. I felt rather responsible for people’s happiness. I didn’t really need to do anything though. I could just sit there and smile and look pretty and everyone would love it. The only reason anyone actually liked me was for my face anyway. As a matter of fact, my friends love reminding me that if it weren’t for my face I’d be a weirdo. As I stared into space (literally) I noticed an eagle in my peripheral. I turned my head, and smiled at it.
“Well hello, little creature. Shouldn’t you be asleep?” I chuckled. What was I doing, talking to a bird. I held out my arm, hoping it would perch on it. It did. I smiled even wider, as it stared into my eyes. I lovingly stared back, feeling rather attached to the bird. Suddenly, it flapped its wings, and we soared into the air. I yelped. This isn’t usually how birds act, right? There was no way this eagle was a normal eagle, otherwise we wouldn’t have been soaring through the sky. We flew and flew for what felt like eternity. I decided I could either pry its talons off me and fall to my death, or I could continue with the eagle wherever we were going. Suddenly, I noticed we were over an ocean. This was my chance to escape; if I dropped now, the water would save me. I wiggled and squirmed as much as I could underneath the eagle's grasp, and managed to free myself. Time seemed to slow as I fell. I realized we were so high up the water wouldn’t do anything for me anyway. I’d die just the same. I decided that wouldn’t be so bad. Suddenly, the eagle transformed into a man; a god? Zeus. Zeus kidnapped me. I saw the sorrow in his godly pupils as I plummeted. Why wasn’t he saving me? Hello? I hit the water with a splash. It seemed only fitting the water would claim me. As I sunk, the last thing I saw was Zeus waving a finger. After that, everything was dark.
Aquarius’s lifeless figure floated up out of the sea, the water cascading off him in shining droplets. He continued sailing up into the sky. Suddenly, his body dissipated into the stars, turning into a brand new constellation. “I’m sorry, Aquarius. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I would have liked to get to know you; I would have liked to hold you-” Zeus sighed. “May this constellation be as beautiful as you were.”
3. aesthetic (check my prf !! it’s water & stars i bet u can’t guess which writing its for-)

4. swc ff !! featured ppl: @–Artsy_Girl– @Dawnflower29 @-NightGlow- @Zionykon @PoppyWriter & me !! (seven)

