Day eighteen: 4۞ in total. (1155 words in total.)

Main Cabin Daily - 3۞
Fairytale chosen: Rapunzel
Though she had no contact with people in the real world, Rapunzel had the internet.

This meant that her best interactions with people other than her mother were online, but that was alright with her. It kept her safe from the dangers of the real world and kept her home, which was important to her mother. Sure, she sometimes wished for the ability to meet people in real life, but that was just general logic with online friendships not to do so. (Even after realizing from people she spoke to that her situation was not normal, she was glad for that stranger danger lesson.)

It was good advice, for once.

Anyway, every year Rapunzel checked in on an online writing camp that she had found when she was about eleven. (Actually, she checked in on it three times a year, as the camp ran triannually. )

It was called Scratch Writing Camp, SWC for short, and it was hosted on a children's coding website which she enjoyed playing renditions of flappy bird games on. All together, finding the camp was a win.

It provided a supreme source of distraction from her situation and from her boredom for long hours of each day, and she always looked forward to it. Without the ability to walk outside of her home, some of the main cabin dailies and the like were difficult, but she made do. Most of the time, she could use her mother's stories from the cities (and the rest of the outside word) for prompts to do most of the weeklies, which were more complicated.

She wrote a lot each time she entered, but she was working on being in each cabin at least once (as in, that was her real goal. Not a high word count).

So far her favorite aesthetic had been fanfiction, but only because the use of ‘kudos’ as points was amusing to her. Each experience had been fun, so she wasn't sure if she even could label one as her favorite all together!

This month (it was July) she was in Sci-fi, the theme of stars had always intrigued her. (After all, those lights in the sky that appeared every year were related to them. She was still convinced those lights were not stars but oh well, whatever her mother said was law.)

In all honestly, Rapunzel was surprised her mother even still let her join the camp! Her mom had commented in the past that it made her distracted and unproductive, even though Rapunzel would personally describe it as the opposite. It was the part of the year she most most productive, in all honesty.

The prompts and the competitive nature of the camp made it so she was constantly perfecting her pieces and her interactions, furthering her words per minute as she raced to bring her cabin to the finish line. Of course it was a team work type game as well, but she liked to imagine that she was alone in the endeavor. (Just for the fun of it.)
(503 words.)

Piece of writing I abandoned, maybe I'll continue it at some point
The arrow wizzed over her head, burning through the air with a fury and landing in the wall opposite her with a loud thunk. Like a death sentence, had she been in the way. That was what the arrow represented.

Ladybug whipped to look at where the projectile had been shot from, eyes finding the akumatized victim hovering high above the street, bow still trained on her. Her heart jumped into her throat as she dove out of the way of another arrow, rolling over and jumping to her feet.

“Chat!” she cried out, frantically, “Watch out!”

He screamed as he jumped out of the way of a hail of arrows. She had seen him get hit by the weapon before, but it was in a different way. In that battle, the arrows had turned a person who was hit against those they loved. These were actual weapons, and that was a very important distinction.

So as he dodged and weaved, she too ran away from the scene. “Retreat!” she screamed, “Chat, follow me, we need to think of a plan!”

In a second he was at her side and the pair weaved back and forth through the rain of arrows being shot down at them. Her feet pounded the street as the distinctive ‘thunk!’ rang out behind them, the tips of the arrows buried deep into the pavement from just the akuma's arm strength.

Yeah, getting hit by those things would be the end. There was no returning from a shooting arm that strong.

“What's the plan?” her partner yelled to her over the sound of whistling air.

“I don't know yet!” she yelled back, yelping as an arrow wizzed right over her shoulder. She ducked and rolled to the side, just barley avoiding several of the things. It was time. “Lucky charm!” she screamed, throwing her yo-yo high up into the air with the scream.
(317 words.)


Word War with @scratch_warrior_cat - 1۞
Against the pavement, his feet skidded and slid. He was running, but he didn't know from what. Maybe it wasn't from a physical thing, exactly. (In fact, yeah. That was exactly it.)

This was more of an internal issue. Really. He knew that, but it still felt as though he was being chased.

So his feet pounded the ground as he raced through the streets of the city, ankles burning with the harsh impacts. He wasn't running with the intention of safety, only with the intention of speed. He wanted to get away, but there was nowhere to go.

Alfred Fredrick Jones, twenty one years of age, in Albany, New York.

He had moved here several years ago from the big city, and the change of pace had been nice. The intention was to escape what he had disliked about living in such a huge city, even if this place wasn't exactly a town either. Still, it was on a much smaller scale than other places he had lived over the years, and that was nice.

The escape was for himself and no one else and it meant that he had moved into an empty apartment all on his own. In fact, he still lived alone.

Maybe the loneliness made his inner troubles worse, maybe they made his worries bigger and his fear stronger in his mind. Stark against the blankness it had been trained to become after years of seeing things happen in the streets. Walking past women being hurt, walking past the homeless.

Being in New York City had not been good for him, but those things had not changed in this new place. Now, the struggles were just less contrasting to the glamor of the place. After all, Albany could hardly be called such a thing.

It wasn't a pretty city, not in his opinion.

What he did like about it was the running. The streets were nice, and the sidewalks mosty clean.

Well. not really, but compared to New York City….
(335 words.)

Day nineteen: 9۞ in total. (2872 words in total.)

Main Cabin Daily - 3۞
“Will you stay awake for me?” she asked him, hand caressing his cheek.

Chat Noir coughed and it made her heart squeeze uncomfortably, fear emerging from it's hiding place. “Chat Noir?” she asked him again, voice breaking through the clear haze that was coming over him, “Stay awake, alright?”

He tried to speak and his voice came out broken, “I can… try,”

“That's good, that's good,” she sighed, shifting her sitting position and hoping it didn't jostle him too much where he laid across her lap.

A wound across his chest was dripping a dark red onto her legs, slipping down her own red outfit as she held him. He was hurt, but she had no medical supplies. For the time being, the pair could not move. She would have to wait for him to detransform in order to tend to his wounds.

“Do you have anything to cover your face?” she asked him, half to keep him talking and half for a real answer.

“No,” he whispered, and the quiet of his voice made her nervous. She nudged him, hoping for more words. He nodded, eyes rolling open again (clearly exhausted from his injuries), “I- you could probably pull up my jacket over my face. You'll need to move it anyway,”

She nodded, “Yes, I'll need your help doing that, okay?”

He coughed and the noise made her chest hurt, nervousness and pity catching with her worry for him. She cared about him, very strongly. He was her partner and they had worked together for a long time now, losing him was… ugh. She couldn't bear to think about it.

“You can look away when I first detransform,” he said, slowly thinking it through even as his mind swam. The world seemed hazy to him, thinning around him as time went on. The bloodloss and the pain getting to him.

“Yes,” she agreed, “But you know the pain's going to… double, when you detransform, right?”

He nodded, gritting his teeth at the reminder. “Y-yeah, but I can probably deal with it, at least until I can move my jacket up over my eyes,”

“Probably?”

“Hopefully?” he offered, a small hint of a laugh on the edge of his voice.

Even through her fear, Ladybug smiled sadly. Even after all of this he was still himself.

It gave her hope.

So she kept talking, his ring beeping and reminding her of how close they were. “Okay,” she nodded, making eye contact with him to force him awake. “I can bring you to the hospital after you detransform.”

“What?” he asked, suddenly seeming panicked, “No, no you can't do that,”

“Why?” she asked, “I need to! I don't have the medical skills to help you with blood loss-”

He shook his head (a mistake, since it made a headache pound into his ears like it was summoned by the movement). “It's who I am in real life, I can't…”

“Is this about your father?” she asked him, frowning, “You've told me about him being kind of off before,”

He blinked at her, trying to remember when he had mentioned his father before. “I- not fully, I mean, yes?”

She frowned, his ring was beeping on one now. “Okay,” she said, “We'll talk about it after you detransform, right?”

He nodded. Her heart beat hard in her chest, watching nervousness cloud her partner's vision as he remembered how the pain got worse after detransformation. His jaw was tight as he closed his eyes, squeezing them shut. (It made him nervous, seemed too much like he was passing out, but he opened them again.)

“Look away,” he reminded her and she nodded.

A flash of green lit him and Ladybug shut her eyes tightly, turning away. He let out a broken sound as he detransformed (the pain really hitting him now that he wasn't in superhero form) and she cringed, eyes opening for a second. But she caught herself, covering them with her hands instead and biting her lip as she heard her partner whimper.
(672 words.)
It is hard to write without a setting why would you do this to me /lh


In-Cabin Daily - 2۞
Genre picked: Real-fi
They had opened the restaurant together, and it was going to close when they left each other. (That was one of the deals that went into their wedding vows anyway.)

But things had gotten hard recently, with the death of his mother and her sister's struggle with cancer. They needed each other, just as they always had, but things were tough now that neither had the emotional strength to support the other fully. This was a bad time to split up, as they were both hurting immensely.

And yet, it hurt to see her face knowing that she was so stressed these days and looking into eyes meant looking into a deep sorrow she didn't want to have another peek at. It was hard to accept how badly they hurt and it was hard to try to move on, especially with how the world just kept turning. (It made it feel like they were the last ones to know and they had to keep the memory alive.)

They still needed each other.

But business was bad anyway now that neither was able to work with the energy they once had.

“Maybe it's time to… throw in the towel,” he offered to the silent dinner table.

His wife looked up at him, catching his eyes as she gasped. “Oh?”

“With the restaurant,” he urged her, trying to lighten the blow even with the despartion in his voice. But they both knew what it meant, it was code for divorce now. Even though they still got along.

Tears filled her eyes although she had been thinking about this too. “Now? After this all?”

He was silent. She took another bite of her food, it tasted like nothing on her tongue. The texture made her nauseous.

Finally he spoke again. “It hurts.”

She knew what he meant.
(304 words.)


Word War with @opheliio ft. MLB - 0۞ because I lost by one word??? How???
This was bad. This was very bad. It. scared her, this situation.

On the ground she stood, her hands over her mouth in shock and in fear. Her eyes were wide, pupils blown wide and yet scared, unlike if it was dark out.

The work was bright, in fact. Very bright. The sun shone down with a certain burning horror that only it could achieve. Nothing could beat that, well, except for what stood before her now.

The akuma was a girl about her age, probably, though she had never seen the girl before (to her knowledge), let alone know what was wrong to cause this situation that stood before her.

What was even worse about it though, was that she didn't have her Miraculous on her.

Marinette's earrings had fallen out somewhere in her home when she was taking a shower, she had noticed that they were gone this morning at school but hadn't been able to head home and get them. (No good excuse could be thought of.)

This meant that there was no Ladybug to protect the city.

Oh no.

And right at that moment, Chat Noir burst out of a side street and swung up to the height of the akuma.

“Chat Noir!” she yelled up to him
(212 words.)


A Walk - 1۞
I just walked around my yard today.

The problem is that it is really freaking hot out right now and I am not good with heat so I was suffering. Anway.

The walk itself was fine but the temperature/weather was highly unpleasant. Most of the sky is covered in clouds (luckily) but I still felt like the sun was actively burning me.
(63 words.)


Water Because I've Been Dizzy Recently - 1۞
This just in: I am very dehydrated!!!! Fantastic.

So anyway I got super panicky about water because I felt like I was going to throw up and ended up spiting out most of the second cup but then I made myself drink another second cup so we're good, I still get points.
(52 words.)


Working On Homework For Two Hours :( - 2۞
Okay before I start: much of the time I spent on this homework was listening to an audiobook of the textbook that I am not allowed to speed up. The notetaking was the part that took the longest, especially since I needed to copy it from a notebook to here in order to count the words ha ha. Also, this is technically over the summer work- still counted as homework though. I actually didn't include my writing today because I want to finish it before putting it in here, it will be in tomorrow's entry!
(95 words.)


A very rough DND sketch thing because my friend's made me be DM and I have no clue what I'm doing but apparently they're coming over today and I need to finish the thing I was writing??? It's very hard to follow the books.
DND

*The stuff after a ‘*’ is what my group has already done. Also, the very beginning of this plot is not mine! I have no clue what quest we started doing though, so I can’t credit. :( However, the good news is that I changed it rather quickly because I was so confused following someone else’s DND story and just started to make it up. Now though, I’ve decided to write it down so I don’t have to be a master of improv anymore…

**Also note, none of the ‘names’ I used for the players in my group are real! They are all based off of each of their character’s names and aren’t even the full thing of each, for privacy. :D


Players meet together to bring supplies to a guy in a trading post, each will be paid ten gold for doing this *Mo’s character ate two bags of flour and will only be paid two. C’s character drives the thing.

Players set out on a path and find two horses in the middle of the road, dead with arrows sticking out of them. The saddle bags are looted. *It is determined that these horses belonged to their guides, C’s character gets the arrows out of the horses. There are twelve arrows in total.

Players are ambushed by three goblins. *C’s character shoots at them with the arrows, Mo's character has used a spell to fix them up. One goblin is killed and the other two are mildly injured. Ma’s character flies over and sees that there are no nearby goblins to attack them even more. Mi’s and A’s characters stay in the cart, protecting the produce. Mo’s character gets hurt and three people fail to help her until…

Players defeat the goblins, leaving one dead, one that will die soon, and one alive. They interrogate this last one and decide to take him with them. *After A’s character and Mi’s character both integrate him in different ways ._. They are told that one of the riders is still alive. They are also told of a goblin king that rules over all the goblins in the area. Mo’s character ties up the goblin with a spell that grows thorns, like a toddler harness.

*C’s character has ten arrows at the end of this. Mo’s character loots the dead goblin’s bag and receives two gold pieces.


Players have no choice but to follow the goblin they kidnapped to the goblin hideout because they don’t know the way to the outpost and they need a guide to bring them there.

They show up to a cave entrance with a stream going into it. On the right side of the stream (they are on the left) there are a bunch of trees. *Mo’s character heals herself with some purified water from the stream because why not. Ma’s character flies over the area and spots several creatures. Mo’s character uses an animal speaking spell to ask them questions. It is revealed that a man with a bag over his head was, in fact, taken into the cave. This means the goblin wasn’t lying. It is also revealed that there are always strange noises coming from the cave.

Players head into the cave, the goblin still with them.

They come to a split in the road, the path goes two directions. The right path is skinny and short while the left is wide and spacious. The goblin directs them to go down the right path to find their guide. *The group splits up. Ma’s, A’s, and C’s characters go down the left while Mo’s, Mi’s, and N’s go down the right path with the goblin.


Focusing on the left group first:

They come into a huge cavern. High roof about sixty feet above with glowing fungus to light the area somewhat. In the center of the room there is a huge pile of rocks and boulders about twenty feet high.

The pile of rocks starts to move and the trio have to fight. *Ma’s character is flying around above while C’s and A’s are on the ground.

*Now we’re to the end of what we got through.

A huge creature bursts out of the rock pile! It has three heads, each connected to a long neck and with one giant eye each. If players cut off the necks it will grow even more heads, they have to hit it’s eyes.

When the creature is defeated they find that it is guarding a chest. In this chest there are three gold pieces for each of them, as well as two arrows for whoever. (C, lol)

Once they uncover this the trio are to run back to the break in the path and towards the other half of the group.


Now the right path:

The quartet (including the goblin) head down the pathway. It is cramped and uncomfortable to walk in, but the goblin swears he knows where he’s going.

Up ahead, they can see the path starting to open into a cavern. It’s not as big as the cavern to the left but it’s still substantial enough to hold five goblins with melee weapons. The group is to hear the sounds of the group and pause, checking over their stats and rearranging into an order that will be able to fight the goblins more successfully.

As they burst into the cabin, a battle starts.

Right at that moment, the three from the left path join them. Their attacking order is placed after the group from the right path.

They are to defeat all of the goblins, but if they do not defeat all of them the goblin they brought with them will get hurt substantially. (If this happens someone has to heal the goblin or they will not be able to find their guy because he is behind a locked door only the goblins can open.)

Whatever the case, the group heads off again. If anyone is hurt it is advised that they stay in the middle of the group. Not the back, mind you.

They come to a small room, but no one is there. There is a still smoking fire on the ground though. If they inspect the area the group will find food to heal their injuries.

There is another tiny split path ahead.

The left path leads to the door with the guy, the right path leads to a map of the area from a goblin perspective. Players should choose to go down the left path first, after that they can go down the right path of course! Describe a certain metallic smell in the air. Putrid and very off-putting.


They come to a door and the goblin opens it. If a player asks why the goblin is helping them he explains that he actually doesn’t want to work for the king, but he stops talking before he explains why it is. Players can press, but he won’t continue on with this right now.

They collect the man that was leading them and he is scared of the goblin. However it’s okay, no fight breaks out. He explains that he and the other man were ambushed by the goblin trio and that he now has no horse. The players agree to let him drive their cart for the rest of the way.

Players should now go down the other path. They find the map here and the goblin explains what it means (it’s not written in common, obviously). On this map it reveals several plans of the goblin king. These plans include taking over all of the common cities in the area and using them to produce weapons for a war he is wishing to start with the human king of the general area. The goblin explains that he doesn’t want this to happen because he hates following the rule of someone.


*Stopping point here.


Players, the goblin, and their guide head out of the caverns. It is now night but the cart and their town horses are still there.

The group heads for the man who agreed to pay them for the stuff first, before following the goblin in the direction of the goblin king because now they all want to take him down due to the contents of the map.

The players are paid their ten (or two, for M’s character) gold pieces. They have the choice to give their guide one of their horses so that he can get back home now that the cart is empty (save for them and the goblin, who is still tied up back there). If they do this they will receive a shield, which will be good for one player only. They should decide who gets it.


Players and the goblin (from now on referred to as G) set out following the map in the direction of…
(1474 words.)
I will continue this some other time, probably before next Tuesday. Hopefully then ha ha

Day twenty: 8۞ in total. (1346 words in total.)

Main Cabin Daily - 3۞
Part one: Writing Piece ft. Hetalia France (though it's not really mentioned that much). TW dead animals, hopeless thoughts This was critiqued by @rocksalmon800!
The dove was dead.

Francis stared down at it, a faraway look in his eyes giving away much of what he was thinking about.

It was dead.

He felt odd looking at it, knowing that it had been with him for so long. It felt strange to see a creature once so lively on the floor, unmoving and silent.

At some point he might have said that him and the dove were alike. At some point, they were one in the same. Both of them represented themselves, even if they had never met. A strange feeling took him over and his head moved, as if involuntarily, to look up at the sky.

It was night.

Stars danced overhead, now that he was out of Paris.

But none of them seemed bright enough. Not bright enough for what he remembered them to be, not bright enough to reflect the millions of thoughts and lives that shone back up at them from Earth. (From France alone, even.)

The sky was dark, too.

It wasn't black, really. The sky didn't ever look fully dark any more, not with the light pollution he had become so accustomed to over the years. Instead, it was a deep purple-blue.

It reflected the darkness that were the lakes resting between
hills.

The sky was what he could not be, what the dead dove could not be: free.

It represented something beyond what he would have, it represented something that the dove no longer had. A freedom that no person ever felt, not really.

The night sky was flight.

It was dreams.

It was everything he had ever wanted to be. But he could not become it, he was something else.

Just as the stars would never meet the Earth, he would never meet the sky. That inky darkness was nothing that he would ever touch, ever feel. (In that case, was it even tangible?)

He stepped forward, looking down as he foot brushed the rock where the dove's body lay. Then he was distracted once more, gawking down at the small body as though he had never seen anything like it, staring at the way its wings rested over it's cold form. Memorizing every single feather that covered it's body and every single shape it fell into as it moved.

Beautiful.

Even in death, the creature was beautiful.

He saw himself in it, somehow. It was nothing like him and yet…

A caged dove, that was what he was. (Not that this creature was caged, at least not physically.) He felt caged, he felt trapped. He would never reach the stars.

Francis tore his eyes away from the dove and stared up at the sky once more. The stars seemed further away, even as they burned his eyes with a particular brightness he knew he could never replicated. Even as the cool breeze that whispered around him seemed to be telling him something.

Even as the chilly air and seem of the pines around him promised something else.

He would never join the stars- he was like the dove, more or less.

And he was caged.
(519 words.)

Part two: Critiquing @rocksalmon800 's writing
Okay first of all- this is beautiful! :0 I'm extremely pleasantly surprised to be honest, since usually I don't like depressing poetry all that much but this is amazing!

I love the areas where it rhymes- particularly these two lines: “Our lives tick away as we watch, forlorn // But we start to die from the moment we’re born.” It's just beautiful, and very true too!

Really, I think the only area that I could find something to improve on is this line: “The agony ripping open our wounds, the ticking a stab in our heart,”. In comparison with the rest of the poem this line seems a little long and sort of convoluted. I feel like it would be better if split into two lines (although this would be hard with the rhyme scheme) or if the two halves were combined into a shorter, condensed version. Something like “The agony ticking stabs in each heart” might work instead.

No other areas really stand out to be with the potential to be changed. (However, I think there may be a typo in the last line. Did you mean “Is this a blessing or a curse?”)

So all in all, this was a beautiful piece! I enjoyed it thoroughly.
(209 words.)


In-Cabin Daily - 2۞
Genre picked: Real-fi again because why not continue that one thing?
“Let's just…” she tried, voice broken as if she hadn't been thinking of the same thing.

He listened to her, intent on hearing her out. They didn't hate each other. There was still love, even. They respected each other massively, especially after falling apart the way they were. “Let's what?” he encouraged, gently.

“Let's give it more time, okay?” she tried. It didn't feel like time to give up.

A sad smile barely reached his eyes. He was gentle, calm. This was why she had fallen in love with him. (It hurt to think about now.) “We keep giving it more time,”

“Then-” she held her breath as she spoke, grabbing his eye contact and grabbing onto it like her life depended on it. “Then let's just take a break. Not split up- a break,”

“A break?” he confirmed.

“Sure,” her throat felt almost strangled, hope filling the already nervously tightened area. “Sure, a break, then we can come back,”

He thought it over, chewing his food thoughtfully. “Yeah, let's try that,”

She nodded, grateful for this chance.
(178 words.)



Water - 1۞
I actually tried to drink water out of a water bottle and ended up spilling it today??? It's a super great story, actually, and somehow it doesn't have to do with my d*sorder or whatever is going on with me!!! Fantastic, right?

Anyway, jokes aside: I was chilling on this one really large yoga ball (or whatever they're called) that my dad bought ages ago and looking down at my water bottle and trying to psych myself up to drink it. But it is also important to note that I was also eating cheez-its from a cup at the same time. There were very few cheez-its left in the cup so I could tip it almost half way over and nothing would fall out of it. The water bottle, on the other hand, was full.

And then I got somewhat turned around, distracted by something (I don't remember what).

…I confused which hand was holding which object and dumped half the water bottle on the carpeted floor. :'D
(168 words.)


A Walk :') - 1۞
Okay so it was really hot out today, and I mean REALLY hot, so I didn't go outside? Like, I went outside briefly to go to the car for lessons and whatever but I didn't want to go in the sun.

Therefore, my walk was on the treadmill as I watched videos of people playing bassoon, as you do.
(59 words.)


Word War With @Aliana_Cantu ft. a description of Achilles- 1۞
In red and white and gold, he lay there. The fabric covered his scared body and met his closed eyes up the the eyelashes, bringing a certain cover over his resting frame.

Even in his sleep the man was pretty. Even as be rested, the world seemed to be waiting for him to do something.

His golden locks curled around his ears and contrasted with the white and red of the blanket, drawing out the golden color and making it more apparent to any one person who looked on. By seeing him, you could tell that something was different about this man.

He was not like the others.

Something about the way he carried himself, or his face, maybe. The way his eyes did not quite look right. They seemed to be lights on, showing the inside of his mind through a frosted window (you could never tell what he was thinking).

It was made more impressive (scary?) by the way he acted.

He was a prince, so it was to be somewhat expected. Still, he seemed to act with a presence that was hard for any human man to carry out. It was not that he thought highly of himself, just that he saw himself with dignity and carried himself as such.
(213 words.)

First of all, thanks so much! I definitely will change the ticking/agony line and as for the last line, no, that’s intentional. I was trying to say, ‘is that the good thing about this bad thing’, y’know?

Anyway, here’s your critique!

gah it was so good I can’t find anything to critique buuuuuuut

Things I like:

-I really like the poetry of this story, the way it kinda flows, and the wording is really good. I’m impressed with the simplicity, while it still seems complex. Oh gosh I’m so bad at this lol
- I also really like that you established details about this person and his relationship with the dove in so few words, like you made it understandable even though we don’t have all the details

Things I’d change:

-In the line about “ He felt odd looking at it, knowing that it had been with him for so long. It felt strange to see a creature once so lively on the floor, unmoving and silent.”, I would change the word ‘felt’ in the second sentence to maybe ‘was’? Just because it’s just a little repetitive
-In the ‘he was like the dove, more or less’ I’d get rid of the more or less because it kinda undermines the message (I sound like grammarly heh), so I’d just stick with ‘he was the dove’ because that sounds more powerful
-and finally, I think with all the references to Francis being caged, I think the dove should actually be in a cage. (but still dead obviously) That might be changing it more than you like, but I would do it because it would just make more sense to compare Francis to a dove when it was caged, if that makes sense?

Anyway, that was really good! Good job!!

Day twenty one: 3۞ in total. (56 words in total.)

Main Cabin Daily - 3۞
Starthorn stares down at the daily in confusion, then looks up again. That's alright, she thinks to herself, it's totally okay. I can do that- right?

This one isn't worth any points and it's kinda confusing? Anyway, Starthorn had fun with it. > (The daily is to refer to yourself in the 3rd person throughout SWC today.)
(56 words.)

Day twenty two: 7۞ in total. (5785 words in total.)

Main Cabin Weekly - 7۞
Part one:

Brainstorming:

• Cultural interest in humans
  

• Mountain setting
  

• Buildings made of rocks and wood
  

• A library is in every town
  

• Small towns throughout mountains connected by rope bridges
  

• A large city in the center of the circle of mountains
  

• The city is the capital and in the valley
  

• Surrounding towns each have their own ‘government’
  

• Centralized government
  

• Few people have wings
  

• The society is mostly nocturnal
  

• War with a country in a forest setting
  

• The other country is at the base of the eastern mountains
  

• Scholars are highly celebrated
  

• Children live with their mothers
  

• Men are forced to live alone and join the military
  

• Monarchy
  

• Gender's are split up culturally
  

• Magic users are not common but are important
  

Magic user class system:

• Wizards live alone in the mountains and are very celebrated
  

• Witches live in groups in the mountains and are equally celebrated as wizards
  

• Magicians all have to live alone, regardless of gender, but may stay in cities
  

• Sorcerers are only allowed in the king's court, and only one at a time
  

• Sorceresses are only allowed in the queen's court
  

(178 words.)

