1st - it's impossible for your name to be a curse word since Scratch doesn't allow that
2nd - You won't get banned unless it is your account

hi folks! quick reminder:

Please only claim one or two posts ahead - if there are already two posts already claimed, you'll have to wait.<3

if you've already claimed a post, then that's fine, but next time, please wait! thank you <33 and heehee can't wait to see what y'all make

also sun will link this in the original post shortly, but please go here to register your part for the war effort!

swskrei wrote:

sibayuu wrote:

TheGreatYo-Kai wrote:

This level is possible.

1235261196Z13Z14Z2Z182Z13Z14Z2Z182Z13Z14Z2Z182Z15Z1Z81Z1Z1Z1Z76Z1Z1Z4Z13Z6Z1Z183Z2Z1Z1Z6Z13Z6Z1Z182Z9Z1Z3Z1Z9Z1Z1Z5Z46Z1Z81Z1Z80Z2Z13Z2Z1Z183Z9Z1Z1Z6Z2Z2Z80Z2Z13Z2Z1Z190Z13Z6Z1Z190Z13Z6Z1Z192Z63Z1Z1Z2Z38Z1Z1Z195Z38Z1Z1Z195Z38Z1Z1Z36246ZZ3Z1Z0Z1Z3Z1Z0Z1Z3Z1Z0Z1Z3Z1Z0Z1Z3Z1Z0Z1Z3Z1Z0Z1Z3Z1Z0Z1Z1Z182Z2Z1Z1Z1Z2Z1Z1Z1Z2Z1Z1Z1Z2Z1Z1Z1Z2Z1Z1Z1Z2Z1Z1Z1Z2Z1Z1Z183Z3Z1Z0Z1Z3Z1Z0Z1Z3Z1Z0Z1Z3Z1Z0Z1Z3Z1Z0Z1Z3Z1Z0Z1Z3Z1Z0Z1Z1Z183Z3Z1Z1Z6Z2Z1Z1Z1Z2Z1Z1Z1Z2Z1Z1Z191Z3Z1Z0Z1Z3Z1Z0Z1Z3Z1Z0Z1Z1Z182Z0Z1Z2Z2Z1Z5Z3Z2Z1Z2Z2Z1Z1Z191Z0Z2Z1Z2Z3Z1Z0Z1Z1Z190Z2Z1Z1Z1Z2Z1Z1Z1Z2Z1Z1Z191Z3Z1Z0Z1Z3Z1Z0Z1Z3Z1Z0Z1Z1Z195Z2Z1Z1Z195Z2Z1Z1Z195Z2Z1Z1Z36246ZZB592Z0ZZC7Z0ZC7Z0ZC7Z0ZC7Z0ZC7Z0ZC7Z0ZC7Z0ZC7Z0ZC7Z0ZC7Z0ZC7Z0ZC7Z0ZC7Z0ZZ0Z0

I can't beat this level. Can you give me a replay code?

Try walljumping off of the falling block.

Yay! I was able to beat this level! Thank you!

Depends on how your platformer works. If collisions are detected using the touching blocks, you can make the platform either a clone of the main ground sprite or a separate sprite, and have it hide every so often. If your platformer uses some other type of collisions, you could have a timer and only draw the platforms and check collisions with them when the timer is in a certain interval.

Zionykon wrote:

hey guys!! would writing a song count for words? <3

I believe it does <3

hey guys!! would writing a song count for words? <3

I accidentally invited someone whos name was a curse word to a studio. Will i get banned? I didn't see anyone with that username though.

Chloe ran a few paces back, dodging the latest attack. Chloe had already been injured a little bit, but that wasn't stopping her. She saw everyone arming themselves with Frying pans, and she frowned. At one time she had a sword, but she had dropped it dodging an attack, much to her own disappointment. She knew she needed to get a new weapon, and her normal power move, her fire mark, wasn't really going to help as the monster was literally sending fireballs down on the camp. She used her power to entigush one such flame, before making a beeline to Fairy Tale cabin. She knew she had something there. She ran to her bunk, looking underneath it. Underneath the bunk were thousands of apples, and her bow. She already had her quiver on, filled to the brim with arrows. That had happened when she had switched into uniform earlier. She grabbed her bow, making sure the string was tight, running back out to join the fight. She sent arrow after arrow towards the monster, some rickoshaying off of the shell, while others stuck like a small pin in the monster. She knew she wasn't doing much but it was all that she could do.
She then had a bold decision. She knew the other campers were armed with frying pans. But currently, they couldn't get close to the monster without getting hurt. She sighed. “My adviosiers are going to kill me if they catch wind of this…if this Bulrog-Gurtle creature doesn't first,” she said, laughing nervously to herself. She then began to sprint towards the word war cabin, leaping on the roof. “I'm sorry hosties, but this has to be done,” she muttered to herself. “HEY GURTLE!!! OVER HERE!” she shouted, shooting at Gutle, trying to distract them from the frying pan welding campers, and focus his attacks on her. Chloe then leaped out of the way as Gurtle started sending attacks towards her. “Come on Phoe,” Chloe said, now encouraging herself, “You've got this. You have to have this. Just don't die. That won't help the other campers.” she muttered, dodging another attack. Chloe noticed the other campers standing away, confused. “ATTACK!!!!” she yelled, sending another shot. She knew it was going to be a long battle for her. But she could do it, dodging and moving, staying away from all of Gurtle's attacks, to hopefully claim victory for the main cabin as a whole.

+407 words

Nova looked up sharply, having heard Snowy’s shout.
She was on the South side of the Main Cabin, near Script (which Snowy was leading). The Main Cabin was up in flames, and she was gathering supplies to take back to Mythsy before the entire cabin erupted to Balrog-Gurtle’s wrath.
Nova heaved a breath, holding the items carefully and going sideways. Her small form was very useful for not being spotted by the large Gurtle. She made her way out of the cabin.
“What?” she shouted to Snowy, making sure Gurtle was too busy causing destruction to notice her. She was shivering slightly - it was a terrifying job.
“THE FRYING PANS!” she called, then a Script camper came up to her.
Nova inhaled sharply. The frying pans. How could she forget those?
Gurtle was immune to mangoes and links. They’d all found that out the hard way; he ate them and just grew stronger.
But the frying pans…
The cult’s training as frying pan warriors wouldn’t go to waste today.
She got to work, hidden in the shadows, hoping Gurtle wouldn’t rip apart the Main Cabin so much he would find her.
This was dangerous, but she was here.
With the power of SWC, the magic of words, the power of frying pans. SWC could never be defeated.
She wove her angriest words, her most determined and brave and frustrated words, into the form of a frying pan. Words were delicate, she knew, as she inched her fingers around them. But they were powerful.
A frying pan formed in her hands.
Fire exploded all around her, and she shrieked and rocked herself. Her frying pan felt natural in her hands as she grabbed it and ran, around bursts of flame and debris falling. Faster, faster, faster, speed of wind.
But as she turned around, she saw the destruction at a bigger scale. The Main Cabin, completely destroyed. The Word War building, pieces of wood all over the ground. Their cabins, barely holding themselves together. Campers and leaders, frantically running everywhere. SWC was falling apart.
She shook her head. There was no time for sulking. Her plan would either work or wouldn’t. She had to take that chance.
She made it to the headquarters of the frying pan cult, full of funny posters. Nothing about the situation was funny now. “Get your frying pans,” she said quickly. “Put in your angriest words. We need them.”
May, a member of the cult and coleader of Hi-Fi, nodded and brought out her own frying pan. “We’ll help.”
Yume, leader of Epistolary, smiled grimly. “We’re ready.”
The other members began to do the same. Wild’s frying pan was twirling between their fingers, ready.
Nova led them carefully down the path to the Main Cabin. She was stealthy, which was a good trait to have now. Reese had already been eaten by the Gurtle, and she was sure no one else wanted to be there.
The Main Cabin loomed over them, and the task looked almost impossible.
But she turned around and saw hundreds of them. Not even just the cult. She noticed Crystie beside her, a camper from Epistolary, who had just woven her own frying pan. Tilly was on her other side, determined. Surf, eyes on the Main Cabin. Hundreds of them, faces hard and ready, frying pans out in front of them, woven with powerful words.
She smiled, even in the terrible situation.
SWC was undefeatable.

574 words, total: 3476/15000

“No!” Snowy yelled as she rushed out of the Script Theatron. The once-pristine marble walls had crumbled with the force of Pirate Gurtle’s — no, the Balrog’s — giant mangos, shot at a high speed from a mango-shooting cannon. She looked around the smoking theater in dismay, watching her many dreams of a beautiful play turn to ashes and dust right before her eyes.

Gurtle…How could all this damage, all this destruction be from him? He was just a turtle, wasn’t he? Just the kind SWC mascot. Right?

