rynn's writing masterlist!
cabin: non-fi parliament

dailies

july 01: parleysure to meet you | 101 words
july 02: dear future self | 240 words
july 03: the kingdom of hiraya | 512 words
july 04: under the gazebo | 340 words
july 06: nothing | 580 words
july 07: presenting your word count to mazasa the polar bear in the swc main cabin | 1,156 words
july 08: break a leg! | 550 words
july 20: sixteenth birthday | 10 words
july 24: sweaty white cats | 540 words
july 25: for the last time | 386 words
july 26: title | xxx words
july 27: title | xxx words
july 28: title | xxx words
july 29: title | xxx words
july 30: title | xxx words
july 31: title | xxx words

weeklies

week 1: perspectives | 4,232 words
week 4: islandswc | 3,636 words

wars

word wars
07.08 | @_Tormentarashi_ | horror reality | 630 words | lost
07.10 | @tapdancer707 | folklore fan fest | 360 words | won
07.23 | @Starthorn | gothic: the summonings | 350 words | lost

«────── « ⋅ Introduction ⋅ » ─────»
❝No intro or cool title this time :sad:❞

«────── « ⋅ Dailies ⋅ » ─────»
☛ № 01: Introduce yourself!
☛ № 02: Dear Future Self
☛ № 03: Ten Years Later…
☛ № 04: Link
☛ № 05: Link
☛ № 06: Link
☛ № 07: Link
☛ № 08: Link
☛ № 09: Link
☛ № 10: Link
☛ № 11: Link
☛ № 12: Link
☛ № 13: Link
☛ № 14: Link
☛ № 15: Link
☛ № 16: Link
☛ № 17: Link
☛ № 18: Link
☛ № 19: Link
☛ № 20: Link
☛ № 21: Link
☛ № 22: Link
☛ № 23: Link
☛ № 24: Link
☛ № 25: Link
☛ № 26: Link
☛ № 27: Link
☛ № 28: Link
☛ № 29: Link
☛ № 30: Link
☛ № 31: Link

«────── « ⋅ Weeklies ⋅ » ─────»
➳ Weekly One: Link
➳ Weekly Two: Link
➳ Weekly Three:Link
➳ Weekly Four: IslandSWC

«────── « ⋅ Writing Comp ⋅ » ─────»
✒ Title: Link

«────── « ⋅ Word Wars ⋅ » ─────»
⇛ Link

«────── « ⋅ Other ⋅ » ─────»
⋙ Link
⋙ Link
⋙ Link

❧ hope's library of mysterious swc things

yeah, i should probably actually do something this time around

information
cabin: mystery market
word goal: 1,024/5,000

dailies
01.07 | 1024 words | 0 points
↳ Welcome, shoppers, to the July 2024 session of Scratch Writing Camp! We are beyond excited to have you all here with us as we explore IKEA. To get this session started, introduce yourself to your fellow customers in the Main Cabin comments! Make sure to include some form of joke, whether it be your favorite riddle or a silly pun, in your introduction to celebrate international joke day on July 1st. See you in the showroom!
02.07 | 283 words | 200 points
↳ Dear future self… Have you ever wondered what your future self will think of current you? Do you have any pressing questions for your future self? Now's your chance to find out - write a letter to your end-of-the-month self! Try to include some goals you have for this month, SWC or personal, and any questions you have for yourself in 200 words for 200 points.
03.07 | 0 words | 0 points
↳ Close your eyes and picture a kingdom- it can look like anything you'd like! Write a paragraph about it… now stop! Fast-forward ten years. What changed in the kingdom? What new developments are there? Continue to fast forward ten years after each paragraph until you have 500 words for 400 points (and a bonus 100 for sharing proof!)
04.07 | 320 words | 300 points
↳ For today's daily, search up and listen to an instrumental song – maybe it's a classical song, or perhaps it's a more modern song. Think about the mood and atmosphere the song is trying to portray. After you listen to a portion of or the entire song, write a story of 300 words inspired by the mood of the song for 200 points! An additional 100 points if you share the song-inspired story you wrote!
05.07 | word war opening
↳ Today marks the grand reopening for Word Wars! They can be found here: https://scratch-mit-edu.ezproxy.canberra.edu.au/projects/1044909158/. Word wars, much like word sprints, are an easy, yet fun way to earn more points for your cabin! They're also a great way to meet new people within the community while still competing with them to see who can write the most amount of words during the span of the war. Word Wars will be open for the rest of camp - more information can be found in the project itself. Have fun shoppers!
06.07 | 487 words | 400 points
↳ Bringing back a classic - the flower daily! Head over to Alba's lovely project here ( https://scratch-mit-edu.ezproxy.canberra.edu.au/projects/741579314/ ) where you'll find a variety of flowers and their hidden meanings. Now, pick your favorite three, and incorporate them into a short story of 400 words for 300 points! Make sure to keep the meanings in mind… those motifs should come into play in your story as well <3 You can also earn an additional 100 points for sharing proof!
07.07 | 261 words | 200 points
↳ “HOW TO COMPLETE TODAY’S DAILY:
Step 1. Choose a topic for a how-to guide! Be as silly as you like - everyone here would surely benefit from reading How To Breathe 101 or How To Survive a Zombie Apocalypse.
Step 2. Write steps for your chosen process in at least 250 words.
Step 3. Present your word count to Mazasa the polar bear in the main cabin to earn 200 points, and share your steps for an extra 100.”
08.07 | 436 words | 400 points
↳ Time to put a twist on some old friends! Take an idiom, any idiom, and imagine what would happen if that were to come true. Is the grass always greener on the other side? What if the test really was a piece of cake? Write 400 words in this scenario to claim 300 points for your cabin! An additional 100 points can be earned for sharing proof!
09.07 | 360 words | 150 points
↳ The hero’s journey is a device familiar to many. For this bi-daily, head over to Rockie’s amazing workshop on this incredibly helpful tool- https://scratch-mit-edu.ezproxy.canberra.edu.au/projects/1045792857/ . From there, write an outline of a story utilizing your new knowledge of the hero’s journey and post part of the outline in the comments. Be sure to keep an eye out tomorrow for part two of this bi-daily! You can earn 150 points for sharing your outline with others in this studio: https://scratch-mit-edu.ezproxy.canberra.edu.au/studios/35427113/comments Make sure to post here as well to claim your points!
10.07 | 504 words | 600 points
↳ Welcome to the second part of this bi-daily <3 Yesterday, we posted our outline of a story in this studio: https://scratch-mit-edu.ezproxy.canberra.edu.au/studios/35427113. Now go back to those comments and find one that catches your eye! Choose one stage of that outline and write it into a full-fledged scene with at least 400 words. Remember to use the information from your chosen outline when writing the scene, and have fun! This bi-daily is worth 500 points, and an additonal 100 points for sharing proof.
11.07 | 0 words | 0 points
↳

weeklies
01 | 1621 words | 2000 points
↳ It's been a long time coming… Welcome to the first weekly of the session, legends! This week, we're spinning the clock around and exploring timing and pacing, Head over here to get started!
02 | xxx words | xxxx points
↳ info

word wars
01 | opponent | xxx words | outcome
↳ info
02 | opponent | xxx words | outcome
↳ info

writing competitions
original | title | status | xxxx words
↳ info
fanfic | title | status | xxxx words
↳ info

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ┆ SWC July 2024 - Eloise's Corner┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ °

Eloise || they/any || 8,586 / 20,000

✎ Writing (in chronological order) -

◙ July 1 ┆

┆Daily -To get this session started, introduce yourself to your fellow customers in the Main Cabin comments! Make sure to include some form of joke!┆

Hey guys! I'm Eloise! I use any pronouns :] I'm Australian and adore reading, writing and any sort of English work. I love making my writing poetic by using tons of metaphors, similies, zeugmas, and fancyshmancy words I also am strictly pro-Oxford comma XD I'd love to get to know y'all! Riddle: What can go up a chimney down, but can't go down a chimney up? Answer: an umbrella! (I see you Mary Poppins)
┆75 words┆

┆ 1k word intro! ┆

*steps up to the microphone* Hello, my fellow authors and Scratch Writing Camp companions! My name is Eloise, though you can call me EJ (pronounced ee-jay), and I go by any pronouns. I’m so excited to be participating in SWC this month! Let me take you on a thousand-word journey as I ramble on about myself for probably way too long, but who cares? You’re reading this, so you obviously do! Well, without further ado, let’s get into it! *wild applause from the audience… which consists entirely of little animals carved out of driftwood and hand sewn victorian gentleman ghost plushies (yes I make those, I named one of the ghosts Harvey, he’s gorgeous)*

This session will be my fifth session of SWC ever, but I can’t say I’ve ever been this excited for it, nor as prepared. I participated in four sessions on my old Scratch account (I was sorted into hi-fi, adventure and fan-fi twice if you were wondering), but that was ages ago, *sentimental sniff* when my poor sweet young naive self didn’t take writing as seriously as I do now. In fact, up until now I thought I’d only been in two sessions (hi-fi and fan-fi), as I barely participated in the other two! I only realised just now. Poor young EJ, signing up for one of the most fun writing workshops on Scratch four times and completely neglecting to participate for half of them. I’m not too proud of myself, but I’m glad to say this time will be epic! I’m actually gonna do stuff! Dystopian for the win! Woo!

I’ve been on Scratch for a good… *frantically checks old account* four years and five months now! Time really does fly, don’t you think? Anyways, I had an old account that I loved and cherished with my whole heart, until that one fateful Thursday of early 2023, when it was hacked into and permanently banned by the Scratch team. As you could imagine, the younger me was absolutely distraught. My three years of hard work? All those cringey vector animation memes, edgy OCs and somewhat smooth animation MAP parts never to be accessed again? Ever?

Needless to say, I sobbed my heart out for two days straight. I vowed I’d never join Scratch again for a while… and that while turned out to be a week. I made a new account (@-_-EJ-_-), and began a fresh start. Instead of making cringey vector animation memes, I made cringey vector animation memes with a slightly better original character that I totally didn’t spend three hours of my birthday on. And I’m happy to say, the fresh start was exactly what I needed. I fell in love with Scratch, all over again. I’ve now started a separate account from my main one, called @eIoquent-eloise (with a capital i for the first L) for all of my writing, be it poems or novels or prose, oh my!

Apart from Scratch, let me tell you about some of my hobbies! First and foremostly, I love to read books, and have been doing so almost religiously for as long as I can remember. I read extremely fast, with the ability to finish a novel in about an hour, and I’m quite an advanced reader. In fact, I first read The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe at age four (totally not bragging here, wow, great job me). One of the reasons I even wear glasses to this day is because I would read so much when I was younger, and the fact I would hold the book so close to my face partially caused my short-sightedness! I absolutely adore books and storytelling, which is one of the reasons why I’m so in love with writing now.

I love to dance as well! I take dance class (jazz, ballet, contemporary and broadway, as well as a competition troupe) and I’d like to say I’m pretty good. Unfortunately, I wasn’t born flexible at all, so in my eleven years of dancing I’ve still never been able to do the splits. I also adore drama and theatre - Heathers, Hamilton, Be More Chill, Newsies, and Mean Girls are some of my favourite musicals - and I’m in the ensemble for my school production and plan to be for as long as I’m there.

Time for some other random facts about me! I’m quite short (I am an absolute gremlin of a person), and I have shoulder length curly hair that’s an absolute nightmare to take care of. It takes me a solid hour to wash and dry and style it, and I have to do it twice a week so it doesn’t end up looking like a frizzy mess. My favourite colours are malachite green and periwinkle (search those two up with ‘aesthetic’ after them to see why I love them so much) and my favourite food is sushi, specifically California rolls with caviar, prawn and avocado rolls, and salmon nigiri.

I’m more of a cat person than a dog person when it comes down to it. Apologies to all you dog people, you’re very nice, but you have to admit cats are superior (praise our feline overlords.) My favourite animals are ferrets, dragonflies and fairy wrens. Some of my favourite music artists include Melanie Martinez, Madilyn Mei, Marina and the Diamonds, (wow my top three start with M) Hozier, Chappell Roan, Taylor Swift (my whole family are huge Swifties), Cavetown and Livingston. Whew! That was a lot. Hope you’re not bored right now, haha.

Well, thank you all for sticking around with little old me! I hope you guys have an amazing time at Scratch Writing Camp this month (can’t wait to best you all at cabin wars and stay up much too late in the process ehehe) and I hope you enjoyed learning about me as much as I enjoyed writing this! I’ve been waiting ages for camp to start, and now that it has, best of luck to you all! Good day! *hushed murmurs and applause breaks out over the crowd as a cloud of dragonflies surrounds me and then disperses, leaving nothing behind but an empty stage*

┆1024 words┆

◙ July 2

┆Daily - Write a letter to your future self at the end of camp!┆

Dear Eloise,

Hi! Uh, it’s me. You? Us? Are we separate people? I mean, it’s your past self. How does this work again? *clears throat* Not really sure how to address this, so… it’s me, Eloise, writing this on July 2nd. If I’ve done this right, you should be reading this at the end of camp, Scratch Writing Camp, that is. How’d it go? Hopefully you’re doing well!

I’m glad I could participate in camp this month. Really glad I was sorted into Dystopian, everyone there seems so nice, and the worldbuilding and theme is just *chefs kiss* top notch. Did you make any friends? Hope you did! I think everyone here is epic, and I’ve already started chatting with a few people. Did Dystopian win? I’m excited to see the results! I don’t think I’ll be disappointed by our final amount of points, though. I know I did my best, and so did you. We

Try to get some good rest and drink tons of water. You’ve earned it! I’d like to think you didn’t stay up too late at night during cabin wars, but again, I wouldn’t put it past you. Well, technically I wouldn’t put it past us. Time travel is really weird. Also, this is your reminder to unclench your jaw. I know you do that when you’re focused. I’m doing it right now, and mate, that ain’t healthy.

Congrats on completing camp this month! Love you,

Eloise

┆242 words ┆


◙ July 4 ┆

Daily - Write a story based on an instrumental piece of music (I chose What Are You from the Subnautica soundtrack)

A soft clacking sound echoed around the entrance hallway, caused by the navigator’s boots hitting the blackstone floor gently. Circuit-like lines set into the floor covered the room; floor, walls and ceiling; not perfectly straight but instead turning at right angles. Occasionally, a soft green pulse flowed through them, like some sort of energy was being siphoned through the inset lines to a central point.

The navigator made their way down the hall, marvelling with wonder at the intricate carvings surrounding them. They were careful not to disrupt the silence of the facility, for fear of disturbing something… eldritch. Something alien.