Seven pushed the door to the main cabin open, the noise washing over her like a wave. They were quickly waved over to a table by a girl with bubblegum pink hair. Seven eagerly walked over, clutching their laptop, careful not to drop it amidst the chaos. “Hey guys! How’s the weekly going?” They asked. The girl with pink hair, named Luna, sighed. “We’re almost done. We’ve just got to focus, and you know, not get carpal tunnel,” she said, shaking out her hands. The person next to her laughed in agreement. This was Aster. They had short, fluffy brown hair, and their fingers hovered shakily over the keys of their computer. “Wow, you’re still working on the weekly? I finished it two whole days ago… losers,” said another girl. This girl was Alana. She smugly tossed her silky black hair over her shoulder, and grinned at everyone else. “I’m kidding, of course. If any of you need help I’d be happy to assist.” She said with a smile, “Welcome to the table, Seven!” Suddenly, a new person materialized behind Alana. “Hi… I’m Zion, they/them. Is it okay if I sit here?”
“Of course!” Poppy said, shoving some of Aster’s mess to the side to make room.
“Thanks, it’s nice to meet you guys. What cabins are you from? I’m from sci-fi.” Across the table, there were gasps. Seven returned to their computer, furiously typing. “YOU’LL NEVER PASS POETRY AS LONG AS I SHALL LIVE!” they exclaimed. Poppy laughed. “Jokes on you, Seven, I’m thriller,” she replied. Seven looked rather betrayed. “B-but- I’m fraternizing with the enemy then!” they said in distress. The table burst into laughter. “We’re all friends, Seven.” Aster replied through giggles, fiddling with one of the many pens they kept with them. “No, we’re not,” Luna said scathingly, “Script WILL pass fairy tales, mark my words Alana.”
“I’ve got an idea,” Zion suggested, “Out of all of us, let’s see who finishes the weekly first- not you Alana- and then that’ll prove who the better cabin is!”
“Ooooh, you’re on,” Luna challenged, with an evil grin. Everyone took their positions over their keyboard, fingers ready to begin.
“Three! Two! One… GO!!” Alana said. And with that, the games began. After a few minutes of fervent typing, suddenly, a mango landed in the middle of Seven’s messy corner of the table. They stopped typing and looked up in surprise. “Who threw that??” they asked. They looked around, and saw Poppy smirking as they typed. “Oh, you’re going to pay for that, Poppy.” Seven threatened. At that moment, everyone at the table opened their backpacks, and the mango throwing began. Somehow, each person had brought four whole mangos with them. They threw mangos for about 20 minutes, someone pausing here and there to write a few sentences. Suddenly, Zion said “I finished!” The mango war came to an abrupt stop. “My weekly is done… you guys should have asked what section I was on before you agreed to the competition. I only had 100 words of my last section left.” They said with a smirk. There were various protests from around the table, but, ultimately, they decided Zion had won, fair and square. “Well,” Alana said, trying to wrap things up, “I’m glad we had this little chat to help smooth things out… and the mango throwing, I think that was very helpful.” The table nodded in agreement. Suddenly, Luna gasped. “Guys! We only have 15 minutes to submit the weekly!” She said in distress. The table froze for a moment, then everyone took their seats again and returned to their keyboards. “Gosh darn it, Zion. You almost made our weeklies late!” Aster complained. Zion smiled. “Nothing like a little rivalries between cabins, is there?”

Last edited by -lxve-bug- (March 18, 2024 14:26:08)

minergold48

Word War || 3/17

“saving people does not make you a hero.”

Word War count: 292 words

Oh, Leo knew that. The one who had saved some of his people, the one who had freed his tribe from the wrath of his evil father, she had certainly saved people. But she had also orphaned him. No hero orphans innocent lions who are already suffering!
As he ran across the plains, he relived the memory again in his head for what must have been the thousandth time. The creature was massive, part dragon and part hedgehog, and she was at first his savior. She was friendly at first when she had first arrived. Claiming to have come to help them. Leo had believed her and her wolf friend, and had watched the two talk to everyone, gauging the situation. He knew that she would stop his dad.
But he didn’t know what her wrath would cause afterwards.
She just talked to him first. Just a normal pink hedgehog. But then when his father got mad, started threatening her with fire, her special natural abilities weren’t going to stop her. Pulling out those emeralds weren’t the answer.
Oh Leo had heard of them. He had daydreamed of using their own powers even before he had seen them in person. He knew what they could do. They knew they could stop his father. But as he looked up at the giant beast looking down at his father, he saw the anger in her eyes. He didn’t know what she would do, but he definitely wasn’t expecting such evil.
She took him first. It was only a conversation, but then it was an argument. And then his father struck her with a powerless fireball.
The roar made him begin to flee. She slashed at a tree, causing it to collapse. That one didn’t

Official word count: TBD

(I’m in Thriller sobbinf but I still love Illu-Fi <3)

Rey_venclaw

Every time I look at myself in the mirror, I still expect to see that self I was two or three years ago now, not the person I am now, the person I now know myself to be.
I’m not used to being the person I am now. It’s very weird to be able to do things. I can dance now, if I want to. I can run now, if I want to. And I can see that when I look in the mirror. I look stronger now, and happier. I still expect to see a pale, skinny, sickly, tired girl, who has bright blue hair that’s a little ugly but she likes it because it’s something she has control of, who wears clothing she doesn’t feel comfortable in because she wants to be someone else, wants to be one of the characters in her tv shows, the ones who go out and do things, the ones who have friends, or do well in school, or have an idea and just go for it, because they can.
She wishes to do something just because she can.
That’s not me anymore, as hard as that is to believe. I now have friends, I now go places almost every day, and it’s hardly ever to the hospital anymore. I now can go on walks, play tag, have snowball fights, and I know all this now but it’s still hard to believe.
How is it that things get to go back to normal? Why is it okay for things to go back to normal when you can’t, won’t, and never will?
I look in the mirror, at the person I am now, and the person I am going to be from now on whether I believe it or not. I press my hand against the mirror and my new self presses her hand back. I give her a smile and she smiles back. We’ve come so far.

