WOOOO 7TH PAGE



ALSO I HAD THIS SUPER COOL IDEA FOR A TITLE:

Irresponsible Commander or Dedicated Family Man?
Unsolicited Opinions on Rommel’s Wartime Vacations

I MEAN IT NEEDS SOME POLISHING BUT I THINK IT'S PRETTY OKAY


Rommel was actually away on vacation with his family during the beginning of both El Alamein and D-Day
So. I decided to make (I mean, I decided that I will hopefully make) something out of that!

Cringeyness levels of my thread, from 1-10
Note: these only include my own posts, and not anyone elses'


Page 1: 2
Practically non-existent: just a bunch of pretty funny and interesting, albeit rushed, pieces. Sandstorm was a bit eww but everything else was mostly fine.

Page 2: 3
A few more random pieces. This page was a bit overly Rommel-centered, which contributed much to its score, but overall it's not too bad either.

First half of Page 3: 2.5
As a rule I dislike my unfinished pieces, because I always have a feeling that I'll never finish them. The original/unfinished version of TJWMT is here, hence the score, but literally everything else is alright.

Second half of Page 3: 4.5
The mc daily for March 6th, Misty's birthday gift, and the first part of Weekly 2 were all kinda weird, honestly.

Page 4: 4.9
TJWMT could've been better. I'll leave it at that.
Plus its A/N was pretty rambly and fangirly – not necessarily bad things, just not quite good in its situation
I LOVE WHAT I HAD FOR THE THIRD WEEKLY BUT I DIDN'T GET TO FINISH SOBBBBBB
For task 4, my morning and noon parts were normal and fine enough. I didn't like afternoon nor evening as much. Certainly not because I disliked the subject matter (hey, Monk and TLLH are two of the few fandoms I'm actively dedicated to these days, and I'm just checking out Sherlock these days) but because I feel like I didn't write them really well ^^'

Page 5-7: 2
Just a bunch of rambly stuff. It's too incoherent to be cringey (at least I hope so sksjdfk).
I also rather like my work for my writing class too.
Plus my moon poem and ATLWCS reflection were nice
















it would be much preferred if you didn't hunt down the stuff I find cringey ;D

B-Day on D-Day

June 4th, 1944

Field Marshal Erwin Rommel stared forlornly at the stacks of paperwork, letters, and diagrams in front of him, all regarding the same subject: defense. He had been overseeing the construction of the Atlantic Wall for, what, half a year now? It was extremely tiring work, and although the Allies would probably land at Calais, there were many other possible points as well. Hence the mines and bunkers stretching along nearly 4,000 kilometers of the French coast.

But he had something to look forward to. Tuesday, the 6th, was his wife’s 50th birthday, and it would be quite a shame to miss that! He had already asked to go on leave yesterday after hearing the meteorologist's report of bad weather. And seeing the storm raging outside his window, Rommel couldn’t see a way how the Allies could possibly invade tomorrow. He would leave later today, but he had to bring a birthday gift for Lucie, of course. And he knew just the thing… a pair of nice shoes!

Humming merrily (something he didn’t do all that often), Rommel packed up his things and headed out.


A few weeks prior…

The Allies were preparing for the invasion of France, dubbed Operation Overlord, and they were very diligent at it too.

Eisenhower, who was supreme commander of the operation, had ordered a thorough analysis and study of everything that could play a part in the invasion: German defenses along the coast, weather, terrain of the planned attack, and a huge bunch of logistics: it would be no easy feat to get so many troops and equipment and transport across the English Channel.

Monty was Ike’s ground forces commander, and he was pretty proud of that. Patton was a tad annoyed, but these days he was too excited about Overlord. Granted, there were still debates about the exact plans, and the attack date had to be pushed back to June, but everything has been going quite well.

One day Monty was eating his roasted chicken and drinking tea during lunch when Patton took his plate with a hamburger-

“Liberty steak,” Patton huffed to Monty, who looked typically skeptical and also slightly confused.

Ahem, yes, the plate with a liberty steak, chicken nuggets, and French fries. Patton took it to the table where Monty was sitting, much to the Brit's suspicion.

“Hi there,” Monty said cautiously. Patton nodded to him almost amiably and started munching on his fries.

“Planning is going pretty well,” Patton told him.

Monty shrugged. “Guess so.”

“I mean, I'd like to think that the Germans are expecting us to land at Calais. Or maybe. Anything other than Normandy!”

Indeed, the Allies organized multiple deceptive measures to ensure that the Germans were in the dark about the operation, especially its planned location. It didn't hurt that some double agent was feeding false information to the enemy through radio. Patton even got to lead a phantom “army” to trick the Germans. The “First United States Army Group” (aka FUSAG) was totally made up, as were the decoy props and the fake radio signal.

Let's see who's leading the ghosts now, Rommel!

Monty nodded thoughtfully, understanding what Patton was referring to. “A lot like Mincemeat last year.”

“Exactly.”

“Now, why are you so nice to me?”

Patton sighed. Monty has seen right through him! “Well, I wanted to discuss something with you. It's about Rommel.”

Monty perked up at the mention of the name. “What about him?”

“ You've dealt with him a lot before. Do you have any ideas as to what special strategy that we can use on him?”

"Well, now that you mention it… I do have something,” the British general admitted. “It’s a very random idea though. And more of a tactic than strategy.”

“I’m listening.”

“So, you know that Rommel was away on vacation when El Alamein started. I was thinking we do something similar here; his wife’s birthday is on June 6th.”