But Gurtle had turned on them, and as he did, he took away every last possibility of having a normal session of Scratch Writing Camp.

Snowy rushed back along the path to the main cabin, turning to see her sibling cabin, Dystopian Ruins, ironically, even more ruined than they were before. Every last bit of the place had been obliterated, and the few remaining pieces were aflame. So much destruction. So much despair. Everywhere that Snowy looked, she saw SWCers shouting, wondering what had happened to their friendly Gurtle.

All Snowy had ever hoped for this session was to have a good first March session, but this was turning out to be so much worse than even the nightmares she had about forgetting all her lines in front of everyone.

Even the path back to the main cabin was cracked in many places, as if Gurtle had wanted to make as much mischief as he possibly could. But this wasn’t mischief, or at least it didn’t look like it. This was revenge.

Snowy saw exactly what she had feared as she approached the Main Cabin. All the piles of words and motivation mangoes had been destroyed. The Warrior Wharf and the docks near it lay in pieces, just driftwood floating in the ocean, carried by the waves this whole time. She couldn’t believe it. How could it have turned out so horribly?


There was no hint of the place that it used to be. The Main Cabin no longer looked like the natural haven that it used to be. The scoreboards, where Script used to be in fourth, third, where they had fought to find their way up to first place, hang down limply, almost like a rag doll, or even just flimsy fabric. Wires strung from it buzzed and crackled with a slight bit of leftover electricity before the currents from it finally disappeared and the whole thing became useless. All the standings became meaningless, because now, they weren’t trying to win SWC. They were just trying to find a way to stop Gurtle and outlast his many attacks.

“What do we do?” Snowy heard one SWC leader whisper in a hushed voice to another. “He’s taken all our mangoes, all our words, and now we don’t even have a place to hide anymore. How are we supposed to keep going from here?”


There were murmurs of assent, all agreeing with the comment, but none of them actually offering any solutions. Snowy herself felt like she was at a loss for words. How could she say anything or write anything after Gurtle’s betrayal?

She remembered fondly all those times they had had together, all a part of SWC. She reminisced about those random musings about what a hungry turtle he must have been to eat so many links from the dailies, the times that she thought were all in good fun and nothing else. Maybe that whole time, the entire reason that Gurtle was eating them wasn’t because he was hungry, but rather because he wanted to make SWC miserable. It would make sense, at least, based on what she knew now. It was the only explanation. He had never betrayed them. He’d just always been out on a quest for vengeance. But for what? She didn’t know the answer.

Snowy thought long and hard about their ongoing battle with Gurtle. Right now, they shouldn’t be looking to just save themselves. They should be looking to eliminate the threat.

The realization came to her with a pang, as Snowy didn’t want to be so cruel as to hurt Gurtle in return, but as he turned the Main Cabin into more and more of a fiery wasteland, she knew that something had to be done.

But what weapons did they have? How could they defend themselves against them? Like that leader had said, Gurtle had already taken all of their mangoes, and any last hopes they might have had in their own cabins had been annihilated without any hope of being rebuilt.

Just then it hit her. The fanfiction, the one she had been working on with all those other SWCers a while ago.

“GUYS!” Snowy shouted, enthusiastic for the first time after learning of Gurtle’s betrayal of SWC. “WHAT ABOUT THE FRYING PANS?”

Word count: 800 words
Total words written: 2,902/15,000 words

DerpyPig03 wrote:

Platypus_WKeyboard wrote:

DerpyPig03 wrote:

Platypus_WKeyboard wrote:

AbeHe wrote:

Platypus_WKeyboard wrote:

Platypus_WKeyboard wrote:

AU-Ratcatcher wrote:

Platypus_WKeyboard wrote:

Started work on the script. It starts with a “montage” to introduce each member. I'm stuck on the one for Jubilee. Any ideas?

That honestly feels a bit cliched at this point

Yeah because it’s efficient.

It’s quick and shows each character. Also I still need help with that panel.

Should I share the script so far?

Anybody? I kinda want an answer soon since I’m going camping with very little internet access.

Sorry I got nothin.

Okay I’ll brain storm.

you need an intro for Jubilee? really depends on a lot of factors. What is her arc? Is she young (like most interpretations) or is she an adult? Should she be shown as a civilian or as a hero?

depending on your answers to those questions, you could do any numbers of things. My mind defaults to fighting criminals at a mall or rock concert

Still figuring that out a bit, I have specifics for the other members but Jubilee’s is in the air right now (same goes for Hank’s) She is the youngest on the team but all the main X-Men are adults. Civilian, most of the X-Men have given up crime fighting for the time being.

she's working at a store in the mall. day job as a clerk at a store and she's bored out of her mind

That works great

Pt. 4! 559 words
Bookie hissed, glancing around at the chaos that encircled the camp. The whole place was chaotic, as was expected.
She grumbled to herself. Of course, Gurtle was going to be like this. She should’ve suspected some sort of trouble to come from the little mascot eventually.
She was inside of the Fanfiction Variance Authority, staring down at the chaos from a window. She honestly wished that she could stage a rebellion against the FVA in this hour of chaos. But… as she watched the chaos unfold, she couldn’t help but be saddened by all the destruction. The balrog was… so strong, and looked near unstoppable. She could totally just run away, plant something in the FVA and watch it go up in flames like the rest of the camp. But the more she looked at her beloved camp, the stronger her resolve became.
She clambered down the stairs of the FVA, bumping into other agents around her as they frantically tried to save this beloved agency. She’d leave that to them. Right now, her focus was on the Balrog.
The Fanfiction variance authority was filled with various weapons that were mainly used against rebellious fanfic writers. But today, they’d be used on the monstrosity that threatened everyone’s livelihoods.
She grabbed a few mango launchers, as well as enough ammo to last her a lifetime. She nommed on a motivational mango for good luck before running out into the battlefield. She made her way toward the Thriller Insect Academy.
There, she found a small collection of campers holed up in a somewhat safe space.
“Hey!” She shouted, “What are you guys doing down here?”
Chuey looked up at her, “Playing go fish! What about you?”
Bookie rolled her eyes, “Trying to /save/ the camp! Y’all want to help or not?”
Poppy glanced up at her, “Do you have a plan? I can offer some ideas.”
Bookie nodded, “I’d love some ideas. Hit me with what you’ve got.”
Poppy cleared her throat, “You’ve seen how the Balrog reacts when we throw mangoes at it, right?”
Nods came from the group.
“Well, I don’t think those will do anything. All they’ll do is feed the Balrog more, which isn’t something we want. The more is eats, the stronger it gets.”
Bookie nodded, dropping her mango launcher on the ground, “That… honestly makes sense.” She kicked the launcher, “Wish I could’ve used this though.”
Chloe tapped her chin, “Maybe you still can. If we can somehow get the Balrog to somehow stop eating things, we might be able to drive it off or something.”
“Do you think there’s anything the Balrog /won’t/ eat?” Chuey questioned. “Like, something it finds repulsive?”
Bookie shrugged, “I’m not sure. Honestly, I’m pretty sure that thing will eat anything. We should try to focus on stopping it from being /able/ to eat. Any ideas on that?”
Silence followed.
Bookie grumbled, “Okay, fine, I guess we’ll just have to wing it. If we stay here for much longer there won’t be an SWC to come back to in July*. (*sobbing*) We need to act now.”
The small group nodded. They armed themselves with what they could and went back out into the battlefield.
Bookie was scared. She couldn’t deny that. But, now that she wasn’t alone, the future of the camp she held so dear was a little less bleak.

Please create a separate topic for each suggestion you have, rather than creating a list of suggestions. That way, the conversation stays focused and each idea can get the attention it needs.

Before making a new topic, please check out the following:

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Thank you!

yadayadayadagoodbye wrote:

Save the previous slot index/x and y value (depending on how you do slots) into a (or 2) variables, check when the sprite is released to see if its not touching anything, if not, put it back into the slot based on the index/x and y value which you previously saved.

Hey, i've been trying a few things out but im still a little confused. It's hard since theres an animation for the inventory that plays.

sibayuu wrote:

TheGreatYo-Kai wrote:

This level is possible.