Connections:
Scholars are highly celebrated because their knowledge is considered just as important as magic and because those who use magic are not highly common in this society, they have become a higher class. (A library is in every town because the scholars/librarians are so important. They work as a branch of government in each town.) Those who use magic, whatever ‘class’ they belong to, are considered a highly overarching class- even as their lives are very limited due to cultural norms. It is because of the gender expectations within the society that sorcerers and sorceresses (as well as wizards and witches) are separated. The biggest thing is that in this society all men are supposed to live alone, as it supposedly enhances their ability to fight (each is in the military)- this separates the magic using classes.

Another thing it does is separate the king and the queen's courts.

Although they are married politically, the king and the queen both rule the country separately. The queen's rules apply to women in the kingdom and the king's to men and neither is allowed to govern the other's people. There is only one castle but the queen and her court lives in the left side while the king and his (much smaller due to the cultural rules) court live on the right side. They do their ruling in the middle of the castle, but the queen's court is nocturnal and the king works during the day.

Wizards and witches serve the small towns they reside near while magicians can only work in the city. This was decided long ago when too many magic-users resided in the mountains, it meant that the current king and queen worked together to devise a rule that brought some magic-users back to the city. Their working together on this issue is what causes ‘magicians’ to not be separated between men and women as a class.

(319 words.)

Narrative:
Tom was turning sixteen soon.

In ten days, Emma would never see her brother again. (Or at least, probably not.)

Once boys turned sixteen, the age that defined a person as an adult rather than a child, they had to move out and promise never to come back. They might see each other by accident some time in the future, and letters were allowed to replace old contact, but Emma knew she and her brother would have to say goodbye.

She hated the rule, he did too.

But they couldn't oppose it, it could only be changed if people began to protest. The problem was that it was so ingrained in their society that leaving it behind was nearly impossible.

People tried to go against the rule but the census kept track of people. Since boys had to join the military once they were adults (not that they immediately had to fight, but it meant they could be called at any time), it would be known if someone opposed the rule. Emma knew that those who opposed it were never seen again.

Similarly to girls who wanted to live alone, not that there were many people who did so.

Over the years, Emma and Tom had grown close.

When they were very young, they hadn't gotten along so well but it changed eventually. As they grew up, reaching for new ages like the stars (wishing they were grown before they were really ready), Tom and Emma ignored what society had planned for them.

They ignored it as Tom's slightly older friend, John, was sent away. They ignored it when Annie's father was dragged away to the city, never to be seen again. He was the only adult man in the village.

Now it was upon them, and the siblings couldn't ignore it anymore.

“Tom?” Emma asked into the darkness of their room, the moon barely creeping through the window. It was just a sliver in the sky, not enough for them to see each other.

She waited for him to respond, worry in her chest. The next day, at exactly noon, he would be sent away. He had been packing for weeks and Emma and their mother had been giving him hugs and gifts and plenty of paper in case he had time to send letters.

“Emma?” he responded, voice nervous from the bottom bunk.

She peaked over the edge, hair slipping over her shoulders and swinging over the side of the bed. “Can I come down?” she asked, tentatively.

Even in the darkness, she could see him shift. “Yeah.”

His voice was small, broken.

Emma clambered down the ladder and flung herself onto his mattress, landing next to him. She wrapped her arms around her brother, squeezing her eyes shut. He hugged her back, pressing his forehead against hers.

They shook, Emma wasn't sure who started crying first.

“I don't want you to go,” she whispered through her tears, shaking her head. “Please don't go,”

She knew there was nothing he could do about it.

“I don't want to go either,” Tom responded, voice tight with sorrow and fear.

“Don't,” she begged him, shaking her head into his shoulder, squeezing him tightly and pretending it would keep him with her. “Don't go,”

His voice was broken, sniffing and trying to speak through his tears. “You know I have to, you saw what happened with Mr. Maize,”

She sobbed.

(569 words.)

Part two:

Questions:
What kind of magic is used in your world?
Spell casting magic is the main type of magic used in this world.

However, some people use potions in order to have similar results that casting spells will. Potions are very complicated much of the time but for those who struggle with casting magic from a wand or from their hands, intense studying in this subject may make magic easier for them.

However time travel is not a concept that exists. It is not possible, there is no way to get around it and no way to do it- and that is not changing.


How is the magic in the world used in the character’s everyday lives? What are the different abilities?
Since professional magic users are not common, it would seem that an average person does not have access to it.

But this is not true.

Pretty much every person can use at least some magic, but most of it is limited if they do not study. (Similarly to actual people and the ability to do sports. If one does not practice or is not naturally gifted and practices, it will not come easily.) Because of the usage of small-scale magic, it is mainly used on projects that would be difficult to do without its help.

In this fake country it is exceptionally useful for large projects such as rope bridge building. (While possible without magic, it is a great help to be able to use it.)


What are the laws of your world, specifically about magic? Punishments?
Education on how to professionally use magic is limited and those who do choose to go down this course end up with a very controlled and rule filled life, even if they are wizards or witches and do not live in the city.

Other than that, most magic will go unpunished. Even spells that cause harm are not punished often because no rules were really set in place regarding any violent crime. (Plus, such spells are often complicated and not many people can use them.)


What is an important symbol of your world?
In this made up country, an important symbol is the moon. Another important symbol is the sun. When they are put side by side, they represent the monarchy because of the day to night cycle of the rulers. On the floor of the king/queen's hall, the two celestial objects are displayed, layered over each other.

This represents the connection between the two rulers, even as they work separately.

Along with this theme, clouds and stars represent peace and war in that order.


What is the origin of your magic?
Since people can remember, magic has been an ability that beings have. At some point, rudimentary ideas were shifted and refined to make up a more diverse and powerful set of abilities, but magic in general has always existed. (In the beginning it was very basic, things like healing wounds more quickly or cleaning food and water, but as civilization grew it split apart into different groups and was researched and experimented with. As this was done, it became much more valuable for the user.)


How can your world’s magic aid character development?
Magical ability improving can represent a character growing up and switching between different types of the stuff (potions/physical versions, spells cast/shot, and mental magic) is an easy way to show how they are advancing and what jobs they would like to take, even if they are not pursuing magic itself as a career.

After all, it can be used in many different settings in many different ways. There is a reason that multiple groups of it exist and there is a reason that some people work better with certain types than others.


How common is magic, and are all characters aware they possess it?
Almost every person is able to use at least simple magic. It may not be well done or professional in the slightest, but even small children have the capability for at least some spells.

In that way, everyone is aware they have it.

The difference between people is in their skill level, just as it is in real life with physical challenges. (How many pushups one can do, how long one can run. These things translate to skill easily in magic as well.)


How can you ensure the magic in your story is realistic, and is written as a normalized part of your world?
I can ensure that the existence of magic seems realistic by adding it into situations the same way I would running or jumping- naturally. It needs to exist in a way that doesn't break its own rules and it needs to be used by characters sparingly just as extreme physical exertion would be.

Different characters have to have different skill levels and different characters will care more about it than others. Along with this, it needs to be mentioned in rules/laws and often enough in other contexts that it doesn't seem unnatural. Making it unnatural will make it unrealistic because of the setup of this fake country.


What is a folk tale you have heard that involves magic, and how can you take inspiration from that tale?
Cinderella and her fairy godmother.

In this universe that I have made up, fairies, humans, winged people, goblins, and so on exist as races of people. This means that not only the fairies will have magic and the humans won't be the only ones unable to use it. Still, the existence of some people (not a group of people by species, but a group of people by knowledge and upbringing) that can use magic better than others is an important detail.

I am sure that some people in the universe I have made up cannot use magic well, either because they do not practice or they simply don't do it well. This gives people who are skilled at it a place higher up in society, where they will be revered by the people they help- just like Cinderella's fairy godmother.


What are the limitations of your world’s magic?
Time travel does not exist and never will (reason for this: I am TERRIFIED of time travel and the concept of changing the past), people cannot use too much magic at once or they will become extremely exhausted, you have to at least people able to see something to cast a spell on it, and huge modifications to physical things are very difficult to pull off. These are the basic limitations.

Of course, each character has their own personal limitations on top of these.

Some people struggle hugely with potions or physical charms while others just can't seem to contact other people through thought alone, as some can do, and so on.


How is magic viewed in your world (ie. as a boring normal, as a fascinating element of their life, or as a curse on society etc.)?
Magic is viewed as normal since almost every one can use it to some capacity.

However, those who are very skilled at it are considered powerful and not to be messed with. This is because they are useful to society, extremely so. (Of course they are, right? Magic would make many things in setting up a civilization much easier. It would also make keeping one together easier.)

Still, it is often frowned upon to use advanced magic in war- not that this stops anyone from doing so. It just ends up being shown in propaganda when the ‘other side’ uses it.


Compared to our modern society, what do the characters do differently in your world, now that magic is incorporated?
Building things is a lot easier. With the help of both machinery and magic, making a city or tearing down a city is a much simpler task in this world than in real life. Also, spells which hurt other people mean that violent crime is quick to pull off and even harder to trace than in real life.

In summary, magic speeds up the world by making tasks easier to complete in a shorter amount of time. (Though limitations still exist! That is important to note.)


Are there any sensations the characters feel when they are using magic? Describe these sensations using their five senses.
Generally, using magic doesn't feel like anything.

At least, not for people that don't use it for very long or in a way that affects many things. But for people who do use harder magic or use it more often, magic might sometimes hurt to use. Not in a huge way, unless the given magical task really is daunting, but mental exhaustion and physical pain combine in an unpleasant way. (These effects are for either mental magic or casting spells, using potions or other types of physical magic is different. It is not as physically taxing to do.)


Describe the popular infrastructure in your world.
Small towns nestle in the mountains, houses held tightly to stone or carved into it. Between these towns, rope bridges and other pathways secure contact and trade. Of course, men are not culturally allowed to live with other people, so there are also many places of housing largely on their own- also connected with bridges and hiking paths.

The mountain range is large but the country does not have very many cities. This is because building a city in the mountains is difficult. However, in the valleys there are cities. In the biggest valley of them all, at what is considered the exact center of the country, there is a capital city. this city is not unlike many other capital cities of surrounding countries. The only difference is that it lies in a ring of mountains and stands very tall. The buildings stretch towards the sky- the city is more vertical than anything.

Bridges stretch between these buildings to form multiple layers of roads and many of the buildings contain layers of housing, stores, and gardens. If the buildings were separated into what roles they played, the city would be much larger, but there is not enough room in the valley so the only direction to grow is up.


How is the education system in your world? What do your characters learn (or hypothetically would learn)?
The education system is much like the education system in real life. There is a class for magic, in fact multiple classes for magic, but it is not focussed on unless a student plains to become a wizard. witch, sorceress, sorcerer, or magician. Along with this, history and science are considered very important because scholars are considered very important in society.

Education is taken extremely seriously and every single child is required to go to school until they a legal adult, at which time they are strongly encouraged to continue their education through personal research, although no such thing as college existed except for those going into magic or becoming a teacher or scholar.


What happens when magic gets out of control in your world?
Generally, magic does not get out of control in this world. The only time this really happens is when several people join together and purposefully make it go out of control, usually during battle. Because of this, it is very dangerous.

Similar to a bomb, perhaps?

Magic that is out of control is just that: out of control. This means that containing it is largely impossible. Usually, the king and queen will send their sorcerers and sorceresses (respectively) to try to deal with it. Usually wizards and witches also are sent to try and contain it. (By containing it, this usually means killing the people that let it get out of control- this kills the magic as well.)


What are some slang terms or other words used in your world that are related to magic?
“Holding the bridge taunt” is an expression meaning holding together a group or situation while others can do their best to work on it. It means being a leader and it references the fact that, if the person using magic to hold the bridge taunt fails, the entire operation will fall apart.

“Pells” usually refers to people that think with their heads instead of their hands. It references the word ‘spells’. Alternatively, “Tions” refers to people that work with their hands rather than their heads. It references the word ‘potions’.


Does magic affect the government of your world? If so, how?
Magic users are present in the government. Sorcerers work for the king and sorceresses work for the queen. Both groups are responsible for getting new laws to the citizens’ attention, usually by presenting them in the sky for at least a full day above each town or by sending a message to the scholars in each town to let their townspeople know about changed laws.

Magic also affects the government by forcing certain rules to be in place regarding it, though that is less the government and more the laws.


What are some noteworthy examples of problems (in your world) that characters solved with magic?
Building bridges between large expanses is dealt with by magic. Having word travel quickly through the mountains is dealt with by magic. Preventing ultra-tall buildings in the capital city from toppling is often a job for magic as well.

The largest thing it is used for is construction purposes, but it is also present in daily life with jobs like cleaning one's house or sending a letter- the latter possible if one has the ability to control animals. (Not many people do.)

(1994 words.) The questions are not counted! Only the answers.

Part three:

Urban Fantasy:
Andrew and Tate's clothing store had grown massively in popularity since it's opening.

It was on the fifth level of the city, near the top. This meant that if the building expanded upward, they would have plenty of room to grown and would not have to open a second store.

At first, the two had started their shop in Tate's apartment, her moving to Andrew's place so that they would have room to store the merchandise and room to expand if they needed to. Well, they sure did need to.

Soon, the store had expanded to cover almost half of the available space in the building, changing from a clothing store to a tourist attraction in its own ways. Now, they sold other things along with clothing. There was an area for fabrics and thread, there was an area for patterns, and even a food court.

Generally, the business was booming.

But Tate's favorite part of this all was that the store had reached the edge of the building, now to the glass walls along one of the edges. This meant that she could look out at the city from her spot at the main desk and observe the busy world out there.

She had never been extremely talented with magic. It was never her thing to do, since her interests were always more involved in the physical aspects of sewing.

It wasn't like she didn't think using magic was interesting, in fact she loved watching Andrew use his to knock down walls between the rooms as the bought them out, careful to still support the ceiling of the building.

She couldn't help with that, but it was fun to watch from the sidelines!

(As their business grew and the bought out more rooms, the pair had been forced to knock down some of the walls between the places, and this meant that the use of magic was important.) Andrew was good with magic, she told him he could even be a professional if he tried, but he just shook his head- reminding her that making the government more aware of his existence was dangerous.

She was supposed to live with a group of people and he was supposed to live alone- but there they were. Living together.

It was exciting to break the rules like that.

(387 words.)

Science Fantasy:
Pan was a magician.

They lived in the city, alone, and practiced magic just as their professional education expected them to do. But on their own time, Pan was more interested in mechanical and scientific advantages than advancing their magical skill level. After all, they had gone through school and come out fine with that- why not improve another ability?

So, alone in the apartment they would have shared with friends if the cultural standards allowed them to, Pan was building things.

A mech suit was one of them, powered by some of the potions they had created using techniques shown to them by other magicians in their meetings. The potions didn't have a name yet but they functioned similarly to battery acid- though more effectively because it could last indefinitely if it was not spilled or soiled.

Another project that the magician was working on at the moment was a series of weapons, not that they were interested in joining or aiding the military- even if the war with their opposing country was growing more invasive of the daily. The weapons were made out of curiosity and the distant thought that maybe, just maybe, the people of the city would one day have to protect themselves from the invading army.

Pan hoped it would never come, but the invention of weapons to halt movement (rather than to harm) was something that they thought to be useful if such a situation arose.

So there they sat, day in and day out, at their desk- practically possessed by the need to finish and improve their projects until they could be used. (The inventions had to be functional, of course! What was the point if they were not?)

The mech suit was almost done and although they had never shown it to anyone (it wasn't like anyone else was allowed to enter their home), Pan was ready to bring it to the next meeting of magicians.

Yeah, they smiled to themself, that would be good.

(333 words.)

Hidden world (with a different spin- ft. those characters from last weekly):
Protagonist and his group were made up of people who opposed the cultural norms about living conditions.

Well, that was part of it- anyway. (They were also engaged heavily with the war against Grimborn's invasion, but that had been more of a side effect due to where in the country they had each decided to move to. This was where they set up their little group.)

Sometimes, the army of their country would come near and they would have to hide. The group carried out assaults against Grimborn's army at night because if they were found, it didn't matter what side they were fighting for, the king and the queen would not be kind to them. This was because they all lived together, not split apart by gender as their society influenced people to be.

It was a stupid rule, really.

Protagonist was from a town at the base of the mountains, this was destroyed by the army when it was found out that fathers lived with their wives and that boys did not leave home at sixteen. He had moved out slightly before then, escaping to mountains and hiding there.

To is knowledge, Cupid and her best friend had come from a similar situation. The trio eventually met and their group was formed. Then, opposing the war because they wanted to fit their society for a better future, not the destruction of their country, they became a group against the war. The future was to be improved, not to be destroyed.

Magic was used to hide their camp, because they had to be hidden from two groups. (Their government and the opposite government.) Some of those who were better with magic would cast the spells to hide the smoke the billowed from the fire and the ones who were not as good with magic would make sure that no one was coming near.

Protagonist hoped that it would hold.

(320 words.)


Cabin War Time!!! AAAAAAAA
Chatting Up Ex-Enemies - Conversation, getting to know someone, enemies to friends to…?
GerEng Request From @nour02
In the past, neither of these nations had liked each other.

In fact, it was the exact opposite.

Many a war had been fought between the two and even outside of such official battles, fights were common. Their personalities just seemed to clash, that was all. (Well, that and their politics- but for nations both things were very important to getting along with others.)

But now, things had changed.

At least Arthur liked to think things had changed- it would be unpleasant if he really had stayed static after all these years and it would be even more unpleasant if Germany, too, had stayed the same. They had to give each other another chance- that was customary.

(Nations' lives were so long that fighting as they did was pointless, especially since England rarely got to see Germany in person, unlike him and France. Seeing each other in person made a rivalry more worth it because it meant that messing things up could be fixed quickly. The fact that interactions were rare made fights more influential and that made Arthur nervous.

After all, he didn't want another war on his hands, did he? Neither did Germany, so then it was settled.

They met over brunch when a meeting was scheduled in Berlin. France had marvelously made fun of Arthur for it- but what did he know? This was between him and Germany and they were trying to improve things.

That was noble.

(If there was anything England respected about Germany it was his personality, even if they clashed. The man was serious and carefull, judgemental in a completely polite way. It was out of necessity, the way he acted. England knew that and he knew it was respectable that he had not been ‘messed up’ over his history.)

That was, of course, something every nation risked when they existed- getting messed up.

Righting the wrongs of past fights was a good way to ensure such a thing would not happen as quickly between them, at least that was what Arthur nervously told himself as he walked to the meeting place.

He was running five minutes early, hoping to arrive before Germany to impress him, but apparently the man had already arived. It didn't exactly come as a shock, due to German stereotypes and who Arthur knew him to be, but it was still a little disappointing. (It was always good to start off an interaction by impressing someone- especially if that someone was another nation and doubly especially if that nation was someone you often disagreed with.)

So he cleared his throat as he sat down, watching nervously as Germany checked the time on his phone.

When he saw the time, the man smiled and placed his phone face down on the table once more. “Early, I see,” he said, not unkindly.

Arthur cleared his throat, trying to remove the nervousness from it. “Yes, early,”

“Thank you for that,” Germany said, truthfully and without exaggeration. Just as he always did, not a word too much and not a word too little. For some reason, it made Arthur want to see what would make him change that.

He didn't think he had ever seen Germany laugh at a joke.

Huh.

What an odd realization.

England was brought out of his thoughts as Germany cleared his throat politely, “What would you like to order? I can ask them in German,”

“O-oh,” England stuttered, “Thank you, I hadn't even noticed they put out the menus yet…”

“Very fast service,” Germany smiled, “It's why I chose this place,”

“That's nice,” England tried to smile back, but his nervousness still tugged the edge of his mouth downwards. He wasn't meaning to frown, it was just the way his face rested!

The menu was complicated and fully in German (which he could not read), but luckily he recognized a few dishes. (The pictures next to them also helped, of course.)

When the waiter came by (Germany kindly let England know that in German he was called a ‘kellner’, because he asked in an attempt to make small talk), Germany ordered for both of them.

England just smiled awkwardly at the waiter, trying to make his face look even slightly pleasant. (He had been told many times that the smile he attempted to make ended up looking either very fake or slightly rude. Of course, France had told him that so he wasn't sure how much of it to believe, but he very much did not want to seem rude so he tried his best to adjust it no matter how much France's word meant to him.)

While the pair waited for their food, Germany went about describing Berlin to England. He hadn't been here in a very long time, the last few meetings had been hosted in America for whatever reason, so the updates were very nice to receive.

He tried to listen politely, but all the talk of infrastructure and politics was reminding him of the meetings they both still had to attend in the following days. (To be honest, he was dreading them. Many of the nations didn't like going, even if it was finally an opportunity to interact with people they didn't get to see very often.)

And, although England was trying his very best to keep the slightly unhappy look off his face, Germany saw it.

“Is there a problem?” he asked in that voice Arthur could never quite read.

“I-” England started, unsure of how to continue. But under Germany's gaze (neither unfriendly or unfriendly, just truthful), he decided to just say it how it was. “I'm just thinking about all the meetings we have to go to later,”

He half expected Germany to frown at him and give him some speech about the importance of infrastructure- but he surprised him.

To England's complete and utter surprise, Germany smiled. Really, actually smiled.

And then he agreed with him.

“Yes, I was thinking the same thing, what else would you like to talk about?”

England's mouth nearly fell open and had he not been a naturally polite person in his mannerisms, he probably wouldn't have caught it. Germany was agreeing with him? Smiling at something he said? Woah.

But then again, he wasn't sure what else they could talk about. He didn't know what Germany was personally interested in or even if they shared any interest at all.

Still, he had to come up with something- Germany was looking at him and waiting for a response.

So he hurried on with an answer, stuttering as he tried to think of what to say. “I- well, how about our…” he trailed off, voice returning as little more than a squeak. (Most people were scared or Germany, at least a little bit.) “…hobbies?”

And again, Germany surprised him. He smiled a second time.

“Hobbies- that sounds nice, I don't know what you're interested in,”

Relived that his response was considered good enough, England smiled as well. “Me neither, I don't know what you do in your spare time,”

At that moment their food came.

“Ah- danke,” Germany smiled up at their waiter, “Das Kartoffelpüree ist für ihn,”

England's mashed potatoes were placed in front of him.

Germany smiled at his meal. “That's a rather… interesting choice of main dish, no?”

England blushed, “I didn't really recognize that many other things- and I'm not that hungry, don't worry about it,”

Laughing, Germany shook his head. “You could have asked me to read it,”

“It's fine!” England took a scoop of his mashed potatoes, “I like potatoes,”

“Me too,” Germany nodded, “I think you knew that, though, based on stereotypes,”

The way he said it didn't sound offended, so England laughed. “Yeah- yeah, I did know that,”

Germany took a bite of his own food, chewing and swallowing before he spoke. (Polite as ever.) “So, is cooking a hobby of yours?”

England bit his lip, trying to judge if Germany was making fun of him. Most European countries were very aware that England was horrible at cooking. “Um,” he started, “I mean, I enjoy it, but it's not the sort of thing I'm good at,”

Thinking for a second and chewing his asparagus, Germany seemed to process the answer. Then he laughed. “Oh- I had forgotten! I'm sorry,”

England shook his head, swallowing now his remaining nervousness, the conversation seemed to be going well enough that he could trust himself to speak without thinking to hard. “It's fine,” he said, truthfully, “I just think it's funny that you forgot,”

“I don't see you very often,” Germany reminded him.

“That's true,” England nodded, “But that's alright, we can catch up now?”

His tone of voice was hopeful and Germany smiled.

Was this forgiveness.

“Yes,” Germany nodded, “We can make up for the past now- no time like the present,”

“Or the future,” England smiled, “I'd like to continue…”

He trailed off, unsure of what to say. Friendly terms? Conversations? Brunch dates? (What?! Dates- where did that come from?)

“I'd like to continue talking to you as well,” Germany smiled.

“In the future?”

“As long as I can, fighting is hard to maintain,” Germany nodded thoughtfully, “I hope it is behind us, now,”

England agreed with him, wholeheartedly. “Me too,” he breathed, “Me too,”

Their meal went well, discussing various interests and subjects. Sports and sewing to weightlifting and magic. Somehow, they just clicked.

How had England not noticed that before? Since when did they stop clashing?

Weren't their personalities the problem, back then? (Now he wasn't so sure about that.)

But eventually the meal had to come to an end and eventually they said their goodbyes. It wasn't like they wouldn't see each other again soon, because of all the meetings that week, both official and unofficial (America had planned a party of some sort in his hotel room, not that England was really planning to go).

So it wasn't they end, they would see each other again soon.

And somehow, although it defied all he had learned to be true all those past years, England was looking forward to seeing Germany again.
(1685 words.)

Day twenty three: 6۞ in total. (9205 words in total.)

Main Cabin Daily - 3۞
Hi! SO for some reason my cabin has three word wars active at the same time??? This means that me and the, like, two other active people are going to have to pop off very severely within the next ten hours. (We already finished one word war. :'D) Anyway, I earned the points for this daily, trust me. It's word wars! Some of the other pieces that are included here were also written for the daily because we are struggling at the moment!!
(83 words.)

Added challenge: No “and”, “the”, or “or”.

A girl stood by her bridge.

It was her bridge because she had effectively claimed it, all those years ago. When her lover had fallen from it down into some water below (he had been fine). Well, mostly. He was fine save for injuries plus getting sued, of course. This girl had to disown their shared love when he was sued. She could not aid him medically, through money, etcetera- it became a near-personal issue.

After all, without her this bridge (which now went by her name) was practically nothing. Her lover was long forgotten, it was her ‘property’ now. (It was not actually her property, it just seemed like it should have been with how she treated it, plus those who walked over it. Those who swam under it were not safe from her rage, both groups invaded on her space. What she assumed to be her space, anyway.)

A nearby government, ruling over this girl's town, tried to remove her. Cast her away, lock her in jail where she would never be seen again.

They had failed.

So this girl, this girl who claimed a public bridge was hers, still roamed free.

Well.

She did not do much roaming, exactly, Mostly, she stayed confined to her bridge, nearby roads, such of this likeness. (Very much near roads, only those extremely close by because she could not leave. She would not let herself leave.)

Other locals did not enjoy her presence. Some tried to force her off her bridge as their government had, but none succeeded. After all, when she considered something to be hers, it was. When something was not hers, it was to be removed from her sight. That was how this business worked, her locals should have known that. After all, they saw her often. (She did not exactly leave her post, well, ever.)

So she would not leave her bridge.

Fine, other things (stronger things, mostly) were possible to flush her out.

A flash flood, a fire. Other violent techniques that this town's church langley disapproved of, though their government did not oppose so widely, were also considered.