Understanding dawned on Patton… but it was quickly dampened by disappointment. “Ike scheduled the invasion for June 5th, how are we going to get around that?

“Like I said, it was just a random idea, and it probably won’t work,” Monty replied flippantly.

But just as Patton and Monty were finishing up their food, Ike came walking by, seeming surprised that the two generals weren’t quarreling.

“What are you two up to?” he asked them curiously.
“Monty’s got a plan for the operation!” Patton exclaimed, then proceeded to explain every single part of Monty’s plan as Ike listened on.

Then the commander spoke: “We have to land on the 5th. It’s non-negotiable; the weather and tide are best on that day.”

Crestfallen, Patton stood up and dumped his paper plate into the trash can.



Weeks passed, and it was finally June. But Normandy was experiencing quite turbulent weather.

“We’ll postpone it to the 6th,” Ike agreed reluctantly.
Patton and Monty high-fived. It seemed like their hostility towards each other was temporarily set aside to combat their common enemy.

The week before the invasion, the Allied commanders were especially nervous. The invasion rehearsal two months ago, Exercise Tiger, had been a colossal failure, and everyone hoped that the real thing would be nothing like it.

Finally, it was the date before Operation Overlord. June 5th. The Third Army under Patton’s command wouldn’t be one of the immediate landing units at Normandy, but he was determined to give his troops a speech all the same. They had to win this war.

“Be seated.”

And on this eve of the invasion, of the day that will define the war, he continued on.


June 6th, 1944

At half past 6 in the morning, Rommel sneaked downstairs with the presents.

The past two days (or rather one day; he was mostly traveling on the 4th) at home had been an immensely satisfying break from the drudgery of French defenses. He played with his dachshund, talked and did math with Manfred, and for the most part just savored his time away from work. It was often difficult to enjoy life with the path he had chosen for himself.

But as he crept into the room, Rommel saw that he had a missed call. Could it be something from work? He picked it up and listened to the message.

“Hi boss, this is Speidel. The Allies just attacked at Normandy – they’ve sent paratroopers and they’re wrecking the place right now.”

Rommel sighed. Why did the attack just have to be on Lucie’s birthday?

Whatever; he’ll call Speidel back later. Maybe it isn’t even the anticipated attack at all, just a diversion.

When the sun rose, the field marshal greeted Lucie and Manfred cheerfully, perhaps even ecstatically, as he held the presents. And for the briefest moment, surrounded by his family and their happiness, he forgot about the war. Aren't moments like these what made everyday life worth living?

Yet when Rommel called back a few hours later, at 10 o’clock, he knew that this was it. The invasion has begun.



And thus, Operation Overlord commenced.

American and British troops touched down on the five beaches between Caen and Cherbourg. Canadians and Australians were there fighting, and so were soldiers from occupied nations: Poland, Czechoslovakia, Denmark, the Low Countries, Norway, Greece, and of course Free France itself.

It was a struggle for victory, for freedom. The Allies were making their way into the heart of a great enemy, paving the way to the end of this war. A new hope, heaven, rose in front of them. On that fateful day, the end began to draw ever nearer.

The war will be over in a year. Millions have died, and more will die between breakthrough and triumph. The darkest crimes have been committed, in the shadows away from sight. Yet more will suffer in the next 50 years. 75 years, 100 years. The future seemed to stretch before the world, growing faster and faster. Unstoppable.

Yet to a commander who has no idea of the fate awaiting him, awaiting the world, the sixth of June held a simple meaning: it was the birthday of his liebste Lu.

And it was this that he remembered, cherished, as he departed his family once more and touched down below the French night sky.

A/N

Hi there, thanks for reading this fanfic! Happy 78th anniversary of D-Day
In this A/N, I'll just briefly talk about the content of this fanfic.


Fact vs. Fiction
So, there's a lot of both fact and fiction mixed together in this piece. Many specific details, especially the dialogue, were completely made up. (What respectable German Chief of Staff in the 1940s greeted their commander with “Hi, boss”?). I'm also pretty sure that part of the whole premise of the story (Patton and Monty scheming to make D-Day happen on Lucie's birthday) didn't really happen in real life; Patton didn't actually know the real date of the invasion.

However, the info sprinkled around the fanfic was true: the Atlantic Wall, the preparations for D-Day, Patton's phantom army, etc. Also, the one single piece of dialogue at the end of Patton and Monty's arc was really the first sentence of the former's speech (it's probably the only real quote in this entire fanfic lol). In addition, much of Rommel's arc was more or less accurate: he went home on the 4th, stayed until the 6th, and arrived back in France in the evening that day.


Notes
Some quick notes:

a pair of nice shoes – Rommel bought Lucie a pair of shoes from Paris (which I forgot to specify in the fanfic).

liberty steak – During WWII, hamburgers were renamed to “liberty steaks” because its name sounded too German (it's interesting to note that Hamburg is actually a city in Germany, and it was captured by the British at the end of the war).

Let's see who's leading the ghosts now, Rommel! – In the invasion of the Low Countries and France, Rommel was the commander of the 7th Panzer Division, nicknamed the Ghost Division.

“Be seated” – The start of Patton's iconic speech, which was also featured in the 1970 film about him.

At half past 6 in the morning, Rommel sneaked downstairs with the presents – this is what really happened, as mentioned in Knight's Cross

his dachshund – According to the Rommel Papers, the dachshund's name was Elbo!

did math with Manfred – Although this probably didn't actually happen, Rommel loved math. Manfred was Rommel's only child with Lucie.

this is Speidel – Hans Speidel was Rommel's Chief of Staff at the time. He did call Rommel about the Normandy attack.