As soon as they initially laid eyes upon this facility, they knew this was what they were here for. This is what they had been searching for this whole time.The design of the place felt so familiar– and yet foreign. New. Or more precisely, very, very old, so old that the navigator was the first one to walk its halls in eons. So old, nothing like it existed, as far as humans knew.

Bioluminescent green particles drifted through the air as the navigator reached the end of the hall. A door stood in front of them: well, less of a door and more a transparent green forcefield, softly pulsing like the rest of the. Strangely, as the navigator approached it, it slid back with ease. As if it was waiting for them, they mused. The navigator dismissed that thought— they were about to make the discovery of a lifetime, no use wasting brainpower on silly wonderings.

They stepped curiously through the doorway and into what looked like the central chamber of the facility, which was huge. More of the circuit-like carvings decorated almost every surface —although none of them were glowing, the navigator noted— and a soft green light (potentially made of some strange plant housed in glass?) hung from the roof, illuminating the room.

What the navigator was more interested in, though, was the equipment. Devices appearing to be screens and dashboards were arranged in neat lines all throughout the room, but they were all turned off, not appearing to have been used in goodness knows how long. Many large, cylindrical pods containing some sort of clear fluid were present throughout the room, along with more hovering screens and podiums with large notches embedded into them. However, the entire room looked… dormant. The green light overhead was the only thing casting any light onto the chamber. All in all, it appeared to be some kind of alien research facility.

The navigator was in awe as they took in the vastness of the place, and then spotted a podium in the middle of the room. Intrigued, they made their way over to it. The podium was about the height of their waist, and its surface was decorated with what appeared to be some kind of ancient runes. Without thinking, the navigator traced their finger over the surface of the runes— and immediately jumped back in surprise.

A voice echoed throughout the chamber. Not in any language the navigator had ever heard of, though, and they knew a lot. As the voice continued speaking, the astonished navigator noticed something. The podium was changing shape, a notch appearing on the top and forming into the shape of a… handprint?

Instinctively, they placed their hand onto the notch, and gasped as it fit perfectly, the outer edges glowing green. Without warning, the entire place lit up. Screens flickered to life, pods lit up with bioluminescence, and the carvings decorating the walls of the room suddenly glowed brighter than anything the navigator had seen in this place before. The voice that was still speaking began to change, shifting pitch and rearranging itself into… words. Words the navigator could decipher.

“WELCOME, FRIEND. WE’VE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU.”

┆634 words ┆

◙ July 14 ┆

Daily - Grey learns that they need to go to sleep (and so do I)

Grey was really dang tired.

But they couldn’t stop working, they thought, downing yet another black coffee. No milk, no sugar. They needed to drink it straight: it was necessary to be as awake as humanly possible. Grey’s pen scratched furiously into the paper, writing line after line after line. No need for mundane things like sleep when there’s work to be done. They’d slept… how many hours last night? Whatever it was, it was enough, the nineteen-year-old reasoned, and they certainly weren’t going to sleep a wink tonight. Because for some reason, the middle of the night was the only time they could actually get things done.

Soon, the hands of their apartment’s wall-mounted clock ticked over, and one in the morning turned to two, then to three. Grey was on their ninth cup of coffee (calculating if it was worth it to put three more shots of espresso in than usual) when they heard a gentle knock at the door. Being so caught up in their work, they’d forgotten to lock their bedroom door— Grey mentally scolded themself. The door swung open, and with a soft click emerged Red, in his maroon pyjamas, hair ruffled.

“Grey, what are you doing up this late? I woke up and was getting a drink, and I saw your light on,” Red smoothed a hand over his hair, walking over to them. “You know we say no working past eleven at night,” he reminded them gently, looking over the sheets of paper scattered across their desk.

“I… was just going to finish this part, and then I was going to go to bed,” they protested weakly. They knew full well that wasn’t true, and so did Red, dangit. He smiled softly. “I’ve known you forever, Grey. You’re smart enough to know that’s not gonna fool me. Did you think it was?”

“…no,” Grey admitted, eyes beginning to water. Red held out his arms warmly, and Grey practically collapsed into them, wrapping their arms around him and holding him tight. Gods. How long had it been since they’d had any physical contact? Hugs were usually a very regular occurrence between the two of them, but with all of Grey’s work and jobs and everything that required them to be outside all day…

All of a sudden, Grey began to cry.

Red sensed this, and held them even closer. “Oh, Grey… what’s wrong?”
Grey sniffled, leaning into the crook of Red’s arm. It was very unlike them: they hardly ever cried, hardly ever let their sorrows show, but sometimes things were just… too dang hard. “Nothing, it‘s just… I’m tired,” they wept. “Just… just need to finish this bit, and then…” they trailed off, knowing it was futile to continue, tears running down their cheeks. “I just… I can’t, Red. Can’t do it.”

Red held them tightly, listening to all of this. He pulled away gently for a second. “Tell you what. Why don’t you come over to my room? We can sleep on the couch together, if you want.”
Grey considered this, and then nodded, tears streaming from their eyes and dripping off their chin. “M’kay,” they mumbled, wiping their eyes.

Red smiled softly. “Good. And please, don’t beat yourself up about this. Your work will still be here tomorrow, and you’ve already done so much in the past few weeks— you need rest, Grey.”

They nodded once again— it was hard to admit, really dang hard to admit, but it helped when Red was the one to say it. Red always knew what to say, they thought.

Before they could protest, Red swept Grey up into his arms easily. They usually would have followed this with a snarky comment about how being short doesn’t mean you can pick me up whenever you want, Red, put me down or so help me, but in their sleep-deprived state, the only thing they could murmur was “How’d you do that so easily?”

Red chuckled— a sweet, lively sound that Grey adored— and looked them in the eyes. “Working out. Now let’s get you to bed, Grey.”

┆689 words ┆

July 15th

Weekly 2 IN PROGRESS

Part 1: 300 word story based off three word story threads

Prompt: Imagine a sky, black as ink, with no stars. They were stolen by a sorcerer, who rid the sky of light.

These days, everyone knows if you hear the tinkling of bells outside of your house at night, drop whatever you're doing and run. Run to any indoor area you can find.No questions, no compromises. If the closest place of shelter you can find is a stranger's house, that's okay too. They'll let you in. They have to. What's that? You hear a sparkling, chiming noise ringing out across the village? Get inside. Get inside now.

It's highly recommended not to look outside your window, but if you do, do so with care. Make sure to carefully draw the blinds open without making too much noise. Oh, and don't have the light on. You'll attract attention. Besides, you can easily see what's happening without it.

What might you see, you ask? What's so important, so dangerous, that it warrants a full lockdown across towns and cities alike? The Sorcerer. The Sorcerer is what's dangerous. And if they've come to your town, you better hope and pray that they're not greedy. That they don't take more than usual. Otherwise, you're in trouble. Terrible, terrible trouble.

Now, they don't look intimidating from a distance, mind you. A grey silken robe that floats off the shoulders and shoulder-length white hair won't scare anyone. It's their face that unsettles people, however. Their features appear ageless, and for good reason. Their pupils are two small pinpricks of light. And their teeth are razor-sharp.

As you watch in fear, you'll see them stroll up to the centre of the village leisurely. You'll observe as they, with a small smile on their face, remove a pair of wooden pliers from the wicker basket slung around their arm. People tell horror stories about these pliers. That's why they're the symbol of danger of warning signs, you know.