Yet- this odd girl would not move a step. She refused, even when people came to yell mean things about her, to her face! Even when they came to throw their old dirty socks into her face. She did not move a step. She did not listen to a word they all had to say. (It was rubbish, that was what she told herself. Why care what that lot thought of her? She was not them, clearly. In return, they were not her either. That meant misunderstandings were easy. It meant that they could not get into each other's shoes. It was hard to understand a second perspective.

She kicked her legs. She screamed when their hands reached forward. They jerked away, not wanting to touch her thrashing form. In that way, not a single person in town could move her. That was just how careful she was to plan her times to thrash, often with such vigor her very teeth threatened to jump from her own mouth.

It was an empty threat, but still a threat anyway.

Just as writing with this challenge is beyond difficult, villager people, government alike all struggled indefinitely to capture her. To detain her, perhaps.

It seemed endless. (Similar to this challenge that plagued her.)

Dear reader, I see your gears turning. I see that familiar confusion, it echoes from my very own expression as this peice is sprung from my fingers to my keyboard. It runs from these, gentle black keys right to my all too bright screen. It travels time, it travels space. It finds your place. It digs within… I am off track.

What challenge, you ask?

Why of course- a challenge which makes a person claim a bridge as their own! A challenge which leads people to not go home! A challenge which offers up bridge tops as homes rather than safe, comfortable houses. It was a challenge which this bridge girl's lover dared her to as he slipped, with hope that his ghost would see her.

Then again, he did not die.

So what was to become of this girl?

She was still cursed to follow through with this horrible challenge, of course. (More a curse than a challenge, really, it seemed to have no end in sight.)

This was a shame of course, because she had no way to abandon this terrible curse. (It was a curse, really. It was to be called one from then on out due to this fact. That would make this girl happy, suley. Well, maybe. She was not a type for any particular joy, especially not anymore.)

Doing this challenge was sapping her life force, as a more serious author might say. However, I find it more appropriate, for this ridiculous piece of writing, to laugh at this strange, confusing girl for her ridiculous choice to follow through with a challenge. (As an author, a person tying these letters sighs. This is all too reminiscent of so many things committed to at my school. Gosh, what an unpleasant year.)

Where was I?

Oh yes- her bridge. This strange girl with a bridge which she did not own, not officially.

“I don't like this,” this girl grumbled to herself. Reflecting my very thoughts, right now. As I type this. We have both fallen for difficult, inescapable challenges. (We have both gone too far now.) “I wish I was home,”

Her government yells at her. A man with a megaphone behind a blockade, but she does not more even an inch. “Ma'am!” he screams through his huge instrument. “You must move! Now!”

She only covers her ears. If she blocks it out, it almost does not exist.

Giving up on a challenge now would be foolish. She had come so far.

“Only twenty more minutes,” she thought to herself. (Only twenty more words, I begged from my place behind a screen brighter than my future.) A bang. That was it.

(1009 words.)


Water,,,, - 1۞
My throat just so happens to feel like a desert right now so I am going to go get a drink! You're going to have to trust me on this one because I don't think anyone's as weird as I am with this stuff, but shaking a cup as a drink from it somehow makes drinking water more doable. Also, drinking straight from a sink does the same thing. (In fact, drinking from a sink is pleasant! I never get that experience with water! Ever unless I do that! Really makes being socially acceptable super easy /sarcastic)
(97 words.)


Walk,,,,, - 1۞
Today I went on a walk throughout the halls of my house, up and down the stairs and around and around that little loop of rooms I hold so dear. It might be the adrenaline pumping from the cabin wars or it might be my sudden urge to burn calories, maybe both. Only time will tell- I suppose!
(58 words.)


Word War With @23BraveHeart - 1۞
Just for kicks, you know.

Just for laughs.

He was all alone now, and that made things sort of hard to deal with. (After she left, it was like he also lost his source of control and his sources of reason. It was like he had never been able to focus like that since the beginning, like she was the only thing keeping him together.)

Pft.

Who was he kidding?

It wasn't ‘like’ that- that's what it was. That was always how it had been, he was just on the brink of collapsing most of the time and she was there for him. She supported him, kept him from completely disappearing into himself, and he appreciated that greatly.

But now…

Chat Noir kicked his legs nervously, looking up at the sky like he didn't recognize it.

He couldn't afford to get too sad or too emotional in any regard, for fear of akuma's (he knew he had been akumatized once, but Ladybug always refused to tell him about it). It must have been really bad, then.

Because of that, even though they were split up now, Chat Noir had to be very careful with his emotions. (Perhaps even more so than had he not ever been akumatized.)
(207 words.)


Small rant about basson :')
yOU KNOW WHAT REALLY DRIVES ME MAD???

How badly my hand hurts after I play bassoon.

My teacher is telling me that I have to relax my hand into a more natural position and I'm trying that, but nothing seems to work!! I suppose it's not quite a pain in my hand rather than a shooting feeling of pulling and cramping up my entire forearm which lasts until long after I stop playing? Maybe my muscles in my forearm are just very weak or maybe I really am doing something wrong. Whatever the case, I wish it would stop.

Imagine me filing a restraining order against my bassoon because it is actively trying to kill me. /joking

Seriously though, it hurts very bad. If anyone is reading this that knows how to stop it please contact me on my profile, getting a little desperate because I love playing this instrument it just hurts so gosh darn bad.
(157 words.)


All That is Disconsolate is Without You - Chloenette, Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction
Chapter Three: Building Trust: Reprise CONTINUED because I needed to finish this chapter,,,
In their civilian lives, Ladybug and Chat Noir did not know each other. At least, they didn’t know that they were each other. This meant that Chloe soon became a sort of intermediary between the pair, a messenger that could supply info if something happened to one of them.

Somehow, although she was sure her from a few months ago would be aghast at the idea of working with Chloe, these slightly improved messaging abilities between the two heroes took a massive amount of stress off of Ladybug. It also meant that she was having more conversations with Chloe than normal (though it wasn’t a massively dramatic uptake, just every now and then).

One science class (as half the class was in the hallway due to a project), after Chloe showed Marinette a meme that Chat had wanted her to see,
Marinette caught Alya giving her a strange look.

“Do I have something on my face?” Marinette asked, wiping her cheek habitually to make sure nothing was there.

Alya shook her head and then spoke, sighing in a jokingly exhausted way. “I don’t even know with you- one day you hate her and the next you’re giggling at something on her phone together,”

Not sure why her cheeks were suddenly burning, Marinette shushed Alya and shook her head. She groped around for words, finally landing on a simple attempt at an explanation.“I’m just… moving on?” It was a simple offer, and Alya laughed.

“Girllll,” Alya stretched out the last syllable, giving Marinette a playful smack. “You move on too quickly!”

“I move on at a good pace!” Marinette retorted, blushing as she caught sight of Chloe giggling, now back in her seat. Why was it suddenly so embarrassing to get friendly-teased in front of her? Was it because she wasn’t adding in insults of her own anymore and that made it weird? Was it for… some other reason.

Whatever the case, it made her groan as Alya continued to laugh at her embarrassment.

Marinette looked around wearily, knowing that Adrien was outside and she didn’t really have anyone to stare at as she normally did. (Her and Alya were not getting very far in their project and a distraction was welcome from Alya’s teasing onslaught.) Then (it seemed some magnetic force was pulling her eyes these days), her gaze found Chloe’s.

They stared at each other and Marinette found her face to be suddenly quite warm.

Friendly terms, that was what they were on now. Nothing worse and nothing better.

Marinette tried to remind herself of that fact. They weren’t quite friends yet, not officially. But they weren’t enemies. Somehow, Marinette wanted to get even closer.

Her eyes flicked away.


She didn't want to be friends with Chloe publicly, not exactly. She knew what her classmates still thought of the girl (even agreed with them sometimes). It would be strange if they suddenly became super buddy-buddy.

Of course, according to Alya that was already what it seemed like when the pair interacted. At least compared to before.

Chloe showed her memes on her phone for goodness sake- two months ago she had been tripping her down the stairs! Clearly something had changed, even from and outsider perspective it was obvious.

Marinette even asked Alya what she thought had happened, slightly defensively, as Alya yet again teased her for laughing at one of Chloe's (admittedly terrible) jokes. Alya had just smiled, the expression twisted in a way that Marinette couldn't exactly read.

It was like the look Alya used to get on her face whenever she caught Marinette staring at Adrien, and she wasn't sure what to make of that.

Worst of all- some strange part of her liked that Alya thought that was what was going on- even if it clearly wasn't. (Right?)

Marinette knew what it was like to have a crush, this wasn't one. (She hoped.)

She knew what being completely infatuated with a person was like, that experience was one she had experienced for years now. (Well, she supposed it was hard to remember how a feeling like that started… but this wasn't it! Right?)

Anyway, thinking about it made her doubt herself to Marinette had to remind herself often of how Chloe used to treat her.

So she would find herself going over past situations in her head as she laid awake. Thinking about all the times Chloe had made fun of her in front of the whole class- while actually meaning it, not like how Alya did. Alya was friendly when she teased people and stopped when the person became really uncomfortable. Chloe didn't use to do that, she was only concerned with herself.

Of course, after years of being treated like that by the girl, Marinette still almost wanted to believe that Chloe had not changed. She wanted things to stay the same, have someone to fill that spot of ‘bully’ to keep her mind off of other things, give her motivation.

But at the same time, this new side of Chloe that she was now interacting with was genuinely pleasant. (In the past, Marinette wouldn't even have believes that kindness was a thing she was capable of- but now it seemed to make sense. Now, Adrien's friendship with her was believable. Was this how Chloe had treated him for years?)

Maybe, if Chloe had been like this from the start, they could have been friends too.

Of course, Marinette's thoughts would then remind her of all the times Chloe had treated her badly, again. These thoughts came and went in cycles, not unlike how Chloe's kindness often did- though this time she really was convinced it was at least half genuine.


Marinette wanted it to be real, she believed it.

If she didn't believe it, she would have to go back to having an enemy in her class. (One other than Lila.) Somehow, this new ally was what she wanted, even with her still lingering doubts.

Yet- it didn't seem like enough.

Even as she kept around some distrust and the dislike wasn't fully put away, Marinette found herself believing Alya's insistence on her new ‘crush’. It was embarrassing, yes, but it made sense.

She could picture herself and Chloe holding hands, even if it felt odd to see it so clearly in her mind's eye.

What if they had been like that since the start? She kept thinking. How different would things be then?

“Marinette!” her history teacher's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. This was the only class she didn't share with Chloe, Adrien, or Alya. That meant she should have been focusing, but there she was.

“Huh?” she tried to pull herself together, lifting her head from where it had been resting on her hand. The whole class was staring at her, looking bemused. She swallowed nervously, what had she missed.

“I asked you a question,” her teacher was reiterating, even though she hadn't heard the question initially.

“Oh?” Marinette squeaked.

Her teacher sighed. “If you are that distracted, why don't you take yourself down to the office and be distracted there?”

She opened her mouth to protest, but the teacher shook his head. “Go,” he insisted, sounding annoyed. How long had she been distracted?

Marinette tried to keep her eyes from meeting any of her classmates' as she stood and gathered her things, rushing out of the room with several hushed apologies. It was alright, she tried to tell herself, she deserved this. Being that distracted wasn't like her, even with the constant thoughts bumbling around in her head, it wasn't like she was being sent away for no reason.

Still, it felt a little unfair.

Marinette shut the door behind her and stopped in the hall, very much wanting to just stand there instead of going to the office. A chat with the principal wasn't something she wanted to do right then.

But the history teacher knocked on the door from the inside, jumpscaring her, and she quickly pulled herself together and rushed off in the direction of the office. Gosh, this was embarrassing.

Her pink flats clicked on the linoleum floor as she went, feeling rather emotional. Darn it all- why did she have to be so distracted all the time?

Despite all her attempts to keep it together, she felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes.

Her mom and dad would probably get called about this, no matter how small the offense. (Her history teacher was very strict, she really should have known better than to get so distracted in his class.)

Before she even knew it, Marinette found herself in front of the principle's door.

But she couldn't make herself knock. It was like she was frozen in place, staring at the wood, hand raised in fist to tap the material but unable to do so for some reason. Marinette bit her lip, rolling it between her teeth for a moment and wishing that she could pull herself out of the sudden state of frozen she found herself in.

Just then, a voice called her name.

Adrien.

She turned to look at him, seeing that he was walking towards her with a slightly worried look on his face. “Marinette?” he asked again, smiling with a nervous light in his eyes. “Were you also sent to the office?”

Surprised (and a little relived that she now didn't have to walk in alone), Marinette hurried to wipe away the overly dramatic tears that had cropped up in the corners of her eyes. “Um,” she tried to laugh, “Yeah, I got distracted and didn't hear my teacher asking me a question,”

He laughed, “Oh, I was sent down here because I broke a beaker in the science room, apparently,”

“But you don't even have science right now?”

He shrugged, “Apparently that doesn't matter, I guess it was broken when the class that's there right now came it,”

She smiled, feeling her fears start to melt a little bit. (Huh, it seemed that she was able to talk to him without stuttering now. Had something changed.) “That's stupid,” she declared.

Adrien nodded, “So- after you?”

She cringed, reminded of where she was. “Oh, yeah,”


The meeting with the principle went reasonably well and Marinette was sent back to class before too long. Adrien smiled at her as she left and it left butterflies in her stomach, but not at the level such an action would have created in the past.

Huh, something really had changed. (Curses! Right as she found herself able to properly talk to Adrien too- though maybe that was part of it.)

Marinette walked home, glad that there was no akuma to drag her away from her resting today. She needed to take a nap- that day had been properly exhausting, what with all the distractions inside her head and with the principal's visit. (Luckily he hadn't made her call her parents because the ‘trouble’ she had gotten herself into had't really been worthy of a principle visit, so she was able to head straight up to her room.)

But then, as she plopped down on her bed and closed her eyes, Marinette found she couldn't sleep.

Eventually, she sat up, frustrated by how long it was taking for sleep to take her under its wing. She needed to sleep, darn it! Why wasn't it happening?

Though it probably was about to do the opposite of get her to rest, Marinette pulled out her phone and unlocked it. It opened to a photo of Adrien, her current backdrop, and she hesitated.

Huh. She looked down at it with curiosity, as if she was looking at something unfamiliar.

Somehow, it didn't feel the same.

Of course the photo still made her smile, but it felt like the reason was different now. Less… romantic? Was that even possible?

Marinette hadn't thought that her feelings for him would ever change, not even a tiny bit. But there she was, looking at the photo in fascination, as if she was looking at a photo of a friend for the first time. (Yes- that was right. He was her friend. A very close friend.)

Not more than that, she thought, in awe.

Was this really happening?

But then she blinked herself out of her trance. What was she thinking about? Of course she still had a crush- that was pretty much a quintessential part of her identity these days. It had been for ages, that's why so many of her conversations with Alya ended up mulling over Adrien and his newest escapades in modeling.

And yet,,, didn't he hate modeling?

Why was she, as one of his closest friends, staring at these photos with such awe? Didn't that make her a bad friend, looking at the job that harmed him with drool practically dripping out of her mouth?

Marinette swallowed the hypothetical drool. Oh yeah, something had definitely changed within the past few weeks. She just didn't want to think what. It felt too wrong to delve into the possible reasons. It felt like she was betraying herself. (Maybe that was a clue to what had happened.)

Just then, Tikki spoke up.

“Marinette?” the little red creature asked, floating into Marinette's line of vision and distracting her from her phone screen.

“Hm?” Marinet hummed, tearing her eyes away from the photo of Adrien and forcing herself to make eye contact with her kwami. Tikki had an odd look on her face. Marinette couldn't help but smile. “Tikki? What is it?”

“You know you're allowed to let things change, right?” Tikki asked, floating down and sitting on Marinette's knee, her voice earnest and full of insistent purpose. Marinette found herself swallowing. Tikki could read her well, she remembered now, very well.

“I guess,” Marinette shrugged, looking back at Adrien again and feeling that odd twinge of guilt for appreciating the photo. They paused for a moment, Tikki waiting for Marinette to continue and Marinette looking the photo over one last time before shutting off her phone and setting it down.

She smiled at Tikki.“Maybe I will,”
(2347 words.)


All That is Disconsolate is Without You - Chloenette, Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction
Chapter Five: I Tolerate You (With a Romantic Intention) I moved the end bit that was in chapter four to this one! I included it here so this would make sense but I only counted the words I wrote today.
Before long, Tikki was napping on a pillow and Chloe and Marinette were chatting. For a pair that had hated each other mere weeks ago, they actually got along quite well. At the moment, they were in deep conversation over a video game Marinette had recently gotten into and whether it was worth it or not. Apparently, Adrien had gotten into the series a few years back and Chloe was familiar with it.

Apparently the pair had played it together, which Marinette was not expecting.

Quite frankly, it made her jealous in a way she wasn't too used to regarding Adrien and Chloe. (In a way she wasn't quite ready to admit, even to herself.)

“It's cool that you know what I'm talking about,” Marinette smiled at Chloe, hugging her knees to her chest and tilting her head to the side.

Chloe smiled back at her, “Yeah, it's nice to know that people other than Adrien are interested in the series- and I'd say it's worth it, its really fun to play,”

“It costs a lot though,” Marinette frowned, “Even though I really wanna play it…”

She jumped as Chloe put a hand on her arm, her classmate's voice suddenly excited. “I'd buy it for you!”

For some reason, that (in combination with the wild grin on Chloe's face) made Marinette blush. She was blushing a lot recently. “No- no you don't have to do that!”

“Have to?” Chloe laughed, “I want to! I think you deserve to play it,”

“But it costs so-” Marinette tried to get a word in, but Chloe was already pulling out her phone.

“Let me get you something,” Chloe shushed her, “As an apology?”

She offered the explanation up nervously, as if she had to ask for permission to mention the past. Marinette tensed. Chloe must have felt it because she froze too, fingers hovering over her screen as she looked over at Marinette again. The space between them was so tense it felt like it could catch fire.

“S-sorry,” Chloe tried, “I should have brought that up,”

Marinette swallowed. “It's fine,”

“No really, I should have asked before I mentioned-”

“It's fine!” Marinette insisted, a little more forcefully. Chloe looked away again, bringing her arms closer to her chest as if for comfort. Marinette's own chest felt like it was suddenly hollow, unsure if she really meant that it was okay.

Sure, things had certainly changed between them, but it was hard to forget the past. Forgetting was always beyond difficult, it was forgiving that she was used to forcing. (But was this forgiveness really all that forced? It felt natural enough.) So Marinette smiled as well as se could, patting Chloe on the arm. “Forgive, right? I don't need to forget, you don't need to. What matters is that we're…”

She trailed off. Were they better now? Things had changed, obviously, but it hadn't been officially stated yet from either of them. Since the apology letter and since the identity reveal they had been ignoring the sudden and vast change in their dynamic. It had to come up eventually, but she hadn't expected to be the one that would bring it up.

Chloe looked at her and Marinette caught onto the hopeful edge in her eyes. “We're..?” she encouraged, wanted to know what Marinette was about to say.

“It's-” Marinette hesitated. There was no going back if they admitted it, but it had to be done. She forced herself to meet Chloe's eyes, somehow this felt like more than it was and her heart hammered in her chest. “We're okay now,” she murmured, feeling her eyes soften even as her heart jumped up and down in her throat. “What matters is that we're okay now,”

“We are?” Chloe whispered, her phone slipping from her grasp as she maintained Marinette's eye contact. It fell gently onto the bed, Marinette tried to ignore her urge to also fall onto the bed as it had. She tried to ignore how tempting Chloe's gaze was, how soft and gentle her perfectly manicured fingers suddenly looked.

Marinette swallowed, tearing her thoughts away from such things. “Yeah,” her throat felt dry, “If you think so too,”

“I do,” Chloe's voice was barely loud enough for Marinette to hear.

It felt like a promise.


Ah forgiveness.

It really had a way of worming into her gut and making her second guess herself.

So Ladybug found herself standing next to Chat Noir on that same roof above the park she and Chloe had walked in, telling him as much as she could without telling him who see was. Her listened to her carefully, eyes watching the street below instead of his partner as she paced beside him.

“And I forgave her,” Ladybug was ranting, waving her arms around to exaggerate her words even though she knew Chat wasn't watching her as she spoke. “I felt good about it, I still do! But I don't know if I should have done it, it feels like I'm betraying myself,”

She looked over at her partner for help, biting her lip. “What do I do?”

He paused, then turned to watch her face. She knew she looked scared and unsure, just as she did when they fought a particularly difficult akuma and she didn't know what to do with her Lucky Charm. “Did you want to forgive her in the moment?” he asked, words measured and calm.

Ladybug nodded.

“Then you should keep forgiving her,” Chat Noir smiled, “Keep forgiving her until something changes, if it does,”

“What would change?” she asked, desperate for answers that she knew neither of them had. She couldn't tell the future, neither could he,

So she expected him to shrug, just as he did. “You tell me,” he glanced down at the street for a second before looking up at her again, “But it might not,”

“I don't know what to do if it doesn't change back,” she bit her lip, “I'm used to her doing this- it used to happen over and over again, but I never forgave her before,”

“It almost sounds like you didn't forgive her,” Chat commented.

Ladybug bristed, not sure why this was getting her so worked up. “I did! I forgave her because she's really changed this time, I just don't know if it was the right move, what if she gets the wrong idea?”

A strange look passed over her partner's face as he looked up at her. “What do you mean?”

She flushed, realizing what she had said. But she had no way to explain herself. “I-” she bit her lip, “I don't know,”

Chat Noir smiled at her, the expression ever so slightly incredulous. “Alright,” the smile turned to a lopsided grin. It was reminiscent of the looks Alya used to give her when she denied her feelings for Adrien. The comparison between the two, although it was made by her own mind, made Ladybug's stomach twist unpleasantly.

“But- but I really want to forgive her,” Ladybug went on, determined to move on past the odd statement that had forced its way out of her mouth. “And I am forgiving her! She really has changed, it just still doesn't seem-”

“Real?” Chat offered. Ladybug smiled, exhausted and oh so glad he was such a good listener.

“Yeah,”

Hearing her relived tone of voice, he smiled gently, patting her on the arm as she went to sit down beside him. “I'm sure you'll figure it out LB, you know you always do,”

She smiled, trying to ignore the way her stomach still twisted with nervous tension. “I… um, I guess,”

Chat Noir shot her a grin. “Don't ‘I guess’ me, you know it,”

“No!” she claimed, waving her arms, “I don't know what you're talking about,”

He laughed, “Sure- you're a real jokester, you know that?”

“But I don't always work it out!” she protested.

He grabbed her shoulders, startling her as he stared into her eyes with his own cat-like ones. Hypnotising. “Yes you do, you're resourceful and work things out, that's why you're still Ladybug,”

She swallowed, fighting the urge to deny his words again. “But-”

“Nope!” he put a finger over he mouth, smiling playfully as she shut up. “Nope, don't deny it!”

The urge came back, but she pouted instead, a smile teasing the expression even as she did so. t was stupid to keep going like this, they both knew it, and she usually caved first in these sorts of pep-talk ‘debates’, right then was no different. “You're no fun,” she muttered, trying to avoid his triumphant gaze.

“You know it,” he grinned in that cheeky way she knew so well, “Chat ‘no fun’ Noir, that's me,”

Ladybug laughed, feeling just a little bit lighter.


For the second time in a relatively small span of time, Ladybug ran into Chloe in public.

This time, the sun was shining above them and people were bustling all about them.

But the proper public nature of this meeting didn't stop the genuine smile from appearing on Chloe's face. Nor did it stop Ladybug's polite smile in return, feeling calm in Chloe's presence in a way she hadn't really felt before. Chat Noir's pep talk really had talked some sense into her, it seemed.

“Ladybug!” Chloe's excitement was obvious in her voice, ignoring as the people around them started to look on. (A celebrity interacting with a superhero in a public space, of course their attention would be grabbed.) “Look, I bought y- I mean, I bought a new video game,”

Ladybug watched on in amazement as Chloe pulled the disk's case out of her purse, showing the cover to Ladybug briefly before slipping it back into the bag and looking back up at her. “Cool, no?”

“Yeah,” Ladybug breathed, all too aware of the several cameras that had just been taken out to record them. (Videos to be submitted to the Ladyblog for judgement, probably. Public interactions between Chloe and Ladybug had been highly valued ever since Chloe's tweet, it felt a little odd to think about.)

So Ladybug reached out and took Chloe's hand. She felt her heart beating hard in her chest.

Uh oh, she was about to do something rash.

And do something rash she did, lifting Chloe's hand up to her lips and kissing it gently. Chloe's mouth fell open, stopping in the middle of what she had been saying, amazed shock clearly evident in her all too excited expression. Ladybug's face felt very warm, especially with the cameras pointed at them.

“Do you want to talk somewhere else?” she offered, just barely under her breath.

Chloe looked light headed, if anything. “Sure,” she breathed, and Ladybug felt glad.

Soon, she had wrapped her arm around Chloe and they were zipping off through the city, Chloe clinging hard to her and whooping with excitement. The wind rushed past them, fast moving and hopeful- reflecting Ladybug's heartbeat perfectly. This felt right. This felt so right!

They landed on a building not too far away from the school, Chole laughing happily and Ladybug smiling like an idiot.

“Thank you,” Chloe gushed as Ladybug set her down on the roof, “I forgot how much I missed doing that,”

Ladybug grinned stupidly, “Yeah, me too,”

“You do it all the time!” Chloe laughed. Her excited amusement was contagious and soon Ladybug found herself laughing too.

In fact, with the adrenalin and the pleasantly warm wind coursing through them, the pair had quite a hard time stopping laughing. It was like someone had told a very amusing joke and then neither of them remembered how to let their giggles subside. Though no one really had told any joke, it was just the inability to stop laughing that remained true.

But with it, Ladybug felt happy.

Really, truly happy. Like she had been missing this her whole life and she finally found something that felt right.

Finally, their laughter dwindled into the occasional snicker and bemused smiles. Dazed smiles. like neither was sure how to define what had happened.

Then, Chloe said exactly what Ladybug was thinking. “I'm happy,” she said simply, a stupid smile on her beautiful face. It made Ladybug's heart flutter, grinning in response.

“Me too,” she breathed.

They smiled at each other for a long moment as if in a trance. Ladybug's eyes searched Chloe's face, taking in her reddened cheeks and the sparkles in her eyes. Oh, how had she lived without this? It had been hers for approximately fifteen minutes but it still felt like a necessity- her mind loopily shelving it in the ‘food and water’ category as her gaze went to Chloe's lips.

Pink lip gloss.

It matched her eye shadow, somehow.

Ladybug still remembered what Chloe looked like without makeup and, for whatever reason, the thought made her smile grow. “Thank you for buying the game,” she finally whispered, reaching out awkwardly as if for a handshake. “You didn't have to, but thank you,”

Chloe grinned and reached out, returning the handshake as if Ladybug had not just kissed her hand. “No problem, I wanna play it with you,”

“You do?” Ladybug felt her heart skip a beat, “With me?”