It was a struggle for victory (…) the end began to draw ever nearer. – This entire paragraph was heavily inspired by the song Primo Victoria by Sabaton

the fate awaiting him – Hmm, Stauffenberg, be careful with that bomb. Y'know, the guy you're trying to kill might just survive – we don't want to get more than a thousand people arrested and/or executed (cough cough Rommel), would we?

liebste Lu – “dearest Lu”: it was what Rommel always addressed Lucie in his letters to her.


Sources
I used too many sources for me to name all of them :'D

However, I'm pretty sure I used two articles from History.com, and also a short e-book that I saved to my computer about the Omaha beach landings (I never got to read it before and I only used the first three pages in researching the fanfic, sadly). Also, I miiiight have used Wikipedia for a very small detail (that there was a storm on June 5th) which was still searchable by cross-referencing this fact.

During my Rommel phase (like 6 months ago) I've learned about this incident of Rommel being away for Lucie's birthday on D-Day. But I was also reminded of it pretty recently by this short from Extra Credits! It's what sparked the whole idea



So yeah, that's all! :> I hope you enjoyed reading my fanfic. Happy 78th anniversary of D-Day!

That was really good, Shadow! One thing, what is an A/N?

-DesVision- wrote:

That was really good, Shadow! One thing, what is an A/N?

Tysm!
A/N stands for “author's note,” but I'm not sure why there's a slash between the letters. I'm typing out the A/N right now, so you might want to check back in 10 minutes or so!

placeholder for something i shall put here in ~8 hours

actually sorry nevermind i want it to show up with the proper date on forums so see next post

Barbarossa

The German invasion of the Soviet Union took place 81 years ago today. Both sides suffered massive casualties, and the consequences of the operation would eventually change the tide of the war.
Acrostic poem.

Borne out of deadlock,
At the British Channel
Ruthless plan hatched
Breaks the fragile bond
As blitzkrieg upheaves the land
Relentless advance, heavy bloodshed
Over at the Union’s capital, finally
Soviets halt the winter charge
Snow kept falling
Ashes on the wind

Sarajevo 1914

108 years ago, on the 28th of June 1914, Serbian nationalist Gavrilo Princip assassinated Archduke Franz Ferdinand, heir to the Austro-Hungarian throne. This event would lead up to declaration of a war that would eventually claim 20 million lives, both military and civilian.
-
Yet another acrostic poem! This time, read the first letters of each line, then the last letters. They should spell out a phrase! Sticking to this format was quite difficult, but I think I managed to do it well enough ^^

A fateful day with consequences tragic

Sarajevo, Serbians waiting with stealth
Hidden in the streets, calmness a mere ephemera
On the spirit of anger following annexation
The Black Hand’s wrath would spring

The archduke refused to hide
Heading to the hospital, he wished to pay a visit
And though he was out of bomb’s reach
There would be no evading the fatal gunfire

While the fervent hostility grew
Only a few knew what the world would undergo
Ultimatum refused, now came war
Leaders’ peace pleas falter and fail
Death and fire thus reign until the end

JULY 2022 SWC

stuff is below



(sorry i did this kinda late lol)

Weekly 1

Note: this weekly contains moderate spoilers for The Long Long Holiday, very mild spoilers for Monk, and relatively heavy spoilers for All the Light We Cannot See. Proceed at your own risk!

Part 1: Character consistency

Character reference sheet for Ernest Bonhoure (from the miniseries The Long Long Holiday)
Series continuing or ended?: Ended

Pronouns: he/him
Sexuality: unspecified
Species: human
Age: 10-11 at beginning of series (late 1939), 15-16 at end (September 1944).

Strengths: Brave, thoughtful, sincere, loyal/committed
Weaknesses: Blunt in speech, bossy, distrustful
Former weaknesses: A bit socially awkward

General view of life: Not hateful – more optimistic and lighthearted in the beginning, but increasingly less so due to the situation of war. Still, it eventually settles more towards hopeful as the occupation ends.

Relationships:
- Friends: Robinsons (Jean Guibert, Fernand Geber, Marcel Morteau, Gaston Morteau, Lily).
- Family: Colette Bonhoure (sister), Robert and Lucy Bonhoure (parents), René and Emilie (maternal grandparents)
- Enemies: Marcel and Gaston (formerly), Paul Tissier (formerly), Mr. Tissier, Durand, Colonel von Krieger, Hans.

Tendencies:
- Being irresponsible towards his family, especially Colette.
Improvement: Considerable improvement throughout the show, though with relapses (particularly in episode 7, one of the dire moments of the storyline).

- Takes impulsive actions under duress
Improvement: stays the same.

- Becoming pessimistic and even cynical in certain situations
Improvement: no improvement initially (as a matter of fact, this got especially worse in the middle and late episodes of the series) but eases up in the last episode


Situations:
Loss of a friend/loved one (due to death or absence)
Emotions: Regret, blame towards the people who were involved (mainly the Germans)
Awareness of others: Mostly brooding and silent, but also communicates with his friends/family.
Next step: Sometimes references the matter when talking to someone he is close to (often Colette or the other Robinsons), but doesn’t quite know how to deal with it.
Outcome: Dwells and reflects on the matter for a while, but is eventually forced to get on with life.