They'll reach their arm up to the sky, adjust their pliers so they seem to surround a star, a tiny point of light, and with the most horrid, grating, nails-on-a-chalkboard, iron-on-iron sound, pull and twist and yank at the star until it comes out of the sky with a bang, tiny as a bead. Sometimes they'll place it in their basket, other times they'll pop it straight into their mouth. Then the whole process is repeated.

That's how the Sorcerer's survived this long. Eating stars. Leaving the sky desolate and black for their own gain, destroying the world's sources of magic one by one in exchange for immortality. Be grateful they don't take too many, and leave your hometown without light, without magic. And without magic, you have no food, no water, and no medicine. No life can survive in a place without magic. They've destroyed entire countries for their own survival.

So be careful when you hear the ringing of bells, and get inside. Because if they look at you head-on, they drain your magic, too. And then you're gone, like the stars in the sky before you.

The Sorcerer is not to be trifled with.

(496 words)


Part 2: Prompt Swap

My prompt: In an apocalyptic world, the survivors of the natural disasters that routinely plague the Ruined Cities now have a new threat to deal with: they’re being terrorised by a barbaric monster who tortures humans and feeds off of their fear. The Colours —- an affectionately named group of eighteen-year olds with the nomenclature of colours — have been lucky so far. Yellow (she/her) and Orange (he/him) are always cracking jokes, Pink (she/her) is… annoying as ever, and our protagonists, Red (he/him) and Grey (they/them) are, well, falling apart. Once inseparable, they begin to argue, and in a moment of desperation, Red makes a fatal mistake that sets the monster on the warpath of the Colours. As such, the group are caught up in a furious battle for survival.

(131 words)

Prompt I'm writing: In a medieval world, there are two teenagers. Their life is quite an irony. The first, a girl. Archery is her dream. And she's very, very talented at it too. Except, in a prejudiced world, women are forbidden from practicing archery. The second, a boy. His father is the head of the Archers, but he himself isn't talented at all. He can hardly pull back the bowstring. But it's time to put their problems aside- their are signs of treachery deep in the heart of the castle. Perhaps a rebellion is sparking? A rebellion uncalled for? These teenagers can't decide- yes, the system is unfair. But is fixing that worth their livelihood?


Yelling could be heard through Silverdale Castle that weekend.

The quiver, perched on the ornate windowsill, wobbled once, twice— and tipped over, and with it went all of Astrid’s calm.

Panic flashed through her mind as Astrid dived for it, but it was too late. It hit the floor, arrows spilling out over the neatly-tiled floor with a clatter. A loud one. Someone was going to hear. And sure enough, they did. Not more than ten seconds later, the door slammed open.

“Astrid! What is that ruckus—” her father exclaimed, then stopped short. “Arrows? You were practising archery in your room?” he hissed, his confusion turning to rage: Astrid could tell from the furrows of his brow. No point in denying it, the evidence was right there: spilled across the floor and shot neatly into the centre of each target.

“How dare you disrespect the Archers who work so hard to serve our country, by disregarding their craft as… some sort of child’s play! As a lady of the royal court, your only place is to study and revise in the library, not fool around with bows and arrows! When will you learn to not be a disgrace to this family?” her father yelled.These were all things Astrid had heard before, she contemplated. It didn’t matter if she’d hit every bullseye, didn’t matter if she was nine times better than some of the Archers-in-training… no, in this messed up world, only men were Archers.

If a woman exhibited “masculine behaviour”, i.e. wanting to fight in the wars (that they were currently losing) instead of rotting away in a library, you were supposed to pray for them. But the only prayer that Astrid made that afternoon was for her father to lose his voice.

She kept hold on a sliver of hope, though. Or more accurately, a slip of paper in the pocket of her gown. Reading Meet me in the stables at midnight – Conrad. Conrad, the Archer-in-training who couldn’t shoot an arrow to save his life— in fact, he was only training because his father wanted him to. But that would soon change. They’d discuss. They’d plan. And they’d show the world that she could do anything she set her mind to. That women could do anything. And that men didn’t have to be forced into battle.

Maybe a revolution was in order?

(395 words)

Part 3: Ekphrastic Poetry

(inspired by the neon paper ghosts on my wall)

Adorning the white surface
Spirits of paper play about
Organised neatly up the wall
Different sizes and shapes can be seen

Outlined in black with a pretty pencil
Glowing softly with sweet colours of blush pink
And hues of sunshine yellow and marine blue
The ghosts hover as if waiting
But what are they waiting for?

Left, right, and straight ahead they turn
All different directions the ghosts face
It’s as if they are gathering in a crowd
Viewing something with their blank, calm eyes

The one who made these ghosts
Had nimble fingers but a wild mind
The neatness with which the ghosts are created shows that
The outlines are messy yet careful
As if the one who made them tried to make them as perfect as can be
But nobody is ever perfect, and it shows

Some stare out at me calmly, as if watching the world go by,
Some look to the side longingly, their bodies positioned as if to fly in that direction
Some are tall and thin, gaunt and staring
Some are short and small, eyes full of wonder
How lovely it must be
To be a paper ghost
On the bedroom wall of a lively teenager.

(202 words)
Part 4: Google Translate Story

Original Piece: But you had to admit, watching Grey stroll along that hallway like they owned the world, with Red trailing along after them like a kicked puppy… it was a very satisfying picture indeed.

Translated Piece: But I have to admit, it's satisfying to see the grey horses follow the red head around the world like cannonballs. (help???)



The nymph clambers down from the tree, one steady limb at a time. You would think her dress would get tangled around the branches, what with its long train and all, but surprisingly, none of the sage-coloured fabric is ripped or dirtied as she places one foot, then another, onto the peated moss covering the forest floor.

She walks through the forest like she’s floating above it— her steps are practised, even; and they make no sound— for a second she stops, runs a hand through her long, curly red hair to pick a leaf out, and continues onwards.

The nymph emerges into a clearing. It’s a neat little place deep within the heart of the forest, a wide river running through the middle with large rocks dotting the surface of the water. The area is dappled with sunlight that’s found its way through the canopy of leaves above from the surrounding trees.

She slowly wades into the river, hitching up her skirt to prevent it getting wet, and then sits down on a rock, letting the ends of her dress fall into the river and pool around her gently. So much for keeping it dry. A slow, deep breath she takes; letting the water around her wash away any of her fear, any of her doubt. She is safe here. She won’t be hunted like she was before.

A small pebble rolls along the bank, into the water, and suddenly the nymph is thrown back into her memories.

It is ten years prior. The nymph is just a small girl, living in a small village, and she is scared for her small little life.

People in the town don’t like girls who are strong. They don’t like girls who are wild— they call them rude names and hiss behind their backs. “Witches,” they call them. Mothers and fathers warn their daughters about witches. “You must never talk back, and you must never go into the forest, or claim you can talk to spirits, or even grow attached to an animal, for you will be a witch. You do not want to be a witch.”

The girl is scared. She does not want to be a witch. Witches get strung up on stakes and cooked like pork— except they don’t get cooked nicely, they get charred to a crisp. She doesn’t want to be charred to a crisp.

But every little girl grows up into a teenage girl eventually, with ideas and thoughts and opinions of their own, and she doesn’t know how, but five years pass, and she is found by the townspeople petting a stray black cat in her room.

She didn’t mean anything by it. She simply found it outside, brought it in and gave it a cuddle. But black cats are bad luck, they say. Black cats are witches’ familiars. Having a black cat in your room means you must be a witch.

And witches get charred to a crisp.