“Yes,” Chloe dropped their hands, reaching up with her other hand to teasingly poke the end of Ladybug's nose. Ladybug laughed, bringing a hand to rub the spot her friend had just touched.

“Thank you,” she smiled, and it wasn't hesitant at all.


In the following weeks, they did play the game together.

They were hanging out so much that Alya jokingly told Marinette that she would gladly hand over her best friend privileges just to see her and Chloe interact even more. Marinette just playfully shoved her shoulder, shaking her head and reminding her that ‘best friend’ was a title applicable to many people in her eyes.

Chloe wasn't a ‘best friend’ yet, but she was climbing the ranks ridiculously quickly.

Sometimes, Marinette forgot why they had ever disliked each other in the first place. More importantly: sometimes, she wondered if Chloe would some day reach a spot beyond ‘best friend’. She was ready to admit it now, the thoughts were following the path that her crush on Adrien had.

Maybe her and Chloe could adopt three kids and a hamster.

It was thinking too far ahead, obviously, but Marinette found herself smiling over the thought at dinner more than once. She also caught herself thinking about it as she was trying to go to bed and during class, so it was steadily reaching ‘Adrien’ levels.

Chloe's apology letter had been successful after all, Marinette thought to herself, a dopey smile on her face during science class. She didn't even care that Alya was giggling about her, she finally felt free (like this had been building up for a long time instead of less than a year).

Her gaze shifted to Chloe, smile turning to genuine and gentle as her eyes softened. Somehow, looking at Chloe felt comforting now.

And, as she watched, Chloe turned around to look at her.

She smiled too.
(2399 words.)


All That is Disconsolate is Without You - Chloenette, Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction
Chapter Six: Epilogue/Where To Go From Here?
Three weeks had passed.

In that time, many things happened very quickly. For one- Chloe Bourgeois released an official statement on Twitter coming out as pansexual. For another, Marinette finally told Adrien how she had felt for years and apologized for not being a good enough friend for him. He had hugged her and smiled, and told her that he understood. Something about a similar experience.

Alya and Chloe were able to hang out with Marinette at the same time twice without fighting at all, which was quite frankly exceeding Marinette's expectations for either of them.

She was happy, and the people around her noticed.

It seemed that once she stopped chasing someone she wasn't going to end up with, opportunities sprung up in front of her.

They still weren't sure if they could call it dating yet, but that was alright.

That was moving too fast, wasn't it? (Then again, everything about their sudden transition from hatred to friendship was moving ‘too fast’, even if it had actually been several months since Marinette first received the apology letter in the mail.)

It still felt like such a short amount of time that everything had changed in, and in comparison to the years of history they had on less-good terms, it was a short amount of time. And yet, even with her knowledge of the past, Marinette was happy with what she had now.

She was happy when Chloe and her played that video game she had bought for her. She was happy even when Chloe beat her.

She was happy when Nino fistbumped Chloe in class, even if he reminded her that he hadn't completely forgiven her right afterward.

Marinette was happy when Chloe held her hand.

Honestly, being around her nowadays made Marinette happy, it didn't matter what they were doing.

It seemed that, even if she couldn't forget, forgiveness was enough to make the past matter less. It was still their history and it wouldn't be ignored, but it was a benchmark that they grew from.

A benchmark that Chloe constantly reminded Marinette of her whenever she bought her gifts or squeezed her hand so kindly the way Marinette liked, even when she complained that bringing up the past wasn't necessary. Apparently, Chloe was bent on improving and improving until there was no room left to improve.

Luckily, Marinette had the feeling that Chloe would have plenty of time to become even better. (It didn't seem like they would be abandoning each other any time soon.)

As Ladybug, Marinette had to be carefull with her affection around Chloe. It was dangerous to potentially make her even more of a target for Hawkmoth than she already was, of course, but it was also important that she keep her identity hidden from her classmates. If she and Chloe were advancing into territory often defined as dating when Marinette was not Ladybug, it was important that their meetings in superhero dress were to stay completely professional.

That didn't stop Ladybug from wanting to take her on grand tours of Paris, swinging over the rooftops and whooping in glee. She couldn't do it, but it was always something she hoped to do one day.

And on the weekends, particularly Saturdays because it lacked a school day the following morning, they made their little walks through the park a tradition. Of course, Marinette had to turn into Ladybug to get there- but the shared moments were shared when she was Marinette.

After all, she was more Marinette than she was Ladybug, and Chloe seemed to love her for who she was.

Wow.

Loved her.

It gave her little butterflies in her stomach to think about. Love. She was in love with Chloe, Chloe was in love with her. For a long time, Marinette hadn't thought herself to be deserving of love.

But now, she felt like she could get used to it.


There was the matter of Chat Noir's identity to deal with, because Chloe's father still knew.

With Chat Noir in on the plan and a little bit of help from Trixx, the mistake was patched up.

Marinette hadn't expected Chloe to look that good with the fox Miraculous. (Of course she would never replace Rena Rouge, it was just used because Alya couldn't know Chat Noir's identity, just as Ladybug couldn't. That was why Chloe had to wield the fox Miraculous for the plan, since neither Rena Rouge nor Ladybug could be there.)

Chloe had even given the magical necklace back right afterwards, which put a fluttery feeling in Marinette's stomach- even though it was a very low bar in comparison to the others Chloe had already leaped over in the past few months. It marked a change, a very definite change. That was why it meant so much, Ladybug decided.

Chat Noir hugged Ladybug after the little plan was carried out, the mayor now convinced that he was not his civilian identity- whoever that was. He also hugged Chloe, and that made Ladybug smile. She might not have known who he was in his civilian life, but she was glad that him and Chloe were friends when she figured it out.


Marinette held hands with Chloe tentatively, unsure if what she was doing was right.

Chloe clung to her like a drowning man to a raft, desperately spilling the contents of her heart whenever she spoke, waxing poetry with even the littlest stories. How Marinette had not noticed how charming she could be when she told stories, she wasn't sure.

Even with the way Chloe used to act, there was no way this side of her had been completely hidden.

Or maybe it was.

But either way, Marinette was just thankful she was able to see it now. She could see their future ahead of them, even if they weren't labeling it just yet.


It honestly seemed to be the gossipy tabloid articles that got it first, which was mildly amusing to Marinette.

The first clue was Chloe coming out on Twitter, obviously. The next was pretty much everything about how her and Marinette acted in public these days.

They looked into each other's eyes with a gentle warmth that was hard to replicate. They held hands, and not in the way ‘just friends’ tended to. Sometimes, Chloe would even kiss Marinette on the back of her hand.

It made her flush every time, and Chloe would smile deviously and insist it was ‘payback’ for Marinette's rash decision as Ladybug. That made her blush even harder, to be honest. (Had it mattered that much to Chloe when she had done it? Because whenever it happened to her she felt like all the love and affection in the universe was being placed upon her, even if her usage of the action had originally been taking a page out of Chat Noir's old book. Now it didn't seem so much like his move- it was more like Chloe's.)

Oh well, hot blonds.


Alya teased Marinette for having a thing for blonds, or for people of high social status.

Marinette playfully batted her hand away.

It wasn't like everyone could just forgive Chloe, of course. Alya was one of those people- even though she had known Chloe for far less time that Marinette (and had therefore dealt with her past actions far less). Still, Alya was always invested in romantic escapades.

It was like watching a reality TV show, she had said once (in front of their teacher and much to Marinette's embarrassment).


Eventually, they were going to have to label it.

For some reason, Marinette found herself as Ladybug, pacing the roof of the regular patrol meeting spot. Chat Noir would meet her soon.

Hawkmoth wasn't gone yet, but she was ready to make a very bold decision. Not an identity reveal, certainly not (she was always one to stick to the rules as tightly as she could), but perhaps a hint.

It would be an obvious hint if Chat Noir knew Chloe as well as she knew him too, but that was sort of the goal.

Right on time, she heard his feet hitting the roof behind her. She turned around and smiled at him, nervousness in her throat.

He smiled back, but as he walked closer his eyebrows raised, clearly noting her nervousness. “What's up LB?” he asked, twirling his staff gracefully in his hand.

“Oh nothing,” she kicked a non-existent peeble sheepishly, “I just wanted to… ask you for some final advice,”

“Final advice you say?” he asked, smiling foolishly in that way she knew so well. He wiggled his eyebrows, causing her to laugh even as she felt nervous. “Does this, by chance, have to do with that mystery girl who you've been vauging about for a while now?”

“Yes,” she blushed. “I thought it wouldn't be quite right if you didn't get to hear the end of the story, since you were basically there with me the whole way through,”

He grinned. “I've been told I'm good at advice,”

She laughed, “Yeah- by me,”

Thinking over her word choice, Ladybug smiled at him. She wasn't having doubts, but she wanted to get one last good look at him before he had a proper hint that might unravel her identity to him. They were good friends, she trusted him.

“So,” she said, as casually as she could (spinning her yo-yo in the precise way he had been with his staff earlier. A homage, if you will). “I wanted to ask what you thought of me asking her out- romantically, this time,”

(She had, of course, told him about the trips she had gone on as ‘just friends’, even though she, Chloe, and Chat Noir all knew the trips were clearly not just platonic. No one had confronted it yet, that was all.)

A grin lit his face, cheeky as ever. “Oh?”

“Yes, ‘oh’,” she teased, “What do you think? Should it be a dinner date or something a little more casual,”

“Video games are always a good bet,” he offered.

She laughed, “Yes- but we already play video games together,”

He laughed too. Obviously he knew that, she had told him before. “Well,” he sighed, smiling fondly at her. “If you're asking for my ‘blessing’- because that's what it sounds like, I obviously say yes!”

She grinned from ear to ear. “You do?”

“Duh!” he laughed, waving his hand in a mock-dismissive manor. “I'll be waiting for the marriage invitation, ta ta!” And with one last wave he vaulted off the building and away on patrol.


Marinette met up with Chloe on a Friday afternoon, dragging her alone to a little fabric store on the corner of a street intersection. Marinette often shopped here. It was important to her. Chloe was important to her. It made sense that a first proper date would be held in such a place, even if she hadn't invited Chloe along on a date explicitly.

They spent a while looking at fabric and chatting, pretending like Marinette had let go of Chloe's hand even once since they had met up at the door of the shop.

Finally, Chloe asked it.

“Is this a date, Dupain-Cheng?” she asked, raising an eyebrow and cracking a smile that Marinette was very glad to see.

Somehow, Marinette didn't stutter, didn't blush. She only smiled back, somehow smooth even as her heart pounded in her chest like she had been running. “If you want it to be,” Marinette whispered.

Chloe stared at her for a long moment, trying to see if she was really serious. Then, when it was decided that she was serious enough, Chloe broke out into a huge grin. “I do. I do want it to be a date,”

“That's good,” Marinette smiled, “Because I might have cried if you said no,”

Chloe squeezed her hand tightly, reached out and taking hold of her other one. She maintained eye contact with Marinette as she lifted up her hand and gently kissed the back of it. It didn't matter that the move was outdated, it was romantic. Marinette broke into a grin.

“Can I kiss you?” Chloe asked, “If this is a date?”

“Who knows,” Marinette teased, tilting her head like she was considering it. “Maybe I'll play hard to get,”

“You couldn't play hard enough to get that I'd give up on you,” Chloe smiled.

It was as truthful as it was profound, and Marinette found herself leaning in for the kiss.
(2078 words.)
And with that, the fic is done! I'll probably edit some more, but yeah.


Dollhouse Animatic Plan (for MLB, Adrien Agreste) Note that the lyrics are not counted, only the planning!
*music* - Intro complete with credits for the fandom, music, character, etc. Title card follows this right up until it cuts to black for the lyrics.

Hey, girl - Marinette’s face is shown on a white background.
open the walls - Adrien’s face is shown.
play with your dolls - Marinette is holding her sketchbook, it has a drawing of Adrien in it.
We'll be a perfect family - Adrien smiles gently, and Marinette turns away (flustered). Background fades to dark gray.
When you walk away is when we really play - Adrien watching after her from the side as she walks away, the looming image of his father’s back slowly fades in over the scene.

You don't hear me when I say - Adrien closes his eyes tightly.
"Mom, - An image of Adrien’s mother’s body is shown.
please wake up - Adrien lip syncing as tears slide down his face.
Dad's with a !, - Adrien leans his head back against his head board, closing his eyes. Image of Natalie standing next to Gabrial is shown. On the final word of the lyrics it flashes to show Hawkmoth and Mayura.
and your son is !!" - Plagg flies up as if to comfort him, but looks away with a slight frown.

No one ever listens, - Adrien drops his head down again and covers his face.
this wallpaper glistens - A white mother circles in a dark room.
Don't let them see what goes down in the kitchen - Screen pans down to show Hawkmoth’s silhouette and his signature window.

Places, - Cameras and lighting is shown
places, - Gabriel clasps his hands behind his back
get in your places - People rushing around as Adrien stands very still.
Throw on your dress and put on your doll faces - Adrien shrugs on a shirt and then a makeup brush taps his cheek.
Everyone thinks that we're perfect - Cameras flashing as he poses.
Please don't let them look through the curtains - Zoom on his face, his eyes look dead.

Picture, - The camera flashes and he blinks.
picture, - The camera flashes again and he turns away, closing his eyes.
smile for the picture - Someone’s feet step forward.
Pose with your brother, - Felix steps into frame next to Adrien.
won't you be a good sister? - Felix speaks, smiling in an indiscernible way..
Everyone thinks that we're perfect - They stand together.
Please don't let them look through the curtains - Screen flashes to a slightly lighter gray and Adrien is standing alone in the same setting, no one else is there.

D-O-L-L-H-O-U-S-E - Adrien plops down on his bed and starts up at the ceiling.
I see things that nobody else sees - He closes his eyes, looking pained.
(D-O-L-L-H-O-U-S-E - Adrien reaches out towards Plagg, screen zooms out and then cuts to black.
I see things that nobody else sees) - Chat Noir leaps out of the window.

Hey, girl, - Chat Noir kicks his legs as he talks to Ladybug, they are sitting on the side of a building, chatting.
look at my mom, - He lip syncs and smiles at her.
she's got it going on - She smiles nervously, tilting her head to the side.
Ha, - He stands up,
you're blinded by her jewelry - Image of the three person family.
When you turn your back she pulls out a flask - His mother pulls out the glitch peacock miraculous, then zooms in on her face and shuts her eyes.
And forgets his ! - The image of his mother’s closed eyes is cut by an image of Natalies open ones.
Uh-oh, - Natalie walks up the stairs.
she's coming to the attic, Adrien stares at his door.
plastic - He looks into a mirror, his expression looks dead when it zooms in on the reflection.
Go back to being plastic - Adrien forces a smile.

No one ever listens, - Adrien sitting in class, people are talking around him.
this wallpaper glistens - He sighs.
One day they'll see what goes down in the kitchen - He stands up from his seat, violently pushing the chair back. Cuts to black.

Places, - Adrien transforms into Chat Noir.
places, - He leaps through the air.
get in your places - Zoom in on his face.
Throw on your dress and put on your doll faces - Ladybug and Chat Noir standing/fighting side by side.
Everyone thinks that we're perfect - Magazines, the Ladyblog, and movie posters showing up.
Please don't let them look through the curtains - Chat Noir sobbing into Ladybug’s shoulder as she hugs him.

Picture, - A flash of light illuminating Adrien’s face.
picture, - A flash of light illuminating Adrien and Chloe’s faces.
smile for the picture - Gabriel lip syncs.
Pose with your brother, - Tiny Adrien and Chloe standing next to each other.
won't you be a good sister? - Older Adrien and Chloe facing away from each other, both with crossed arms.
Everyone thinks that we're perfect - Chloe turns her head back to look at Adrien.
Please don't let them look through the curtains - He lip syncs, shaking his head.

D-O-L-L-H-O-U-S-E - Gabriel Agreste opens the door to Adrien’s room.
I see things that nobody else sees - Adrien is lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling blankly.
(D-O-L-L-H-O-U-S-E - Adrien looks over at his father slowly.
I see things that nobody else sees) - They just stare at each other for a long moment.

*music* - Hawkmoth and Mayura doing things, Adrien’s mother in her containment thing.

Hey, girl - Adrien lip sync.
(hey, girl, hey, girl, hey, girl, hey, girl, hey, girl, hey, girl, hey, girl…) - Marinette’s face.
Hey, girl, - Chat Noir tips his head to the side.
open your walls, - Ladybug looks at him with worry.
play with your dolls - He starts to pull his ring off.
We'll be a perfect family He lip syncs, then there is a flash of green and it cuts to black.

Places, - Adrien is running away down the street.
places, - Ladybug stares after him in shock.
get in your places - She looks down at the ring, shadow under her eyes with terror.
Throw on your dress and put on your doll faces - Adrien wipes his eyes as he runs, crying.
Everyone thinks that we're perfect - He passes by a pillar with his face on it.
Please don't let them look through the curtains - Ladybug starts after him, cut to black.

Picture, - She tackles him.
picture, - They tumble along the ground.
smile for the picture - She sits up, hands still pinning him down.
Pose with your brother, - He is crying.
won't you be a good sister? - She is panting.
Everyone thinks that we're perfect - Zoom out to show the empty road.
Please don't let them look through the curtains - Adrien lip syncs, closing his eyes and turning his head away.

D-O-L-L-H-O-U-S-E - Images from throughout the animatic.
I see things that nobody else sees - Ladybug bites her lip.
(D-O-L-L-H-O-U-S-E - Ladybug drops her cover, turning back into Marinette.
I see things that nobody else sees) - They stare at each other, then Marinette hugs Adrien. Fade to white.
(770 words.)

Day twenty four: 3۞ in total. (417 words in total.)

Main Cabin Daily - 3۞
Wind whistles up in the leaves
Glitters
Flitters
Sun shadowing and deceives

I am not a robot still
Blood veins
Closed trains
It is like we have no will

For everything is done with
Until
Fulfill
Time fades away into myth

I feel sick and it comes up
I tease
Unease
Dirty dirty scrub and scrub

It scratches my skin, dear dove
Bleed from
the hum
Hearing hearing screaming “love”

I close my eyes- it goes dark
Wishing
Dishing
Out all my own empty lies

Something smells off in the air
And something pulls at my hair

A B C D
You and Me
(104 words.)



Plan For Future Chapters Of My France Fic (MLBxHWS)
A first time on the Ladyblog, at least for an interview.
- “There were more akuma’s that week” (first line)
- Describe France working together with CN and LB
- After the battle, Alya comes to him with a camera and asks questions
- Some of the questions get him thinking about Chloe again
It’s tiring to have so many jobs.
- Chloe perspective chapter!
- She thinks back to all the times weird things happened with Pollen.
- Various flashbacks.
- LB visits her at home (she has been released from the hospital) and they talk
- LB looks over the Miraculous and sees that it seems to shake in her hand, glitching, if you will.
- Worried.
Sympathy’s a tough one.
- Stress grows as akumas continue to become even harder to fight and QB can’t help (LB is not allowing her or anyone to use the Bee Miraculous, too dangerous)
- CN is getting nervous as Chloe continues to get sick and visits her as Adrien. (Her condition is eerily similar to his mother’s illness and it scares him.)
- LB and CN argue because their worries are slightly different (LB is most worried about what Hawkmoth could have done because she blames him, CN is worried about QB herself)
- It sort of puts a rivet in the team.
This isn’t a very good disguise…
- As the superhero team is in relative shambles, Louis is getting hate from people due to his akumitization.
- Apparently, people have doxxed him using a little bit of news footage from after his akumatized form was defeated.
- The windows of his shop are smashed, he breaks down.
- France tries to comfort him, torn between the drama on both sides.
- France asks QB for advice because he is worried for Louis’ safety and worried he may get akumatized again, knowing she has been akumatized multiple times.
- She describes putting up a front so that akumas stay away. A disguise.
(313 words.)

Day twenty five: 3۞ in total. (199 words in total.)

Main Cabin Daily - 3۞
Above, the stars twinkle distantly.

They are weak in comparison to the shining lights of the city- which burn in your eyes and seem to reflect the powers you have now gained.

Suddenly, there is a light thump behind you. You turn and see a figure walking towards you, her boots occasionally becoming visible under her long black cloak.

Madam Supernova, you realize with a start. (Was she expecting you?)

“Come with me,” the masked woman smiles to you, but her voice demands obedience. You swallow. What choice do you have? “I thought I felt new powers being granted,” she says softly, and you blink.

Of course, that's why she would be here.

She nods her head to the left and suddenly jumps away. You follow, wanting to know where she wants to bring you.

Madam Supernova leads you to an alleyway in the far east of the city. She presses a brick in the wall and suddenly it opens to reveal a staircase leading down.

You can see two other people inside. You recognize them- Monophone and Drama Queen.

“Welcome to the Superhero!AU Safehouse,” Madam Supernova smiles under her mask. “Come inside, we have plans to make.”
(199 words.) this was so fun what-

Day twenty six: 4۞ in total. (3354 words in total.)

Main Cabin Daily - 3۞
Part one: describe something (was continued by @TheWarriorCat0416 here)
A broken down castle made of huge, worn, stone rests in the center of an old forest. The red of the maple trees in the fall contrast with the dark of the towering stone walls and bring out the red banners which still hang in the castle's center. It has stayed here for many years, but rain has just started to damage the inside of the structure after part of the ceiling caved in. These rocks now sit in a pile just off to the side of the central room's middle, the bottom of them is plastered with gold that is now chipping, as it once decorated the whole ceiling in a magnificent display of wealth and power.
(118 words.)

Piece by @MysticScratcher101
“In the middle of the unknown ocean, a small mountain barely reaches above sea level. There, the small population thrived, called the Gasn. On the tip, it was like a small forest. Trees were everywhere. The residents created a man-made lake to use as freshwater. There was a lot of wildlife around, and the residents respected the animals, only using them for their advantage if they had no other choice. The Gasn is run by a small aristocracy, and most of the citizens are treated equally.”

Part two: describing @MysticScratcher101's piece in the future
As sea level rose, the small mountain slowly became covered in the relentless waves. Piece by piece, bits of the cliffs were broken off with the constant beating of waves against their sides. The Gasn learned to make more seafaring boats and left their civilization behind in the hopes of finding more land. After they left, their towns were slowly washed away by the waves, never to be retrieved.

First it was chipping away of the cliffs that caught the Gasn's attention, though that had been going on for many years at that point. (The mountain no longer produced its own stone as it had when it grew from an underground volcano, so erosion constantly battered its cliffs.) However, the erosion eventually came to meet the sites of old towns, since having moved into a larger city at the central top of the island (being forced to cut down many trees of the once thick forest as the whole population was pushed to the center).

It was decided that ships would be built to sail away in the direction from which their ancestors had come, hoping to find some sort of refuge in a faraway land which would be safer than their own collapsing island.

They left, the entire population of the Gasn, on several boats all heading in the same direction. With them they brought remnants of buildings they now understood would disappear into the sea. They brought food and systems to purify water just as they had lived on their island, not knowing if they would ever find land again. (Perhaps they would have to become a society built only on the three ships they had brought. But this is not about them.)

Many years in the future, all that was left of their small island land was an expanse of ocean and a unintentional trap where ships might run aground.
(313 words.)


Me Back On My DM Arch
Exploring the trading post:

There is a small shop set up where they can spend some of their money if they would like. They can pay money for the following items (thought I should just say this now, I have no clue what I’m doing. I’m making this all up. This is barely following the rules of dnd. Anyway):

Weapon: An ax. Costs 3 gold pieces.

Damage: Materials to make a potion. Putting it together will use up two turns from someone in a battle. The potion in completion can be splashed on an enemy and kill them in two turns. Materials cost 8 gold pieces.

A mysterious key found in the woods. Say the goblin recognizes it: If players do not buy this here there will be a whole other section they have to do. Costs 20 gold pieces.

…Drink: You can give it to people along the way. There are three bottles. Maybe it will help? Costs 5 gold pieces.

Everyone can rest in a house if they pay one gold piece. It heals everyone from their injuries and they feel well rested.


Players and the goblin (from now on referred to as G) set out following the map in the direction of a mountain. DM notes for me: At this point C has twelve arrows. The party has whatever they have bought from the shop (*MAKE NOTE HERE). A has a shield. The party also has an empty chest. G is tied in the back of the wagon but is reading the map with Mo’s aid.

After a few lightly uneventful days of traveling, the party comes across a lonely house on the edge of the stream. They stop here.

When they explore the cabin they find a woman goblin and her little girl inside.

When they interrogate the woman she tells them that there is an area off to the side where they might find more information on the plans of the goblin king. She lives here and has overheard a lot from the other goblins that pass by. In war, her husband died and she has a grudge against the kingdom and has moved here to get away from it all. IF THE PLAYERS HAVE A …Drink: they can give it to her and she will tell them this after drinking it:

The goblins are planning to take over the common kingdom that rules this place. The goblin king has plans to use several cities in the area to enslave people for his armies. Other areas have people mining metals so that they can make weapons. The goblins will attack. The woman can’t do anything about it, though.

G seems to be thinking about what she said, when asked he mentions that his brothers have all died for this cause as well. (M has to roll to see how much of the goblin speak they understand though.)


The group sleeps there and sets off in the morning.

They continue on their way to the nearest city, a mining town that has grown into a bustling metropolis.

On the way there they can talk to G and ask him more about what he knows of the goblin king’s plans. If they roll well (this might be a good place to use C’s roll of twenty by the way) he will tell them a lot of information. If they roll… not so good, he will still give them correct information- just not as much of it. Idk, decide how much when you play, I’m tired right now.

G’s info:

Him and the other gobins stationed in the place you found them, truthfully, did not know very much about the goblin king’s plans.
However- they know enough. They were stationed there to ambush people coming down the road to the towns and cities beyond the mountainous area.

This is because the king is hoping to cut off the trade of information between the cities as much as he can so that his plan can be properly put into effect. (It’s a miracle they haven’t run into more groups of goblins like his old group, then. *wink*)

When G was little, he and other goblins were trained specifically to fight for the king’s army.

When G was little, these plans were already being slowly set into place. This is a multigenerational thing, however this current king is way more serious about it than the previous ones.


Surprise surprise, they are ambushed by another four gobins.

The party can attempt to talk them out of attacking but it won’t work, no matter how high they roll. (However, if they roll high enough it is possible that the goblins won’t attack as hard. Not a lore thing, just me making the rules. I like being DM.)

When they win, the group sees the city in the distance.

It is a huge, mostly metal and rock city in a valley between two cliff faces.

Even from up here, it is evident that goblins have already taken over the city. They can see goblin guards patrolling the streets below and not many civilians are out, if any. The huge forge in the distance is billowing smoke.

The party waits for the cover of night to move further. (They should reorder themselves into the order they want to have their turns in here.)