Confronted by an unfair degree (by the occupation authorities)
Emotions: Feeling of unfairness and indignation.
Awareness of others: Knows that his friends and family most likely feel the same way about the matter, but also realizes that disobeying the rules could result in dire consequences.
Next step: Either reluctantly comply with the decree or silently take actions in resistance.
Outcome: Mostly unsuccessful in making change on a large scale, but is often able to help others on a more personal level


Making decisions:
Emotions: Somehow simultaneously hesitant and certain at the same time.
Awareness of others: Thinks about how decisions will affect them but doesn’t directly ask them about it
Next step: Makes decisions based on his own insights
Outcome: Others are sometimes unhappy about these decisions, and in the end they may not have to most favorable consequences. Sometimes, though, the choice that Ernest makes would help keep his family and friends safe.


Scenario: Ernest getting ready to play a video game with friends – or more specifically, the Roblox game Flicker– when some little problems arise.

Note: This is a crossover with Monk, so that's why some of its characters would be mentioned.
Also, this is something of a crack fic, so just don’t worry too much about when and where this is set in! I’m perfectly aware that there weren’t computers or communication into the future in the 1940s. I tried to get personality (of both Ernest and the rest of the Robinsons) across as well as I could, but video games isn’t the best topic to do that </3 also, the situations I listed didn’t really come up ;-; still, this was a fun little fic hehe

701 words

Moving his mouse, Ernest hovered over the green “Play” button at the bottom of the screen. “Are we sure that this is going to work?” he asked hesitantly, glancing around the computer lab at other Robinsons. When almost everyone just gave half-hearted shrugs, he sighed, but continued on nonetheless. Everyone followed.

“Benjy said that the people on his side are coming in too,” Jean reported as he looked down at his phone. “They're just waiting for Mr. Monk, I think.”

The Robinsons sat back and watched the queue slowly fill up until it was up to 11.

“Isn’t he the consultant?” Ernest asked Jean, Fernand, and Marcel. “I’ve heard that he’s kind of strange.” According to Benjy, though not in these exact words, Adrian Monk was a man who wiped his hands all the time; had a keen aversion to germs, heights, milk(?), and dozens of other things; had severe indecision; and was painfully awkward. Quite a weirdo, but Ernest felt a bit sympathetic towards the guy nevertheless.

“Well, whatever the case, it’s been 10 minutes and the game still isn’t starting,” Lily said coolly, overhearing their conversation.

So the seven kids kept on waiting, either turning to playing something else, or (in Jean and Lily’s case) catching up on some homework that Mr. Herpin had assigned. Out of the corner of his eyes, Ernest saw Colette and Gaston play some two-player game. Paul was sitting next to them, watching with anticipation.

Apparently, it was a game by Will_Wam, shared on Scratch. It rather made sense to Ernest, seeing how his younger sister and her friend liked to code their little projects on the site. Heck, they were even almost done with their platformer game! The two kids really had some skills. So he strolled over to take a look.

“Hey Ernest!” Colette called to him. “We’re playing a beach volleyball game!”

“I’m playing winner, but they’ve been at this ever since they joined the queue for that game you’re playing,” Paul said in annoyance, swinging his legs back and forth.

Ernest eyed the scores of the two sides. Colette and Gaston were matched 4-4, and whoever wins the round-

“Yay!” Colette cheered as Gaston bopped the ball thrice, trying to get over it each time in vain. “I won!”

“Awesome job,” Gaston told her cheerfully, and he then went to look for Marcel.

“Can we play now?” Paul asked, but Ernest interrupted the two of them.

“I don’t think it’s a great idea to play another round,” he said gently to Colette. When she shook her head, he explained in a more serious tone: “I think you’d want to get ready for the match, or else you might miss out on a lot of action.”

Then, to Paul, he suggested: “Why don’t you, uh, go play some other stuff by Will_Wam?”

The two of them listened to what he said.

And as he went back to his own computer, Ernest arrived to see that Jean and Fernand were furiously typing on their phones.

Jean looked up to see him, and tried to explain the situation “You’ll never believe this…”

“But Monk finally joined!!” Fernand finished brightly.

Ernest was just about to put in his two cents’ worth of mini celebration, but just then Lily and Marcel came over. “But why were there 15 people in the queue?” the latter asked.

“What?!” Jean and Fernand cried simultaneously.

“Who could it be?” Ernest wondered out loud. “Maybe someone else that has access to our server?” Or, Benjy could have invited more people to play; it wasn’t much of a deal.

His attention was diverted from that matter after map voting ended and he got assigned his role: twins with Colette! Well, in real life they weren’t actually twins, but it fit well enough.

“Alright, make sure you pay attention in the game, okay?” Ernest told her after he walked over to where she was sitting. His anxiety must have gone clear through his voice, because Colette noticed it quite well – something rather uncommon for her.

“Come on, Ernest, I will! Don’t worry.”

With a sigh of mingled relief and nervousness, Ernest walked back across the room for the second time in as many minutes.




Part 2: Character voice

Characters are from the show Monk, and the event is the closing scene of Season 3, Episode 4 (Mr. Monk Gets Fired). Me and Misty watched it a few days ago and found it hilarious ;D

Randy: Voice 102 words, scene 374 words
Stottlemeyer: Voice 119 words, scene 455 words.