1235261196Z13Z14Z2Z182Z13Z14Z2Z182Z13Z14Z2Z182Z15Z1Z81Z1Z1Z1Z76Z1Z1Z4Z13Z6Z1Z183Z2Z1Z1Z6Z13Z6Z1Z182Z9Z1Z3Z1Z9Z1Z1Z5Z46Z1Z81Z1Z80Z2Z13Z2Z1Z183Z9Z1Z1Z6Z2Z2Z80Z2Z13Z2Z1Z190Z13Z6Z1Z190Z13Z6Z1Z192Z63Z1Z1Z2Z38Z1Z1Z195Z38Z1Z1Z195Z38Z1Z1Z36246ZZ3Z1Z0Z1Z3Z1Z0Z1Z3Z1Z0Z1Z3Z1Z0Z1Z3Z1Z0Z1Z3Z1Z0Z1Z3Z1Z0Z1Z1Z182Z2Z1Z1Z1Z2Z1Z1Z1Z2Z1Z1Z1Z2Z1Z1Z1Z2Z1Z1Z1Z2Z1Z1Z1Z2Z1Z1Z183Z3Z1Z0Z1Z3Z1Z0Z1Z3Z1Z0Z1Z3Z1Z0Z1Z3Z1Z0Z1Z3Z1Z0Z1Z3Z1Z0Z1Z1Z183Z3Z1Z1Z6Z2Z1Z1Z1Z2Z1Z1Z1Z2Z1Z1Z191Z3Z1Z0Z1Z3Z1Z0Z1Z3Z1Z0Z1Z1Z182Z0Z1Z2Z2Z1Z5Z3Z2Z1Z2Z2Z1Z1Z191Z0Z2Z1Z2Z3Z1Z0Z1Z1Z190Z2Z1Z1Z1Z2Z1Z1Z1Z2Z1Z1Z191Z3Z1Z0Z1Z3Z1Z0Z1Z3Z1Z0Z1Z1Z195Z2Z1Z1Z195Z2Z1Z1Z195Z2Z1Z1Z36246ZZB592Z0ZZC7Z0ZC7Z0ZC7Z0ZC7Z0ZC7Z0ZC7Z0ZC7Z0ZC7Z0ZC7Z0ZC7Z0ZC7Z0ZC7Z0ZC7Z0ZZ0Z0

I can't beat this level. Can you give me a replay code?

Try walljumping off of the falling block.

⇾ Balrog's Story - Pt. 3 ⚘

Poppy yelped as Aurora ran into her.
“Sorry!” Poppy cried.
That was the only word that could come out of her mouth as she ran off, gasping and panting as she ran toward the thriller cabin. Aurora followed as they approached the Thriller cabin.
“This is awful,” Aurora whispered as they ran.
Poppy couldn't have agreed more.
The thriller academy came into view, a few butterflies and dragonflies flitting around nervously.
Only a few minutes ago, they'd been in great shape. Perfectly intact academy, on top of the leaderboard, completely content.
Things have a way of going wrong quickly.
Poppy barrelled into the cabin. She quickly pulled her brown hair into a ponytail - long hair is an inconvenient thing to have when there's fires everywhere - and looked around the cabin.
Students were sprawled all over the ground, typing and writing madly. Occasionally, one would look up, through the windows, to where Balrog-Gurtle was spraying fire. Smoke rose over the camp.
There goes the critiquitaire house. There's the word war house. That's the Dystopian ruins. The Poetry valley.
All up in smoke.
Poppy handed over some of her motivation-mango rations to the students before eating a mango for herself.
She looked out the door.
Someone was screaming.
Another was weeping.
She only barely heard.
It was hard to hear anything over the sound of the roars.
The roars.
They won't end.
They'll never end.
Poppy pushed the discouraging thought away and shoved the door open.
They have to end.
The stench of burnt wood met Poppy's senses with a dizzying impact, and her knees buckled for only a moment.
Nevertheless, she walked on, through the wasteland the camp had become, until she'd entered the edges of the fray of battle. Campers were fighting madly. Some were typing, trying not to get trampled by the pounding steps of the panicked fighters. Others were slashing and firing their bows.
A scream of rage came from somewhere.
Another camper from a different cabin ran up to her. It was hard to see them through the smoke, but Poppy eventually saw that it was Nova, a friend of hers from the Myth cabin.
She was stumbling.
“Nova!” Poppy cried. “Are you alright?”
“Never better,” Nova said with a wry laugh.
Chloe and Chuey came up beside the two of them. The two of them already had scratches on their faces, signs that the battle had worsened in only the few minutes that Poppy had been gone.
“What can we do?” Chloe panted.
“Well… now might be a great time to pull out some of those detective skills, Chloe. How could this have happened?” Nova says.
"How could it have not happened?“ Chuey says. ”This is just the kind of luck we have. First, Gurtle eats the word wars link, and now this.“
Chloe hefted her sword. ”We can only fight. That's all we have."
Fear touched every action the sad little group made- every hand twitch, every foot shuffle, every weak cough.
Poppy softly touched the gash on her face- a pain borne of her first interaction with Balrog. She pulled her hand away. Blood just barely painted the tips of her fingers.
It was a minor wound. Nothing to cry over.
But it was something to seethe over.
He had been hungry.
She had been scared.
Everyone is scared.
“We do what we always do, right?” Poppy said. She didn't know where the words came from.
Maybe it was from the fear.
That's where they always come from.
“We write. We work together. We stay with one another, regardless of cabin relations or leaderboard. We take up arms. We make stories. We…” Poppy laughed at herself a little.
“We win.”

Off in the distance, someone was preparing to take up their part of the story…

⇾ 638 words ⚘
⇾ thriller cabin ⚘
⇾ 1,543 / 15,000 words total ⚘

Aurora trembled as they stared up at the Balrog-Gurtle trashing their beloved camp. They had never imagined that the silly turtle that would occasionally eat a link or two would have become…this… Shaking the thought of what could happen if he wasn’t stopped out of their head, they looked around at what they could use to stop Gurtle, but their mind was frazzled, the screaming and running campers distracting them, and honestly at this point they were a little traumatized by being chased by Jim Flabsz or whatever his name was, meeting Jim at the end of space-time, and now in a single session watching the academy/cabin they had come to call home being destroyed by rebels, and now Gurtle… They stood up, noticing the flying motivation mangos and procrastination potatoes around them, only being consumed by the giant pirate turtle monster. They had an idea, and picked up a mango, remembering something from their time at the academy. Silently thanking Violet, they dipped it into one of the fires caused by Gurtle’s chaos, watching it be consumed by the flames. They then took a step back, spreading their massive wings, and….was knocked over by a running camper. “SORRY!” the camper screamed at them as Aurora stumbled to their feet, the firey mango extinguished. With a sigh, they ran at another fire, beating their wings and soaring into the air as the mango was set on fire, turning towards the massive demon turtle. They staggered in the air, still getting used to their oversized insect-person-cat wings, before throwing the mango right at Gurtle, who ate it per expected. And…nothing happened. Aurora landed on the ground, accidentally knocking a few campers over as a mini semi-organized army charged right through their planned landing spot. “Sorry! Sorry,” Aurora gasped as they untangled themselves from the others. They watched them charge away, before realizing something, and facepalming. “Oh I’m an idiot,” they sighed as they remembered that Gurtle was a giant fire demon. Fire demons could probably eat firey mangos. They ran through the crowd, trying to find someone they could ask for help, but found nobody. “Well…” they mumbled, looking up at Gurtle, “those fifteen wings I paid for my Wing Boosters are not going to help against him…hmm…” Aurora’s eyes widened as they watched another mango fly by, having an idea. “DOES ANYBODY HAVE A BOW?” they called out as they ran, looking for the Cabin Wars weapons. They were a pretty good archer in video games, maybe with a decently good bow and quiver they could do something to Gurtle. Aurora’s train of thought cut off as they ran into someone, collapsing to the ground. They looked at who they had bolted into, and beamed as they recognized their brown hair, academy uniform, and mantis antenna. “Oh hi-!”

Thriller || 468 words || 905/15000

437 words

Chuey knew what she had to do. There had to be a way to stop this monster, somehow! She’d always distrusted Gurtle anyway. Those beady eyes…that cute but malicious grin…No, no, she’d seen this coming, but they hadn’t listened. They hadn’t seen the absolute promise of destruction in his sweet ways. He’d eaten one too many links, and grown strong on them. Now it was time to end it all, for the sake of the campers. She paused only to set fire to the Fairy Tales cabin, then began gathering all the procrastination potatoes she could find and lobbing them at Balrog-Gurtle. It didn’t work so well. He was just eating them! His digestion was strong after devouring so many links. Growling in frustration, Chuey ran over to the hosts, shaking them. “You’ve got to help! You’ve got to!” But they were unresponsive, eyes glazed over, and her heart rose to her throat. They were truly on their own here. Swallowing, she turned to face the monster that was trashing camp, wondering what on earth she could do. Campers were everywhere, running and screaming in confusion as he roared again. Chuey fought to keep the panic down, trying to think things out logically. First things first, she had to get the campers organized. It wouldn’t do them any good to run around screaming like headless chickens. But with more noise, cause, you know, headless chickens couldn’t exactly scream. Because they had no head. And now she was stalling. Shaking herself, she beelined towards the nearest camper and grabbed their arm, pulling them to safety as Gurtle hurled a giant piece of what used to be the Main Cabin at them. “Keep safe!” Chuey shouted to everyone within hearing range, then jogged off to see if she could find any of her friends. Surely they would know what to do! After all, they were all experienced, way more than she was, and they’d know how to manage this crisis. She dove through burning rubble, showers of mangoes–stopping to shove one in her pocket–okay, maybe two–and then stopped, realizing that in this chaos, it was going to be impossible to find anyone, let alone someone she knew. All the faces were blurs as they streaked by, and by now, most people had run for cover and were cowering in their cabins. A few brave souls were gathering weapons, but not many. Chuey lifted her chin. Fine, then. She’d join the few who were ready to fight. She picked up a knife and with the last of her adrenaline-fueled energy ran over. “What can I do to help?” she panted.

to be continued….