The girl finds herself running away, from people with pitchforks and flaming torches, from people who she once considered friends, but who now want to hurt her. But the pebbled path hurts her bare feet, and soon she can hardly walk, let alone run. She trips and falls. Falls over the black cat.

The girl is angry. She wants to push the black cat away from her, for condemning her to being a witch. With tears spilling from her eyes, she picks up a grey pebble and throws it at the cat.

It strikes the cat’s side, but strangely, the cat doesn’t flinch. It… changes colour. Lightening from black to grey, and then it begins to grow.

The girl watches in fascination as the cat changes from a cat, into not a cat. Into a horse. A wild grey horse, the ones she’s always admired afar, but her parents had forbidden her to go near. It bends its head down, as if it’s inviting her to climb on its back, and the girl, terrified and sore-footed, cannot help but accept. She climbs up onto its back with a scramble.

The horse neighs, once, twice, and then begins to gallop faster than she’s ever seen before. They seem to fly across fields and banks, across the whole world maybe, far far away from the people who wanted to hurt her. And somewhere along this journey, before the girl and the horse reach the forest she’s called home for the past five years.

She’s not a girl, nor a witch, but a nymph.

Girls don’t talk back, witches get charred to a crisp, but nymphs are free.

(769 words)


Total: 1862/1150, +1500 points

Random Google Translate Lyrics

Translated Lyrics (First Verse of Good Luck, Babe! By Chappell Roan):

It looks beautiful
We can say we don't care, but you know the truth.
You think I'm crazy
And the angel stretched out his hand to the chariot.


“It looks beautiful,” I whisper.

She screws up her face: of course she does.
‘Beautiful’ isn’t usually the word you’d use to describe a funeral procession.

But I think it is, in a strange way. As the chariot trundles down the street, people gather around in a crowd that we’re part of, all dressed in black like a macabre flock of crows drawn to a leftover sandwich. Neat button-up shirts. Lacy dresses. One woman twirls a parasol in her hand absentmindedly. “It does look beautiful, though,” I repeat, fastening a silver necklace around my neck. “We’re like a flock of mourning ravens.”

She shakes her head, squinting at the black chariot holding the coffin, its roof adorned with white roses. “I didn’t even know them. Why should I be in mourning for a stranger?”

I tilt my head. “Doesn’t it matter? Funerals are a time for the town to gather and mourn a lost life. It’s not really a problem if you didn’t know who they were— they lived here, and they’re dead now, so you’re expected to grieve, if not for who the person was, but for a lost member of our village.”

“I think that’s stupid,” she spits. “One, I didn’t even know this person who I’m supposed to be sad about, and two, if I’m mourning someone, I want to think of them as a person, not a statistic, not a member of the village’s population, but a real person, someone who laughed and had friends and enemies and real feelings. I don’t care about statistics, and I especially don’t care about someone I don’t know.”

I turn my eyes back to the funeral procession. To be honest, I usually would have believed her monologue, except that somewhere in the middle, her voice seemed to break somehow, she stopped meeting my eyes, as if she was hiding something. She could say she didn’t, but I knew the truth— well, she was partially correct, I guess.
She didn’t care about the person, she didn’t care about the statistics; but what she did care about was the death itself. To her, today was just another reminder that everyone’s clock eventually runs out, that we all eventually fall off of this planet, and knowing her, that wasn’t something she liked to think about.

“You know, it’d really be beneficial to your health if you accepted the fact we all die some day,” I add, still watching the carriage. She doesn’t respond: I didn’t expect her to.

Beside us, he watches the chariot solemnly. He seems to have accepted the ever-looming possibility of death as well— I point this out to her. She shakes her head, clearly not wanting to continue the conversation. Oh well.

He suddenly turns his head to me, and smiles, as if we share some sort of secret. Maybe we do. Maybe, even though we’re just children, we’re the only ones here in this town that are truly at peace with death. He turns back to the chariot, reaching out one hand towards it and shuffling his feet on the cobbled street we’re standing on, and for a split second I catch a glimpse of black-feathered wings neatly folded behind his back.

Huh. I thought I was the only one who had those.

(546 words)

Daily - Aesthetic Collage :0

◎ Dailies ◎

Skylar's Megathread Directory

basic info
cabin - thriller (tctwnw)
words - 4380/12000

dailies
1st July - Skylar-Got-Lost-In-IKEA-And-Is-Now-Rambling - 1374 Words
2nd July - Dear Skylar From The Future (Yes That Is A Matt Parker Reference, Get Over It) - 391 Words
3rd - The Kingdom of Evaria - 579 Words
4th -
5th -

[ 6th-10th away ]

11th -
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weeklies
week 1 - Skylar's Weekly #1!
week 2 -
week 3 -
week 4 -

writing competition
writing compeition enty (regular) -
↳ first draft - Climbing The Ladder / Draft #1 - 2,075 words total, 2,046 words that count
writing competition entry (fanfic) -

other
title -
title -
title -

«────── « ⋅ Introduction ⋅ » ─────»
❝Piper walked into her dormitory located in the eastern wing of st. woecliffe academy. she'd been here for a few years at this point, this being her junior year. she grabbed her bookbag from where it lay on her desk and then plopped down into her bed. she took a breath, glad to be away from the hustle and bustle it was becoming during this paranormal activity hunt with all the other students. she decided to take a moment to herself and pulled out her journal, opening it and flipping around and reading some of her favorite pages she'd done so far…❞

«────── « ⋅ Info ⋅ » ─────»
➳ piper
➳ she/her
➳ gothic camper
➳ 0 / 10,000 words

«────── « ⋅ Dailies ⋅ » ─────»
☛ № 1: about me | 1145 | 0|
☛ № 2: letter to future me | 363 | 200 |
☛ № 3: [Title | Words | Points |
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☛ № 31: Title | Words | Points |
✏———————————————

«────── « ⋅ Weeklies ⋅ » ─────»
➳ № 01: Title | Words | Points |
➳ № 02: Title | Words | Points
➳ № 03: Title | Words | Points |
➳ № 04: Title | Words | Points |

✏———————————————

«────── « ⋅ Writing Comp ⋅ » ─────»
✒ Original Entry: Title | Words |
✒ Fanfic Entry: Title | Words |

✏———————————————

«────── « ⋅ Word Wars ⋅ » ─────»
⇛ opponent | words| Won/Lost |

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«────── « ⋅ Other ⋅ » ─────»
⋙ Topic | Title | Words
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«────── « ⋅ Credits ⋅ » ─────»
⇛ Table on Contents originally made by Dawn with a couple edits from me

Lily - she/her - Poetry cabin
Goal: 6000
Count: 103

✎ Introductory Piece:

Celes's Swc Writing (Non-Fi July 2024)

➽ Word Count : 1207/20000 ✦

➽ Dailies ✦

➽ Weeklies ✦

➽ Word Wars ✦

➽ Cabin Wars ✦

➽ Writing Competition Entry ✦

~Bookie’s Master Post~

Table of contents
DAILIES
MCD - https://scratch-mit-edu.ezproxy.canberra.edu.au/discuss/post/8036546/ (7/1)
MCD - https://scratch-mit-edu.ezproxy.canberra.edu.au/discuss/post/8038234/ (7/2)
MCD - https://scratch-mit-edu.ezproxy.canberra.edu.au/discuss/post/8042322/ (7/3, 7/4, 7/7)
ICD -
WEEKLIES
1 -
2 -
3 -
4 -
COMP ENTRIES
OTHER
PROOF