Randy Disher
Voice: Randy is a rather flighty and naive lieutenant of the San Francisco Police Department. He serves as comedic relief in the show – he has a reputation for coming up with absurd theories about the cases that Monk works on, is full of witty (or at least what he thinks are witty) quips, can be very melodramatic in his interaction with and revealing information to Stottlemeyer, and is also flippant on the job. However, he is quite dedicated to his work, even if he’s not all that formal and professional in doing so, and he demonstrates certain skill and passion in it too.

Scene:
I looked over the captain in his suit as the two of us went in front of the cameras. Hmm. A little bit messy. Maybe normally this would be fine, but we've got to look a bit better for the camera. So I brushed off his suit a little… and then thought of Monk. Oh, am I turning into him, brushing off crumbs and fixing things all the time? Whatever – it's just this once.

Then I scanned him top-down again. Alright, good enough; I patted him down on the shoulders. But his mustache seemed a bit crooked. Crooked? Or did it always look like that? Well, let me see.

When I tried to straighten it, the captain pushed my hand away. He didn't say anything, though, just let out a huff and scowled at me. We both looked at the cameras, waiting for it to start.

“And… action!”

I followed him to the crook's house, walking with something of more bravado than usual. When we got to the doorstep I paused for a bit, waiting for Stottlemyer to make his move.

He knocked on the door. “Paul Harley? Open up”

The man came out of the house with an annoyingly smug smile plastered on his face. He didn't say anything, but waited for us to continue. When we mentioned the warrant, he stared at me. I went to face him, but the captain shoved me away again.

After briefing him more on his crime, Stottlemeyer gestured to me

“Lieutenant, take this piece of garbage downtown.”

Again, this wasn't something he usually said when we got someone, but it didn't really matter.

“With pleasure,” I responded.

I grabbed the guy's arms and put them behind his back, maybe with a bit (just a bit!) more force than needed.

"Get him out of here!” I shouted as I shoved him towards the other cops.

The two of us watched as he got pulled away towards the police car.

“You know, Captain,” I began, struck by a spark of inspiration. “It’s moments like these that I remember why I joined the force. It’s where I belong. I belong behind the badge”

He just stared at me with an expression I couldn’t read. “Nevermind, Lieutenant, just… go downtown.”

I went down the steps.


Leland Stottlemeyer
Voice: Captain Stottlemeyer is Randy’s more down-to-earth and sensical superior officer. He is brisk and straightforward in talking with others, and this behavior intensifies when he is stressed or when he finds something particularly ridiculous. In addition, the captain is prone to ill-temperedness and hot-headedness. Still, despite this demeanor, he has a decent sense of humor and is often pleasant, taking Randy’ and Monk’s various quirks well. What contributes to this is that Stottlemeyer is very prideful about his position in the police department and also just the police department in general, yet he is as deeply loyal to his friends as he is to his job (like Randy is), and he tries to use his position to help them.

Scene:
We stood in front of the cameras, getting ready to perform the scene. Perhaps the constant filming was a tad annoying at my office, but it sure would be interesting to see the finished product, dramatic climax and all.

Randy stared at me thoughtfully before prodding my suit (which did not need fixing), and then he looked up. At my mustache, to be specific. Then he grabbed for it.

What in the world was he doing? Karen’s cameras were behind me, but I shoved Randy’s hand away – there was absolutely no way I would let him touch my mustache.

I glanced back. The camera isn't on yet. Alright.

Then she started filming.

“Keep your eyes open!” I yelled at the officers surrounding the house. Everything should be standard procedure despite the cameras directed on us.

We marched onto the porch, and I rapped on the door, calling for the man to come out.

He did so, and I pulled out my paper. “We have a warrant – a warrant for your arrest here,” I said carefully. “For the premediated murder of Larysa Zeryeva”

As I spoke, I realized how matter-of-fact and strict I sounded. Almost as if I was lecturing to someone. Maybe those cameras did have some effect on me after all.

“Lieutenant, take this piece of garbage downtown,” I instructed as I turned to Disher.

He put Harley forcefully into handcuffs. “Mr. Harley, you are under arrest.”

When the murderer was taken care of, Randy turned back to me. “Well, Captain, it's moments like these that I remember why I joined the force…”

With great reluctance I let him continue his short speech. It was rather ridiculous – he was obviously trying too hard.

When he finished, a short pause followed. “Nevermind, Lieutenant, just… go downtown. Book him.”

As he went down the steps, Karen came over.

“Well, how was that?” I asked expectantly.

She looked down at the camera, and then back up at me. “You're a star – you're my star.”

After a fond embrace, I turned back, and saw Randy strolling down. He wasn’t done with his monologue.

“Good versus evil, it’s the oldest struggle in the world,” he observed, sitting down on a stone bench. And in a few sentences he managed to tie together all worldly questions and become the ultimate police philosopher: “Am I afraid of dying? Everyone dies… but when I go, I’m gonna go with my badge held high and enter my house justified.”

I sighed inwardly, but I had to admit it made good show.

“Because it’s my life: my life behind the badge,” he finished with a faraway gaze.

“Stupendous!” Karen’s assistant exclaimed, and when the recording was finished, Randy beamed. I even lightly chuckled.




Part 3: Fanfic Tropes

Angst, Crossover, and Songfic (In Case You Don't Live Forever by Ben Platt) :>
This is part of a TLLH/ATLWCS crossover, but this specific fic is mostly about the latter fandom!
I think this feels a bit unfinished, but for the weekly it’ll have to be enough :’D
795 words!