❝ I'm Soki, co-leader of Non-Fi, and I am burdened with vacuums and ice cream❞

-WildClan-

PART 1: Flowers

Clover had always done exactly what she was supposed to. If something needed doing, she would do it, no questions asked. She didn’t mess around in others’ affairs. She didn’t complain, no, she was happy to help out! It was good to fix problems rather than create new ones.
Or, at least, that’s what she had been told. She was inclined to believe it, but then why did it feel so exhausting sometimes?
Maybe it was just that everyone else made too many problems. She had seen her parents arguing, heard the things Shade told her sister. Clover was fairly certain everyone forgot she was there most of the time. They didn’t know she saw everything, and understood how unstable the situation was. Every day, the whole colony was at the brink of falling apart. And no matter how hard she tried, Clover knew she couldn’t keep things together forever.
She tried to keep smiling when it became clear that Shade intended to revolt against Ash, the current leader and Clover’s father. She didn’t interfere when her sister, Dandelion, fought with Ash and left, bleeding, not to return. She acted perfectly calm when Shade split the colony in two, leaving with her followers. She didn’t say a word when her brother, Claw, went with Shade.
But inside, Clover was fracturing under the stress. She had done eveything right! She was the perfect daughter, hardworking and unobtrusive, exactly what her mother, Web, had taught her to be. Yet her good behavior did nothing to save everything from crumbling before her eyes. She was powerless.
When the fight came, it took everyone else by surprise. But not her. Clover hid away from the violence, too scared to do anything but watch from the background as she had always done. When the walls of the canyon collapsed, she was not harmed, but she felt her heart get buried beneath the rubble anyways.
It wasn’t until Dandelion found her, hours later, huddling in the branches of a tree, that she emerged to face the destruction. Numbly, she witnessed the ruins of her home and the bodies of those she had once shared it with, including Ash.
Shade, Claw, and Dandelion acted like this was a victory. Web was distant, apathetic. Ember grieved over his lost sons. Once again, Clover was all but invisible, unnoticed by everyone.
Time passed, and Clover went back to her old habits. She cleaned up the canyon, rebuilt what was broken, and tried to make it feel like home again. She did what had to be done, because what else was there to do? It was all she had ever known. It was who she was.
Or, at least, until Fern came along.

PART 2: Constellations
Deep within a lost-moon night, the stars hung in the sky as if suspended by invisible thread. They seemed so close, one should need only to reach out in order to grasp them. The entire world was hushed and peaceful, yet thrumming with life, an exhilarating vitality that had no equal.
It was nights like these, when the air was crisp and full of wonder, that the horizon pulled at Wander’s soul, unfolded the corners of the universe so that he might explore them. For he was a dreamer, and his home was the idea of what might lay just around the next bend in the road.
So Wander, with a keen eye and an open heart, looked to the stars to guide him. It had not been done before, and the patterns of the constellations were so utterly, breathtakingly unknown that they must have compelled him to spread his wings as wide as he could and never look down. With every movement, every rotation, every orbit, Wander blazed a new trail, to lands never before trod by shazarxian paws.
His journey carried him west until he came to the edge of the great sea, its waters as infinite as the sky. It was there that he paused for just a heartbeat, to settle down and raise a family.
It was a new sort of revelation for him, I suppose, to not only grasp at the brilliance of the stars, but to share their light with new eyes. He taught us the beauty of all the things we didn’t yet know and the joy of pursuing them. He showed us the nature of infinity, the miracle of existing in a universe so much bigger than ourselves.
That spirit of wonder will outlive us all.
I like to think of him as still out there on that journey, always chasing a discovery just beyond the horizon. The maps he made will be written down upon the earth, his dreams carried on by each new generation. Glowing brightly to guide the rest of us, one of many stars in the endless sky.