There is a rope ladder leading down into the city for them to each go down. They have to leave their horse and wagon behind but they may bring their items in the chest. Strap it to G! Have the players all roll with a regular dice here, I will roll for G, he’s important to me.

If the total is less than three times the number of players (+G), they lose half of their total money dropping it down the ladder into the forest below. They can not find it, even if A or Ma tries to fly btw.

If it is higher than that, everything is fine.

They drop down onto the street leading up to the gates of the city. There are two goblin guards ahead but if they did not drop half the money, they have not been noticed yet. (If they are noticed, it would be best if C stuck some arrows into them!!! Quick!!! But if she doesn’t do this the party should fight the goblins, it won’t be a difficult fight and the goblin guards won't drop anything, all their arrows wasted in the battle and destroyed. I won’t bend on that.)

A player that can fly can fly over and open the gate from the other side, but depending on how well they roll they could be noticed. If they are noticed, the goblin guards start shooting at them. Roll again, if they roll low they will be shot out of the sky. Then a battle will commence.

If they make it past fine, the gates are opened.

Whatever outcome, a fight will have to happen. This is already detailed.

If someone didn’t fly and open the gate, someone can do that now.

They have made it into the city.

*Stopping point here.
(1621 words.)


The ‘I Hate Time Travel AU’ Info In This Project
(383 words.) Only counting the ‘info’ sprite


Editing/Rewriting A Previous Word War In This Post
Don't read too far into this one, it gets dark if you do that. :/
Against the pavement, his feet skidded and slid. He knew the foam bottoms of the sneakers were being worn down as he did this, sometimes if he ran hard enough with old enough shoes they would come off in chunks against the rough pavement. But that didn't matter, what mattered was running.

He was racing himself, but he wasn't running away from anything physical. At least not anything that could physically chase him, it was more like he was running from himself. (A shame he couldn't get away.)

This was definitely an internal issue. It had been building for a long time, in the works for his whole life, it seemed. Really. He knew that, but it still felt as though he was being chased by himself.

So his feet pounded the ground as he raced through the streets of the city, ankles burning with the harsh impacts. He wasn't running with the intention of safety or to get home, only with the intention of speed and that burning that he ached for. He wanted to get away, but there was nowhere to go.

Alfred Fredrick Jones, twenty one years of age, in the capital city of Albany, New York.

He had moved here several years ago from the big city because he had needed a change of pace. The intention was to escape the aspects of a huge city like New York City that he disliked, even if this place wasn't exactly a small town either. Still, Albany was on a much smaller scale than the place he had grown up in and the change was enough to get away from the stress of NYC.

The escape was for himself and no one else and it meant that he had moved into an empty apartment without anyone he knew from his old life. In fact, even after all these years, he still lived alone.

Maybe the loneliness made his inner troubles worse, and that made his worries bigger and the threatening fear stronger in his mind. Stark against the blankness it had been trained to become from his days of suppressing the feelings, the ability to think beyond what he had grown up thinking meant that there was room for his issues to front.

Being in New York City had not been good for him because of what he had seen, but those things had largely not changed in this new place. Now, the struggles were just less contrasting to the glamor of the setting. New York City was glamorous, even with the pollution and its internal difficulties. Albany could hardly be called such a thing.

It just wasn't a pretty city, not in his opinion.

One thing he did like about it was the running. The streets were nice, and the sidewalks were mostly clean. Well. not really, but compared to New York City…

Anyway.

He shook his head, the spinning of the world combining with his already dizzy state to produce an addicting feeling of adrenalin. This wasn't healthy.

But he had to keep going, because how else would he run from himself? Stopping would mean confronting what he had just done, starting off on this run. Stopping would mean having to go back home and fill his urges to eat- hungry from too much exercise on too little food. (It was a cycle.) Stopping would mean staring at his phone, wondering if he should call his brother up in Toronto, wondering if this was really worth it.

And still not being able to stop it all.

Oh- his head hurt. (He had to keep going.)

His feet sped up, continuing their relentless rain on the sidewalk as he raced past two other people going for their evening jog. “On your left,” he called and then, like a bolt, he wooshed past them. He could feel their stares on the back of his head, surprised. He didn't blame them.

His breath was coming hard, dragging out of his chest and wreaking havoc on his already dry throat.

It was exhilarating and for some reason, he felt like crying.
(681 words.)


A Word War With @Shadowssong - 1۞
1, 2, 3. The clock counted down.

It counted down the seconds, and the minutes, and the hours. (Any by extension, the days and months and years.)

Time was a fickle thing, and it scared her.

It was judgemental and all knowing, nothing had happened yet and it would never if they didn't keep at it. After all, what if time stopped?

She didn't understand people who wanted to time travel. Why would you want to change the future when, in concept, it hasn't happened yet? Why would you want to change the present when so many people would be affected? Why live a lie? Why change something that you can move past?

Time gets to everyone eventually, so why fight it with fickle things like time travel items or closets or superpowers? (It seems strange to want something different, what if you hate it and can't turn it back? Even a tiny difference would change the future massively.)

That was why she was scared of such at thing, changing the present and the future by entering the past.

But then again, she didn't believe it would be possible.

After all, if someone could time travel to the past in order to change the future, it would have already happened. Therefore, it would mean that no such thing would be able to happen. That would be because it already did occur and as such, could not change anything.
(238 words.)

Day twenty seven: 4۞ in total. (256 words in total.)

Main Cabin Daily - 3۞ and it is also a…
Word War With @A-Sad-Invention - 1۞
He was okay. He swore.

Every single person in his life thought that Gold was doing well, even his mother. His mom, the closest person to him (even including his friends- silver and Crystal). She could not tell.

If that was so, he wasn't surprised that no one else knew yet.

And he didn't want that to change, exactly. He was fine keeping it all under wraps, he was fine with secrets, he was fine that they just kept laughing at him and telling him off for little things that didn't hurt anyone. He was fine that they didn't think of him as their equal.

He knew it was true, even if so many other dex-holders had denied such beliefs.

He saw it in their eyes, a distance.

He knew.

So it was alright if they kept doing that, really it was. If none of his escapades in saving the world had changed anyone's minds on how much he was worth, it was alright if they kept fighting it. It was okay, because he saw that the future wouldn't be any different.

Why fight what was going to happen, you know?

And still, it made him sad.

It made him sad how judgemental Crystal could be, even with her nice exterior. (Really, no one seemed to believe him when he talked about that.) It made him sad when Blue turned away, or Red didn't acknowledge he was there.

If the potential sacrifice of his life to save the world had claimed him, no one would care.
(256 words.) I think the reason I managed to write so much is that I didn't correct any bad spelling as I went? I corrected it afterwards so that it was able to be read though, so here it is!

Day twenty eight: 3۞ in total. (4651 words in total.)

Main Cabin Daily - 3۞
Dystopian is the best cabin of Scratch Writing Camp, and let me tell you why:

If it wasn't for DYSTOPIAN:

…we would be last in everything. God bless ‘em. /j

(Parody of 50 People Tell Us Their State’s Biggest Rivals on Youtube.)


Now for the actual essay!

Dystopian, The Most Fantastic Cabin In Scratch Writing Camp
Dystopian, as a genre, in an amazing one.

But this year the creators of the Dystopian cabin somehow managed to take an already unpredictable genre and twist it in another interesting direction that I do not believe many people saw coming! Somehow, even with the traditional ideas of Dystopian as a genre (fire and metal, black and red and gold, a burning society, so on), the creators of this year's cabin managed to create a beautiful castle in the sky that still fits the genre.

This in itself is an accomplishment, but in combination with the beautiful story described with the several settings and the care taken to make sure the story is sound and amazing, the theme is fantastic.

Besides this, the cabin is still chugging along after everything. Although they have secured the last place spot, dystopian manages to be an inspiration to me. Although the people within it are not gaining points quickly, it is clear that at least a portion of the cabin is really trying!

It is very hard to be in last place and still keep fighting, and the dystopian cabin of July twenty twenty two is doing this wonderfully!

I ask of you, if you read this essay, that you look to the dystopian cabin and see and inspiration. I ask that you look to them with awe at a group that is still fighting, even though they seem to be losing. Perhaps, with the last few days of this camp, they will manage to raise a spot.

Only time will tell!
(316 words.)


Adrino thing because I can't stop thinking about them. Scuffed, sort of a mess.
Alright, fine.

He was in love with his best friend.

But he could deal with it, he swore! It was something that he could keep under the wraps, at least until they were out of school. He had been keeping it to himself for quite some time now, anyway.

So when Alya elbowed him in the side, snickering at his reaction to the new Gabriel Swimwear line that Adrien modeled for, he pretended everything was fine.

“Wow- man,” he coughed, embarrassed and trying to will the grin off of Alya's face, “That sure is… interesting,”

Adrien quirked his eyebrow, retracting his phone (from where he had been displaying the photos) and slipping it back into his pocket. The expression was playful. “You seem like you're actively trying to avoid saying that you're bored with our conversation,”

Sure, whatever. Nino could roll with that.

Pretending that that was all and that his brain wasn't screaming at him to tell Adrien right then and there that he was in love with him, Nino shot his friend a cheesy grin. “You got me man, it's just the industry- you know? Modeling? You seem to hate it,”

Adrien laughed and Alya smacked Nino's shoulder. “Ow!” Nino exclaimed, turning to look at her in confusion, “Why??”

“Nothing,” Alya shot him a very forced expression that said ‘just tell him already’.

Nino pretended he didn't notice.


Events of that sort happened quite frequently.

Sometimes they would be in class, listening to lessons and taking careful notes. Or, Adrien was listening and taking notes. Nino, on the other hand, tended to be staring at the side of his friend's head in awe of how gorgeous he was.

Honestly, how could one person be so beautiful?

It wasn't just looks either- it was how he acted. His personality, how he carried himself. Nino loved Adrien for all of it, he and Marinette had gushed about it to each other several times.

Apparently, Alya had been rooting for both of them. Nino didn't realize what that meant at first, but Marinette had informed him (a teasingly solomon look on her face) that Alya had placed two bets. One for if Marinette and Adrien got together and one for if Nino and Adrien got together.

Alya had lost the bet relating to Marinette and Adrien when Marinette let her know that she wasn't going after Adrien anymore. After that, all of Alya's attention had been turned to getting Nino and Adrien together, hyper focused on not losing her other bet.

Well.

Even if Marinette wasn't pursing Adrien anymore- Nino didn't know if either event would occur because, darn it, Adrien was completely clueless. Nino tried to tell him, several times even. Somehow Adrien never caught on.

Not even once!

Not even when Nino handed him a bunch of flowers on Valentines day. (Sure, he hadn't been able to get any proper words out to accompany the roses, too nervous and all that, but it should have been enough to at least hint at romantic interest!) Adrien was stubborn, that was for sure.

But even with all the accidental denials of a relationship from Adrien (accidental because Nino was certain Adrien had no clue he was flirting with him half the time they interacted, and the rest of the flirting probably being chalked up as a joke), Nino couldn't let go of it. He couldn't let go of his crush and he couldn't let go of Adrien.

Sure, he was worried about ruining what they had- since they were best friends and all- but he was also aware that he might ruin their friendship without even attempting to date him. He was going a little stir crazy in his own skin, after all.

And, with Alya and Marinette's help (because Marinette really had gotten over Adrien, it seemed), Nino devised a plan.


“What are we going to call this plan?” Marinette tapped her pen to her chin, “Because I think ‘Adrino’ is too obvious,”

“Why would we name it?” Nino tried to protest, “Guys, it's not that-”

“No no,” Alya cut in, “She's right, we need something better. Something less clear, mysterious maybe? I love a good mystery,”

Nino sighed and Marinette grinned, reaching out for a handshake with her best friend. Alya obliged, grinning like a maniac before turning back to Nino.

“So, how about Operation Buttercup?” Alya suggested, breaking into a smirk. “That's a real classic, that one,”

Marinette groaned and fell back onto her bed, Nino looked at her in confusion. Alya was laughing too, which just made the confusion more prevalent.

“What? A classic?” Nino asked the room at large, though mostly Alya because Marinette was too busy beating her pillow against her head, having leaned back and covered her face.

“Oh, just a reuse of an old plan name,” Alya waved her hand, “It didn't work out- but I'll do better this time! Promise!”

“How about we move on from the names,” Nino laughed, nervously. He didn't add the ‘before Marinette dies of suffocation via pillow’, but he was tempted.

“Yeah,” Marinette sat up, “Let's just call it… Plan DJgrest,”

“That's even worse,” Alya wrinkled her nose.

Nino sighed. “We won't even get to planning at this rate, come on dudes,”

“Sorry,” Alya apologized with a grin, but she didn't look quite sorry.


The plans were not… bad.

They weren't great either, but they weren't bad.

To be fair, Nino couldn't come up with anything better than the projected ideas, but he still found himself second guessing Alya and Marinette's final idea when the day came around to try it.

Operation Buttercup (yes, they had eventually settled on that name) was to be played out as a date. It was to be a fairly simple date, mostly because the media that tended to follow Adrien would get tipped off by something bigger, though Nino hoped it would be a good enough date even with such a setback.

He wasn't quite ready to tell Adrien directly, not at ten in the morning at least (the time they had agreed to meet), but he knew he would have to by at least the end of the day.

If Adrien didn't reciprocate his feelings, that was alright, he told himself. They could still be friends- hopefully.

Nino felt a wave of unease. Gosh, he hoped Adrien felt the same way, or at least would be willing to give it a try. He didn't want to lose his friend over a stupid crush.

(It wasn't a stupid crush, not quite; Nino was pretty sure he was head over heels in love, but still. The intensity of it didn't matter, risking his friendship over such a thing was still a sickening thought.)

…And yet he had to go through with it.


Nino looked over at the alarm clock that rested beside his bed. He hadn't slept much the previous night and he could feel it, a tired ache behind his eyes despite the hyper-awareness that he felt due to his nerves.

Eight o'clock, exactly.

Nino squeezed his eyes shut, tightly so he wouldn't be tempted to fall asleep again. Agh, curse his nerves!

If things went wrong, things would go wrong. Whatever, he could deal with bad consequences. As Alya had assured him, what mattered was getting his feelings out there- right? (Alya, don't fail me now! His thoughts ran circles around his head.)

Then, he practically rolled out of bed.

He unplugged the alarm clock from the wall, not wanting it to go off when he wasn't home. After all, he had a long day scheduled for himself. A long day of good things, but a long day nonetheless.

Then he went about his daily morning rituals. Changing, brushing his teeth, using the bathroom, checking to make sure he hadn't left the sink of, and so on. (His nervousness was making this at least ten times harder than normal, thrumming through him and coming out through his drumming fingers and flicking eyes.)

This had to go right or he was pretty sure he was going to cry.

Actually, not pretty sure. Certain.

If Adrien didn't feel the same way as him, he was going to cry. He was still banking on the hope that Adrien did feel the same way, because he didn't want to freak out and call off Operation Buttercup, but the fear was still there.


Adrien set out for the little coffee place early in the morning. He would have been driven there by his bodyguard but for some reason decided against it an slipped out on his own. (There was no way his father was going to be happy with this decision, but he was too excited to care.)

Honestly, him and Nino didn't get to see each other very much outside of school. That was why he was so excited.

Well- that was half of it.

The other half of it was that Adrien was, unfortunately, falling for his best friend. It had been going on for the last couple of months, if not longer.

He was pretty sure he was hiding it well because Alya didn't confront him about it, but some part of him was still nervous that people could tell. Some part of him was nervous that Nino could tell and hadn't acted on it, meaning that he wasn't interested in Adrien romantically.

Adrien shook his head, sunglasses slipping slightly on his nose before he prodded them back up. He needed to get those thoughts away, this was just going to be a hangout between two friends. Nothing more.

He should have felt bad for fantasizing about romance that wouldn't happen, right? Nino didn't know he felt this way, it would be wrong to crush on him from afar. He deserved to know.

And yet…

He was too scared. Too scared of what might happen if he was turned down, too scared of telling Nino in general, too scared of what his father might think. And the press. And pretty much everyone else.

It was a bad idea to fall in love in most cases, but for some reason- this felt especially bad.


Nino got to the coffee place early, somehow. Maybe it was the fact that he got going a whole hour earlier than he said he would, maybe not.

In any case, Nino picked out the very best (and most secluded) table he could find. A place near the back corner, far enough away from the windows that people wouldn't recognize Adrien and come in asking for signatures. Usually all that didn't bother him too much (unless it was clearly bothering Adrien, then it got on his nerves) but today was something he didn't want interrupted.

Today was important.

He tried to keep his spirits up as he waited for Adrien to show, drumming his fingers on the table and imagining songs in his head (too nervous to actually listen to music), but he couldn't deny it- he was scared. He was very scared.

Obviously his emotions were in check, because letting them out of control could mean akumitization and, worse still, the failure of the plan, but his thoughts were definitely making it hard for him to stay calm. Against his will, they produced scenario after scenario of ‘bad ends’, every little thing that could go wrong. Nino spilling his drink on Adrien, Adrien getting dragged back home for a photoshoot before Nino got the nerves to tell him, Adrien- God forbid- turning him down. Everything.

If something bad could happen, Nino thought of it while waiting for his date (that still didn't know it was a date) to arrive.

Luckily (and unluckily, depending on how Nino's subconscious considered it), Adrien walked in fifteen minutes early. This wiped away all of Nino's worried bad end ideas involving Adrien not showing up at all, but it did give way for new fears.

“H-hey dude!” Nino tried to make his voice casual as he called Adrien over, waving and smiling a smile he hoped looked natural as Adrien spotted him.

“Hello,” Adrien smiled at him as he slid into the booth, looking around with a contented grin, “Nice place- I've never been here before!”

“It's out of the view of photographers,” Nino tried to make casual conversation, but his throat was trying to strangle him. “I hope,”

Adrien laughed, “Nothing I'm not used to, Nino- you don't have to worry so much,”

Nino tried to smile back.

This was just like any other guy's day out, he tried to calm his own jittery fingers (still tapping on the table), just talk to him. Was that so hard? “Do you-” he tried, opting not to balance out his nerves with ultra-fake smiles, knowing Adrien would see something was off, “-wanna get something?”

“I don't know if I'm allowed to have coffee,” Adrien rubbed the back of his neck, looking up at the menu on the wall.

Right, right! Nino was kicking himself. Of course Adrien wasn't allowed to have coffee, his dietician was weird with that kind of stuff. Nino knew that! How had he been stupid enough to invite Adrien to a coffee place? Nino was just about to apologize to Adrien for wasting his time when his friend spoke up again.

“Although…” Adrien seemed to be deep in thought. Nino hoped he hadn't seen the wave of panic cross his face. Adrien went on and Nino listened, clinging to his every word. “…The smoothie looks tempting,”

Of course Nino had to buy him the smoothie, even though Adrien undoubtedly could have bought it himself. (And the rest of the menu items, and the ingredients to make them, and the whole store. But that didn't matter!)

“No really,” Adrien was saying again, “I could have bought it myself, you didn't need to-”

Nino raised his hands, laughing without forcing it. “No worries, man- it's my treat,”

“Thank you,” Adrien whispered, staring down at his smoothie. Nino noted the smile that had formed on his lips.


Adrien talked about random topics, paying attention more to his own drink than anything else. Occasionally, Nino would react to certain things he said or introject with his own sentences, but Adrien was mostly doing the talking.

That was alright with him, of course, since he had been so excited to properly hang out with Nino and had stored up a lot of things to tell him, but his brain was somewhere else entirely. Somewhere that included sharing a smoothie with his best friend, even though Nino had gotten a latte and definitely not a smoothie. Something, something, romance.

The room felt warm, nervous. It was buzzing through him, Adrien's foot started tapping with it in desperate need of an outlet.

Oh goodness, he wanted to tell him so bad but he knew he couldn't. He knew that telling him would reveal a secret part of him that no one knew. Even if he trusted Nino with his life (and he did), it was hard to let go of that plastic wrap hiding that part of him away from everyone. Besides, he was scared to lose his friend.

Pretty much since he had joined the school, Adrien and Nino had been close. Very close.

Close enough that Adrien's own father had reminded him of the rules of relationships as an Agreste. (Adrien's mouth felt dry thinking about it, taking a huge sip of his beverage to wash it down.) Oh right, his father. That was yet another reason that telling Nino would be his ruin.

If his father found out that his ‘mistaken guess’ was real after all…

Adrien shuddered around his straw, squeezing his eyes closed. He didn't want to think of the outcome.


Nino was panicking.

He couldn't remember the rest of ‘Operation Buttercup’.

Step one was to take Adrien to the coffee place. Step two was to establish a good conversation. Step three was… something? He couldn't for the life of him remember.

So he was just staring at the table, mentally shutting down as he prepared himself to make the worst, unplanned mistake of his life. Of course he was still going to tell Adrien, otherwise he would feel like a failure. Still, Nino couldn't help but be painfully aware of how little he knew what to do.

He knew that he was going to confess to Adrien, but then what? He hadn't exactly prepared himself for any of the extensive outcomes his brain had thought up, not to mention a positive reaction. (Nino still didn't want to get his hopes up on that one.)

He was tired of thinking.

Then, Nino spoke up, letting the impulsive wishes in his heart speak instead of his logic. “Dude,” he spoke up, interrupting Adrien (who was talking about Sneakers, for some reason. Why did he sound so nervous?) “Um, so I've gotta confess something,”

Adrien was staring at him, eyes wide. Nino's gaze met his, his arms tightening around his chest as if for comfort as he did so.

Oooohhh, Ladybug help me. He thought helplessly as the words ripped themselves from his throat.

“I… like you,” he said finally. Adrien's eyes went even wider, if that was even possible.

Nino bit his lip, hard. Darn it all, he had messed up- hadn't he? This was all a mistake, now their dynamic was going to be weird and-

“Really?” Adrien whispered, breathlessly and so quiet- but his voice was all Nino could hear.

Woah, Nino recognized the look on his face (or at least, he hoped his was recognizing it). “I-” he choked, tearing his eyes away from Adrien's wide eyes and oddly red cheeks. “I, yeah, dude. Yeah, I do,”

“Friendship like?” Adrien questioned, voice a small squeak as if he was holding back his hope. “Like- I mean, is it, friendly?”

Nino looked at him. His heart was racing in his chest, threatening to break out of his skin. Nerves, he told himself, nerves. Maybe this was a good end?

But maybe Adrien was just asking if it was platonic because he wanted to to be. Because he didn't want romance. Nino bit his lip, meeting his friend's eyes again. There was a desperation in them, a hope that Nino hadn't caught before.

“Um,” Nino breathed, slightly hypnotized by the expression cast across his friend's face. “Um- not quite,”

He was scared that Adrien would look disgusted or unsure, scared, angry. Every potential bad end flashed behind Nino's eyes, so distracting he barely even caught Adrien's actually reaction.

Well. He ‘barely even’ caught it, but the reaction was distracting enough in it's own right and Nino certainly did not miss the wide grin that lit Adrien's face. He also didn't miss the flash of excitement in his eyes, nor the way the nervousness seemed to melt off his face.

“Yes!” Adrien exclaimed, though his voice was tiny. Weak. In fact, he looked like he might cry, but he looked happy.

Nino's heart was doing flips in his chest cavity. “…'yes'?”

Adrien's grin was slightly crazy. Soon, a look like it was mirrored on Nino's face. “No way,” Adrien breathed, that wild glint still in his eyes. “No way- I didn't think that you would, I thought it was just me,”

“Just you?” Nino practically squeaked.

“Y-yeah,” Adrien nodded, “I- you're nice, too,” He coughed, realizing that his response was rather weak. Nino blinked at him, mouth wide open. Adrien whined, flushing bright red. “I mean, you're… pretty,”

Nino was in awe. In shock, but so so happy.

Somehow, even with this bad plan, he had managed to get his good end.

“Sorry,” Adrien's forehead was pressed against the table, covering his head with his arms in embarrassment. “Sorry, I'm not good at this stuff,”

“Really?” Nino's head was swimming but he was so happy he was pretty sure he could explode. Or he could whirl Adrien around in the air and kiss him. (Actually, it was a very tempting idea.)

“Really,” Adrien apologized, “Sorry, I- this is so awkward, I'm sorry,”

“It's fine with me, dude,” Nino raised his hands in joking defense. “I'm just shocked that…”

He trailed off and Adrien looked up at him. “That?” he prompted, his face still clearly pink.

Nino coughed. “That it's not just me, I mean, ugh man- do you have to smirk at me like that? This is so embarrassing,”

Adrien had a grin on his face that made Nino feel like he was going to shrivel up and die. Of embarrassment, mind you, because he was still feeling a little ‘in the clouds’ over Adrien's reciprocation of his feelings.

“Should I move to your side of the booth?” Adrien question, slightly smoother than before. Like, now that Nino was the embarrassed one, flirting was a little more natural. (Some part of it reminded Nino of Chat Noir, but he couldn't quite place what…)

“I-” Nino spluttered, scooting over and nodding frantically. “Yes! Yeah, get your butt over here man!”

Adrien laughed and stood up, pushing his smoothie over to Nino's side of the table and plopping down next to him. “Nice, cool,” his face was flushed as he grinned at Nino. There was a crazed joy clear in his expression, “Is this real? Can you pinch me?”

Nino blinked, feeling lightheaded with all the thoughts rushing through it. “I- I hope it's real, because dreams disappoint me,”

Adrien laughed again, throwing his head back against the booth's back. “Oh my God,” he breathed, voice softer than before. “Wow,”

“Wow,” Nino agreeded.


Operation Buttercup was a success.

The ‘coffee date’ went well, and Nino and Adrien soon moved on to other places. They went to Alya's house (as the plan commanded) and met up with her and Marinette for one of the friend group's monthly gaming competitions.

Alya kept elbowing Nino in the side, begging for a proper answer, but Nino didn't have to answer himself.

In fact, Adrien spoke up all on his own. “So Nino,” he said into the room as him and Nino's character's battled on the screen. “What is this?”

Nino looked at him in confusion, finger's slipping on the buttons of his controller. On the screen, his character took a hit.

Out of the corner of his eyes he could see Alya grinning maniacally and Marinette's smile lighting her face (she wasn't as good at hiding that smile as she thought). “What is what?”

“This,” Adrien nodded to the screen as his character beat up Nino's own. (How in the world could he stay so calm while playing a fight simulator??)

Nino inspected it, blush burning his cheeks. He could tell that Adrien was flirting, but he wasn't quite sure what the flirt was. “Um, a video game- dude?”

Adrien's character got one last hit in and Nino's went down. “Yes!” Adrien cheered, Marinette whooping behind him with amusement.

Nino stared at him, feeling his face redden. “Did you just distract me on purpose?”

Alya was laughing behind him as Adrien grinned, that same hint of crazy in his eyes. “Maybe,” he grinned, “Now be a dear and give Alya your controller please, I'm going for no losses,”

Nino spluttered and Alya nabbed the controller from his hand.

