Ok, here is a example of my writing!
*
Raven~~
Raven stood, the warm sand underneath her feet, the wind in her hair, the sun beating down upon her thin shoulders. The waves crashing on the shore seemed to build a song, a song of peace, a promise of a new beginning. But, if you listened further, there was a dangerous sort of sound to it as well. She could see Max’s head bobbing, in and out of view in the water. He was trying to climb back onto his surfboard after he wiped out on a large wave. Raven hugged a small, white book to her chest. In curly, neat writing, the cover read;
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Ravena Aring Oringale
*
Ravens full name, her true name, her secret name. It wasn’t a true secret, for Max knew, and June knew, and Silvern knew, but it still felt like a secret. A secret she could keep as close to her chest as the small book was.
*
She caught Max’s eyes, and, he was one of the only people she did this with, held his gaze. She moved her hand up slightly, and gave a small wave. He was now on his surfboard again, and returned her wave, before a Wave knocked him off again. Raven giggled, her eyes where lit up with joy, joy was a feeling she rarely had...she sighed, a sound like the first breath of a newborn baby, so quiet that if you weren’t listening very closely for it you would miss it.
*
She opened the small book, gently settling herself on the soft sand, and began to write.
*
She wrote, in the same neat, curly penmanship as on the front of the book:
*
Dear Diary,
I am on the beach, as I often am, listening to the sounds of the waves crashing upon the beautiful shore.
*
She paused for a moment, looking up from her journal, and looking around. Her eyes, once again, fell upon Max. She smiled. He was tumbling of Of his board again. She could hear his laughter, even with the sound of the waves and the wind.
*
Max, my dear cousin, bashed by the viscous, yet gently, waves tumbles through the air yet again, before crashing into the endless sea. His laughter, louder even then the screeching of the wind, makes its way to my ears.
*
Raven looked up yet again, her pencil hovering just above the page. She turned her head, her eyes finding Silvern, who was crouching in the sand, a large hermit crab in front of them, scuttling toward them. Raven smiled yet again. How Silvern managed to make animals trust them, even the most skittish animals, amazed Raven. Though, maybe it shouldn’t, because she, herself found trusting Silvern to come naturally. And she was just as skittish as any chipmunk.
*
Silvern, oh Silvern, a mystery yet to be solved, is crouching in the cold sand near the edge of the shore, the waves crashing over their knees. A crab, a quite beautiful specimen, scuttles toward them, seeming to put full trust in the human in front of them. How I wonder how Silvern manages to gain every animal-they-have-ever-met’s trust. I marvel out how gentle Silvern can be, when they seem so, well, bold around other people.
*
She glanced back up from the book, to see Silvern, still crouching, but the crab was crawling into their hands. She gasped. She had never seen a crab behaving like this around humans. She slowly closed her journal, watching Silvern, amazed. Silvern’s lips moved, as if they where talking to the hermit crab, who clicked its pinchers, almost as if it was responding. Silvern nodded their head, beginning to stand up, slowly, the crab still standing in their cupped hands, and began to walk, slowly edging farther down the beach, away from Raven.
*
Raven couldn’t stop staring where Silvern had been, but was no longer. She didn’t glance away until she felt a strong hand on her shoulder. She jumped and let out a terrified little shriek.
*
“Wow, sorry Rave’s, I didn’t mean to scare you!” She let out a sigh of relief, it was only Max, her cousin, and best friend. She turned toward him. “Are you ok, Raven?”
*
“Yeah, I’m f-fine...” she said, only stuttering slightly. Max put his wet strong arm around her thin shoulders.
*
“Ok, then.” He said, squeezing her shoulders slightly. They just stood there in a beautiful silence for what felt like forever, his warm breath against her neck. She was warm, because he was blocking the wind from reaching her.
*
“Max?” She asked, biting her lip slightly.
*
“Yes?” He said, moving his arms off of her shoulders.
*
“Nothing...” she said, and Max raised a eyebrow, she broke away from his gaze, staring out at the ocean. “W-we should find Silvern...I-It’ll be dark soon...” she said glancing up at the sky. Max nodded, and the two of them began walking along the shore, in the direction of Silvern.

Applying for writing! Here is an example:

Dad doesn’t say he loves me or anything relevantly close to that as I force open the door of his ancient Chevy. It’s okay, though- I stopped expecting things like that a long time ago. Swinging my tattered black backpack on, I slouch low and stare determinedly at the ground. There’s actually a lot to learn from staring at the ground. You notice the little bits and pieces making the concrete. Miniscule critters dash across the pavement leading up to school, racing the wind- and, today, losing. January air in Connecticut is brutal. It’s as though Mother Nature was sitting around one day, eating pineapple or whatever, then she was just like hey, I have a great idea- let’s give all those folks down in Connecticut frostbite! Yeah, thanks lady. 