Platypus_WKeyboard wrote:

DerpyPig03 wrote:

Platypus_WKeyboard wrote:

AbeHe wrote:

Platypus_WKeyboard wrote:

Platypus_WKeyboard wrote:

AU-Ratcatcher wrote:

Platypus_WKeyboard wrote:

Started work on the script. It starts with a “montage” to introduce each member. I'm stuck on the one for Jubilee. Any ideas?

That honestly feels a bit cliched at this point

Yeah because it’s efficient.

It’s quick and shows each character. Also I still need help with that panel.

Should I share the script so far?

Anybody? I kinda want an answer soon since I’m going camping with very little internet access.

Sorry I got nothin.

Okay I’ll brain storm.

you need an intro for Jubilee? really depends on a lot of factors. What is her arc? Is she young (like most interpretations) or is she an adult? Should she be shown as a civilian or as a hero?

depending on your answers to those questions, you could do any numbers of things. My mind defaults to fighting criminals at a mall or rock concert

Still figuring that out a bit, I have specifics for the other members but Jubilee’s is in the air right now (same goes for Hank’s) She is the youngest on the team but all the main X-Men are adults. Civilian, most of the X-Men have given up crime fighting for the time being.

she's working at a store in the mall. day job as a clerk at a store and she's bored out of her mind

TailsTheSonic wrote:

what 3ds model do you guys have? i have the pink original 3ds

I have a purple (im pretty sure refurbished) 3ds because it was the only thing my mom could find since it was 2017 (the release of the switch) and it was christmas.

well i tried to sign in, it worked but now after seeing a project in penguinmod the thing i'm trying to sign in to it just signs me out.

You can use a local (for this sprite only) variable called clone ID to keep track of what type of enemy a clone is. The scripts are similar to the ones you already have, just replace (costume #) with (clone ID).

han614698 wrote:

but the blocks will stay the same shape.

you can change the block shape with that one (if we're talking about the same one, gah that extension policy sure does make this a lot harder) and it's changeable to a 2.0 shape and color

CST1229 wrote:

That's not how it works. If you just do

translate [] to (pick random (1) to (10)) :: extension reporter

it would try translating the text to the language that is a random number between 1 and 10, which does not exist.
Instead you should make a list with every language and then use the item of list block:

translate [] to (item (pick random (1) to (length of [languages v])) of [languages v]) :: extension reporter

Couldn't you just select the random option for the languages list?

Malicondi wrote:

Don't think this is gonna happen:

The Official List of Rejected Suggestions wrote:

8.10 Change the list of locations
The list of locations that the Scratch Team uses is determined by an official international standard for the list of countries. The localization team for Scratch has determined that they will continue to go by this standard. As a result, countries will not be added or removed from this list. An exception could be made if the international standard changes, but that is out of the Scratch Team's control.

This suggestion extends to removing the location feature entirely. For more information why that in particular is rejected, see this post.

As much as id like an updated version, it's rejected. Please see here before making an suggestion.

it says added or removed not changed. swaziland is eswantinis former name.

HexagonWorld wrote:

Okay, my plan is to work on a story treatment for Superman while making TSFOSM 3 and 4. Anything you want in it?

Krypto, no Zod and Superman deciding to just let his adopted father sacrifice himself for no reason

(Welcome to the FINAL BOSS! On what would otherwise be a hectic but comfortable day warring among friends, Balrog-Gurtle has come to ruin the fun, rampaging through the cabins and leaving devastation in his deceptively cute wake. Will you be able to save SWC from this terrible calamity? Only one way to find out…

⊛ The Rules: Please read everything!

• The final collab story must be over 15 000 words by the end of the day in UTC. Or else…
  
• Your contribution to the story must be between 400-800 words, no more and no less.
  
• To contribute to a story, first make a post in this forum saying “claimed!” If you are the first person to do so, great! You can start writing, then edit your post with the final story part when you're done. If you are later in the “claimed” queue, fear not — your time will come! When the previous person finishes, they will notify you, and then you can start working on your part. Once you've finished, edit your forum post to paste your writing in, notify the person who has claimed after you, and so on!
  
• Make sure to send a message to the person who has claimed after you in the forum (on their profile or elsewhere), and let them know that they can go ahead; otherwise, the chain may stall and Gurtle will have free reign to spread destruction through SWC D:
  
• If you realize you're unable to complete your part, edit your post with that information and notify the person in line after you. Communication with your fellow hobbits is very important if you wish to succeed in this endeavour. If you notice that someone has gone offline, and the next person doesn't know it's their part yet, feel free to notify them yourself <3
  
• You can claim more than once throughout the day, but you must wait until at least two more parts have been claimed after your previous one. Please only claim one or two posts ahead - if there are already two posts already claimed, you'll have to wait. We want to ensure that everyone who wants to gets to contribute to the story, so be mindful of often claiming a spot to write if other people would like to but haven't had the chance yet <3
  
• Time is of the essence: you only have 24 hours, after all! After 1 hour has passed with no update, your claim will no longer count, and it'll automatically pass onto the person below you.
  
• RELOAD THE PAGE BEFORE YOU POST to make sure that you are keeping track of the posts and aren't missing anything. In general, it's a good idea to keep reloading the page at a constant rate, and to write your section of the story elsewhere before copy+pasting it into your forum post.
  
• Post your wordcount and cabin at the end of your contribution, it will be tallied up at the end. Also, please send a link to your post with your word count here ( https://scratch.mit.edu/studios/34872236/comments ).
  
• REMEMBER TO BE KIND TO OTHERS AND YOURSELF. This is a fun activity and should be treated as such - everyone's contributions are equally valid, and it's totally okay if someone misses their part.
  

⊛ The Credits:

• All of the hosts for planning and executing this surprise <3
  
• Starr and Sun for writing the story introduction, the other flavour text, and the rules post
  
• Starr for the amazing new main cabin thumbnail ohoho
  
• Alba for the original idea for a Cabin Wars Boss
  

⊛ The Story So Far: (Use this as the start of the collab!)

One might wonder what a Balrog is. Usually, they tend to be a towering dark creature with razor-sharp horns - quick to strike, and with deadly precision.

But when the campers crowded up outside, squinting up at the sky, they saw…

… Gurtle? The sweet, mischievous little sea turtle of the SWC Main Cabin had, somehow, transformed into a monster - complete with an incredibly frightening pirate hat and a villainous cackle. He was hardly recognizable,

The tyrants sat above, on their thrones, watching the scene unfold — they had been put into a trance by Balrog-Gurtle (or perhaps they were just pretending for the sake of the plot; one couldn’t be entirely sure). One thing was clear: there was no one to help the brave hobbits of SWC now, who had gathered for a fun day of competition.

For a moment, silence settled among the crowd of campers. Could this small being truly be the source of the many strange happenings? Surely this little turtle, as dark and fiery as it was, could not be the source of so much destruction?

Then Balrog-Gurtle stepped forward, the ground quaking and the grass burning to a crisp, and the people of SWC knew.

TechNerd64 wrote:

A possible solution is using scratchattach to get information from Wikipedia's API. I may be wrong. It's just an ides

I did without

asdfperson135 wrote:

jboys846 wrote:

asdfperson135 wrote:

Builder_53_Studios wrote:

asdfperson135 wrote:

seg-leinad wrote:

Removed order from post #1664 from the UOC (Gomongemu's sfx order) as order post and quotes got deleted by the ST.

what happened? also i know im on leave im just gonna stalk the shop

his order was a sfx of somethign kinda disturbing, so im guessing the scratch team didnt like that

now im intrigued, what was the sfx?

Bone breaking noise

feel like all you would need is a celery stick and go *crack*

There is way too much BG sound and too many darn birds…perks of living In the most tropical parts of Central America

asdfperson135 wrote:

Builder_53_Studios wrote:

asdfperson135 wrote:

seg-leinad wrote:

Removed order from post #1664 from the UOC (Gomongemu's sfx order) as order post and quotes got deleted by the ST.

what happened? also i know im on leave im just gonna stalk the shop

his order was a sfx of somethign kinda disturbing, so im guessing the scratch team didnt like that

now im intrigued, what was the sfx?