“Alright,” she grinned, “So the date went well, I imagine?”

Nino and Adrien both whipped around to look at her. Nino's face lit with embarrassment, “Alya!” he exclaimed.

Of course it went well, but it wasn't like Adrien knew Alya was involved- or that it was actually supposed to be a date. Luckily, Adrien was grinning.

“Yeah, I'd say it did,” he nodded to Alya and then to Marinette. “Did you convince him to?”

Marinette's face was red with embarrassment. “Sorry for invading on your privacy,”

“Nope, it's all good,” Adrien was happier than he had been in months. He felt light. “I'm glad, I was never going to confess if he didn't,”

Alya let out a whoop of ‘hallelujah’, raising her arms to the sky. “I knew it!” she laughed, “I knew it, I swore- right Marinette?”

Marinette rubbed her hands together, looking down at the floor. “Yeah, you did tell me that,”

Nino looked between them, disbelieving. “You knew that he also-” he cut himself off, looking at Adrien for confirmation. Adrien was grinning, the game long forgotten. Nino's words died in his throat, too distracted by the tempting curve of his friend's lips.

Alya was cackling.

Trying to get his bearings, Nino cleared his throat. Catching eyes with Marinette instead, his voice a low and embarrassed hiss. “You just threw me into there without telling me he felt the same way?”

Adrien was laughing too. “How set up was this? I didn't know you guys were so engaged in what was going on in Nino's life,”

“And your life,” Marinette offered, “We were also engaged in your life,”

Nino covered his face in embarrassment, Alya continuing to laugh as Adrien blushed. “I was so worried, dudes,” he groaned, “All for naught, but I was so worried,”

“I was pretty sure it would go well,” Alya shrugged, “But it's funny to watch you freak out over him, right Marinette?”

Marinette's face was red as Nino and Adrien both turned to look at him. She nodded. “I- sure,”


Nino and Adrien officially started dating the next day.

They couldn't tell Mr. Agreste because he already did not like Nino and they couldn't do much more than hang out in public because of tabloid reporters and the like, but Nino was happy. Very happy. He was so happy he could kiss Adrien. (Though the thought was still just as tempting on it's own, even without the joyous excitement rushing through him at the thought of his boyfriend.)

His boyfriend.

Wow.

It was real, they were together.

Nino grinned at his ceiling, Adrien was lounging in a chair nearby and occasionally reading off facts about the solar system. Nino was so happy with him there, so happy in his presence. He really had gotten his happy end.
(4335 words.)

Wow that is A LOT of words!

BestStudent01 wrote:

Wow that is A LOT of words!

Hee hee, I'm trying my best!

Still in shock that I haven't missed a single day so far tbh

I mean, maybe that'll change, but I'm kind of obsessed with that actually.

Day twenty nine: 11۞ in total. (7451 words in total.)

Main Cabin Daily ft. Pokespe Preciousmetalshipping Angst- 3۞
Part one: Vague Pieces
Beginning: A strange piece of jewelry falls into his hands
Setting: A remote island with treehouses
Conflict: The sports championship is coming up
Ending: She gets the girl
(28 words.)

Part two: Writing using prompts from the following:
Beginning: “deep down, you know that was wrong – right?” credit to @GraceOBrien13
Setting: “The park across the street” credit to @KitVMH
Conflict: “An old family secret that changes everything” credit to @coolgirl100-
Ending: “Your character learns how to stop running and face their fears” credit to @Delta_doodles
The old, creaky playground was abandoned save for the two dex-holders.

It was dark out and no one had interpreted their conversation yet, which was good given the frantic topic of the discussion.

Silver had pulled Gold out of his room and down to the playground, panicking about Giovanni and Team Rocket again- with nowhere to go. Nowhere other than to Gold, anyway.

He had snuck in through Gold's window, as per usual, and dragged his fellow holder out of bed. Bleary-eyed, Gold was initially confused and annoyed to be woken up (it was busy with the Pokemon daycare and things, getting sleep with hard these days.)

But when Silver's voice sounded so broken as he pleaded (near wordlessly) for Gold to listen, it was like he was snapped out of sleep instantly.

Suddenly, it went from a whining ‘come on man- you know how hard it is for me to fall asleep’ to an alert and caring ‘what happened? Are you all right?’

Silver had just squeezed his eyes shut as an answer, shaking his head. He heard a worried whine escape Gold, followed by a soft ‘talk to me’. But instead of talking right then, Silver had just grabbed his arm and dragged him out the window, dropping down onto the grass before nodding in the direction of the playground. Somehow, over the last few months, it had become their spot.

It was where they talked things out- Gold's issues and Silver's, and a lot about Team Rocket.

Silver was sitting on a swing, swaying quite absentmindedly as Gold paced around him, ranting and trying to reason out the situation. Silver stared down at his hands where they clasped tightly together in his lap. Despite it all, he felt blank.

“You know that they're all wrong, right?” Gold was saying, pausing his pacing to tap his foot nervously. He tended to get worked up when Silver started talking about Team Rocket like it was part of his destiny. (Somewhere, under that overzealous, hard shell of a personality that Gold kept up, he really cared about his friends. Or at least about Silver.)

“Are you listening to me?” his worried (and exasperated) voice broke into Silver's wandering thoughts, standing directly in front of the swing Silver was melted onto. Weird, he hadn't even noticed him move.

As a response, Silver nodded dully.

He had been freaking out pretty bad earlier, hence his visit through Gold's window at two in the morning, and it was because of Team Rocket again. It had been over a year since he discovered his ancestry, tracing himself back to the very man that led one of the evil organizations Silver was consistently up against, but certain things still stuck with him unpleasantly. Lodged in the back of his throat and uncomfortable and so hateably present.

“You're not listening to me,” Gold threw his hands up in the air, “I can tell, because you've got that look on your face again,”

Silver shifted his gaze to meet Gold's hypnotic eyes, confused. “What… what face?” he frowned.

“The one where you're surrendering yourself,” Gold rolled his eyes, tapping his foot in what could have been mistaken for annoyance if Silver didn't know him so well. In reality- he was nervous. Nervous, nervous, nervous. “Are you still convinced that Team Rocket's in your blood or whatever?”

Biting his lip, Silver squeezed his hands tightly to each other. “I- not blood, but destiny sometimes-”

“That's your problem,” Gold reached out with both arms (so suddenly Silver jumped) and grabbed his fellow dex-holder's shoulders. His eyes bore holes into Silver's face, tearing down his blank expression and leaving room for his fear once more. “You don't get it; evil doesn't run in families, Silver,”

Of course Silver knew that, logically. It was just that some part of him was always convinced…

He bit his lip, somehow tearing his eyes away from his ‘rival’s face and returning it firmly to the wood-chip covered ground. Gold sighed loudly, his hands squeezing Silver's shoulders.

“He's wrong, I know that you know it too, you're not stupid,” Gold shook his head, voice softening. “You're not evil, Silver, I promise- okay?”

Silver's eyes slid shut, too tired and suddenly too sad to respond. He felt, very suddenly, that he was melting. A weight sinking into the ground. His chest hurt as his friend, now the closest person to him (even including Green, these days), refused to let him disappear.

Gold must have noticed Silvers face fall, the sudden exhaustion that he exuded, because he sighed and leaned forward. He was crouched down now, sitting on his heels as he let his head fall against Silver's chest. “Oh, buddy…” he tried, and his voice sounded broken too, cutting himself off like it hurt too much to go on.

Silver wanted to cry hearing is friend's voice packed with so much emotion.

Somehow Gold's hand found Silver's and he squeezed it. Clearly unsure of what to do to comfort his friend, Gold just exhaled and pushed his forehead into Silver's abdomen, wrapping is other arm around Silvers waist and pulling him closer.

At the closeness, too touch starved for his own good, Silver whimpered dejectedly. His eyes were still squeezed tight as he slipped out of the swing and planted himself more properly on the ground. Gold didn't even need him to say anything, just held Silver close as he sobbed into his shoulder.

“Let it all out, man,” Gold whispered, patting Silver's back. “Just let it out,”

And Silver continued to sob, wrapping his arms around Gold's neck and rocking back and forth, clinging for dear life to the only person who could be close to him like this and bringing him for the ride. “I'm sorry,” he choked, overwhelmed and hurting. “It's just- Arceus, oh, it's so messed up,”

“No, stop doing that,” Gold's voice was barely a murmur into Silver's shoulder, “Don't apologize,”

“Sorry,” Silver apologized again. Gold sighed, shaking his head against his friend's neck, but he didn't say anything more on the subject.

Eventually, as Silver calmed down to quiet sniffles and the occasional hiccup, Gold gently pulled away. “Hey- look at me,”

Silver complied, looking up into his fire-type counterpart's searching face. His gaze was soft, eyes gleaming in the light of a far-off streetlamp, but soft nonetheless. He cared, Silver swallowed, faced with this and the intense demand of Gold's gaze. (Even when he cared, Gold carried himself in such a manner that pulled in attention, and that was a good thing here. It meant that he got Silver's attention.)

“Y-yeah?” he tried not to whimper it as a sniffling hiccup escaped him.

Gold's hands were placed firmly on his shoulders, keeping him in place as he leaned in. Silver jolted back and Gold bit his lip. “Sorry,” he murmured, “I know, you're nervous,”

“Yeah,” Silver looked away. He let Gold press their foreheads together, his eyes fluttering closed because he trusted him. He felt safe with him, even as they sat alone in a dark playground, a chilly night air brushing past their faces.

What they had was something different than Silver's dynamic with anyone else. Sure, he and Green were close- very close, but it was different. They had a bond that wouldn't be broken, formed of trauma and trust at a very young age, but it wasn't the same as what him and Gold had developed. They trusted each other and it hadn't come to them out of necessity. It had become a reality because when Silver needed someone and Green wasn't there, Gold could be.

Somewhere along the line, it had developed beyond just friendship, but they couldn't label it yet.

“You're alright, you're gonna be fine,” Gold whispered, gently brushing his nose against Silver's. Nuzzling, somehow apologetically, and leaning against Silver's chest, arms wrapping around his back. “You know you're not evil, I know you're not, that's all that should matter right now,”

“But the whole world expects me to be…” Silver tried to find words, turning away and letting Gold crash his lips against his neck. A gentle kiss. Hesitant, but Silver didn't mind it. “You know- Giovanni's son, it makes things hard,”

Gold backed away from Silver again, hands once more resting on his shoulders. “We have each other, though, I'll fight for you,”

“I know,” Silver tried and though he really meant it, it didn't seem genuine. He sighed, hiccuping again. “I- really do. You care, I can tell,”

“Yes,” Gold was staring at him with those hypnotic eyes again. “I do. I care about you way too much,”

Silver managed a smile. “You care about me too much?”

“Well, maybe not quite too much,” Gold shrugged, smiling a half-smile that didn't quite clear the cloudy storm of thoughts behind his eyes. “Maybe I care about you just the right amount,”

Silver hummed, reaching up and taking Gold's hand from his shoulder. He turned it over in his own, Gold watching silently and he traced the lines creasing his skin. “What,” Gold broke the silence, and SIlver could hear a slight smile in his voice, “Do you read palms or something?”

“No,” Silver shook his head, “I just want to memorize yours,”

“Why?” Gold asked.

“Maybe it'll tell the future,” Silver shrugged, swallowing the urge to sniffle with leftover tears. “If I learn to read palms, for some reason,”

Gold gently took Silver's hand in his, turning it over so that the top of his glove faced the night sky, the darkness of the fabric mirroring the darkness of space. Gold squeezed his hand tightly, then lifted it to clasp their closed handshake to his chest. “Maybe,” he offered, “You'd see a future where you're good. You know, the real future,”

“I know,” Silver tried to smile.

But, as usual, it didn't quite reach his eyes.


Being nice to Silver was easy for some reason. Gold felt safe around him, holding him to his chest or being held. He felt like he could really talk like a normal person- without getting called names or told off for bringing disaster everywhere he went. Maybe it was because he had told Silver about his problems with that stuff and the ‘fake dex-holder’ accusations, maybe that was why he could feel safe.

It made sense.

And yet… nothing about his and Silver's situation made sense.

They had started as enemies, and now Gold felt like Silver was the only person he could confide in. It was certainly a dynamic switch, but it was nothing Gold couldn't handle.

What he did find hard to handle, however, was seeing Silver upset. Unfortunately, because they now actively hung out for the sole purpose of venting much of the time, he had to see him like that a lot. Gold didn't know if Silver was showing anyone else that side of him, he didn't know much about it. All he knew was that Silver was messed up by the information on his father's identity, still, even a year later.

He knew that Silver hated being related to Team Rocket, he knew that Team Rocket Executives kept trying to convince him to join. Gold also knew that Silver felt like the future was hopeless, just waiting for when destiny would kick in and make him evil.

Luckily for everyone, Gold didn't believe in destiny.

And he told Silver that, too, letting pieces of himself weave their way through his words so that Silver would listen to him. He put down his guard, needing to be vulnerable for Silver to feel safe.

It was a trade off, he supposed. If Silver was showing him a panicky side of himself that no one else got to see, Gold was letting him talk to the real guy behind his mask. Sure, he still loved jokes and flirting with women and making a huge mess of things, but Gold was also hurting- a lot.

So, as a duo, they poured their hurt into each other and hoped their counterpart could swallow it down without too much bile. They comforted each other.

That was really all they could do.


Silver slept soundly next to Gold, snuggled underneath the blankets and curled into his side.

Gold had not slept a wink.

The world outside his window was bright now, but Gold couldn't bring himself to move, not with Silver resting on his arm like that. If he moved, Silver would wake up, and then he would go back to worrying about his future as the son of Giovanni. He needed sleep, Gold had decided, maybe resting will make it better.

So they cuddled each other as if doing so for pure necessity.

In fact, it was for pure necessity, because they were going to face this together.
(2132 words.)


Main Cabin Weekly - 7۞
The story portion:

"begin a story any way you'd like but keep it close to 100 words.)
Gold's hands scrambled at his stomach, eyes blow wide as he doubled over.

The plan had worked (he could see Aibo knocking out the pokemon in the distant corner of his suddenly hazy vision), but he had gotten hit. Oops, he hadn't meant to get hit.

The fabric where he touched it was warm and very wet- and then he was touching a very painful area below the sweatshirt. His shirt was torn, and soaking. He looked down at his hands.

They were covered in red.

Gold bit back a groan.

Absolutely fantastic, that was surely a good way to start his week.
(103 words.)

“Something feels off. one of the characters doesn't feel genuine, and it feels like that have ulterior motives. In these 200 words, a character reveals one of their main motives is to gain something. How does this character reveal this and how do the other characters react?”
Crystal and Silver were sitting by Gold's bedside when he woke up.

The first thing he noticed was that Silver was holding his hand, and then he nearly doubled over in pain for the second time that day, the agony of his injury hitting full force now that he was awake.

“Gah,” he groaned, lying back flat against the bed as Crystal pushed him down so as to not damage the bindings around his abdomen, “What happened?”

“You got hit,” Silver was tapping his foot nervously, and Gold realized that he had retracted his hand and was now crossing his arms.

Oh yeah.

He remembered now. Gold somehow found it in himself to snicker, rubbing his sweaty forehead. “Thanks for taking me to the hospital, guys, I probably wouldn't have gotten here on my own,”

“No kidding,” Crystal dead panned, sitting down. “And you were supposed to let me catch that pokemon,”

“It's not like I killed it, Gold complained,”

There was an annoyed expression on Crystal's face. Sometimes she got like this when a capture didn't go well, seething and not easy to deal with. “But you let it escape, I had to catch you before you hit the ground,”

Was she for real? Gold furrowed his brow, “And you're blaming me for the pokemon escaping?”
(217 words.)

Feeling a bit unique today? Incorporate features of fantasy, fairy tales, OR myth into your writing. These genres often include elements that don't happen in real life, and have great amounts of world building. Some ideas include retelling a classical story, with magical or mythical elements, and fairy tales from a different perspective.
“Yes,” Crystal bit her lip, crossing her arms and standing. “I'm just frustrated, that's all,”

“You didn't have to catch me, you know,” Gold glared at her. “I'd've gotten blamed for it no matter what happened, with how you people act, but thanks anyway,”

Crystal let a frustrated sigh escape her, throwing her hands up into the air. “You've preferred I just let you fall?”

“Yes!” Gold snapped. Apparently, he could speak up for himself when he was in pain. “Then, we wouldn't be arguing about this and you would have gotten the pokemon,”

Crystal glared at him.

He could feel her eyes on him, a faint glow of ‘magical powers’ that he knew he possessed too. It was a dex-holder thing. He refused to look at her, even as her hard stare demanded obedience.

Into the blankness, Silver coughed. “We'll get that pokemon another time, I'm just glad he didn't die,”

Gold rolled his eyes. “I would have been fine, Silver,”

Silver also rolled his eyes, rubbing his forehead with exhaustion. “Whatever, but you're wrong.”
(176 words.) The myth aspect was hard to include given that I'm supposed to continue this story. I ended up making them not quite human- they eyes thing, yep.

Cliche but classic is the ‘chosen one’ trope. Many fantasy books have this trope, where the main character is the ‘chosen one’. With at least 200 words, describe the moment your character is revealed to be the ‘chosen one’ of some sort, whether the person is to fight a villain, to go on a quest, or to do an everyday task.
Partly because Gold was insisting on leaving and partially because Crystal wanted to get back out and continue her search for the pokemon, Gold left the hospital before long.

He stumbled on the way out the door and whined in pain with the jolting it caused through his injured body, which almost made the nurses in the area drag him back in, but he got away well enough. Then they were flying back to Silver's current place, a little shack somewhere in the woods, to regroup.

They had been chasing this particular pokemon for a while because it had escaped Team Rocket after being heavily experimented on and was endangering people, other pokemon, and itself by being in the wild at the moment. The trio (well, particularly Crystal, but Silver and Gold had come along for the ride) were to catch it and bring it back to Professor Elm so it could be treated and nursed back to a safer state.

It wasn't the hardest quest they had been on. Not by a long shot.

Still, Gold had managed to get injured. (His hand left its secure grip on Togebo's spines to touch his bandaged stomach, feeling pain course up his body when his hand came into contact with the injured area.) Self destructive, that was what the doctor had described his battleing style as when the explanation of what had happened was relayed to him.

Gold bit his lip, hand returning to hold onto Togebo's spines again. He hadn't wanted to believe the doctor, just scoffing and crossing his arms, but now that he had time to think about it…

As the wind whipped around him, he thought back. There was that time when he was fighting Lance's Dragonite- a similar tactic was used to take it down quickly then. Of course, then his mind was brought back to the many times he had practically sacrificed himself for the purpose of saving the world. He hadn't expected to die back when fighting Arceus, and he hadn't, but he was prepared to. Then, it stood out clearly in his mind.

The time he threw himself into time.

Gold swallowed, going pale as he thought back to it. He had been prepared to float through time forever, just to save the world. To save the Mask of Ice as well, no less. Gold looked down at Togebo's back as they flew, feeling suddenly sick.

But that time was different, right? He was the only one who could take action, so of course he had done so. (And yet- he could have just let it end. He could have refused, he could have found some way to fix it without sacrificing himself.) That was his moment, the moment where he was ‘chosen’, he realized. That was when he proved himself as a dex-holder.

Even if no one respected him anyway. Even if everyone thought of him as a worse trainer than any of the others.

His grip on him pokemon's spines tightened so much Togebo shifted and Gold quickly loosened his grip, uttering a soft ‘sorry buddy’. But it wasn't enough distraction, he still felt sickened.

The doctor was right, it was self-destructive.

And he had a few select reasons as to why he kept that self-sacrificial style about him.
(548 words.)

Time to get social! Ask three different campers (from any cabin) to each give you three words. You should have nine words in total. Write for ten minutes, and you must incorporate all nine words into the story.
@savebats: red, everlasting, tree
@fluffysheepwool: adventure, over, basket
@alicorn10: pumpkin, and, yellow
They touched down next to a tree about as tall as Gold's house, and Red stepped off his pokemon's back.

Still aching around his middle where he had been hit (the injury had torn away the skin in front and left him to breath, but minimal internal damage was done), Gold patted Togebo's forehead dejectedly. He was still thinking about his revelations from the flight over.

He wasn't considered a good trainer, not in comparison to someone like Yellow or Red- two of the most respected trainers of their time, even if Yellow rarely showed herself in public. He was part of the group and yet he wasn't, constantly ostracized by those around him and considered lesser despite all he had done.

It was because of that that put reasoning to his self-destructive fighting style. It made sense. If he went out with a bang, or almost went out with a bang, people should have respected him for the sort of trainer he was.

Well, keywords- should have.

The thing was that he already did that, but nothing changed. So he just kept doing it, just kept fighting that off-feeling of rejection whenever he was compared to the others.

His stomach hurt, badly, and he winced. A hand gently went to it, pressing hard against the banaged area as he squeezed his burning eyes shut. It hurt even more like that, but somehow it was easier to deal with when there was pressure against the injury.

He bit his lip, rolling it between his teeth and groaning.

Silver's hand was on his shoulder soon enough and Gold snapped his eyes open, looking over at the red-head with confusion. Silver was holding out a peice of bread. “I made pumpkin bread a bit ago,” he said, hesitatingly as if he wasn't quite sure what to say.

Gold blinked at him like he had three heads. “For… me?”

“Right,” Silver extended the peice to him, dropping his arm from his shoulder and putting it on his own hip. “For you,”

“But I can't-” Gold tried, voice weak. This wasn't like him, to turn down food. He just felt so… sick. He wasn't sure if he could stomach food at the moment, thinking over the meanings of his actions and frankly still reeling from his injury.

“Take it,” Silver insisted, voice commanding, and shoved the piece of food into Gold's hand. “There's plenty more in the basket it came from, alright?”

Gold nodded numbly, looking down at the food. Behind him, Togebo made a whining sound, wanting to go inside.

“Crys is already inside,” Silver said, turning to the building that he currently called his residence. “Come on, you need to rest,”

“No,” Gold followed him, frowning. “I don't need to rest, I'm fine. We need to get back out there and catch that-”

Silver whipped around to him. “Gold!” he exclaimed, making Gold jump with the sudden volume and emotion in his voice. “Sorry,” he apologized as he spotted the reaction, but sighed and shook his head. “You're not well,”

“'Tis but a scratch,” Gold tried to joke, but his voice sounded hollow.

“Not the injury, Gold,” Silver rubbed his temple tiredly. Gold bit his lip, did he always look his tired when he worried about him?

So Gold just nodded, looking down at the ground, and followed Silver inside.

The trio were pretty much an everlasting group, they wouldn't break apart. They had their arguments from time to time (in fact, quite often) but they were bonded now. They had gone on adventure after adventure together, often risking their lives in the process. That alone was enough to keep them together forever, even if their personalities still clashed.

The other regional dex-holder groups were the same.

It seemed that Crystal had lightly calmed down from the anger that had been evident as she left the hospital with him and Silver, and she had put together some toast. Really, it was quite late at night for that, but no matter.

“Sorry,” she sighed as her eyes briefly met Gold's gaze and then flicked away to the food again. “Sorry for blowing up at you,”

“It's fine,” Gold said hollowly. He always said that.

It wasn't fine.
(704 words.)

The “Chekhov's Gun” principle is when all elements you incorporate serve a purpose later on. There are no relevant items or descriptions, and all the things described must have a purpose. For example, if you are going to describe a pen, that pen must be used later on, or else it would not satisfy the “Chekhov's Gun” principle. Incorporating this principle must contain at least 300 words.
Gold laid awake in bed, thinking about the past.

In the dim light, the fan spun slowly overhead. He could barely see it move.

His hands were curled into the blanket he laid on top of, too sweaty to manage under it. He felt sick, pain firing up his systems and putting him into flight of fight mode when there was nothing to fight and nothing to run from. He was stuck in bed because of that, knowing that getting up would probably wake Silver or Crystal, who were sleeping on the other side of the room.

Gold bit his lip, fighting back tears as the instincts to get up and run rolled through him. Alright, maybe he shouldn't have insisted on leaving care so soon.

For some reason, as he laid in his bed, not moving save for the unconscious shaking coming from his panicking denial of his fight or flight instincts, the injury hurt so much more than before.

His lip protested as he bit down on it even harder, squeezing his eyes shut. His mind was whirling, both from the pain and his urge to get up and run- even though he knew he couldn't do that. He didn't want to wake Crys or Gold, he didn't want to get scolded for not sleeping. After all, they had to set out again tomorrow.

But a wave of nausea snuck up on him and he couldn't stand it anymore. He sat up so quickly that he actually felt the light breeze from the fan, if only for a moment. He gagged into his hand, eyes rolling back as his body protested moving so fast. Luckily, he managed to swallow down the bile.

He couldn't lay back down though.

Fire was shooting through him, radiating out from his bandaged abdomen and creating unpleasant shivers to overtake him. Suddenly, he felt too cold and so unsafe.

You know what? He didn't care if he woke up the other two, he had to get up. He had to move, he had to get out of there. (He hated the flight instinct, especially when it overtook him like this. It was a reminder of how unhealthy he was.)

Gold wrapped the blanket around himself and got to his feet, stumbling dizzily as he did so. At least he wasn't overheating anymore, now feeling freezing instead. Waves of the two temperatures coursed through him as he stood, shivering, beside the bed. It felt like a fever, and he hated it.
(417 words.)

A character who you thought has died is now walking up to you. “Wait, you're alive?” You stare at them twice before they nod. Puzzled, you begin to wonder how this is possible. For this activity, write for 8 minutes, making sure a character the main character thought was dead, is actually alive.
He remembered back to Pryce- or the Mask of Ice. He remembered thinking he had died.

He remembered seeing him, later. He remembered all the thoughts that had gone through his mind. Panic, anger, confusion.

The man had hurt him and countless other people- kidnapped his best friend, in fact. It was scary to see him again. It was terrifying to watch him roll out into Gold's view, especially when they met eyes.

To be honest, Gold shouldn't have assumed that the Mask of Ice was dead. After all, he had nearly sacrificed himself in part to save the man. But, for some reason, Gold just hadn't thought of him as alive since the final battle. Maybe it was some sort of self-preservation assumption because now, standing shivering in his room with agony and instincts he didn't know how to act on, Gold felt roughly the same amount of trapped as in that moment.

The Mask of Ice had made his and the other dex-holder's lives extremely difficult for several months, and he had been horrible long before that. A real rotten apple. (Gold still didn't know how he had gotten off the hook, maybe it was the fact that he was a gym leader, maybe not.)

So seeing him had created a horrifying feeling of being trapped that Gold had a hard time replicating on his own.

But now, his stomach bandaged with fresh but already stained wrappings, pain radiating up from the area he had been hit, freezing hold and shivering in the hot room- he felt just about as bad.