Post Format

Link to Masterpost:
Link to this post:
Word Count:
Date completed (UTC):
Time Completed (UTC):
Prompt Summary:
Points(?):

July 24 daily - SWC acronym
405 words

Sasquatch Watchers Club

We met up in the parking lot by the woods. There were maybe a half dozen people standing around chatting. Some wore backpacks, and most wore binoculars.
“Hey everyone!” said Mandy. “I brought my friend Sasha with me today. She’s a biiit of a skeptic,” she added in a stage whisper, “but I think she’ll have fun!”
“Ah, you’ll come around,” said a man wearing a dark green polo shirt and a big black backpack. “Nice to have you. I’m Roger.” He held out his hand, and to avoid an awkward pause, I shook it.
I wasn’t as sure as Mandy that I’d have fun. Walks in the woods were usually nice, but surely less nice with a group of these weirdos. But she’d been trying for weeks to get me to come to her Sasquatch Watchers Club with her, and I figured if I did it at least once, maybe she’d drop it.
Roger, who seemed to be the leader, went over the route we were going to take, and we set off into the forest.
As we went, Mandy chattered on to me about previous trips and sightings and stuff, and a couple other people chimed in with their own stories.
After a bit, someone had us stop to inspect some “scat” they found, which no one could identify. Mandy scribbled something about it in her notebook, a guy in a red t-shirt took a photo, and a person in a button-down shirt pulled a test tube out of their bag and took a sample.
Mandy had showed me her notebook before. It was a lot of Track, humanoid, 12’’ and occasionally Hairy humanoid figure, such-and-such location, seen at this distance. She was ridiculously meticulous about noting date, place, and time.
Eventually, we arrived at a mossy outcropping from where we could see a valley below. Everyone got out their binoculars and/or notebooks or cameras, and started watching eagerly.
I hadn’t brought any binoculars, so Mandy shared hers with me. I focused them at a bird which at this distance was just a small moving blob.
“I think that’s a swallow,” I observed. “The colors, and the shape of the tail…”
“That’s nice,” Mandy said impatiently, “but do you see any sign of sasquatches?”
I sighed, and lowered the binoculars. “No, I do not see any sign of a mythical creature that probably doesn’t exist. I do see a cool bird, though…”

July 17 - seeing ghosts
404 words

I’d seen the figures a couple times before. An old man standing in a window, a woman in a cemetery. Not quite there, not quite real. They couldn’t be real. Ghosts couldn’t exist. It didn’t make any sense.
There were other explanations. Tricks of light, tricks of the mind. Scientific explanations.
Then, after my grandma died, my dad took me with to clean out her house. While he and my aunt sorted through her stuff, I mostly sat and read her magazines, a mix of National Geographic, Better Homes & Gardens, and People.
As I got in the car to leave that day, I thought I saw her watching us from her front porch. Which was crazy, and probably something something grief. I blinked, but she was still there. I watched out my window, and she kept standing there, watching, until the house was out of sight.
We went back the next day for more cleaning, and this time my dad made me help out. I was sent to dust the shelves in the living room while the adults sorted through more of my grandma’s stuff.
I felt a prickle at the back of my neck, a sense I was being watched. I turned around, and there she— Well, it looked like her. LIke her, but translucent, faded, shimmering like a trick of the light. Standing just an arm’s reach away from me, watching.
“H- Hello?” I said. This wasn’t happening, this couldn’t be happening.
‘You can see me?’ Her voice didn’t sound all there, either, but it also didn’t sound like it was in my head.
“Y- Yes?” I kept my voice low; no one came in to check on me and think I was crazy.
She beamed. “Oh, honey… I was wondering if anyone could. My sister always said she could see spirits… I guess you inherited her gift.”
“Aunt Alice?” My great aunt had been dead for several years; I never really knew her, but I’d heard she was… “odd.”
My grandma—the ghost of my grandma? my hallucination of her?—nodded. “This is wonderful. You can tell everyone what I want for my funeral!” She laughed. “In all seriousness, it’s so nice that you can see me. I’ve missed you!”
“I miss you too, but-” But what? But I think I’m crazy or dreaming? But you’re dead?
Just then, my dad walked in. “Honey, are you talking to someone?”
“No, just… Nothing.”

July 11 - product
225 words

Tired of getting bitten by vampires when out for a midnight stroll or exploring an old castle? Sick of carrying a wooden stake or a cross around all the time? You shouldn’t have to be confined to your home after dusk, but vampire attacks can ruin your day (or life), and traditional methods for protection can be awkward. Luckily, we have a solution.
Our all-new BRAM Vampire Repellent™ keeps bloodsucking fiends away better than any other. In clinical trials, people wearing BRAM Vampire Repellent were bitten by vampires 97% less than those with no protection. Our original mix includes garlic oil, citronella, witch hazel, and holy water, and can be sprayed directly on the skin.
BRAM: Don’t let vampires ruin your night!
Apply every 2 hours for maximum protection. Vampire Repellent is intended to be sprayed on humans to deter vampires, but can also be sprayed on the vampires themselves if you are attacked. However, its effectiveness as a weapon is not guaranteed. BRAM Vampire Repellent does not provide protection from werewolves or zombies. It has only been proven to ward off classic vampires, and may not work against other vampiric beings such as the lamiae, jiangshi, asanbosam, and soucouyant. We are not liable for any bites or other injuries, fatal or otherwise, that occur while using our product. Side effects include smelling like garlic.

July 8 - idioms
414 words

“I have something to tell you, but you have to promise to keep it secret,” said Ellie.
I crossed my arms. “Spill.”
“So, you remember that stray kitten we found?”
I nodded.
“Well, it followed me home from school today. It even tried to cross the street with me. So- Here, follow me.” She led me to her room as she talked. “And it looked so lonely and hungry and no one was taking care of it and-”
“And?”
“Well, it was raining, and I couldn’t just leave it there, so-”
“You didn’t!”
She walked over to her backpack in the corner of the room — I realized the backpack had been making a faint noise — and opened it. “Come on out,” she cooed. “Come on.”
Out of the bag stepped a small grey and white cat. It looked around timidly.
Ellie stroked the cat. “Look, she’s so scrawny, and her fur is all matted, no one’s taking care of her!”
“Mom is going to kill you. Didn’t she already say we couldn’t keep it?”
“Maybe she’ll get used to it. Until then, it can just stay in my room. We don’t have to tell her right away.”
I sighed. “Ellie, what were you thinking.”
“I’m thinking of naming her Lady Jane Grey. Little Jane Grey? What do you think?”
“I think this is crazy. Anyway, didn’t Lady Jane Grey die right away? Isn’t she like, the nine day queen? And it’ll be less than nine days before Mom finds out. How are you going to feed it?”
“We can sneak fish sticks and stuff in here for her for now, and I can buy some cat food soon with my allowance…”
“And you’ll need a litter pan. And don’t you think someone will notice you smuggling cat food in here?”
“This is why I told you. So you can help me. Please, Maya?”
I groaned. “I won’t tell. But-”
“Shh, do you hear footsteps?” Ellie rushed to pick up the cat, who had been sniffing around the room, and was trying to shove it back in her backpack when we heard the knock on the door.
Mom came in. “Girls, it’s time for- Is that backpack meowing?”
“No, it’s nothing, I’m just pretending to be a cat,” Ellie said frantically. “Meow!” But Mom was already marching over to the backpack.
“Wait, don’t open it!” Ellie was not making this less suspicious.
Mom bent down and unzipped the backpack. The cat lept out.
“What the-”