It was a realistic n3ck breaking sound

Hey everyone! I’m on a weekend camping trip and my activity will drop for a few days while I’m camping (but I will most likely be able to respond to a few messages <33) I’ll be back Sunday afternoon

BlauHourglass wrote:

Just a quick update for my order:
I'm working on it. But my family calls, and I must answer. ETA is still probably Saturday or Sunday.

Noted.

There's an issue where doing [text] hides the text (you can bypass it like I did [quote to see]), but it's because of that chat app since you're meant to be 13+, there is private chat, and a bunch of stuff happens there (if you know what I mean by that).

notcrowdedaccount wrote:

I'm planning on an object show called Metaos, where instead of it being competiton-based, the characters are making more object shows.

Cool! I like the concept. If you need an animator or a voice actor, I'd be happy to help! Anyway, just wondering, why is the show named Metaos?

Waddle25 wrote:

There should be a multitouch extension.

You're meant to make a separate topic for this, as I stated above, though kinda like this?

([x v] positions of touches ::sensing)
([y v] positions of touches ::sensing)

Don't think this is gonna happen:

The Official List of Rejected Suggestions wrote:

8.10 Change the list of locations
The list of locations that the Scratch Team uses is determined by an official international standard for the list of countries. The localization team for Scratch has determined that they will continue to go by this standard. As a result, countries will not be added or removed from this list. An exception could be made if the international standard changes, but that is out of the Scratch Team's control.

This suggestion extends to removing the location feature entirely. For more information why that in particular is rejected, see this post.

As much as id like an updated version, it's rejected. Please see here before making an suggestion.

{not mine}

At the edge where the meadow meets the forest, the dogwood grove grows. When these trees bloom, they are covered in chrysalises - belonging to young faeries.

Sylvie Wonderwish, like all wingless ones, had no bigger dream than getting her wings so that she would be a real faery. Nearly everyone else had gotten to build their chrysalises, but the queen had not given her permission yet.

That morning she’d been taking care of the centipedes with her mother Cerise, a chemist who used their venom for medical purposes, when her best friend Briar ran over, eyes bright, antennae quivering with excitement.

“I’m going to get my wings!” he said, with a grin that took up his entire face.

Sylvie had grinned and congratulated him, but then his parents Dianthe and Cassian had put him on their shoulders to fly with him. Her mother went with them too. Sylvie had to follow them to the grove alone on the ground, riding a centipede.

She’d tried not to feel so lonely, of course she was happy for him. “How does it feel? Do you feel like you’re flying?”

“It’s like the world is so much more complete when I’m in the sky.”

“Just wait until you get your wings, then you’ll really be complete,” said Cassian.

“My little boy is all grown up,” Dianthe said.

“Mom, stop you’re embarrassing me.”

“Oh, let her embarrass you,” Cerise told him. “All mothers look forward to the day their children get their wings. Your parents are just proud of you.”

They’d gone on to talk about wings, and the chrysalis. Though each of them said very different things about metamorphosis, which made Sylvie pretty certain none of them really remembered what it was like. Or maybe it was different for everyone.

At the dogwood grove, when they set Briar down, she hugged him. “Good luck in there. You better come out with the most beautiful wings.”

He beamed. “Mom says that she thinks I’ll get deep violet wings like the night.”

“Happy metamorphosis,” said another young faery named Clover.

Other faeries were building their chrysalises today. “Remember, you don’t want brown wings,” said one mother. “Brown winged faeries were scared of changing, and I know you aren’t scared.”

“Oh, that’s a load of leaf rot,” Sylvie heard her friend Rusalka, a brown-winged faery, mutter from the front row, causing her to giggle a little.

Everyone except today’s eighteen candidates and the queen were asked to step or fly back and the queen gave a speech. “As our forest is blossoming, now it is time for you to transform into who you truly are. The time has come to shed this broken form and rise into the sky where you belong.”

Everyone cheered as the young wingless ones shared a dogwood petal, washed their hands and faces with dew drops, and then all of them climbed into the trees. Sylvie watched Briar and in less than a moment he was covered in a casing of pale green.

“Please,” she begged Cerise on the way home. “Let me make my chrysalis soon, let me ask the queen. I’m ready. I want to be a real faery.”

“The queen will tell us when you are ready.”

Sylvie crossed her arms. “You said it’s what all parents look forward to. Don’t you want to be proud of me?”

Cerise sighed. “Of course I do, but we can’t rush the queen. You’ll be a real faery one day, I promise you.”

“Mom…will I still be a real faery even if I have brown wings?”

Cerise flew down and walked next to her. “Metamorphosis is a big change, after all you have to become someone entirely new, a real faery. But not all faeries change the same amount. Even if you have brown wings, you will still be a faery, but I know you can get beautiful wings and be a better faery. You cannot be afraid to change, not like the brown-winged faeries.”

“My mom says you were afraid of change,” Sylvie said to Rusalka a few days later when they were in her workshop. “And that’s why you have brown wings.”

Rusalka didn’t look up from the twig she was sawing. “Everyone has this silly idea that bright colors are better than dull colors, because bright colors are more beautiful.”

“So… you are a real faery?”

Rusalka looked at her. “I could have purple wings, or striped red and black, and I wouldn’t be any more of a faery. And I’ll tell you a secret: You’re just as much of a faery as me, or your mother, or the queen.”

She shook her head, making some measurements on a large cattail and cutting a notch in it. “I need my wings and magic. To be a real faery.”

“Sylvie, you know those aren’t the only things that make you useful right? Few other fairies can build and work with machines and mechanisms the way you do. And you’re very creative. What about that delivery system you’re helping me make?”

“I guess that was pretty cool of me,” she said with a little smile.

Rusalka grinned at her. “See? You didn’t need wings or magic to think of that.”

When Briar came out of his chrysalis a few days later with sunshine yellow wings, his eyes were like pebbles in a stream, hard and unfeeling when he saw her waving to congratulate him. Sylvie knew Briar was not the same. “What is one of the wingless doing here? Get it away from here.”

The shocking sting of those words reminded Sylvie of something Rusalka had told her. ‘Truth be told, I don’t think any of us remember who we were before we went into the chrysalis. It changes you.’ Looking at Briar now as he admired his wings and let others fawn over them, she knew what Rusalka had meant. Briar had gone into the chrysalis and been destroyed. Whoever this was, it was not Briar.

Cerise told her she was overreacting. “Why shouldn’t he be different? There wouldn't be any use for the chrysalis if he didn’t change.”

“Well, if that’s what the chrysalis does to you, then I’m not going through metamorphosis.”

Cerise choked on her berry a little but managed to dislodge it. “Who put this nonsense in your head?”

“I-I… don’t want to lose myself.”

“Metamorphosis won’t make you “lose yourself”, it’s an upgrade.”

“But why do you care so much? Why can’t you love who I am now instead of loving who I might be one day?” Sylvie cried. “Why am I not good enough?”

“Oh, don’t try to manipulate me! Don’t try to make me feel like I’m a bad parent. I’ve given you nothing but love and guidance. You’re breaking my heart, wanting to stay half-formed, bound to the earth? Where did I go wrong?”

It hurt Sylvie’s heart to see her mother like this. “I’m sorry, I’ll get my wings. Don’t be angry.”

Sylvie was terrified the next day when she and the other five remaining wingless stood in front of the queen. “Make her proud,” she whispered to herself under her breath. The queen began her speech.

“No…” Sylvie said to herself at first, and then louder. “No. I’m not broken. I-I'm sorry mom. But I don’t need a chrysalis to fix me because I’m fine the way I am.” She felt her confidence start growing. “You were always the ones who wanted me to change. Rusalka is the only winged faery who ever thought that I mattered because I was me. I still think change would be good. I want wings, but not for that price.”

“Sylvie Wonderwish,” said the queen. “There is no way to get wings except metamorphosis.”

But Sylvie wouldn’t let this discourage her. “I’ll find a way. I’m very smart.” She heard several faeries laughing before quickly stopping with embarrassed coughs.

“If you do not go through metamorphosis, then I have no choice but to ban you from our society for you are refusing to become a true faery.”

Sylvie looked around. Everyone glared at her, Briar, Clover, Cerise was weeping. They could not handle the idea of her not wanting to build a chrysalis. “Rusalka?” she called softly, dreading the way her mentor would react, but reaching out for that spiderweb of hope.

“I’m coming.” Rusalka landed next to her and took Sylvie by the hand. “It’s alright.” She glared at the queen. “If everyone here is so hateful, then I have no place here.”