PART 3: Aesthetics
https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/821730366/

PART 4: SWC Fanfiction
Smarlls the ibex. Benny the crab. Saturn Peeles. Even the mighty, mysterious Marc Mangoson.
The many fantastical, wondrous mascots of Scratch Writing Camp’s past… They are said to come from all corners of the galaxswc, from the constellations of space to the pirate ships of legends past.
But each of them only shows up for one session to grace us with their presence, then disappears, perhaps to show up later in a callback weekly or a joking reference. Where do they go the rest of the time?
No one truly knows. We, as the proud members of Scratch Writing Camp, may theorize to our hearts' content, create myths and epic tales to explain our mascots’ brave adventures and silly shenanigans, but we will never truly know what their lives are like outside of the context of this little writing camp, or, indeed, if they even exist elsewhere at all.
We treat our mascots like deities, typing words in their honor and praying to them for motivation, never expecting a response. Some actually do answer, their accounts springing into existence for a brief moment before falling inactive for the rest of eternity. Others are forever distant, revealing only their visage for us to look to for guidance.
This session’s mascot is a turtle named Gurtle, and despite his cute, harmless appearance, he is shrouded in even more mystery than the rest. A crossover between a golem and a turtle, we can only guess at his origins.
His shell is transparent, encasing a flower within, and fragmenting into round particles at the edges. His smile is curious, if hesitant, tempting us to come just a little closer, listen to what he has to say. Yet he says nothing. It is only an image, an image of an entity that we must believe exists somewhere out there, on the other side of the screen.
It would be easy to conclude that Gurtle is simply a fiction, a drawing created by some passing artist, never meant to represent a sentient being. But then, too, we converse with each other in the form of comments on the internet, never knowing who is really behind them. Are those people but a mere fiction as well? Just because we cannot conclusively prove that they are truly what they present themselves to be, we can’t assume that it is all fabricated. After all, we are also unable to conclusively prove the opposite, that they aren’t real.
Just like the mascots, SWCers come and go, some for only a single session before they are gone from the rest of us. The rest of the time, who knows? We assume they have other lives out there, but perhaps they simply go nowhere at all.
Whatever the truth may be, it is clear to see that the effect of choosing to believe in the existence of the unprovable has a positive effect on us SWCers. We may smile, thinking of our mascots watching over us, blessing our writing efforts. We happily type out messages to other campers, hoping our little jokes will make someone else laugh. We push through the dreary sludge of being unmotivated, our perseverance coming from our faith that the powers of SWC will reward us.
Besides, making up fictions to fill in meaning where there is none is one of humanity's greatest assets. Flowers do not have inherent meaning, but it is far more fun to create symbolism for them, and the messages that can then be sent are certainly real. Constellations are made-up patterns, but because everyone knows their names, they are as real as any other object.
Therefore, the trivial question of whether Gurtle and the other mascots are fact or fiction matters less than the effect they have upon us. We should not care whether they are sentient as individuals, or if they only exist because of their relation to SWC. We do not need to know. We should not worry that the stories we write about them are not accurate to their actual experiences and actions, for the creativity afforded to us by having no solid details is even better than knowing the reality. We are given what most benefits us as writers.
And in this way, the mascots give us exactly what we need. They do what they do, they are what they are, for us. In return, we accept them and enrich them with our stories. A world with Gurtle in it is, indeed, the best of all possible worlds.