The front doors welcome me to my doom. I don’t mind the learning part so much- I just can’t stand being called on. I’m not shy. I just hate talking. I think it’s called antisocial. I’m not sure, though, I don’t read often. I walk down the smelly hallways, passing the water fountain that tastes like sulfur. Turning right, I bound up the stairs, going to the first classroom on the left. The little plaque hanging up by it reads Mrs. Glara, Math, and under it, 8th grade homeroom. 

“Good morning!” she greets me as I walk through the door. You don’t realize how often people tell that lie,do you? Like, if your car broke down and you spilled your $3 coffee, you’re not going to walk up to someone and say hey, crappy morning! Are you? I ignore her, taking my usual spot in the back row. I slide my sketchbook out of my backpack. Oh, my sketchbook. I doubt I would survive without it. Riffling past my previous doodles of aliens and dinosaurs, I find some empty space. Today, I’ll draw… a fireball. A blazing, fiery core with flaming tails, slamming into the Earth with a strong force. Like the fire that came crashing into my soul, yearning for the life I once had, eating away at the happy, bubbly girl I had once been. Then I realize… crap. I forgot to go to my locker. As I stand up to leave, a bunch of kids from a bus stream up the stairs. The only reason I don’t go on the bus is because my Dad works in a State Farm building 100 yards away. Otherwise, he would gladly drive away and allow me to fend for myself. I gather my stuff for my morning classes- history, science, spanish, ELA- and slouch back to the classroom. I notice Danielle Pamer, who’s life ambition, it seems, is to find 100 gajillion ways to insult people, many of which I have been subject to. She’s trash-talked me from my fire-truck red hair to my broken family.

Today, she’s complaining about a shopping trip she went on with her mom. They didn’t have the right colors, she couldn’t find the right sizes. She makes me boil with hatred. Doesn’t she realize that I haven’t had a mother-daughter date in 8 years?

Well, duh. Of course she does.

(Thku)

Thank me for what? 

Could I apply for 2 areas? Photography and Art?  *frantically searches for a good drawing* Ah Hah! This is a drawing Of Gabbie Hanna

Here’s some of my photography...

I'll apply for either writing or art, I suppose. You can just place me in whichever you need more people for.

Attached is a sample of my recent writing, which has been edited slightly for language. I'll put an art sample in a different comment.

—— 

The ride back is uncomfortable, silent except for the tinny hum of music trickling through the speaker and the continuous, worrying rattling of the engine that resounds throughout Caden's dad’s beat up pickup (thus “borrowed” for this excursion), which probably should have been retired in the ’90s.

Nadia stares out the window, watching the houses and street lamps blur together until they’re just one puddle of conception, tilted faces sprinkled with moonlight. There’s something pretty— if unsettling—about seeing familiar places at night, as if there’s a newness pulled over them like a shroud that, despite the darkness, makes you see them all the more clearly.

This whole thing was a mistake, Nadia thinks bitterly. Stupid Caden and his stupid ideas.

All too soon, they pull up in front of Nadia’s house. The front light is still on. Nadia gathers her courage, checks her pocket for her keys, breathes, and pushes open the car door.

“Thanks for the ride,” she says.

“If he murders you, can I have your Nightmare Before Christmas poster?” Caden asks, with trademark sensitivity.

“Sure,” says Nadia glumly. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you.”

Caden peels away just as Nadia reaches the door and she stands there on the doorstep for a second, watching the headlights fade into the distance.

After another moment, she gathers her courage and fumbles with her keys, not even trying to be quiet. There’s no point to secrecy by now— As much as she would have liked to avoid it, there’s nothing for it now but to own up to this mess. She pushes the door open.

And there, sure enough, is Theo, his slanted silhouette leaning against the wall, arms crossed, as if waiting. Even though his face is cast into shadow in the darkened hallway, Nadia can already sense the ferocious death glare aimed her way. He wishes he had the foresight to write a will.

“Heyyy, Theo,” says, with forced nonchalance.

“I repeat,” Theo says, switching on the light. “Where the ever-loving heck were you.”

I would love it if Leeli and I could be partners! :)

JIkHey Applying for art! This is my most recent drawings and the one in the top right is Starseeker’s They are all in different variations of my style. From semi realistic, my regular style I usually draw in and cartoonish. The left top is a redraw of the bottom dude except more realistic (ish!) ok, enough talk here is he page ;)

I'll apply for writing-- here's a sample:

I awake to the soft whispering of two people.

“This is all your fault,” one hisses, a girl. She sounds agitated.

“I wasn’t the one who put it on the tables!” another argues, a guy this time.

There’s a hand on my forehead, stroking my hair back. It pauses as the girl speaks again.

“But you gave it to her!” the girl’s voice says again, sounding less defiant and more broken. “You gave the Nectar to her.”

“How was I supposed to know?” the guy’s voice argues. The hand continues.