Sylvie’s eyes widened. “You can’t leave everything behind!”

“I’ll bring my tools and we’ll start fresh.”

They left and no one stopped them. And as they packed up the tools and everything else that they could carry or strap to an earthworm, Sylvie’s guilt had not quite left her, but she was excited to change for herself. She would be fine, Rusalka would keep on guiding her. As they left, she turned to Rusalka. “Do you think it’s possible to build wings?”

“That depends. Why do you want wings?”

Sylvie knew this was a test, and though she was still hurt and shocked, she was done wanting to be like other faeries. “To see the sky.”

Rusalka smiled. “Then build some wings.”

imfh wrote:

You aren’t allowed to use bots to perform social actions like commenting, so using a script like this isn’t a good workaround.

If you just want to get comments, that might be ok, but the making comments part isn’t allowed.

It’s not a bot that is making these comments. Basically, I just want some JavaScript code that I can run in the console that makes a comment box appear on a project page on Scratch and it allows me to make comments directly from that project page to the studio. Switching tabs will crash my game.

ronnor107 wrote:

han614698 wrote:

ronnor107 wrote:

han614698 wrote:

If you have an extension that lets you add stuff to Scratch, I believe you most likely can turn it 2.0 with this extension, if we're talking about the same one.

idk if were talking about the same one because i guess it mostly customizes it, for example it lets you change the color of the website and editor even though it has addons in the name.

Yes, we are. There is an addon that lets you change to 2.0f for studios (“Old studio Layout”), and you can move around stuff in the editor to make it look like 2.0, but the blocks will stay the same shape.

There is also a fully immersed 2.0 editor here, so you can make projects in 2.0 and then upload them to Scratch.

but it only lets you make the editor look like 2.0, not the website

There is a userstyle to do it:

However, I can't share it because of the policy.

nanoguy3222 wrote:

Who did you vote to Save in TPOT 10? I voted Price Tag because like with TPOT 9, they're finally getting character development. Plus, evidence showing a potential arc between them and Book!

Book.

randomguy3513 wrote:

unmet wrote:

I don't really see anything wrong with it besides it being “old” — something being old isn't necessarily a bad thing either.

Let's say the word “Code” is a really bad word. What if I start curating a bunch of studios that are just letters with their icon and it spells out the word code in your studios following section. There are a few reasons to report a profile like profile picture, about me, WIWO, and username. So how exactly do you even report this correctly? Now, the new version allows you to report with an “other” reason which you can type out why. It's really not because of the new look, it's because it is outdated and need some overhauls.

I don't think 3.0 studios even have an other option though. Also, 2.0 did have an other option, I remember, and you could type.
https://en.scratch-wiki.info/w/images/archive/20161217204546%21Report_a_project.png

SWC CABIN WARS #2
march 23, 2024

── ೃ⁀➷' ──

Cabin Wars officially begin at 00:00 UTC on March 23rd. Do NOT send wars or start writing towards a war before then.

-

Happy cabin wars, campers! Read over everything before you begin warring, please <3

RULES:
• One cabin war is the maximum each individual can send all throughout today. Please don't send more than one!
• If you require help with a cabin war from people outside your cabin, you can request the services of a mercenary! If you do ask one, please try to make sure their words get counted towards the war ^^
• You may not plan wars with other cabins (e.g. strategically planning to war an ally or get a war yourself), but you may plan wars within your own cabin. The one exception to this is asking generically for “a war” (not a specific one!) in the main cabin.
• A cabin can opt to write half the required words for ONE war every cabin wars day.
• Valid wars cannot be taken back.
• Your cabin may not war another cabin twice in a row.
• A cabin cannot be warred the same war nor extra challenge twice in a row.
• You must use the given wars. You may not make up your own.
• There is a 3 hour shield time, where a cabin may not be warred for 3 hours between each war.
• Leaders and cos may end their cabin's shield early if they wish, but they must lower it by commenting in the studio of their cabin.
• Each word you write may only count towards one war at a time.
• You do not have to ask before warring a cabin, though your leaders can set guidelines (based only on cabin relationships, not rankings).
• Cabin wars must be sent manually (not with bots).
• There is no penalty if you break a rule; the war just won’t count.
• SLEEP > SWC <3

-


VALID WARS:

Cabin Wars! Write 2000 words as a cabin in the next 9 hours or lose 550 points.

Cabin Wars! Write 1700 words as a cabin in the next 8 hours or lose 400 points.

Cabin Wars! Three people must write 250 words each in the next 8 hours. If not, you lose 500 points.

Cabin Wars! Write 1000 words as a cabin in the next 4 hours, or lose 700 points.

Cabin Wars! Write 750 words as a cabin in the next 3 hours or lose 500 points.

Cabin Wars! Write 2500 words as a cabin in the next 7 hours, or else lose 400 points.

~

CHALLENGES:
Every war is required to have an extra challenge. They all earn the same amount of points, and can potentially make things more fun for the people being warred.
Completing a challenge is optional.

Extra challenge: stretch, take a walk, and/or drink some water (and do a penguin waddle - if you're daring) after every 500 or less words you write. Every person who does this consistently while writing towards the war wins 50 points each for their cabin. This applies for up to three campers (resulting in 150 points earned maximum.)

Extra challenge: Attempt a fifty headed hydra (500 words in 5 minutes!) Every cabin member who attempts this monstrous challenge can claim 25 points for their cabin. Your attempt does not need to be successful in order to win these points! This applies for up to six campers (resulting in 150 points earned maximum.)

Extra challenge: Character swap! To complete this challenge, at least two cabin members must share a short biography of one of their original characters in their cabin comments. They must then claim a character that is not their own, and write 300 words from the perspective of that character. This applies for up to six campers (resulting in 150 points earned maximum.)

Extra challenge: Write 200 words in an archaic or old-fashioned style! Every cabin member who does this can claim 25 points for their cabin. This applies for up to six campers (resulting in 150 points max).

Extra challenge: Use three song titles in your writing! Every cabin member who does this can claim 25 points for their cabin! This applies for up to six campers (resulting in 150 points earned maximum.)

Extra challenge: Ask any other swc-er for a writing dare, and complete it! The dares given out should be able to be completed within a short time frame; any dares that set a word goal over 500 or a time goal over 15 minutes are ineligible. Every cabin member who does this can claim 25 points for their cabin! This applies for up to six campers (resulting in 150 points earned maximum.)


-

May the wind under your wings bear you where the sun sails and the moon walks <3 Remember to be kind to every cabin and sleep at a decent hour. Starr out ;D