Last edited by -WildClan- (March 17, 2024 23:45:26)

AmazaEevee

Daily #17
3/17/2024
360 words

Don't you ever tame your demons
But always keep 'em on a leash

Spite, Jealousy, Insecurity.

The three rest on my head and shoulders, never leaving my side. I don’t have an angel, but three demons watching over me.

Spite.
Spite keeps me going, keeps me motivated, gives me a reason to look forward to each day. Spite gets me to study harder because I just need to wipe that smug grin off of her face when she realizes that I got first this time, not her. Spite makes me do my best so I can prove my father wrong. I’m stronger than he think, and I won’t be proven wrong.
I quite like Spite. Spite makes me smile when I accomplish my goals. Spite's only goal is to prove others wrong. I like Spite.

Jealously.
Jealously keeps me seething and unhappy, aiming for more, needing to be successful. Jealously pushes me until I’m red with rage, doing whatever I can to reach the highest. Jealously twists my feelings until I’m just craving more and more. Jealously gets me to work harder, work faster, so I can finally be at the top.
Jealously likes to play with me. I’m not sure how I feel about Jealously. She makes me push others away. I don't feel happy about who I am. I don't think I like Jealously much at all.

Insecurity.
Insecurity keeps me watching over my shoulder, lurking beneath me. Insecurity gauges the crowd, convinces me that I am being looked down upon. Insecurity pushes me to do better, look better, be better. Why can't I be perfect? Insecurity keeps me moving because that's the only way I can reach perfection, the only way I can be good enough to be proud.
I wish Insecurity would go away. He feeds off of my thoughts, pours oil onto the sparks. Insecurity makes me want to be better, but why haven't I been better?

The three work together, Jealously helping out Spite, Insecurity growing off of Jealously, and Spite trying to minimize Insecurity's effects. It's a never ending chain, the three demons in my head.

Sometimes they look like angels, keeping me safe. And other times, I see the demons, leaving me behind to quake.

Gladiolus12

March 17 daily, 443 words
“I couldn’t whisper when you needed it shouted, ah but I’m singing like a bird bout it now.”

She was the odd one out amongst the hundreds of students that swarmed the school. Her hair blazed the color of sunsets and autumn leaves and her eyes were like emeralds. She wore something new each day, did her hair in a different style each day. She spent recesses wandering around the playground, away from everyone else, just staring at the trees or talking to the birds.

People made fun of her, pointed fingers whenever she came their way. What a weirdo, they whispered. She didn’t care. She didn’t look like she cared. She never spoke a word to anyone.

I never spoke a word to anyone either. People thought I was weird, too.

…

I loved to sing.

But I’d never sung for anyone else.

Once, she came up to me during recess while I was humming a song to myself. I stopped.

She looked at me with her emerald eyes.

“Don’t stop,” she said. It was the first time I had ever heard her speak. She had a beautiful voice. It was low and musical.

“You have a lovely voice,” she said quietly. “I think you should share it with the world.”

Share it with the world? I mutely shook my head.

“I wish I could sing,” she sighed. “I can’t. I sound terrible when I try. If I could sing, I would sing to the entire planet. I would sing for everyone who can’t sing for themselves.” She smiled at me and walked away.

I stared after her.

…

She was sitting on a bench, gazing at the sky, when a group of boys came over to her.

“Hey, strawberry head!” shouted one. She didn’t look up.

“Can’t you hear? Are you deaf? Or are you such a weirdo that you don’t know when people are talking to you?”

She ignored them, still. The boys began throwing grass at her, laughing. A group of girls clustered around to watch, and they laughed too.

She’s so weird.

The girl finally got up and left. The crowd booed after her.

The next day, she didn’t come back.

Nor the day after.

Nor the day after.

…

You have a lovely voice, she had said.

If I could sing, I would sing for everyone who can’t sing for themselves.

She hadn’t come back for two weeks.

The boys were sitting on the same bench.

I took a deep breath and walked away. The birds were singing in the trees.