Marie-Laure’s gaze swept across the whole of Paris in front of her: teeming with life, yet contained by the silence of the night. Her quiet voice rose above the gentle hubbub of the city. “I still remember so much of my father. What he’s done for me.”

Colette looked at her in hesitant curiosity, a signal for her companion to continue.

“He died. He left, he left me and my grand-uncle, and he never came back.”

Marie-Laure reached deep inside herself and pulled out the folded-away memories.



In case you don’t live forever, let me tell you now.

Daniel LeBlanc. The locksmith. Her father. The only person she recalls seeing in her first six years of sight, but whose spirit continued to glow on in her mind long after the world grew dark, long after he departed.

To most, she expected, he was not the most impressive individual. A skinny man with a sharp nose, a loyal but ordinary worker, always tinkering with his tools. How people whispered when they caught sight of the man with such unfortunate luck!

But to her, he was her everything. His everlasting patience was what guided her when she became blind. His invisible but clear laughter and smiles were the light in the black.

The days in Paris they spent together passed in so little time. What was it, now? Mushrooms at 3 o'clock, potatoes at 6. The works of Jules Verne and Dumas, piled on her drawer in careful Braille. The bustling streets of Paris, the storm drains and rain gutters, the morning birds fluttering in front of the windows. Dr. Geffard’s roasted ducks and dusty shells.

This was the life she had.

This was the life she wished she continued to have.

I love you more than you'll ever wrap your head around

But when they had to leave, her father made it bearable. She never really even realized it, on the trip to Saint-Malo. How much he tried to comfort her, to make her believe in herself.

Curses aren’t real, he’d always tell her. And neither was the danger that the Sea of Flames supposedly brought them.

And so by a turn of fate, they settled in with her grand-uncle and Madame Manec. She remembers her father whittling away at the models, making the keys, dedicating hours and hours to his work. Putting his life and soul into a model of the town. What was it all for? She didn’t know then, but it was a little lonely to see him shutting the world out the whole time.

Then he was gone.

He didn’t come back after ten days like he was supposed to, but ended up in prison. Two short letters were all that she heard of him.

“If you ever wish to understand, look inside Etienne’s house, inside the house.”

And that was when she realized.

The Sea of Flames, concealed in their little house in the model until she finally found it. That was what he referred to. The truth.

But the only truth she ever wanted then was that he would come back to her. That the bond of their love would bring him back, scoop him out of any danger and reunite him with his daughter.

He didn’t. He only wrote: “I know you will do the right thing.”

Did she do the right thing? She didn’t know. Madame Manec dead, Saint-Malo destroyed, Werner blown up into the sky. Memories laid in ashes.

In case you don't live forever, let me tell you the truth.

And when the war ended, then began the frantic searching.

It came to this: after 1943, there was nothing more of her father.

Over the years, she accepted this; it became a dull and hidden part of her existence. But the sorrow was still there, and sometimes it resurfaced. Why couldn’t he have stayed with her, why did he have to leave, why was the diamond more important than his own life-

If only she could've told him everything. If only, if only, if only everything could've gone like she wanted. But he didn't live forever. He couldn't stay. His last action was to save her, and for that he was condemned

He left her. He wanted her to have the best life, to be safe.

So ephemeral, their lives, torn by the war. Such is the injustice, the heartlessness that robbed them of each other.

Yet his light persists. Even now, as she grew ever older and further into the reaches of death, she still remembered him.

And so he lives on. Through her life, her achievements and happiness and love.

As long as I'm here as I am, so are you

They will meet again soon.




Part 4: SWC Fanfic

Wrote about what the beginning of a session of irl SWC would be like
434 words!

A thin screeching noise sounded from the stage, and quite a few people covered their ears.

“Whoops,” Birdi said apologetically. She and Robin set on to fix the microphone while the campers watched apprehensively. The leaders and coleaders were sitting further back on the stage, surveying all of the campers before them, and they were just as much bothered (if not more so) than the crowd of campers sitting before the stage.

“Well, now it finally works!” Robin exclaimed, voice ringing across the auditorium.

Birdi nodded. “Hello, everyone,” she said, addressing the campers, (co)leaders, and the other staff of the camp. “Welcome to the fifteenth session of Scratch Writing Camp! It'll be a ton of fun for all of you to complete the writing activities and socialize with each other.”

“We have cabin wars too,” Robin whispered, her tone sounding gleefully conspiratorial.

“Indeed we do!” Birdi replied good-humoredly. “Just remember to get enough sleep every day, and not worry too much about completing all of your activities!”

“Anyways, let’s go over the rules.”

Understandably, it took quite a while to cover all of the rules for the camp, but after 15 minutes and a lot of boredom on the audience’s part, it was finally done.

“Now, that concludes the opening ceremony!” Birdi finished. “Campers, please head to the sorting desk to receive your assigned cabin, and then find the group!

The leaders and co-leaders on stage stood up and walked off to the wide field near the sorting desk. Behind the fields were the paths that lead to the cabins in the woods.

So, the campers followed suit in getting up. It took a while (obviously, since there were nearly 500 people!) but they still managed to get everyone out by making them go by the rows they were seated in. At the sorting desk were high piles of paper, and the sorters were seated there.

”Hmm, let me see… aha, here's your cabin!“ Kat said to an excited camper, handing them their cabin assignment. ”Oh, and on there is your other information as well: name, word goal, memory book preference, and everything else! Have fun."

The leaders were holding up huge boards that displayed the name of their cabin. The whole field, though large, was almost not enough to fit all of the campers rushing there, and the leaders tried (in vain) to facilitate some kind of calm and order. Pretty soon, everyone was tangled up, and it took a good half-hour to get everyone situated.