“Stop it, all of you,” a second girl’s voice says, calm but firm. “She’s waking up.”

Instantly the hand is withdrawn and a weight removed from the left side of the bed near my head-- the person who was stroking my hair out of my face has stood up.

My eyes flutter open. There are five people standing in this room, and while my foggy brain takes a second to recognize them, it recognizes the room instantly. It’s one of Maylene’s, the bottom room where she does most of her work. I’m lying on a cot in the corner, all five other people scattered throughout the room.

There’s Jasak standing closest to me, looking at me with concern. Sterling had been pacing by the far wall but she’s turned towards me now with hope in her gaze. Maylene stands on my right, arms crossed and assessing my condition. Feroc stands by the door and he shoots me a small smile when he sees me looking at him. I roll my head to the right and see the fifth person, the one who had been arguing with the girl I now recognize as Sterling.

“What are you doing here?” I whisper, unable to manage anything above that volume for the moment, and Fehnein smiles sadly. 

“Making sure I didn’t kill you with my clumsiness,” he whispers back. “I’m so, so sorry, Zoey. I truly didn’t know you were allergic to Amaryllis Nectar.”

“I didn’t either,” I say. Sterling clears her throat.

“It runs in the family,” she says. “I should have known you wouldn’t remember. I’m sorry.”

I shake my head. “No. It’s not your fault either. No-one made me eat it or touch it. That part was all me.”

I flop my head back over and look at Jasak, who looks unhappy still. “Thanks for bringing me here,” I say. “I wasn’t conscious for most of it but thank you anyway.”

Jasak cracks a smile but it still looks strained. “You’re welcome, Zoey,” he says. “I should probably be getting back now, though.”

“Oh, okay,” I say, but he’s already turned abruptly on his heel and brushed past Feroc through the door.

“What’s his problem?” Fehnein mutters, and Sterling shoots him a sharp look. He raises his hands defensively. “What?” he asks her. “I’m in his next class and I know it doesn’t start until 9. That’s an hour from now. He has nowhere to be.”

“You don’t know that,” Sterling says stiffly. “There are some things that you aren’t privy to, fledgling.”

“Then why aren’t you attending to them? Why send your second best?” Fehnein shoots back. Feroc pushes himself off the wall and Maylene takes a step back, not wanting to get in the middle.

Feroc takes a slow step towards Fehnein and puts his arms behind his back, showing off his huge biceps and massive frame. Rather than being cowed, though, Fehnein stands taller, almost matching Feroc in height, and shakes his shaggy hair back, fixing Feroc with his defiant turquoise gaze.

“Stay out of it, fledgling,” Feroc growls. “What Save does is not your concern.”

“And what if I think it should be?” Fehnein says, raising his chin higher.

“Guys, stop, please,” I cry. “We’re all stressed out, okay? I get that. But you don’t need to fight it out.”

Feroc breaks his eye contact with Fehnein and looks at me struggling to sit up. Maylene comes forward and tries to make me lay down again but I push her away. As I do, I see that the pads of my fingers are still blackened, like I’d put my fingertips in black paint. But I don’t care at this moment. I just want to avoid a fight.

Feroc hesitates and nods. “All right, Zo. I won’t fight this fledgling. But if he puts one toe over the line--” his voice goes low and threatening-- “not even you will be able to stop me.”

I nod. “Thank you, Feroc.”

He nods again, shoots a dirty look at Fehnein, and leaves. The door shuts behind him and then it’s just Sterling, Fehnein, Maylene, and I in a room with the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.

“Zoey--” Fehnein starts, but I hold up a hand.

“You too.”

“Zoey--” he tries again, but I interrupt, making my voice more commanding.

“No. Go.”

Fehnein opens his mouth, shuts it again, and leaves without another word. I flop back onto the pillows, suddenly exhausted. Sterling comes forward and sits on the bed by my face, looking at me appraisingly.

“You handled that well,” she says. “Father would be proud. He was always trying to teach you and Zorinth how to behave. You’ll make a fine leader someday.” She rests her hand on my forehead for a quick moment and then leaves, the door shutting quietly behind her before I can say anything.

I don't know if we're allowed to request partners, but if we are, @Abigail, do you want to work with me?

~Starseeker 

Hmm, sounds cool! I'll apply for either poetry or writing. I'm a bit pressed on time now, but I'll provide an example later!

If we’re allowed to apply for more than one thing, I’d like to apply for art as well. @Tux, assuming we’re allowed to request partners (and also assuming that I can apply for art in addition to poetry) would you want to work together?

And one other thing, @Program Director, do I still need to post examples of my poetry/art? I’m assuming we’re doing the Admin’s idea.

I don't mind who I'm paired with. 

I’d like to apply for photography! 

Ok, everyone, who would you like too be partnered with? I’d like too see before I make pairs.