Tomorrow, I would sing too. For everyone who couldn’t sing for themselves. And especially for her.

I couldn’t whisper when you needed it shouted, ah but I’m singing like a bird bout it now.

Last edited by Gladiolus12 (March 17, 2024 23:52:19)

Dawnflower29

ILL MAKE EVERYTHING MORE PRETTY LATER I PROMISE I SPEEDRAN THIS AND DONT WANNA BE LATE GAH

EDIT: ALRIGHT ITS PRETTY ENOUGH, I FINISHED THIS ON TIME BUT I HAD TO CREDIT PEOPLE SO THATS WHY IT MIGHT SHOW UP LATE :3

Part 1: Flowers - 306 Words <3
“Write a story of at least 300 words, weaving flower symbolism into the plot or theme.”

Next to the body, there was a stack of letters.
Sasha came closer to the pile, trying to avoid gazing at the (literally lmao) suspended girl. She picked the top letter up, and read the name on the front of it.

‘Melanie’. The next one, ‘Joan’. She couldn’t read the third one, since it was scribbled out, but the fourth letter….had her name written on it.
She examined the letter, the little stars that Penelope used to draw scattered all over it, proving that it was from the d3ad child. She turned the letter over in her hands, and with a deep breath, opened the seal and took out the message, which she unfolded and began to read…

Dear Sasha,

I wish you the best.

…

…That short..?

She’d usually write more…

Sasha flipped the paper over, but those were the only words written on there.

…five words?
for her childhood friend..?

She frowned and tipped the envelope over, shaking it in hope that something else would fall out…and some flowers did, fluttering to the floor and landing at her feet. She knelt down and examined them, making sure not to harm the delicate petals…

A marigold…

grief…

she knew how upset Sasha would be.
she knew what’d happen later…people would find the body…

they would grieve for the loss of a child so young….

so carefree…

who had so much longer to live…

Zinnia…

thoughts of absent friends.

She wouldn’t be here anymore.

Her friends would miss her.

…

Her friends loved her.

And she d!ed.

Her sister loved her.

And she d!ed.

Sasha loved her.

And she d!ed.

If only she’d asked for help…

Dahlia…

yours until the end.

…and attached to the last flower, a small slip of paper.

She carefully picked up the flower by its stem and read the message…

Part 2: Constellations - 304 (self-written) Words (it’d be more if you counted the ace attorney dialogue, but since it’s from the game, i didn’t)
“Write 300 words of either a fiction or non-fiction piece based on how your favorite constellation came to be.”

1:30 AM

Libra couldn’t sleep. Just like most of the time.

Somehow, they managed to run on less than 6 hours of sleep a night…

They picked up their Nintendo and turned it on, the screen illuminating their dark bedroom.

Libra opened the case they were working on, and clicked through the familiar text boxes…

“…On the western edge of the Far East lies a peaceful country of spirit mediums and mystery – the Kingdom of Khura'in. But now, the flames of revolution are threatening to consume it whole. But things like “revolt” and “revolution” were the furthest things from my mind when I first arrived in this land….” (Ace attorney ref! <3)

They smiled faintly at the recognizable words of Phoenix Wright…one of their idols…it probably wasn’t the healthiest thing, but they loved the game and its concepts…

Libra always had a talent for working conflicts out…but they didn’t get accepted into their dream school…and they couldn’t be part of a court now…

…The 25-year-old played Ace Attorney until a small message popped up on their screen….

A job offering for the position of a judge….strange…Ace Attorney didn’t have any ads.

They tried to close the advertisement, but it wouldn’t go away…

Libra groaned and set the console aside, turning it off. Guess they’d have to try to fall asleep.

…

Eventually, they fell into a restless sleep, but at 6:28 AM, they were awoken by a phone call.

“Hello?” Libra asked, after they picked up the phone.

“…Is there a ‘Libra’ here..? I’d like to have a talk with you about some work opportunities…”

“Er…yes…that’d be me…”

“Wonderful…have you ever thought about applying for our judge position..?”