But at last, it was done, and the camp was poised to have a brilliant session!

SWC July 2022 – Writing Competition Regular Entry
1922 words

She was a little girl, maybe five or six. Short-cropped hair, waddling steps, curious eyes, and a perpetually unabashed smile. Moments before, she was clutching her plush teddy bear, being tucked to sleep by her mother. Living a life any child would, any child should, every child deserves.

But now, with blisters on her feet and smile replaced by pained confusion, she watched her world crumbling before her.

With loud and angry hisses, the flames devoured the buildings on her avenue. The wooden tiles above snapped and splintered by the pressure upon them, a sickening sound like breaking bones. Panicked screams around seemed to form a barrier of sound, blocking out the houses, as the funeral pyre roared higher and higher towards the bleak starless sky.

She was alone. Her parents were just here seconds, minutes ago. They would surely come back. Like every day, they would sit together with her around the table for every meal, coddle her and still sing her to untroubled sleep with those silly songs. What other existence did she know of?

And so now she stood here, wearing a woeful expression. Waiting. She would never get what she hoped; yes, houses could be rebuilt, for they were simply material things. Yet no one could ever piece back together and resurrect the charred ashes of the dead – she simply couldn’t comprehend this concept yet.

The blaze leaped closer, and the girl was forced to back away. Now trembling, moving further behind the house, she felt the concrete burn below. There didn’t seem to be anywhere safe for her. And then something brushed against the ragged fabric of her shirt. Something warm – perhaps a lick of flames?

When she turned to look, she couldn’t see anything at first. A sea of black lay before her, as if daring her to step away. Strangely, it was as if she could feel the fire even from afar. Maybe she could: her house wasn’t the only one ablaze. Still, the absence of light spoke: it had to be something else.

There was nothing. Well, almost nothing. Because despite the darkness in front of her there was still a presence.

Hello.

The darkness spoke… the darkness spoke? A quiet voice it was too.

The child stared in silent judgment before glancing back at the fire. She could not go back; she could not go forward. So she could only stay still.

Time passed. Nothing screamed or lunged for her with jagged claws. There was nothing in the shadows, behind the shadows, or around the shadows. The shadow was something in itself.

It was shaped like a person: each inky particle formed into a hovering fabric of limbs, fingers, toes, torso, and head. They were human enough if they were able to form such a full-fledged body, right?

Admittedly, though, something about them appeared… rather two-dimensional. They were just made out of black and nothing but black. Their skull was bare and smooth on all sides, nearly in a perfect sphere. No feature that would distinguish it as a human head. If they bore a semblance of true realism, it would have been terrifying. They were not exactly real, at least not in the sense of fine detail and tangible existence.

Who was this shadowed figure?

They came closer, their feet not quite touching the ground. Reaching out their hand tentatively, they tilted their head at the girl.

Come on, little one.

Unsure of what to do, she took their hand. It was warm, and surprisingly full of substance – rather unexpected of a shadow. With a purposeful glide, the figure turned in the opposite direction, their image floating and warping in the dark. They pulled her away from the burning street. Away from her family, away from her past.

She followed, disoriented, dismayed, and full of unspoken questions. On her feet, she only wore slippers that were falling apart. There was nothing she could do; insofar she could not change her destiny.

She swallowed, hesitation creeping into her heart, and peered up at the figure that was standing over her.

“Can I call you Shadow?”

Their essence twinkling, the shadow nodded.

They and the girl trekked on, as the lights slowly faded away behind.

Step.

Another step.

On and on they went. The passersby did not seem to see, because they too were occupied by their own troubles, by their own flaming roofs. The entire city was suffering the wrath of a thousand demons, every one of them with fiery wings and whirling tails.

These monsters. It was because of them that Shadow and the girl were leaving.

The outskirts of the town were blissfully peaceful in comparison. Less panic, flames, and screams. Everyone was walking around, heads down, avoiding the singed roofs and veering around the few piles of rubble that were visible on the cobblestone.

But even here, she and Shadow could not stay. There was somewhere safer that lay in wait for the two of them, and that was where they planned on going. Or rather, just Shadow had planned.

She gazed back. Charcoal smoke, twirling above in the sky, was all that was left.

Come on.



They turned away. Now, in front of them was a road, an empty moorland, and the entirety of the silent heavens. The stars, invisible from the city, now began to emerge; they glinted fiercely, droplets of white fire scattered across black. The moon glowed too, its twin edges sharp and piercing. Silver strands of light fell down upon the haphazard duo, casting a celestial shine upon their path.

Strangely, the child seemed to have undergone a change. At the fire she was six. Under the harsh moon she was seven. With each step, the girl grew again.

But in the end, she was only mortal. What was Shadow, then?

Shadow, who had no real name. Shadow, who showed up in front of her burning house and scooped her away, away from her parents who were surely dead, away from her home that no longer exists.

She looked at them for an answer.

Things are never quite the way they seem, their smile said. But when did they ever have a face?

There is no certainty now. The night would have to end first.

The landscape offered little to show, only a few clumps of brushes here and there, and barren branches of empty trees. The chirps of crickets were so faint they were almost imperceptible. When any noise was heard by the two lonely travelers, it was either the chilling wind or the harsh rustle of the foliage it came into contact with.

It was so cold, a gray abandoned land.