July 7 - how-to guide
335 words
see https://scratch-mit-edu.ezproxy.canberra.edu.au/projects/1045438622/ (forums were down)

July 1 - introductions
1040 words

Salutations! I am Kit, and my pronouns are she/her. As is tradition, I am attempting the one thousand word intro challenge. As far as I can remember, I have completed this challenge for all but one of my previous eight sessions. I was one of the people who did it the session it was invented, November 2021, my first session. This session I am a camper in Gothic. (Gothic for the win!)
It would probably be easier to get a thousand words out of this if I had a gimmick or something, and I did try writing one of these in third person once, but I don’t feel like coming up with something right now, so oh well. Instead, just expect a lot of rambling, as usual.
This is my ninth session. I have been a co-leader once (Thriller July 2022, alongside the incredible Birdi and Moonlit), and a camper every other time.
My favorite genre to read has always been fantasy, and I’ve always liked mysteries too, but I’ve been reading more realistic fiction recently, especially realistic fiction with LGBTQ and neurodivergent themes. Also a lot of graphic novels. I will read any genre if it’s a graphic novel. I also really like memoirs (again, mostly graphic memoirs — graphic novels read so much faster than all-text books). It’s interesting learning about other people’s lives.
I have many favorite books, too many to list, but some of them are Nimona by ND Stevenson, Snapdragon by Kat Leyh, and The Lost Girl and The Real Boy by Anne Ursu. I’m always happy to give book recommendations.
My favorite genre to write is also fantasy. I love writing about magic and dragons and ghosts and witches and whatever else I want. Lately I’ve mostly been writing fanfiction, though. Mostly fanfiction about She-Ra and the Princesses of Power, a show I’ve been hyperfixating on for years on end. (I will happily talk about it forever if anyone will indulge me.)
I have a lot of other fandoms, too, including Dead End (both the Netflix show Dead End: Paranormal Park — tragically cancelled before its time — and the DeadEndia comics it’s based on), Welcome To Night Vale (I’m actually almost caught up on it now, wow), Percy Jackson (I would say Riordanverse, but I’ve only finished PJO and Heroes of Olympus; I’m still in the middle of Trials of Apollo, I’ve only read the first Kane Chronicles book, and I haven’t even started Magnus Chase yet), Lemony Snicket (All The Wrong Questions > ASOUE), and Encanto (anyone remember March 2022 when the whole camp was obsessed with Encanto? That was fun. We don’t talk about Bruno…)
I am autistic, and besides SWC, most of my “social life” on Scratch consists of hanging out in neurodiversity studios. I’m very interested in neurodivergence and passionate about neurodiversity advocacy, and I will infodump to you about it if asked.
And now we are at the point where I struggle to think of more things to say about myself.
Oh, yes, I spend a lot of time on She-Ra Fandom Wiki. I’m a content mod there, and do a lot of work fixing up the articles. I actually quite like copyediting, and have read a few passages of the Chicago Manual of Style for… fun? To relax? Something like that. I could go into more detail about what I do, which would get me more words, but it would also probably bore you so I won’t.
I have two younger sisters, the older of whom is also in SWC — she’s @FairyAyla. I also have four cats, which is kind of too many but they all needed us and I love them all very much. We adopted three of them years ago when they were kittens (they were litter-mates). The fourth lived in our neighborhood before his owners got evicted and left him behind, and long story short, my mom fed him and he slowly adopted us, and we eventually took him in.
Besides reading and writing, I also like to draw. Mostly fanart lately — yes, She-Ra fanart. (I mentioned that I’m neurodivergent and hyperfixated on this show, right?) I mostly do traditional art, but recently I’ve been drawing a lot in the Scratch vector editor for a series of dress up games I’ve been making. I make them mostly for the entertainment of myself and my sisters, but one of them actually got featured at one point, which was very cool.
Some of my other interests include history, archeology, paleoanthropology, mythology, cryptozoology, media analysis, and LGBTQ-related things. Most of the YouTube channels I watch center around one or more of these things — my favorites are Overly Sarcastic Productions, Bernadette Banner, Oakwyrm, and several PBS Digital Studios channels (Storied, Eons, and Be Smart).
Oh dear, am I out of things to say already? I still have more than two hundred words left to go… I know they say quality over quantity, but sometimes it really is about the quantity. Like right now. I could spend forever trying to write one thousand high-quality words about myself, or I could ramble and list random things and actually get this done soon enough. Especially since I still would like to work on some of my fanfic today. Anyway, I have to take a break at three o’clock to watch Jeopardy. Jeopardy is pretty much the only thing I watch on TV; I use streaming services for almost everything else. Right now I’m in the middle of watching The Dragon Prince. Can I finish it before the new season comes out later this month? I probably could if I tried, but I might be too busy writing to do it. I like to binge like half a season of it at a time, which might interfere with my writing time, especially since I’m also trying to read every day. Oh well.
I plan on focusing more on my personal writing and in-cabin activities than dailies and weeklies this session, though of course I’ll try to do some of those too.
Is this enough words? It is! Well, goodbye, then, and have a mango cookie for reading through this whole thing.
Oh, and here’s a brilliant knock-knock joke I wrote when I was like 4: Knock knock. / Who's there? / Pet. / Pet who? / Pet bird feeder, thats's who. Come in.

Week 3 Weekly
1636 words

Part 1: Switching Perspectives
Annette (119 words)
Tonight, she had hissed. And that had to mean… Surely it did. Part of me reasoned that I might as well try to sleep, but I was far too jittery and excited for that. After ages of tossing and turning, I got up and checked under my bed, triple-checking that the rope was still there.
She could be here any minute now. She came to my room as many nights as we could get away with, but was she usually this late? She must be getting it, that last piece of our plan.
My parents had deemed our relationship so scandalous simply for Julie being a woman; they didn’t know the half of what she could get up to.

Julie (118 words)
I crept into the morgue. There it was, the body of Sister what’s-her-name, Amée. Recently deceased, conveniently, so she didn’t smell yet. It was hard to make out much in the dark, but she looked enough like Annette that once burnt, no one should be able to tell the difference, though she wasn’t half as beautiful.
I grabbed the body by the armpits, and began dragging it. Maybe Annette was right, I should’ve let her help; it would take an eternity to get this up to her room on my own. I prayed we wouldn’t get caught, not that God was likely to be on our side here. But it’d all be worth it to finally get out.

Annette (185 words)
My door was pushed open. “Your hero—” Julie grunted under the weight of her cargo— “has arrived.”
“Sshhh, someone will hear you!” I hissed, rushing over to her. I looked down at the thing in her arms. “This is it?”
She nodded. “Help me get it in place?”
Together, we placed the body in my bed. “Sorry, Sister Amée,” I whispered. I turned back to Julie. “My parents will have killed if they find out.”
“As far as they’ll know, you’re dead,” she reminded me. “And they shouldn’t be surprised—sending you to this place was practically a death sentence anyway. You’d have died of boredom if it weren’t for me.” Even in the dark, I could tell she was smirking.
She was right, I told myself. My parents had brought this upon themselves, forcing me into this convent. And now it was finally time to leave it.
“You have the rope?” Julie checked.
I nodded. “Under my bed. But the candle went out…”
“Don’t worry about that, mon amour.” Again, despite the dark, I knew she was grinning. “I have a knack for starting fires.”