…That was thousands of years ago…just when humans began existing and getting into disputes…

And now, the young adult lives in the sky…trying to make everything fair and just…

For the sake of the mortal humans… They have to keep going…have to sort out every conflict between the other stars in the sky…have to keep the world in balance…

For it’s their one true mission…

They must keep the universe peaceful and safe for the mortals.

Part 3: Aesthetics - 6 Images
“Choose one of your pieces from the previous sections and create an aesthetic set that represents the theme or motif that you have selected.”

https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/984377603

Part 4: SWC Fanfiction - 809 Words
“Take the motif of the flower you chose earlier in this weekly or the meaning of the constellation and use that in your fanfiction.”

feat. @bewilder_ed (vi) , @smartypantschlo (chloe) , @surfdudewave (surf) , @-BookDragon- (mousey) , @Zionykon (zion) , @Dawnflower29 (aster)

The pack—well, actually, just a couple— of sci-fi campers, one with long brown hair, and the other with split black and white locks, ran into the main lodge, yelling, over and over again,

“We’re FIRST!”

Vi, a small girl, wearing a flower crown (I made that a thing, I thought it’d be kinda cute <3) of periwinkles, camomile, and lucerne, and sitting on a beanbag chair next to the word-adding station flinched a little at the sudden noise.
“Isn’t Poetry first..?” She asked, her voice quiet.

Yet another camper, leaning on the wall next to the beanbag girl, snickered and rolled her green eyes (orbs /j /j /j), pushing up her glasses.

“Thriller’s first now.” She remarked, pointing to the leaderboard. Sure enough, Thriller was stuck just above Poetry, both of which topped Sci-fi.

The sci-fi campers mock gasped, then burst out laughing. The one with the green eyes and brown hair spoke through their giggles.
“We know…we were just hoping you weren’t paying attention…”

“You all are something else…” Mousey, who was sitting right next to Vi on a beanbag of her own, stuck out her tongue playfully. The group of five campers around her all chuckled.

“We’re SWCers, what do you expect from us?” Zion—the sci-fier with the black and white hair—teased.

Vi adjusted her flower crown as she spoke, “Arson…and mangoes…that’s what’s expected of us.”

“…You’re rig—Awh, cool crown thing!” The other sci-fi camper, Surf, abruptly changed the subject as she watched the poetry camper play with her flower accessory. “You make that yourself?”

The girl nodded and adjusted her glasses. “Yeah…we had a team building activity just before Cabin Wars…and we learned about different types of flowers.”

“…Could you teach us..?” Aster finally spoke up from their place just next to the beanbags.

Chloe grinned and added,

“Yeah! That’d be cool if you did…flowers are nice.”

The other few campers in the small area nodded and murmured their agreement, before Vi sighed and eventually gave in.

“…Alright…I’ll show you a couple…just don’t tell my leaders..”

She pulled out a small chart from her pocket, unfolding the paper and laying it out for all to see. Chloe, Surf, and Zion, who weren’t close enough to her before, crowded around Vi, while Mousey and Aster stayed where they were.

“So this…is buttercup…” She pointed to one of the flowers on the sheet, “It means childishness…and that one’s dandelion, which means-“

“What’re the ones on your flower crown?” Zion interrupted, gesturing to the flowers on the poetry camper’s head.
Vi sighed at this and responded,

“They’re camomile, periwinkle, and lucerne…and they mean energy, friendship, and life…like I said, it was a team-building activity, so they made us choose flowers that symbolized our relationship with each other.”

“Do you have any extra flowers?” Surf inquired. “…I wanna make a few flower crowns out of those ones that’re in yours! …It’s alright if you don’t, but I think it’d be kinda fun for me to make us some…y’know…bonding..?” Vi frowned a little.

“Well…I dunno…it was kinda a poetry thing….”