But if there were others strolling along the road and admiring the view, they would happen to see the girl and her companion. Shadow. They were merely dark matter, slowly sucking in the brightness around them. But the child was a spirit of luminance herself. Light against its absence – what an oddly beautiful match! Perhaps they could persist for an eternity.



The barren dust of the moors eventually turned into wet grass of the lowlands. The two travelers were approaching the coast; they could smell the ocean from here. But something remained.

Slowly the girl’s steps slowed and her posture sagged. Shadow glanced back, their own existence shrinking as well. She could possibly refuse to go on, refuse to accompany him. But there was a reason that she must.

Because there are dangers here that no one else knows about. They could not be seen, but they could be heard, and they were rising into the night, prowling above humanity. They were not only in the city or out in the wild, but everywhere.

Shadow tried to protect her from these ashen demons. But somehow, now they really didn’t need to. She was – how old now, fifteen? And yet it seemed she still hasn’t let go.

Time had passed, but no matter what, Shadow will always stay with her, even if only in spirit.

So they held her hand more tightly, and their warmth seeped into her spirit. It was comforting and gentle, none of the burning fierceness that destroyed her home.

On this earth, there was nothing and nowhere truly safe. There were many things that humans did not understand. Perhaps they thought that they had total control of themselves, their environment, and each other. Some certainly did.

But in the end, Shadow thought as they guided the girl away from the muddled puddle on the road, there was no telling of reality.

It was with this thought in mind that they saw the water.



The great wide sea, waves rippling and splashing. Moonlight flickered onto the waves, reflecting countless tiny sparks back up into the sky. Seagulls cried out in the air, tipping their feathers to the wind and diving toward the water.

It would soon be sunset. Roots of fiery orange shot through the clouds, parting the faint blue gray. The hallway to morning has been nudged open.

Shadow and the girl now stood facing the water, at its very edge. In brighter illumination, the contrast between the two of them grew ever greater. She seemed to have completely left the land of the dead and the condemned; now she gazed down, her long hair whipping in the wind. Yet as the night was fading, so was Shadow. They were fraying at the edges. Whatever existence they ever had would very soon be gone. This was the end of the line on this journey, where they would leave her. The two of them looked back inland.

There stood her aunt and uncle’s seaside cottage. She was here, she was safe. She had and would always have unanswerable questions. She would be both haunted and comforted by the shadow of her past life, until she learned to loosen her hold on them.

That’s how things were.

Remnants of the past, vestiges of the present, uncertainties of the future. How long and bitter life could be. How hopeful it could remain.

Shadow guided her to the cottage. Every motion took up a bit of energy, a bit of their existence. They started speaking, but their voice rised, fluctuated, turned into that of her mother’s. “Take care of yourself, my dear.” She was six again.

The girl blinked up at them. Then she turned to the cottage, but not before looking back.

“I’m not coming with you.”

She paused in momentary confusion, but continued walking, her wobbly steps soaking her feet in the dew-filled grass. At the porch, she knocked, straightening herself.

Shadow watched from afar, tingling with apprehension. They could see the aunt and the uncle, opening the door with shock and wonder.

”It’s Millie!”

“How in the world did she get here?”

She had traveled 50 miles.



In the billowing ocean wind, Shadow glanced over at the closing door, angling slowly but inevitably towards the doorway. Sand rustled and shifted on the beach. Her right slipper crossed the threshold.

Would she remember them? They hoped so. So many other children depart and forget Shadow. They all had good reason to, after all. To them, this journey was just an empty dream.

But was it really?

Before the door inched fully closed, the little Millie poked her head out and peeked at Shadow. There was something about that smile, about that girl. Something that stood out. Maybe she understood.

Shadow summoned the last of their energy. And waved.

Then they flickered away with the stars,

leaving only the waking shoreline behind.

A/N (not included in word count)
Hello, and welcome to the author's note for this story! I'll keep this brief :>
This piece is vaguely inspired by the Sabaton song Metal Ripper, especially the first line of the refrain – the general premise of the story was constructed from that. For the story, I eventually settled for a more peaceful mood ^^
I would like to thank Brave and my irl friend K for providing feedback on this piece – they provided really interesting perspective on my story that I wouldn't have realized otherwise
Thank you for reading!

Edit: Best Character!? :000 thank you alsdkfjsl

WAOW *starstruck*

A-Sad-Invention wrote:

WAOW *starstruck*

waow

So long tho

A-Sad-Invention wrote:

WAOW *starstruck*

also i've got a kewl idea for a story (hint: Klaussssss!!!!!!) and I'll show u when i get back :3

A-Sad-Invention wrote:

So long tho

sowwy i wanted tto do 1k words but i accidentally got 2k lolololololol

I wanna see Klaus :0

Gj ig. Idk if I can finish my entries rkdhdjjf. I also have to do the weekly. Halp. Also my normal entry keeps giving me copying GITBC vibes fjdjdnnd

A-Sad-Invention wrote:

I wanna see Klaus :0

Gj ig. Idk if I can finish my entries rkdhdjjf. I also have to do the weekly. Halp. Also my normal entry keeps giving me copying GITBC vibes fjdjdnnd

klaus is not in there unfortunately
sad, but just abandon the weekly like i did last week and this week
well, it's only giving you vibes, but u aren't actually copying hahahah

Yes I am. GITBC does flashback kinda things, and I do it too. The mc lost someone close to them, same in mine. Fkfkdbgjfjndmddms. Ww2 resistance too, althought mine takes place in Fronce