Lightning flashed overhead, thunder booming loudly in Alcmene’s ears. She grimaced at her odds. Metal shuffling a few feet away told Alcmene that the guards were near when her eyes couldn’t. Her hair stuck to her face, and Alcmene’s breath was ragged and heavy. She kept running, but metal clanking filled her ears, to her sides, in front of her, and behind her. She was trapped. Swords banged on shields. Alcmene winced at the sharp sound.
She skidded to a halt, splashing the guards and almost slipping on the cold mud. Alcmene managed to save herself, but scraped her palms in return. She winced at the sting and watched as the blood streamed down her hand, then her forearm, fading as the rain washed it away. A low whisper interrupted the scene. Alcmene spun around, eyes blazing, squinting through the pouring downfall. She took out her dagger, smiling slightly as it reflected the faint glow of the moon overhead, shrouded in clouds.
“That won’t be necessary, dearest.” She hardened her grip on her weapon, her gaze piercing through the shadows, desperate to find the source of the eerie murmurs. There was a long sigh.
“Disarm her,” and, before she knew it, her dagger was smacked out of her hand. Alcmene let out a yelp as a long spear slashed through the darkness, nearly cutting off her arm until she pulled away at the last second, which then in turn made her drop her blade. She clenched her fist as one of the guards reached out to confiscate the dagger, like she was a sort of child playing with things they shouldn't. The voice left horrid memories in her head, and she finally realized who it belonged to. How ironic.
“What do you want, Daggur?” She spat the name out, almost screaming. She couldn’t help but lace her voice thick with pure hatred. Fine. She didn’t care if he knew she hated him. She hoped he knew. A tall figure formed in the rain, as if he were made of the water that relentlessly crashed down on the group. Alcmene tensed as she felt cold hands wrap around her arms and hold her back. She glared up at the figure, defiant.
“Oh, Alcmene.” He said, laughing. It sounded like chalk against a board, scratchy, as if he had not drinken in years. He leaned forward, his forehead almost touching Alcmene’s. His breath smelled like heavy smoke, and Alcmene did her best not to shift away. She held his gaze as he hissed in a hushed whisper, “You know what I want.” He stood up taller, a stupid grin stretching across his face as he held out his hand expectantly. The shadows, accompanied by the glow of the moon, made his skin look pale and unreal, like a ghost made of rain and shadow.
“I-” She swallowed hard, forcing herself not to look down at her bag. “I don’t have it.” Her voice shook, like a little child being chastised by their parents. She tried her best to be fierce, but inside, her mind was racing.
He let out a guttural laugh. It made Alcmene wince. “Oh, my sweet, I’m afraid you do.” He pulled out his own dagger, soaked in ominous, dried blood, and let it tilt in the direction of her saddlebag. She closed her eyes in a silent prayer, hoping that she'd stuffed it deep down inside her satchel before she went out. She looked down, peering through the rain. Shoot. Oh, Alcmene, you idiot! Part of the book is shown through her bag, its gold accents shifting in the light. She furrowed her eyebrows at him in frustration. Alcmene kept her gaze low, but Daggur’s dagger forced her to meet his gaze. He rested it below her chin, and she let it guide her up to his eyes, which were encircled with eyebags, fearing it threatened more than just a scratch.
She tried to wriggle free, making a desperate attempt to knock down the guard that pinned her hands behind her back, but it was no use. They had a firm grip, and she gave up once she felt her fingers go numb.
The clouds grew angrier. Rain poured down, as if all the oceans had lifted into the sky and started to fall just to prevent Alceme from seeing her opponent clearly. Blood rushed through her ears and flushed her cheek Water poured down her face, and now she couldn’t tell the difference between the relentless downpour and her own tears. It was all happening too fast.
Someone pushed her against the ground. Skin met hard concrete. Vision blurred. Thought raced for a way out. A foot planted firmly on her back. She felt them rip her satchel off of her. Alcemene was lightheaded.
"Aw,” said Daggur, his voice low. It was a whisper, but to Alcmene, it felt like all her worries finally caught up to her and started screeching in her ears. “Poor little Alcmene.”
“Y’know, you had so much potential.” The voice was farther away now. “Sad that your mind wasn’t in the right place. You would’ve made a fine warrior. You would have joined my ranks. You don’t need magic. You don’t need that stupid book.”
“Why do you need it if you’re just so powerful?” It tasted like honey on the tip of her tongue as she heard Daggur grunt in anger.
His tone turned colder, but his words were a sickly sort of sweet. “Why, dearest, I’m doing it only to protect you.”
“You didn’t want to teach me magic. You were afraid. Afraid I’d betray you? And take your place? You don’t understand, Daggur. I need magic. I’m a magician. It’s part of who I am.” Her voice was barely a whisper now, her chest heaving as her lungs begged for a break.
“So you say.” It sounded like he was considering something. Alcmene couldn’t see his face, as one of the guards shoved her face deeper into the ground. She could barely breathe. “This book…it holds every single spell ever known to magiciankind, yes?” When she didn’t answer, he chuckled one of his cruel laughs.
“Why, Alcmene. Thank you so much for this wonderful gift.” This time, she couldn’t bear it any longer. She thrust her head up, even if she thought it would break her neck. The guard holding her head down stepped back in surprise.
She gasped for air, just for a second, before she rolled over, causing the guard pinning her down to lose their grip. She stood up before any of the others could react and faced Daggur in defiance. All the others stood back in fear. How pathetic.
“You don’t know what you’re dealing with.” Her voice was hard and her gaze even more so. Daggur looked unamused, standing calmly with the book held comfortably in her hands. A surge of anger pulsed through her, giving her new energy. It didn’t belong in his grubby fingers.
“Mother- she-” But he cut her off with such ferocity that it made all her newfound courage shrink back to where they came.
“Your mother was a traitor!” He snarled.
“Why, because she was a magician? Because she used magic?”
"No, it’s not that-”
“Oh, so what is it that makes her a traitor, Daggur? Because she had me?” He didn’t respond. “Everything she did, she did for you, Daggur! She used her magic for you, she studied it for you!”
“And look where that got her!” Daggur blurted, voice full of loathing.

Silence.

Shock. Anger. Clear thoughts turned into fractured frames. Fists. Screaming. Blood. Through the mess, Alcmene grabbed her wand from a hidden pocket in her tunic.
Finally. Alcmene’s favorite part of her whole plan- magic. Some firecracker spells, which made Daggur drop the book, and a simple smoke bomb spell were all it took for her to escape. Oh, it was too easy.
It was a whole act, really, the whole ‘Oh no, Alcmene’s in danger again, Daggur, you won!’ It was risky, letting him hold the book and all. But the looks on their faces, oh my goodness. They were everything. Fear.
Her performance was amazing. Worth all the weird looks she got from squirrels when she tried crying on demand. The last time Daggur had seen Alcmene, she was just a little girl. But ever since she’d found the book—her mother’s book—she had grown. Oh, Daggur. Such a naive, little soul. Mother was all Alcmene lived for—her smile, her laugh, just her. But he took that away.

And she’s just as ready to take everything away from him, exactly the same as he did to her.

As she vanished into the forest, the book tucked snugly in her arms, covered by the tall, thick shadows and protected by the pines’ trunks, she snickered.
Get ready, Daggur.
She gripped her wand tighter and grinned like she did when her mother used to make her toys from her spells.

Get ready Father.

❧ 03/22/24 ○ Pathetic Fallacy Daily ○ 260 words ○ 450 points

Writers use a lot of figurative language, and today we're focusing on just one type: pathetic fallacy. Similar to personification, pathetic fallacy is when a story utilizes the environment to convey emotions by using typically human actions (ex: weeping raindrops, dancing leaves, etc). For 300 points, write a story of at least 250 words using pathetic fallacy to convey an emotion. Then, post it in the comments for 150 more points and see if anyone can guess which emotion it is!

We drove down the empty street, looking out the windows of the car at the aftermath of the vicious snowstorm. The sun had come out and harshly melted most of it away, and the small drifts that remained were sad and doomed. The snow had done some damage—tree branches lay snapped and useless on the ground, some unfortunate power lines had suffered the same fate, and the grass that had been shyly turning green and poking towards the sky was now shriveled and brown.
The storm had been around a week ago, and it was a wild one—the wildest one we’d seen in years. They had said to expect anywhere from five to ten inches the first night. We got fifteen. By the second day of the storm, we had eighteen inches of snow. And it wasn’t fluffy powder—it was wet, heavy stuff that compacted and turned into slush when it warmed up. The snowblower couldn’t handle it by the time it started to get heavier.
We got off pretty okay. A lot of people lost power or got buried inside their houses. Or both, in some cases. Overall, we had around two broken tree branches and our garage roof’s gutter was bent so that the top faced outward because of the weight of the snow on it.
It wasn’t the worst snowstorm we’ve had. The snow melted off the streets quickly and some areas only got around two inches, and the temperatures weren’t that low.
I’m fairly certain it broke a couple records, though—it was a truly ambitious snowstorm.

TechNerd64 wrote:

A possible solution is using scratchattach to get information from Wikipedia's API. I may be wrong. It's just an idea

Normally, that'd be good but i want it to be in vanilla scratch

There should be a multitouch extension.

Just create topics for this, this is considered a “suggestion hub”.

daily for march 22nd
346 words
The winter wind blew furiously through the city streets, causing the trees lining the sidewalks to bend and sway. The branches groaned and creaked in protest as the wind tried to push them around, but they held fast. It was as if they were trying to say, “We refuse to bow down to the might of the wind. We may bend, but we will not break.”

Across the street stood a lone figure, a young woman with dark hair and a look of sadness in her eyes. She had been caught in the storm, and now she stood huddled in the entrance of a store, trying to stay out of the wind. But the wind was relentless, and soon she was soaked through and through, her clothes sticking to her body and her hair wild and messy. The trees could feel her pain, as if their branches had a mind of their own, and they reached out to her, as if trying to offer protection from the storm.

Even the streets seemed to be crying, with rainwater flowing down the gutters in tiny rivulets, as if the city itself was weeping for the young woman. The trees and the city, the wind and the rain, all seemed to be united in their sadness for the young woman, as if they were saying, “We stand with you, we feel your pain, and we will help you weather the storm.”

It was as if the pathetic fallacy had come to life, as if the emotions of the trees and the city, the wind and the rain, had been imbued with a sense of empathy and compassion, as if they were trying to lift up the young woman and support her in her time of need. And though she did not know it, the young woman was not alone. She had the love and support of the very world around her, and she would find a way to get through the storm, thanks to the kindness and understanding of the trees and the city, the wind and the rain.

March 23rd, 2024 Daily

The girl sits at the base of the tree, swaying back and forth with the wind as it whispers in her ear, comforting her and caring for her when she fears the unknown. The leaves of the weeping willow guard her from the hard-hearted and cruel outside world, creating underneath it, a haven for her.