Gold groaned, trying to shut his eyes and block it out, but he couldn't. Fear was rising in his chest, all cold and bad under his skin, threatening to bust out of him as tears or screams. Was this a panic attack? He couldn't tell.
(308 words.)

A flock of birds are classic in descriptions, when describing the setting. They usually don't serve any symbolic meaning, or are not significantly important to the setting. However, for this activity you must write for 5 minutes, where a flock of birds appears and have some significance to the setting.
He got over himself eventually and managed a fitful sleep until it was time to wake once more.

Now the next day, Gold, Silver, and Crys were again on the lookout for the pokemon they were searching for. It's powers had been enhanced by Team Rocket experiments and it was easily recognizable, so they had gotten a tip from someone in a nearby town that it had disappeared into the city.

That was bad, mostly because it meant that more people could potentially be hurt by the pokemon's unnaturally buffed attacks. It was also bad because it meant that the trio had to walk through a rather unknown city and try to find their way around.

Honestly, Gold was pretty sure they were going in circles.

His head ached and his body still burned, but he had refused Silver's offer to stay back at the house. If he did that, people would equate him to less than he was and he would have a hard time fighting off the incorrect assumptions. (Again, self-destructive, but he ignored that.)

Then, just as Silver was suggesting that maybe they should move on and look elsewhere to a very frustrated Crystal, a flock of birds tore across the sky.

They were squawking and screeching. They had been scared by something.

The trio all mey gazes. That was their sign.

As the birds flew in the opposite direction, the three dex-holders ran back the way from whence the creatures had come. They had found their prize after all, it was time to capture it.

Gold tried to feel excited, but the left-over fear from last night was distracting him.
(274 words.)

Birdi's prompt (abbreviated): Write as fast as you can for five minutes, rest for five minutes, then write as fast as you can for another five minutes! (now this is my type of prompt!! even if I didn't really race that much lol)
The plan was to come in from several sides. Gold from the back because he was injured (usually he took the blunt of attacks in the front spot, but Silver managed to convince Crystal that he could do the role instead). Silver and Crystal would both be from the front, though each slightly to the right or left so that they could somewhat distract the pokemon from each of them.

It really shouldn't have been such a dangerous creature.

It was the fault of Team Rocket, as usual.

Gold gripped his pokeballs hard as he snuck up behind the creature (having made a trip around the trees lining the sidewalk to it's left to get behind it). The creature hadn't noticed any of them yet, just sitting in place and looking up at the sky.

Gold's heart hurt, it looked sad. Scared maybe, unsure what had happened to change it's behavior and it's attacks.

So clearly, he needed to get this done with. They needed to capture it and bring it back to Professor Elm so that he could figure something out to reverse the affects of Team Rocket's experimentation.

He made eye contact with Crystal. She was half-crouched behind a garbage bin, Silver about ten feet to her right and hidden behind the wall of a building. Save for them and the pokemon, the area was pretty much evacuated.

After all, it had clearly left some marks in this area. There were burn marks in several locations around it, one tree still lightly flaming and another with no leaves left at all. They had to put a stop to this before anyone else got hurt, at least the locals had been logical enough to leave when they saw it attacking the trees.

Gold nodded to Crystal and she nodded back, then giving Silver a thumbs up.

All at the same time, the trio burst forward.

Crystal and Silver shot out their starters, knowing that the pokemon they were capturing was three types due to experimentation. Clearly it had already used it's fire power, so it was risky for Crystal to put forward a grass type (in case it was still in that mode) but Gold trusted her to have a plan.

Silver's pokemon shot a water beam at the creature before it even seemed to know what had happened, it screamed out in pain and fury (Silver's pokemon were all rather high level, and it was clearly a fire type at the moment to boot). The creature shifted forms, shooting a leech seed in the direction of Silver and his Feraligatr.

Both of them dogged easily.

It was obvious, the pokemon was tired- or injured. Or both. It's reaction time had been better in the past, but now it seemed slower and less exact with its aim.

So Gold took his chance now that the pokemon was in grass mode, knowing that now would be the best time to get in damang.

WIthout thinking, he commanded Exbo to use Blast Burn, it was instinctual. The most powerful move they knew- the most powerful move they even could know! (After all, Blast Burn was the fire type move to end all moves, matched equally with Frenzy Plant and Hydro Canon.)

The pokemon hadn't even seen him, too focused on to the two trainers in front of him to take note of the boy and his fire type. It screamed and writhed, distracted by the pain brought on by the powerful move and thrashing in an attempt to remove the flames from it's body.

Crystal took her chance. She kicked a pokeball in the pokemon's direction- it hit it's mark. (As it always did.)

With a flash of red, the experimented pokemon was gone into the pokeball. She rushed forward, grabbing the object from the ground and looking inside to see the pokemon though the red. It looked confused and scared, but the fire had been put out.

Gold and Silver also rushed to her side.

“It was injured before this,” she noted, “Or it wouldn't have gone down so quickly,”

“From last battle,” Silver offered, “It wouldn't have any way to heal on its own,”

Gold nodded, hand on his own stomach as he bit his lip. The move used on him hadn't been a fire attack, but he found himself relating to the trapped creature. “Let's get it to Elm,” he said.

Crystal nodded and Silver hummed in agreement.
(740 words.)

(abbreviated) For 300 words, incorporate the songfic trope by including a short song lyric in your writing. - I used fictional son lyrics from PKSP, Gold and Silver
Professor Elm was humming a song and tinkering with a new pokedex design as the trio burst into his office.

Gold stumbled to a stop at the tune- sad and yet hopeful, a siren's song. He recognized it immediately: it was Boy and His Lapras.

The song echoed in his mind, even as the professor jumped up, his humming cut off abruptly as Crystal ran to him, shoving the pokeball out for him to see. “We got it professor!” she panted, “But it's hurt,”

“Battles on the brain…” The lyrics wrung in Gold's mind as he clutched a hand around his still-aching middle. Silver looked at him nervously, seeing the wince that crossed his rival's face.

Professor Elm was thanking them, but Gold wasn't paying attention. His mind was somewhere far away, too focused on the hypnotic tune he now related to the Mask of Ice. He set his jaw, forcing his arm to drop back to his side. Crystal started explaining what had happened, how they had retreated and continued on the quest the next day. How the pokemon was still injured from the previous battle and had been taken down easily.

Gold wasn't paying attention.

“Can you ease my mind? Can you feel the strain?” The song teased in his mind, the voice of DJ Mary a replica of the real origin of the song and a hypnotic distraction.

“Gold?” Silver elbowed him.

Gold snapped out of it, blinking his blurry eyes until Professor Elm came into focus. He was looking at him with worry. “Uh- yeah?” Gold smiled, cringing at the look on the professor's face.

“You're hurt?” he asked.

“Um,” Gold shrugged, laughing nervously. “It's not too bad, just a-”

Professor Elm shook his head, sighing as if Gold had done something to disapoint him. “You nearly got in the way of capturing the pokemon, what happened?”

The air felt cold.

Gold stared at him in shock. Even Crystal looked a little surprised by the comment, and she was usually the one to give out such things. Super serious girl and all that.

“Professor?” Gold asked, confused and more than a little offended. (Usually he didn't let the offense creep into his voice, but right now he was hurt and the fight or flight instincts were starting to kick in again, he could feel them. Soon, he'd either be out the door with some horrible excuse about watering his plants or curled up on the floor, shivering with tears rolling down his face. If last night was anything to base things on, anyway.)

Silver squeezed his shoulder. “Professor Elm,” he tried, “With all due respect, Gold is the one that knocked the pokemon out,”

“Well, Exbo, actually,” Gold's voice was quiet, suddenly meek. Nothing like his normal persona. Nothing like some agony to get his real feelings to come out, huh? Silver rolled his eyes.

Elm frowned at them, and then turned back to Crystal. Crystal shot Gold one more slightly worried glance before her and the professor turned away to take the pokemon to a proper healing station.
(515 words.)

For this activity, choose a literary theme to develop throughout your story in at least 250 words.
Themes picked: Friendship and Trust
They were left alone.

Silver looked over at Gold, watching him stare emptily at the place Crystal and their professor had disappeared too. He looked hurt- and not just physically. Emotionally exhausted. It was like watching a facade drop as the door to the other room closed, Silver swallowed.

“Hey,” he said, “Let's just… sit down,”

“Okay,” Gold muttered, his voice hollow.

So they sat down, right there on the floor. Silver tried to catch Gold in a questioning eye contact, but his head was dropped down- staring at the carpet while he picked at it.

When Gold spoke, his voice sounded strangled. “I don't think they know what they're doing to me,”

Silver looked at him, eyebrows furrowed in a silent question. Gold worriedly shifted his gaze up, his golden eyes glinting under his dark hair. They stared at each other for a moment, Gold's hand having stilled, frozen mid pull at a piece of the carpet. “Do you- do you… think I'm a bad dex-holder?”

Staring at him, Silver frowned. “Of course not, I'm not an idiot,”

“Then everyone but you is an idiot, apparently,” Gold sighed, “Did you hear that? He learns I got hurt and scolds me for getting in the way, everything worked out- right?”

Silver nodded, “Except for you getting hit,”

Gold tipped his head to the side and stared up at the ceiling. “It hurts,” he said simply after a long while.

“Your abdomen?”

“No- well, yeah,” Gold sighed. Silver could see a flicker of discomfort in his eyes, and then the raw emotion behind them dulled. Gold put on one of those smiles he was so good at making, “But it's fine,”

Silver frowned. “You're faking,”

“Nope,” Gold shook his head, but he refused to meet Silver's gaze.

“Can I see your injury, at least?” Silver sighed, rubbing his cheek, tired after a long day of hunting pokemon through the streets of a random city he didn't know his way around.

Gold stared at him, mouth ever so slightly open. Silver stared right back, unsure why Gold had that confused look on his face.

“I'm worried about you, Gold,” Silver finally sighed. It was embarrassing to admit out loud. Silver wasn't the type of person to worry- especially about other people.

“O-oh,” Gold stuttered, “No, it's fine- I'm fine,”

“Did you re-do the bandages?”

“I wasn't supposed to yet,”

“Oh.”
(398 words.)

Leave your story unresolved with a cliffhanger. 500 words.
Things didn't really change, even after Silver reminded Gold that he cared about him.

People still didn't think of Gold in any good light. The Johto trainers continued to be sent on quests after Ex-Team Rocket pokemon. Gold's wound eventually healed into dark bruises and scars where the skin had been torn away, but it hurt for a while after the bandages officially came off.

Crystal was the one out of their group officially named ‘The Capturer’, and she was just as good at it as her title insisted. This meant that, working as a team to knockout or weaken pokemon that had escaped Team Rocket or other's experimentation, the trio went through missions quickly.

Somehow, Silver managed to convince Gold to- at the very least- stop battling quite so descriptively quite as often. The risk taking was still part of his signature style though, and Gold refused to let go of it completely. Still, Silver and Crystal both seemed satisfied with slightly less of Gold's self-destructive style on display.

Gold also let Silver look at his injury, though it was less of an injury at that point than a map of scars not unlike those of burns. The attack had been pure energy, a mix of the pokemon's three type classes, and it had done something nasty to his skin. But it was alright, Gold honestly thought it looked pretty cool. He had been wondering when he would get a permanent scar from battling.


With the uptake in recent experiment victim pokemon, it was clear that Team Rocket was planning something new.

At a dex-holder meeting between the two senior regions (called because of the clear air of worry that hovered around them), Crystal presented a long piece on the records of experimented pokemon the Johto trio had been catching. She included their upgrades and how certain battles went, plus the pokemon's nature before and after treatment. Silver and Gold pitched in with their own details.

Blue presented his own series of data, though his was tracking a series of expenses made by the group they faced off against. It seemed that their technology was becoming more and more advanced, his data lining up with the more frequent missions (wild goose chases) the Johto group was sent on.

“Don't worry,” Gold whispered to Silver as Red went off on his own speech. He squeezed his friend's hand. Silver tended to get weird around Team Rocket, and Gold couldn't possibly blame him. “We'll take him down, you'll see,”

“We will.” Silver looked over at him, trying to seem confident though his voice was barely a breath, trying to go unnoticed as they whispered to each other instead of listening to their senior's info.

Gold smiled, “It'll work out, somehow,”

Green elbowed him in the side. Gold jumped, yelping out in pain but biting the sound in half as he clamped his teeth over his lower lip. Rubbing the area, he glared at Green. It had been months since he had gotten hit, but the area was still quite a lot more tender than he would have liked. He shook his head at her, eyes wide and disbelieving as he searched for an explanation. She nodded in the direction of Red. Gold rolled his eyes.

He turned back to Silver and managed to smile at him, squeezing his hand with a teasing light in his eyes.

“Ready to win against Team Rocket?”
(517 words.)

Me struggling to fix problems in the space ship:

In order to get the forums back up and running, come up with five reasons why you appreciate a Scratch Team member, then send it to them.
Person chosen: @ceebee
Some more reasons you're really cool (again, from SWC!):
One: your projects manage to be both entertaining and relatively simple most of the time, a good inspiration to beginner coders and artists.
Two: your art style is very pleasing to look at.
Three: I'm sure other people feel this way as well- your stands against hate are greatly appreciated.
Four: Your ‘destroying closets’ project in particular made me feel very comforted when I was littler.
Five: From the interactions I have seen, you seem to be a very kind person! I hope you have a great day. <3
(101 words.)

In order to fix the rankings, stop working on the weekly and write a list of at least five achievements you're proud of.
List of accomplishments I'm proud of.
One: Completing my Chloenette fic! What a feeling.
Two: Drinking water last night. Trust me, it's a way bigger deal than it sounds.
Three: Reading twenty seven Magic Tree House books in one sitting.
Four: Doing thirty one pushups in a row the other day, but I want to get the number even higher. Still doesn't seem like enough.
Five: Finishing that wlw animation to Jenny that a did a year or so ago.
(103 words.)

In order to unlock the door, stop working on this weekly and write a list of ten awesome things about a person that has impacted you significantly (either in real life or scratch) and give it to them.
To @savebats, a list. *she is my sister as well as a scratch friend lol
One: You look the same as me, which is comedy gold.
Two: You are obsessed with pretty much the same things as me.
Three: We have created a huge crossover AU that literally only makes sense to us, and the updated version of it has been going on for three years.
Four: You also share the only correct opinion /lh on who the best pokespe character is. (Gold.)
Five: I love your art style!
Six: I love your writing style.
Seven: We're twins, so that's so epic.
Eight: You have an ace flag, which is a good color scheme and complements my tiny pan one.
Nine: We both like the little rodent guys.
Ten: This feels like cheating because we share the same music taste, but your music taste is great ha ha
(149 words.)

Drinking Water Because It Told Me To - 1۞
Ummm, so that happened. Awesome, now I have an excuse to drink water now so I don't have to later. Yay
(21 words.)

Here is my submission code for this weekly! Super fun, amazing job everyone
PATHS TAKEN: 5-2, 1-5, 4-1, 3-3, 2-3, 9-1, 6-2, 7-2, 81-3, 101-4 | SABOTAGE RESULTS: 5- F, 9- S;2- S;6- S;7- F, 3- S;1- F, 8- F, 4- S | ENDING: neutral

Day thirty: 7۞ in total. (3024 words in total.)

Main Cabin Daily - 3۞
“Crys!“ Gold called, “Watch this!”

She groaned as, for the third time that day, Exbo shot a powerful ‘blast burn’ into the target. Gold crowed happily, proud of him and his starter's progression. The bracelet had fallen off his wrist several weeks before and him and his pokemon still continued to work on perfecting it.

“High five!” he cackled, jumping up on his toes to give his tall pokemon one. Exbo roared confidently and returned it with a headbutt. Gold turned to Crystal as soon as his heels hit the ground again, a wild grin on his face.
`
“So how was that?”

She glowered at him. “Horrible. You're distracting me and Mega,”

“Pft,” he snorted, sauntering over to her and putting his hand on his hip, that annoying smile on his face that she knew so well. “You and Mega just need to ignore me then-” his eyes suddenly lost their sparkle, going dark with seriousness. “-don't you wanna get Silver out of there?”

Crystal bristled with the mention of their third counterpart, “Of course I do! We're trying our best- right Mega?”

Mega make a chirping noise, and Crystal knew the creature well enough to recognize it as confident. She smiled at it, showing that she cared despite her frustration.

Gold watched the exchange. “Why don't you just give it a shot?”

Crystal's smile dropped as she glared at him, Exbo slunk over to stand my his trainer, Mega was chattering nervously. “We have been,” Crystal almost snarled. She was tired.

“No, you've been training with other attacks,” he corrected her. She bristled again.

“So that we are at a high enough level to fire the attack!”

He shrugged. “Just try it- maybe you're strong enough. Just say ‘frenzy plant’ and point at the target, and you-” he was now talking to Mega, “-just do the best you can, right?”

Mega nodded, seeming to like this plan. Crystal still wasn't so sure. She bit her lip, not wanting to embarrass or disappoint her pokemon by failing the move again, but also not wanting to refuse a challenge from Gold.

She glared at him one last time before waving Mega to her side, walking to the spot in front of the target. “Alright,” she said, trying to bury her nervousness, and pointed at the target. “Frenzy plant!”

Mega screamed out with effort as it flung itself into the air, opening its mouth wide to shoot the attack.

Gold and Exbo were watching from behind them, Crystal was biting her lip with anticipation as her eyes traced Mega's movement. Time seemed to move in slow motion. It wasn't going to happen, was it? All this training, and they still hadn't done it. They would have to keep going and-

A shot escaped her pokemon, bright and green and blinding, and struck the target. A beam of vines, tied together and strong, as if of pure energy. Crystal's eyes widened, mouth falling open into and then into a huge grin as Mega landed back on the ground from its jump.

The bracelet fell from her wrist and clattered to the ground.

Gold whooped excitedly, “Did you see that? I told you!” Crystal didn't directly pay attention, too lightheaded with excited disbelief.

She ran to Mega, holding her arms out for a hug. The pokemon jumped into her grasp, chirping excitedly, little ‘vwooping’ noises showing just how proud it was. She laughed. “Great job Mega, oh my gosh, that was amazing!”

Gold and Exbo came to her side and she grinned up at Gold, still squeezing her huge pokemon as it nuzzled her hair. “We did it!”

“Yeah!” his grin was genuine, “You did! I knew it, I knew you could do it- good job Mega!”

Mega chirped as Gold rubbed its head. Exbo made a barking noise that sounded happy, Mega responding with its own vwoops of proud excitement.

Crystal laughed, releasing her hug from her pokemon, it rushed to Exbo- the two continuing to chatter excitedly. Crystal smiled at Gold, her annoyance at him having melted away, replaced by her still-thumping heart (the nervousness of trying the attack).

He hugged her and her brain came to a stop for a second as he spun her around. When he put her down, there was a wild grin on his face, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “Crys, super serious girl?” he asked, bowing slightly, a playful light teasing his eyes.

She laughed, “Yeah, Gold?”

“Would you save Silver with me?” he bowed his head to imitate begging, as if it was a question at all.

Her smile was real. With Mega's attack mastered, they were one step closer. “Of course, as soon as the others are ready!”
(785 words.)


In-Cabin Daily (“okay now ABSOLUTELY DESTROY THRILLER AND MYTH WITH FIRE FIRE FIRE AND BE CREATIVE”) - 2۞
ummmm so I take this as just writing a whole lot? Okay! Let's do this then >: )
(16 words.)


A walk - 1۞
I actually went paddle boarding today! Not quite a walk, but it was fun anyway! I fell off of it because it wasn't inflated enough and I slipped on the water while trying to jump (it was a shame because I had been landing the last couple of jumps so I feel like I could have landed it if I just hadn't slipped). Anyway, it was pretty great.

My little sister (@fluffysheepwool) went out on her paddleboard and ate some pizza. It was,,,, very interesting to witness. She then came back to shore to grab some ginger ale and then went back out again, lol. It was great.

I didn't end up eating on the paddleboard, but I wanted to fall asleep on it! It's still so freaking hot out that it was making me sleepy, but luckily falling in the water made it so I wasn't feeling sick due to the heat.
(155 words.)


Water >: ( - 1۞
Are you glad that you don't have to listen to me rant about how much I hate water for much more time after today? (Only tomorrow.) Well.

I'm going to go on a particularly long rant today so I can properly be doing the daily! (More like a dramatic retelling.) Let's go lads.

So, I will set the scene for you (for the only drinks I have drank today, or tried to drink today, I will write about each).

Part one of @Starthorn's struggle to not die of dehydration: the milk.

I am sitting in the car, holding a small bottle of milk. My computer is on my lap, I am in the middle of writing my pokemon fanfiction for the main cabin daily today. The road is smooth, I trust myself to open the bottle.

Then, the car lurches.

I watch in slow motion as the milk bottle slips in my hand and pours over my laptop. My mouth opens as if in horror, watching the scene unfold. The milk splashes all over the floor and pours between my laptop screen and the keyboard. I yelp as it gets onto my shorts, but the whole bottle is already empty before I can tip it back upright again.

I spend the next twenty minutes trying to get the dang stuff off my laptop and have to go the rest of the day trip in my swimsuit shorts because the actual shorts have milk on them.

Part two of this struggle: a half-flat diet lime ginger ale my mother hated and I took instead.

I have just finished cleaning up my spilled milk from everywhere. My shorts are still soaked, I have not gotten the opportunity to change yet.

My mother exclaims in horror that her drink is really bad (in fact- “the worst soda she's ever drank”). She stares down at it in confusion, wondering how it could possibly be as bad as it was.

Now, you must understand me. I don't usually like soda. It's too sweet, too bubbly, and too stereotypical of teenagers for me to get caught dead drinking it in public. However, I have just spilled my only drink of the day all over myself and the floor and my throat already hurts. (Like, come on. It's two PM and, sure, I haven't drank anything, but already? The rest of the day is gonna suck, then.)

So I ask her what the soda is.

She describes it, sounding grossed out still.

Of course, me being me, I take the soda from her to have a sip. I then try it. It's too sweet, it's too bubbly, and it has an odd aftertaste of fake sugar. But it's not… actually that unpleasant.

So I drink it.

Now for part three of my escapades in drinking liquids today: the ginger ale.

We have gotten to our destination and there is actual ginger ale.

I bring out a cup of it because my throat still hurts (its been about, eh, three hours since the cup of flat lime ginger ale). I was right. Its too sweet and too carbonated and all around bad, but I finish it anyway. After all, at least it's not coca cola or pepsi. Or orange soda.

I hate orange soda.

(Drum roll please.) The final chapter of my drinking liquid: water, for the one chapter worth that it is. (It should be more.)

I slowly fill the cup with water from the sink. I stare at it like it has just given me a death sentence. I turn off the faucet. I lift it up to my mouth, shaking like a leaf. (Slightly exaggerating, slightly.)

I drink it. It feels wrong in my mouth, gross. Revolting.

Like rotting lettuce.

But I have to get those points, man!

So I fill it again. And drink it again.

The experience was horrible. Zero out of ten. But so worth it for one chapter in the fairy-tales cabin.
(661 words.)


Weekend Day - Hetalia, Prumano, Domestic Fluff, request by @-APHSpain-
“You know,” Prussia was mumbling, face down in his pillow as him and his boyfriend chatted. “I used to have a crush on your brother,”

Romano gave him a strange look, half amused and half offended. “Um, what?”

“Feli,” Prussia clarified, turning so that he was facing Romano and resting his cheek on his forearm. Smiling in that goofy way he did, he was hard to be annoyed at. His hair was all messed up and spiking in strange places.

“Well, yeah, I wasn't thinking it would be Seborga,” Romano snorted, rolling his eyes. “But, um, why?”

“Why what?”

“Did you tell me?” he coughed, crinkling his nose. “Because that's sort of a weird thing to say,”

“Oh,” Prussia smiled widely, “Because I was just thinking; I was so wrong,”

“I'd hope so,” Romano snorted, “Since you're dating me, not him,”

“Just, wrong entirely. Like, no offense to Feli but you're…”

Romano blinked at him. Taking in his bedhead and slightly sunburnt nose, the skin peeling off just the tiniest bit. “You're not very good at flirting, Gil.” he said finally, patting his boyfriend's head before pressing his own face into the pillow to hide a sudden yawn.

Prussia laughed as Romano ruffled his hair. “I guess not!”

“France is gonna be so sad when he finds out,” Romano joked, looking up from the pillow again. “That's like, his thing, what if he doesn't let you be friends with him anymore?”

“I dunno,” Prussia laughed his high pitched cackle, which made Romano smile. “What if that happens? What would I do then?”

“Probably cry,” Romano pointed out, smirking. “And then write about it in your diary,”

Prussia smiled at him, eyes soft in a way that, after all these years, still made Romano's heart flutter in his chest. “Yeah, probably,”


It was a weekend, and neither of them were working for the next two days. This meant that Prussia and Romano could properly spend time with each other. (It also meant that their conversation in the morning was able to stretch on longer than normal, because they could both sleep in. That made Prussia happy, he liked talking to Romano- after he had gotten to know him.)

Since Prussia wasn't directly connected to a country by himself anymore, as he now technically represented a city or something in Germany but didn't really care about it, he was able to travel. That was how he was able to move in with his boyfriend. They were both very glad for that.

“Alright, eat up,” Romano placed their brunch on the table, Gilbert grinning and immediately digging in.

“This is great!” he gasped, “Ow- hot!”

Romano rolled his eyes as he sat down. “You watched me take it off the stove, how did you still go ahead and burn yourself?”

“I don't think things through,” Prussia whined before sticking his tongue into his cup of water to quell the burning sensation.

“You're an idiot,” Romano served himself some food, “I'm dating an idiot,”

“I'm your idiot,” Prussia waggled his eyebrows, speech a little messy because he was still sticking his tongue out.

Romano looked up at him, pausing in the middle of slicing his food, expression morphing into a bemused (worried) smirk as he did so. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Prussia pointed at Romano, then at himself. “That's why I live here, right?”

“No kidding,” Romano looked around the room, he spotted his boyfriend's shirt on the ground a few feet away. “And that's your mess, I'm not picking that up for you,”

Prussia looked where he was looking and then whined again, “But I'm hurtttt,” he whined even though he normally loved cleaning and hated messes. Finally taking his tongue out of his cup, he made his best ‘puppy dog eyes’ in his boyfriend's direction. “Help me, please,”

“Pity won't work on me, idiot,” Romano took a careful bite of his food. “I've seen you fight,”

“I can fight good and still be weak to mouth burns,”

“Fight good?”

“Whatever, not my first language,”

Romano laughed, taking another bite of his meal. He blinked in light surprise, despite everything. “Oh, wow, it is pretty warm after all,”

“No kidding,” Prussia snorted, going ahead and shoveling more into his mouth instead of properly waiting for it to cool down.