“N-no, forget it, that was a dumb questi-“

“…We can use some different flowers…epistolary did something like that too, and I have some extra…” Aster hesitantly offered, reaching for their satchel.

“Really?” At this, Surf brightened up, and she extended a hand for the flowers, which Aster handed to them. They sat down and began to construct a few flower crowns out of the flowers they were given.

Chloe rolled her eyes. “Can we get back to the flower meanings?”

“Ah…yeah, okay!” Vi agreed, before starting to read down the list in a quiet voice, so the campers not involved in the discussion wouldn’t be able to hear her giving away poetry secrets. “So apple blossoms mean…”

Almost a half hour passed as the 6 campers from 5 different cabins conversed about different flowers, and finally, Surf placed a flower crown on each camper’s head (OMG GAH THIS TURNED OUT SO CUTE NO TRAUMA FOR ONCE JUST PURE WHOLESOMENESS <33).

“What flowers are these?” Mousey smiled softly, the calm vibes she was giving off a change from her usual chaotic personality.

“Juniper, periwinkle, and veronica.” Vi nodded thankfully, two flower crowns on her head now—one from this small group of campers, and the other from her cabin.

“Which mean…” Zion murmured, trying to rack their brain for the three meanings.

Aster responded before Zion could. “‘I confide in you’, friendship and memory, and fidelity.”

Vi nodded and smiled contentedly—she’d never expected this type of bonding with people from different cabins….

She was about to speak, before something caught Chloe’s eye, and the latter burst out:

“LOOK! A NEW WEEKLY!!” She ran over to the board, which someone had just posted a fresh weekly on. The other five just stared at each other, before following….after all, this was SWC…who knew what writing prompts the managers had come up with this time..?

Last edited by Dawnflower29 (March 18, 2024 01:33:19)

┆ aster ┆ they/them ┆ intp-t ┆ chaotic lil writer + artist ┆omori + ddlc obsessed <33 ┆epistolary ftw! ┆

-WildClan-

(This is based on “Arsonist’s Lullaby.”)

Flood, a troubled soul haunted by the scars of his past, was raised in the shadow of his stepfather, Emerald, Flood harbored a simmering resentment that threatened to consume him whole.
Emerald didn’t mean to get in Flood’s way, but his presence casting a long shadow over Flood's life. Their relationship was fraught with tension, a tangled web of unspoken grievances and bitter disappointments. No matter how hard Flood tried, he always felt that Emerald was unrighteously taking the place of Flood’s own father, Sandstone.
One fateful night, consumed by a torrent of anger and frustration, Flood found himself standing before the charred remains of his childhood home. Flames licked at the night sky, casting an eerie glow upon his face as he watched the fire rage unchecked. In a fit of reckless abandon, Flood had set the house ablaze, the flames devouring everything in their path- including Emerald.
As the inferno raged, Flood felt a sense of twisted satisfaction, a fleeting moment of triumph amidst the chaos. But his victory was short-lived, shattered by the sudden appearance of his stepbrother, Breeze. With eyes filled with sorrow and betrayal, Breeze confronted Flood, his voice trembling with emotion.
In a desperate struggle fueled by rage and regret, Breeze fought to extinguish the flames that threatened to consume them all. With each passing moment, Flood's anger gave way to a gnawing sense of guilt, a realization of the havoc he had wrought upon his family.
As the flames died down and the smoke cleared, Flood’s ghost stood amidst the ruins of his once-beloved home, his heart heavy with remorse. The weight of his actions bore down upon him, a burden too heavy to bear. In the eyes of his family, he saw the pain and devastation he had caused, a wound that would never fully heal.
In the years that followed, Flood grappled with the consequences of his actions, haunted by the memories of that fateful night. As he stood before the smoldering ruins, he vowed to atone for his sins, to seek redemption in the ashes of his past. For Flood knew that true healing could only come from within, a journey of self-discovery and forgiveness that would lead him back from the brink of darkness.
It was never too late.

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