Part 2: Unreliable Narrators
Diana Harris (thanks, random name generator)

• Sibling
  Self-absorbed, somewhat arrogant
  Doesn’t want to get in trouble
  
  

386 words

I was just minding my own business, doing the job I was supposed to. Putting up streamers. Okay, I don’t actually have any streamers on me right now, but I was looking for them. Looking around for the decorations, which I was supposed to bring to Chris and Nicole for them to put up, because they asked me to. I may have gotten sidetracked, but that was because I couldn’t find the decorations, because they weren’t where they were supposed to be. I knew where they were supposed to be, of course, and if I’d been there I would’ve brought them back already. I wasn’t just getting distracted. That’s silly.
Anyway, I just happened to notice Cam eyeing the wedding cake. So I reminded them they couldn’t eat it, that they really shouldn’t do it, because what else are siblings for if not to tell you not to screw up. Who would take a bite out of a wedding cake before the wedding, especially when it wasn’t even their wedding? What a silly idea. I certainly wouldn’t.
Anyway, Cam was being entirely unreasonable. I didn’t insult them, no matter what they might say, and I certainly didn’t push them. We weren’t arguing about anything. It was just about the cake. Of course I’m not jealous that Lilly made them the ring bearer and not me. I didn’t even want to be part of the ceremony anyway. No, even though Cam spilled grape juice on my skirt yesterday (it was their fault, don’t let them tell you otherwise) and I would be entirely justified in shoving them, I exhibited great maturity and didn’t.
No, we were just arguing— Oh wait, I already said we weren’t arguing. I mean, Cam was just being unreasonable and getting way too offended about me suggesting they might try to take a bite out of the cake, because that’s all I said, and they were fighting with me about that even though I did nothing wrong, and somehow they tripped and fell backward into the table, and knocked the cake off.
So yes. That’s what happened, and I’m very sorry Cam did such a thing. They’ll probably try to pin the blame on me, which just goes to show how immature and irresponsible they are. I would never do such a thing.

Part 3: Metafiction
Some tropes:

• Fridging/Stuffed in the Fridge
  Evil monologue
  Nemeses?
  Damsel in distress?
  Love Interest
  Plot armor?
  

416 words

“Okay, you have me cornered,” I admitted. “Are you going to pull out an evil monologue now, or what?”
Major Marz laughed, a cruel laugh, but not full-blown cackling. “You think this scene is important enough for that? It probably won’t even be shown! Why waste a good monologue on that?” He gazed nonchalantly at the laser sword in his hand. “No, I’m just going to kill you.”
“No, I’ll escape. I’m one of the good guys. I can’t just get killed off off-screen.” My voice wavered more than I’d like.
He snorted. “A good guy, sure, but not the hero. You think side characters are immune to death?”
“But an offscreen death- you can’t do that! It has to at least be shown, be dramatic… And- And besides, if the audience doesn’t see it, they won’t believe I’m really dead.”
“They will if they find the body. You don’t get a dramatic on-screen death; no, I’ll just kill you and leave the body for your boyfriend to find.”
“That’s it, then? I’m just another Satellite Girlfriend who gets Stuffed in the Fridge to hurt the male hero?”
He shrugged. “He’s my esteemed nemesis. I want him to suffer.”
“And what about me?” My voice was rising. “It’s all about him, his suffering, his heroics… You’re going to kill me, just for that? I know you’re evil, but you- you don’t even care about me. It’s not about hurting me, ending me, just him. What-”
“He’s the hero.” He sounded almost bored. “You’re just his girlfriend. Why would it be about you?”
“Just his girlfriend? Like I’m not worthy of an arc of my own? Of even a proper dramatic death? Like I’m not a whole person?”
“You’re his girlfriend,” Major Marz said matter-of-factly. “He loves you. You love him, I assume. That’s what you’re here for.”
“What about my hopes and dreams? My family and friends? My life? I-”
He scoffed. “Do you even have those?”
“What, you think I don’t have my own life? What do you think I’m doing?” I’m trembling not with fear now, but with rage. “I volunteer at the animal shelter. I’m studying chemistry. I have a pet rabbit, and- and an older brother who’s getting married next month, and I might not have superpowers but I’m trying, and maybe you don’t care about any of it but shouldn’t the writer?”
He sighed. “Let’s get on with this.” He started o raise the sword.
I punched him in the face.

Part 4: Self-Insertion
412 words
this part is really bad (but not even so bad it's funny) because I didn't feel like trying; please save me the embarrassment and yourself the time and don't read it /gen

There was a soft thud. A crate had been knocked over. Next to it, half-hidden behind more crates, stood a girl I didn’t recognize.
“Who’s there?” Marz barked.
She turned and dashed off to another part of the warehouse.
“Probably going to call the police,” Marz muttered. “Well, guess I’d better finish this before they get here…”
I’m not sure what I did then, exactly. Punched him again. Threw him off enough to dodge around him and out of the corner.
The girl was still watching, I realized, just from further away. Was she trying to hide? If so, that light pink shirt probably wasn’t the best choice.
I raced over to her. “What are you doing here?” Before she could answer, I said, “We have to get out!”
She nodded, and took off running to the door.
There was a bus stop up the street, and a bus driving toward it. We ran there, and just managed to make it.
We were both panting heavily as we boarded the bus. I looked behind me, but it didn’t look like we were being chased.
“I don’t… know how I got here,” she panted. “Or… where here is.”
“It’s, uh, the city.” What was this city called? Weirdly, I couldn’t remember. The author must not have bothered to name it. “Are you from this universe, or…?”
“I don’t think so? I think I came through a portal or something? I’m from Earth, but like, real world Earth. Oh, wait, you probably think of your world as the real world, so that probably doesn’t clarify much…”
I sighed. “There seem to be a lot of portals around here lately. Not sure what’s up with that. I’ve been wondering about it, but I don’t know where I’d even start investigating… Anyway, who are you?”
“I’m Kit,” she said.
“And you’re from… another dimension? Nevermind, of course you are, why am I questioning it. How old are you?”
“I’m fourteen.”
“Okay… Do you have any parents here or anything, or are you on your own?”
“Well, no one else seems to be with me, so… yeah.”
“And I’m assuming you want to get home?”
“Yes, please. I mean, I don’t know how… If- Do you…?”
“No, sorry. But… maybe we can figure something out? I’m Beth, by the way.”
“Mm. Nice to meet you,” she murmured. “So… that guy back there, with the light saber thing? What was happening there? He was trying to kill you?”

July 17 utc - 2 minutes, vs @pepper-and-a-pencil
170 words
I was going to the store to get some ice cream, mango flavoired ice cream. Ice cream is my favorite treat which is good because the other store bought treats are not good. I really like home made cake but not store bought cake. I also like cows but not to eat of course, I don’t eat meat when I can help it. I really like mangoes. Mangoes are my favorite fruit. My second favorite is dragon fruit. One time I had a dragonfruit that turned into an actual dragon, which was kidna scary and it breathed fire and burned my house down which is why I now live in a cave. But the cave is right next to the grocery store so tahts’s nice and it’s actually really comfy and I love hte aesthetic so yeah it’s actually not that bad that I don’t have a house anymore, especially science my book collection miracloualsy survived. I don’t mnow how, actually I do, my fairy god mother saved them. I

TOTAL WORDS: 2354/17,452
TOTAL ✴: 50

Bea's Bungalow