Watching as Prussia winced again, breathing out a puff of air from his mouth and squeezing one eye shut in pain, Romano raised an eyebrow. “Just take smaller bites, maybe it wouldn't attack you so much if you didn't insist on eating it like that,”

“Shut it, nerd,” Prussia took a huge gulp from his cup of water.

Romano rolled his eyes.


They had a video game championship later, just the two of them.

Romano wasn't usually the best at video games, so it was no shocker that Prussia won many of the rounds. This did not, however, stop him from grumbling about it in that way Prussia loved to tease him for.

“I won!” Gilbert crowed, “I won the final round, pay up, buddy!”

He stuck out his hand for payment and Romano groaned, handing over the piece of gum they had bet on and then putting his head into his hands.

“Over dramatic,” Prussia commented, smirking. “You're jealous of me,”

“Jealous?” Romano snorted, “Of what- your loser gamer skills?”

“Hey!” Gilbert exclaimed, gasping in mock shock, “I thought you liked my gamer skills!”

Romano bit back a groan at the phrasing. “Ugh, whatever, but I want a piece of gum too,”

“You lost,” his boyfriend pointed out, sounding way too happy about it. “So no, you don't get any gum,”

“It was my gum at first!” Romano pointed out.

“And you lost!” Prussia grinned.

They had a mini staring contest. Romano lost that too.

He sighed and stood up from the couch, switching off the TV and stretching. “What now?” he asked, yawning.

“Wanna take a nap?” Prussia offered, standing up as well and brushing off his pants. “You sound tired,”

“Nah,” Romano shook his head. “I'm always tired, I don't need to sleep right now,”

“Suit yourself!”


Dinner was cooked by Prussia that night.

Mashed potatoes with pork and asparagus, a very well made and filling meal. It was one of Romano's favorites out of the meals Prussia often made him. In his opinion, the three options went well with each other. (It was also very sterotypically German, so jokingly making fun of Prussia for that was also an added bonus.)

Romano set the table as Prussia finished up the cooking, chattering about something that didn't really matter but seemed interesting enough when he talked about it.

They sat down together and Prussia grinned at Romano, who smiled back.

“Dig in!” Prussia giggled, handing Romano a serving spoon for the mashed potatoes.

“Thanks,” Romano nodded, scooping some onto his plate after taking the utensil from Prussia.

As they ate, they discussed random topics that came up and laughed about stupid jokes that really shouldn't have been as funny as they were. Romano smiled to himself as he finished the last of the asparagus, ignoring Prussia's teasing for liking the meal so much despite always insulting his cooking, this was a good day.


Before going to bed, they chatted for a while, giggling and sharing stupid stories from their lives before each other.

Romano was already laying down in bed, waiting for Prussia to get in so he could switch off the light on the bedside table. Prussia was writing in his diary. It was the seven hundred fifty sixth book in the diary, apparently. (At least, that was what the number on the cover advertised.)

“You really like writing in that thing, don't you?” Romano said, out of the blue.

Prussia blinked at him, then at the book. “Well, yeah, I haven't missed any days since, I don't know, seventeen fifty,”

“That's cool, you know that?” Romano smiled. Being sleepy made him nicer.

“Thanks,” Prussia smiled, then turned back to his book to write a little more. “I have just a bit more, wait and- yep! I'm good, you can turn the light off now,”

“What'd you write?” Romano yawned as he sat up to switch off the lamp, Prussia closing his diary and setting it back on the shelf as he stood.

Prussia climbed back into bed and gently bopped his forehead into Romano's just as the light switched off.

“I had to note how much I loved you.”
(1407 words.)

Day thirty one (last day!): 7۞ in total. (4659 words countable! I hit 100k yay)

Main Cabin Daily - 3۞
Part one: Thanking @-JadeFox-
This is one of my thank you notes! Partly for the daily, but mostly because I think you deserve a thank you note. Throughout this month, you've been an awesome inspiration, word counter, and friendly face in the fairy tales cabin. I thank you for that, genuinely. It is easy to be active when there are people ready to talk to you and receive your words for the day, and that makes SWC such a good thing for me.

You're a very kind and very dedicated person and if we do not run into each other in future Scratch Writing Camp seasons, that would make me a little sad. :'D Anyway, you're awesome. Thanks for everything!

Part two: Thanking @Sandy-Dunes
This is one of my thank you notes which can be partly credited to the main cabin daily, but mostly for the fact that they were long overdue. So, without further ado: thank you for being so awesome and cool and kind this month! You were the first word counter I interacted with because of the word count studios, and you were an awesome introduction. I am very glad that I started out in the merchant word count studio, both because it is my favorite aesthetically (lol) but also because you were there!

Being in a studio with such a dedicated word counter from the start was really inspiring and helped me to reach such a high word count this month! Even if we as a cabin do not win, this experience was a victory in its own right, and you were part of that! So thank you, from the bottom of my heart. <3

Also, an added note: Thanks for putting up with me while I was still figuring out how to submit words and things, lol, that was very nice of you.

Part three: Thanking @-limeade
This is a thank you note partially because of the daily for today and partially because thank you notes are important and cool. So, here you go! Just like all the other people running Scratch Writing Camp, you are a very talented and dedicated individual. I thank you for that because having people that awesome running a camp is what helps bring it from ‘its cool that i get to write’ to ‘omg this is amazing I want to join again next year’.

I loved the rebellion word count studio for many reasons. One: it did wonders for my SWC character's storyline. Two: The thumbnail was really cool. And three, most important of them all: You were there, awesome and cool as always! Thank you for all you've done.

Part four: Thanking @enchantedd-
I know you weren't really super active recently, so this kinda comes out of left field, but I wanted to thank all the people who were part of running the fairy tales cabin this year! So yeah, here I am to thank you for being cool. I very much enjoyed the fact that you were in four cabins, I didn't even know that was possible! Anyway, thanks again!
(514 words.)


In-Cabin Daily - 2۞
Star looks up at the sky, wondering, waiting for something to happen. It is dark, today (and if not literally, at least figuratively). The month has been hard, a reminder of why she does not go out of her way to live in countries riddled by conflict. Starting out neutral as a merchant, she soon joined the queen's army, but left for the rebellion forces. Now, as war has broken out, she is back to a neutral position. (So much for being loyal to her factions!)

She sighs, preparing herself. Although she is now fighting for ‘no side’ officially, her time in the army and in the rebelion force have carved her thoughts. Some part of her wants to fight. Not for any side to win, necessarily, but for peace. (Fighting fire with fire, are we?) Star bites her lip, feeling a little sick. No matter, she has to do this.

Star readies her spear, curling her fingers around it and leveling her gaze. Before her time in the fairy tale countries, she was a mercenary in intergalactic travel. It's not like she's not prepared.

The red symbol on the back of her hand stings, like a reminder of what is to come, and she charges forward- yelling for peace and fighting with violence.
(214 words.)


A last rant about water for your viewing pleasure - 1۞
Today I am comparing tap water and water from the new fridge thing that my family got! Like a weird youtube video but in text form because I don't take videos of myself or post them </3

Note that I waited a while in between drinking these so that I would not become overwhelmed by ~water~ and throw up. Ha ha, I still wonder what is wrong with me, I dunno if I'll ever get an answer on that!

Anyway, here we go.

(Kitchen) Tap water in a cup:

Gross. It made me feel a little sick to drink. The flavor isn't too bad, in fact I enjoy it, but the fact that it is water makes me feel gross to drink it. However, when I shake the cup as I drink it (a little hard to do without spilling it) the process of hydration is much easier for me.

Rating: two out of ten.

(Kitchen) Tap water straight from the faucet:

Water is much easier to drink while it's moving. I feel like a cat. The flavor is the same but I don't get the sick feeling as much while drinking moving water because my brain has less time to process it.

Rating: six out of ten.

(Bathroom sink) Tap water in a cup:

You know what? At least it's better than the other tap water in a cup.

Rating: three out of ten.

(Bathroom sink) Tap water straight from the faucet:

AMAZING, AWESOME, STUPENDOUS, EVERY GOOD DESCRIPTOR IN THE WORLD.

I have NO IDEA what it is about this stuff but the tap water from this side of the house is just better than the other. Also, the water moves faster and therefore gets less of that gross sinking feeling in my stomach. I enjoyed the first few sips and then was overcome by disgust, but that is the best reaction to water I usually have! Epic.

Rating: eight out of ten.

Fridge water in a cup:

Though it is better than the kitchen sink water in a cup, the fact that it is very cold (which is good) isn't enough to make it better than that bathroom sink tap water. Sorry fridge, you're just not that great. Also, the fact that it takes so long to fill a cup gives me more time to get grossed out by it, which would knock it down a point anyway.

Rating: two out of ten.

Fridge water straight from it:

Unsurprisingly, it is not really possible to drink fridge water right from it because it is significantly lower than my height and indented in the fridge door. However, if it were possible I believe that this would make the drinking water experience significantly better.

Rating: One out of ten.

Final rankings in order of worst to best:
(worst)
(Fridge) water straight from it (impossible to drink)
(Fridge) water in a cup (I'm not as used to it, maybe in the future it will be better)
(Kitchen) Tap water in a cup (no comment really, gross)
(Bathroom sink) Tap water in a cup (at least it's not the other tap water)
(Kitchen) Tap water straight from the faucet (a classic, I can drink it like a man dying of thirst and be fine)
(Bathroom sink) Tap water straight from the faucet (AMAZING, LITERALLY THE BEST ONE AAAA)
(best)
(557 words.)


A walk, a final garden update, a revelation - 1۞
It's hot out today, as it always seems to be.

If you've been reading these ‘walk’ updates when the come up, you might have caught on to the fact that I prefer cold weather. Hot weather has never sat right with me, it hurts to be in and makes me light headed.) Anyway, what was I talking about? Oh yeah, my walk.

I went on a walk around my yard today, because I didn't put on shoes before I left the door and I don't want to walk on a road with bare feet, and checked things out. It smells really good out right now, partially because we just harvested our garlic and I love the smell of garlic, but just generally also.

Speaking of harvesting, have a final garden (I almost typed garlic, oops) update on this last day of Scratch Writing Camp!

Yesterday, I picked all our purple beans from the arch, but they have grown back again at a record pace! How cool is that? The pumpkins are a little small, still, which is a shame because we wanted to win a bet with some family members on who could grow the biggest pumpkin, but it's alright! The tomatoes and cucumbers are doing well, if a little overgrown on their various fences. The jerusalem artichokes look good too! Although they're a root vegetable and it's kinda hard to tell.

Our corn is a sorry sight, but we're still figuring out how to properly grow that so it's alright, I suppose.

The kale is doing great (as it always does) and I see a good sized squash near it. I wonder when we'll eat that. The various other vegetables are also doing good, but I don't have much to say about all those.


Clearly you can see that I am stretching all of these things to their absolute limit to gain as many words as possible. (Gotta hit 100k, man.) Therefore, it should be easy enough to see that writing is very important to me, both for competitive reasons and because I just enjoy it. It's part of me.

So, can I have a heart to heart with you as I sit here on my porch, sweltering because it's too hot out?

Of course I can, I'm the one writing this and pretty much no one is reading it, so no one can protest.

I think Scratch Writing Camp is, at the moment, one of the most important things in my life. No exaggeration. The communities that are formed, the things that we are able to create, the feeling of being part of something, the friendly competition, and the inspiration to keep writing even if I don't really feel like it that day. This thing (place? feeling?) is amazing and I am so glad that I was able to find it.

I've only been in it twice, so this may sound dramatic, but I promise that it really does mean this much to me. (Of course, things like family, friends, and human necessities are more important, but this is pretty close, darn it!) I thank everyone involved for an awesome month, even if I did not write a thank you note for everyone directly. Everyone here is awesome, I'm glad I could be part of this. <3
(549 words.)


Word War With @scratch_warrior_cat ft. PKSP Gold because of course- 1۞
“Do you feel sick, Gold?” Silver asked into the dark of their little room.

Gold looked over at him, though the darkness was too penetrating to make out any features beyond his basic shape, sprawled back on the makeshift bed as he was. “What?”

“Sick, or sad, I guess,” Silver correct himself, “Because you seem like you do?”

“Me? Sad?” Gold forced a laugh, feeling a bit lightheaded. “I don't know what you're talking about, I'm not the type to be sad or-”

“You don't act like you are,” Silver said, simply, “But I can see it.”

“No, no you can't,” Gold tried. Laughing. It was a fake laugh. It always was. “You can't tell those things,”

“I know you, Gold,” Silver reminded him. “I've known you for years. Since we both because dex holders, actually,”

He was right. That was a long time ago.

“But you're wong,” Gold tried again. His voice sounded weak. He was tired. This was making him feel worse. Even more tired, like he couldn't control himself, his own words. “You're wrong because I don't feel sad, I'm completely fine, right?”

“No,” Silver said, simply as usual.

“No? How would you know?” Bitter. He sounded bitter.

“I can see it in your face, sometimes. Some of the time, I guess. Not super often, but it's there,”

“Who made you a poet?” It was sarcastic.
(229 words.)


Growing Up (Already Grown) - Hetalia, China character study, teen!Yao, nation world building, request by @pokepower206
It was the one thousandth year since he had become a nation.

He was still seventeen.

Yao stared up at the night sky, remembering what it had looked like that first day, after he had woken up from his death. He had to come to this place every year on this date, but tonight was especially important. More important than the one hundred year markers, though those had also put a similar racing feeling in his heart.

It felt like he had too much time, growing up over more years than he should have been allotted by right. He started as a human, after all, before all this.

He had changed, the single curl in his hair that had grown in and the way his eyes had changed color to an inhuman golden, the most obvious pointer to his status as a nation. But he still felt young in his head, even if he knew he was much older than the ‘elders’ he saw in the cities and towns he lived in. And just as it aggravated him when his boss underestimated him due to how young he looked, it was infuriating when people didn't understand how wrong this all still felt.

Sure, he was more a nation than a human now.

Duh.

Yet under his mythological exterior, his heart felt like it was in the wrong body. A constant stomach ache he couldn't rid himself of, just thinking about his past before he had woken up.

Yao's hand drifted to his chest, resting there as he blinked up at the stars. He loved the stars.

His heart beat in his chest, an impossibly old heart to still be beating- especially in such an impossibly young body. A body which he wondered about: would it ever grow up with him? Would his physical age ever match with the years behind his eyes? Would there be a day when, somehow, he would stop being a nation?

He had wondered if today would be the day. The one thousandth anniversary.

Yao closed his eyes, heart beat quickening under his hand as he suddenly became conscious of everything. Ah yes, this was the exact time he had woken up that fateful day.

There was a whirlwind of feelings rushing through him, everything he felt now that he wasn't just a person, things he learned to block out overtime. He felt exhausted, sick, and almost like he was being spun around. He could feel the snow melting on the tall mountains and he was conscious of the waves meeting his coast to the east. Crashing, beating at him. It almost hurt. There were a million names and their matching faces inside his head, aware of every person who was his.

Yao's hand tightened on the fabric of his shirt, his frown deepening to a grimace. After all this time, it was still hard to stomach.

Each year, at the exact time he had become the country that he was, these feelings overwhelmed him. It could last for just a few minutes or several days, depending on how well his nation was doing. He had wondered, distantly, if this year was the year he would stop feeling it. (He was always wondering when the universe would decide that he had overstayed his welcome.)

This was how it had felt that first night, before he learned to push the hyper-awareness down.

Yao rolled onto his side, the plants that covered the ground scratching at his face as he curled up into a ball. Everything was spinning, it was just as overwhelming as last year. That was the still-human part of him talking.

The nonhuman part of him, however, felt satisfied. He would keep living, it seemed.


The two thousandth year since the change came around, eventually.

He wasn't seventeen anymore. (He had finally aged, it seemed.) But he wasn't old yet either. Twenty two, that was how old he felt. Not a day older and not a day younger.

Yao stared up at the stars again, unblinkingly. He was counting down the seconds in his head, waiting for that familiar whirling feeling to grip him again, to crash him into the ground and hold him there while he recovered his ability to think coherent thoughts. There was a town near this place, again.

It hadn't been quite a town when he had died here, but it was where his family had lived for a while. He never got to see them again, not after his death. No one had found his body and no one stuck around to find out if he would wake up. (Why would they, anyway?)

That was why he woke up, staring unblinkingly at the stars before it all crashed down around him.

He shut his eyes, moving both of his hands to his chest and taking in a deep breath. Three seconds to go. (The stars didn't seem as bright as they once were, not with the lights shining from the town across the river.)

First, the ground felt like it was thrumming, the world coming up to meet him although he was not falling. Then, the sensation broke through his skull again, sending stars into his vision and the words of distant merchants ringing in his ears. He could feel everything, even as his hands only gripped his shirt. He could smell the ocean, although he was miles away from it. And, wow, was that how bad his economy was at the moment? He was suddenly extremely tired.

The locals didn't mind so much when he came here, but none of them understood it anyway. How could they? He didn't expect them to.

He tried to open his eyes to take in his surroundings, but all he saw was a blurry rendition of the sky, his eyes refusing to focus as his brain grappled with the overwhelming influx of information for the two thousandth time in his life.

Yao groaned.

This one felt like it was going to last a while.


Year three thousand, Yao recalled clearly.

He hadn't aged much in the past thousand years, but his country had changed dramatically. (Everything was always changing, it seemed. Everything except him personally.)

The town had grown into a city, and the regular spot he laid in was now the middle of a farmer's pasture. He didn't care.

As usual, the ground seemed to shake before his mind fractured. His heartbeat quickened, meeting his thoughts in a crescendo when it overtook him. But this year, his shaky breathing wasn't drowned out by the panic of what was left of his human half.

And, when he tried to, his eyes opened to a clear sky. There weren't any trees here, anymore. The dark expanse seemed much wider, somehow overpowering next to his thumping heartbeat and his usually impenetrable thoughts. Yao blinked, feeling his mind clear a small amount.

Then he did something he wasn't expecting.

He laughed, sitting up.

Finally. The human part of him was dying.

In the past, it might have made him feel sick. Now, his heart felt satisfied. (After all this time, he was growing into his age, really the opposite of what most people did. It still didn't feel right, but it felt better. Maybe by the next thousand year benchmark, the human in him would really be gone.)


The human in him was dead.

China lay very still in his spot, waiting. Each year since the last huge benchmark, the town had grown. Each year since that benchmark, the feelings had become less overwhelming. He wondered distantly, if this year it would be gone. Finally, the last remnants of who he had once been might have disappeared.

He counted down the seconds, positively thrumming with excitement to see what would happen.

Five seconds. China didn't close his eyes, didn't anchor his hands into his shirt or into the grass, just waited.

Four seconds. He tried to memorize the stars before they disappeared.

Three seconds. He clicked his tongue apprehensively, unsure if he should really get his hopes up or not. Maybe this would be just like any other year. Maybe he still had a part of him that was human. (A part of him that couldn't stomach being a nation.)

Two seconds. He took a deep breath, just in case.

One second. He braced himself, despite his hopes.

Silence.

His mind was clear. China broke out into a crazed grin, sitting up.

Well, that settled that. “Yao” really was gone. (It was almost like he had never been a human at all, the past so long gone even he had forgotten.)


Five thousand years had passed since he had woken up in that clearing, overwhelmed by the feelings he hadn't been able to stomach.

Now, the place was a proper city. His spot, a place that he hadn't properly visited since year four thousand, was a city square. It was night, but he couldn't see any stars. (There were so many lights shining from the streets and from the windows above, hoping to see stars as he had in the past would be foolish.) Some part of him wondered if this was really what he had wanted.

He was all for industrialization (now) and he was all for growing out of past technologies, but some distant voice in the back of his head kept saying it was wrong.

China swallowed.

It was a coincidence that he was in this city on this day, but he had wandered to this place all on his own, his heart and (what he had thought was) long-gone muscle memory dragging him there before he even realized it.

His hand clutched the handle of his briefcase, the hair scratching the back of his neck suddenly something he was acutely aware of. His eyes were stuck on the exact spot he had occupied all that time ago.

Transfixed.

China walked to the spot as if pulled there by a force outside of his own body, the urge to relive a tradition, just this once. People walked around him as he stopped, standing so still that people might not have seen him if they were not close enough.

He could tell, though he didn't look at the faces of the people who walked around him, that there was something in his gaze, something surrounding him, that was distinctly unhuman. People's voices faltered in their phone calls as they brushed past. The wind picked up.

Seven seconds left, he realized with a start.

He hadn't counted in years.

He looked up at the sky, knowing that he wouldn't see the stars. In the back of his mind, however, China remembered what it looked like. Instead of the gray-orange that was so overwhelming now, he remembered the darkness. He remembered the little points of light that stood out, a million light years away or more, gleaming just as brightly as his own eyes.

Even though he couldn't see them now, covered by clouds and smog and the light pollution that came with cities, China felt a twinge of pride in the fact that he almost shone brighter than the stars.

They weren't his equal, anymore.

Or maybe that was his god complex speaking.

Two seconds, and he would feel that now familiar loss (which had replaced the overwhelming feelings of the past). Maybe one day, he would forget this feeling too, move on entirely.

China shut his eyes, a calm coming over him despite it all. His mind, so good at blocking out information, shut out the noise. He could almost imagine that he was laying down in that field again, just waiting for it to come.

But, as he expected, nothing came.

Somehow, even though he knew what would happen. China opened his eyes again, and the sounds of the city came back. He sighed, After that last thousand years, it had occurred to him that, maybe, he did miss that crash and burn that used to be today, every year at the exact same time.

China turned away, casting one last look at the spot where he had stood, and then looked away again.

Maybe he would be back for year six thousand.

Or maybe not.
(2033 words.)


A last thank you.
The last bit of writing for this month's scratch writing camp will be a goodbye.

It's only right, isn't it? To say goodbye to such a wonderful experience. I suppose this isn't to any person, exactly, but to an idea. A feeling, a state of mind.

That's what this feels like to me, along with being a competition and a reason to keep writing. And for that reason, a heartfelt goodbye feels like a more appropriate approach and just another rushed fanfiction peice or word war against myself.

(Even though such things are wondrously on brand for this camp and amazingly fun to complete in their own right.)

So this is my goodbye to July 2022's Scratch Writing Camp!

Thank you for existing.

This thanks is directed to the idea of this camp just as much as it is to the people who created it. I do not know the usernames of each person who runs this, nor their nicknames or what I should remember them by, but I know an amazing amount of effort goes into keeping it active and in existence.

So, I guess, the thanks is directed the the wonderful scratchers running Scratch Writing Camp for their effort and for the inspiration they give me and so many others. It is a wonderous feeling to look up to other people and smile, wondering if some day you'll be as inspirational as them.

(This is less than a thank you note than a love letter, I suppose.)

A love letter is fitting, despite my cabin being fairy tales and not a romance cabin (not that such a place exists, yet. Perhaps the future will change things).

A heartfelt apology, a bit of myself. Poetry, in its own way.

This is what each scratcher engaged in this camp pulls from their hearts and splatters onto their keyboards or onto their paper, hoping that their contribution will mean something to their cabin and to themselves.

But we don't have to think about it too deeply, because this camp is for fun just as much as it is for a challenge and for competition.

(So maybe it's just me taking it so seriously, even though I really am not. Serious isn't exactly in my name, you see, but the ending of a camp always puts me in this specific mood- and that is why this letter is less of a quick ‘thank you for existing’ than a confession of love.)

Being love, that's what I do.

Love is what was put into this place, love is what created this idea. Love for writing, love for fun, love for socialization and for staying in one's room writing for a month straight.

Somehow, when they are lined up next to each other, these things make sense together in the right context.

This right context is Scratch Writing Camp and I don't think I've ever seen a time or a setup where they have worked so well together before. SWC is unique in its existence and how much I love it. It is unique because of what it is, and for that I thank it.

I thank all the creators who poured their hearts and souls into it, and I thank it for the times I laughed with the rest of my cabin or role played my character bravely setting up for war.

Even with its misgivings and with its problems, I do not think I could wish for a better camp.

I did not think I could fall even more in love with it, but here I am.

So if this is rambly, I apologize. There's just… so much to say.

Thank you for an awesome month!
(614 words.)

Final rambling thank you note separated from the rest of day 31:

The last bit of writing for this month's scratch writing camp will be a goodbye.

It's only right, isn't it? To say goodbye to such a wonderful experience. I suppose this isn't to any person, exactly, but to an idea. A feeling, a state of mind.

That's what this feels like to me, along with being a competition and a reason to keep writing. And for that reason, a heartfelt goodbye feels like a more appropriate approach and just another rushed fanfiction peice or word war against myself.

(Even though such things are wondrously on brand for this camp and amazingly fun to complete in their own right.)

So this is my goodbye to July 2022's Scratch Writing Camp!

Thank you for existing.

This thanks is directed to the idea of this camp just as much as it is to the people who created it. I do not know the usernames of each person who runs this, nor their nicknames or what I should remember them by, but I know an amazing amount of effort goes into keeping it active and in existence.

So, I guess, the thanks is directed the the wonderful scratchers running Scratch Writing Camp for their effort and for the inspiration they give me and so many others. It is a wonderous feeling to look up to other people and smile, wondering if some day you'll be as inspirational as them.

(This is less than a thank you note than a love letter, I suppose.)

A love letter is fitting, despite my cabin being fairy tales and not a romance cabin (not that such a place exists, yet. Perhaps the future will change things).

A heartfelt apology, a bit of myself. Poetry, in its own way.

This is what each scratcher engaged in this camp pulls from their hearts and splatters onto their keyboards or onto their paper, hoping that their contribution will mean something to their cabin and to themselves.

But we don't have to think about it too deeply, because this camp is for fun just as much as it is for a challenge and for competition.

(So maybe it's just me taking it so seriously, even though I really am not. Serious isn't exactly in my name, you see, but the ending of a camp always puts me in this specific mood- and that is why this letter is less of a quick ‘thank you for existing’ than a confession of love.)

Being love, that's what I do.

Love is what was put into this place, love is what created this idea. Love for writing, love for fun, love for socialization and for staying in one's room writing for a month straight.

Somehow, when they are lined up next to each other, these things make sense together in the right context.

This right context is Scratch Writing Camp and I don't think I've ever seen a time or a setup where they have worked so well together before. SWC is unique in its existence and how much I love it. It is unique because of what it is, and for that I thank it.

I thank all the creators who poured their hearts and souls into it, and I thank it for the times I laughed with the rest of my cabin or role played my character bravely setting up for war.

Even with its misgivings and with its problems, I do not think I could wish for a better camp.

I did not think I could fall even more in love with it, but here I am.

So if this is rambly, I apologize. There's just… so much to say.

Thank you for an awesome month!

Final word count: 100,051

Final words countable: 100k

>: D I hit the highest amount!!! YESSSS


—

Link to my next SWC page: https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/639158/