The ground slopes downward slightly from where she sits, rolling into a river where the water flows gently as the edges lap the rocks on the side. The river calls to her, and she looks up from watching the grass being rustled by the wind with its every breath. For a moment, its mellowness almost lures her down to it, but she shakes her head to clear the thought, the foolishness, from her mind, because the river, with its lies to cover up every one of its misdeeds, all of its many betrayals, will not care for her, will not protect her. Not the way the wind does. Not the way the tree does.

As the sun began to dip beyond the hills ahead, so did its harsh rays fade to a soothing alternative, washing the clearing in golden yellow and bathing it in sunlight.

With afternoon giving way to evening, the girl watches the bitter place that she once feared turn to instead a patient forest filled with the many things that would fight against the despair night brings. Dusk, she thinks, is the kindest of the times of day, never bringing with it the shame of morning and midnight.
~
Word count: 256 words

idk the title: maybe the chrysalis? wings? her wings? idk
tw: bullying of children and very manipulative parents, also basically racism, a little different but more or less the same.


At the edge where the meadow meets the forest, the dogwood grove grows, and when these trees bloom, they are covered in chrysalises, but these are not the chrysalises of ordinary insects, these belong to young faeries

Sylvie Wonderwish like all wingless ones, had no bigger dream than getting her wings so that she would finally be a real faery, especially since nearly everyone else had gotten to build their chrysalises, but the queen had not given her permission yet.

That morning she’d been taking care of the centipedes with her mother Cerise, a chemist who used their venom for medical purposes, when her best friend Briar ran over, eyes bright, antennae quivering with excitement.

“I’m going to get my wings!” he said, with a grin that took up his entire face.

Sylvie had grinned and congratulated him, but then his parents Dianthe and Cassian had put him on their shoulders to fly with him and her mother Cerise went with them too. Sylvie had to follow them to the grove alone on the ground, riding one of the centipedes.

She’d tried not to feel so lonely, of course she was happy for him. “How does it feel? Do you feel like you’re flying?”

“It’s like the world is so much more complete when I’m in the sky.”

“Just wait until you get your wings, then you’ll really be complete,” said Cassian.

“My little boy is all grown up,” Dianthe said.

“Mom, stop you’re embarrassing me.”

“Oh, let her embarrass you,” Cerise told him. “All mothers look forward to the day their children get their wings. Your parents are just proud of you.”

They’d gone on to talk about wings, and the chrysalis. Though each of them said very different things about metamorphosis. This made Sylvie pretty certain none of them really remembered what it was like. Or maybe it was different for everyone.

At the dogwood grove, when they set Briar down, she was able to hug him. “Good luck in there. You better come out with the most beautiful wings.”

He beamed. “Mom says that she thinks I’ll get deep violet wings like the night.”

“Happy metamorphosis,” said another young faery they knew named Clover.

More faeries were building their chrysalises today, not just Briar. “Remember, you don’t want brown wings,” said one mother. “Brown winged faeries were scared of changing, and I know you aren’t scared.”

“Oh, that’s a load of leaf rot,” Sylvie heard her friend Rusalka, a brown-winged faery, mutter from the front row, causing her to giggle a little.

Everyone except today’s eighteen candidates and the queen were asked to step or fly back and the queen gave a speech. “As our forest is blossoming, now it is time for you to transform into who you truly are. The time has come to shed this broken form and rise into the sky where you belong.”

Everyone cheered as the young wingless ones shared a dogwood petal, washed their hands and faces with dew drops, and then all of them climbed into the trees. Sylvie watched Briar and in less than a moment he was covered in a casing of pale green.

“Please,” she begged Cerise on the way home. “Let me make my chrysalis soon, let me ask the queen. I’m ready. I want to be a real faery.”

“The queen will tell us when you are ready.”

Sylvie crossed her arms. “You said it’s what all parents look forward to. Don’t you want to be proud of me?”

Cerise sighed. “Of course I do, but we can’t rush the queen. You’ll be a real faery one day, I promise you.”

“Mom…will I still be a real faery even if I have brown wings?”

Cerise flew down and walked next to her. “Metamorphosis is a big change, after all you have to become someone entirely new, a real faery. But not all faeries change the same amount. Even if you have brown wings, you will still be a faery, but I know you can get beautiful wings and be a better faery. You cannot be afraid to change, not like the brown-winged faeries.”

“My mom says you were afraid of change,” Sylvie said to Rusalka a few days later when they were in her workshop. “And that’s why you have brown wings.”

Rusalka didn’t look up from the twig she was sawing. “Everyone has this silly idea that bright colors are better than dull colors, because bright colors are more beautiful.”

“So… you are a real faery?”

Rusalka looked at her. “I could have purple wings, or striped red and black, and I wouldn’t be any more of a faery. And I’ll tell you a secret: You’re just as much of a faery as me, or your mother, or the queen.”

She shook her head, making some measurements on a large cattail and cutting a notch in it. “I need my wings and magic. To be a real faery.”

“Sylvie, you know those aren’t the only things that make you useful right? Few other fairies can build and work with machines and mechanisms the way you do. And you’re very creative. What about that delivery system you’re helping me make?”

“I guess that was pretty cool of me,” she said with a little smile.

Rusalka grinned at her. “See? You didn’t need wings or magic to think of that.”

When Briar came out of his chrysalis a few days later with sunshine yellow wings, Sylvie immediately knew that this was not the same person she used to run around the meadow with, pretending that flower petals were their wings. His eyes were like pebbles in a stream, hard and unfeeling when he saw her waving to congratulate him. “What is one of the wingless doing here? Get it away from here.”

The shocking sting of those words reminded Sylvie of something Rusalka had told her once. ‘Truth be told, I don’t think any of us remember who we were before we went into the chrysalis. It changes you.’ Looking at Briar now as he admired his wings and let others fawn over them, she knew what Rusalka had meant. Briar had gone into the chrysalis and been destroyed. Whoever this was, it was not Briar.

Cerise told her she was overreacting. “Why shouldn’t he be different? There wouldn't be any use for the chrysalis if he didn’t change.”

“Well, if that’s what the chrysalis does to you, then I’m not going through metamorphosis.”

Cerise choked on her berry a little but managed to dislodge it. “Who put this nonsense in your head?”

“I-I… don’t want to lose myself.”

“Metamorphosis won’t make you “lose yourself” it’s an upgrade.”

“But why do you care so much? Why can’t you love who I am now instead of loving who I might be one day?” Sylvie cried. “Why am I not good enough?”

“Oh, don’t try to manipulate me! Don’t try to make me feel like I’m a bad parent. I’ve given you nothing but love and guidance. You’re breaking my heart, wanting to stay half-formed, bound to the earth? Where did I go wrong?”

It hurt Sylvie’s heart to see her mother like this. “I’m sorry, I’ll get my wings. Don’t be angry.”

Sylvie was terrified the next day when she and the other five remaining wingless stood in front of the queen. “Make her proud,” she whispered to herself under her breath. The queen began her speech.

“No…” Sylvie said to herself at first, and then louder. “No. I’m not broken. I-I'm sorry mom. But I don’t need a chrysalis to fix me because I’m fine the way I am.” She felt her confidence start growing. “You were always the ones who wanted me to change. Rusalka is the only winged faery who ever thought that I mattered because I was me. I still think change would be good. I want wings, but not for that price.”

“Sylvie Wonderwish,” said the queen. “There is simply no way to get wings except metamorphosis.”

But Sylvie wouldn’t let this discourage her. “I’ll find a way. I’m very smart.” She heard several faeries laughing before quickly stopping with embarrassed coughs.

“If you do not go through metamorphosis, then I have no choice but to ban you from our society for you are refusing to become a true faery.”

Sylvie looked around. Everyone glared at her, Briar, Clover, Cerise was weeping. They really could not handle the idea of her not wanting to build a chrysalis. “Rusalka?” she called softly, dreading the way her mentor would react, but reaching out for that spiderweb of hope.

“I’m coming.” Rusalka landed next to her and took Sylvie by the hand. “It’s alright.” She glared at the queen. “If everyone here is so hateful, then I have no place here.”

Sylvie’s eyes widened. “You can’t leave everything behind!”

“I’ll bring my tools and we’ll start fresh.”

They left and no one stopped them. And as they packed up the tools and everything else that they could carry or strap to an earthworm, Sylvie’s guilt had not quite left her, but she was excited to change for herself. She would be fine, Rusalka would keep on guiding her. As they left, she turned to Rusalka. “Do you think it’s possible to build wings?”

“That depends. Why do you want wings?”

Sylvie knew this was a test, and though she was still hurt and shocked, she was done wanting to be like other faeries. “To see the sky.”

Rusalka smiled. “Then build some wings.”