i stan!!

ty!!

Camphora read the message with growing concern. Her parents, nowt back home yet? Where could they possibly be> And now there was aobvsolutley no way that she dould ever return, now, if that was going on. She felt a certain despair rushing over her until she read the second part that Rayna sent.
Port Limesgtone. Huh. She wondered how they were able to trace her family, but then shook that thought aside. WHatever. THere were more improtant questions to consier, liek hwo she would be able to find her parents and whether her family was worth going after when the ones that had raised her were gone.
But… RAyna was absoltuely right. THere was almos tnothign that she could do for them, so she sighed and gripped the paper tighter, surprised to see tear blots on the page. She didn't have many other close people, other than her parents and Rayna, and all of them were back at the village without her and her wihtout them.
“Hey, it'll be okay,” BAsil consolidated her. He had never been the best at helping people like her (like consoling people emotionally), but Camphora was calmed by his presence. If it wasn't for him, she'd really have abosltuley no one (aside from Ossie, perhaps), and that was not the most comforting thought. So she jsut focused on the bright part of this arrahnge,ment, and bith by tibt her mood and clamness returned.
“That's good,= that's good,” he said weakly as he patted her on the back. He was really bad at this, honestly, or at least that's what Cmaphora woulc've thought if she was a tad calmer.
“So I guess we'll have to go up to t.. Port Limestone?” she asked nervously once she had regained her breath.
Absila nodeed. “Yeah, that's what it looks like,” he r=eplied, pulling out he map immediately. Okay. So. the train cutes through the city of petrichor as it goes up north, and…“
It seemed to stop at a slightly major city south of the Port. As a matter of fact, it did reach the port, now that Camphora examined it a bit more carefully. ”Huh!“
”Yep, that's nice,“ BAsi saild gright. ”I mean, we do stil have to change ctrains and do whatever and keep on going on thtill the port, but I guess we should be pretty much fine.
“But where would we stay at a place like that? Like, inns cost muny, and I don't thinke veryone is going to be as generaous as Ossie,” Camphora continued, feeling thaknful for the woman's gradutidu ckindes towards the two fo them.
“I'm not sure,” he said honestly. “But at least the ports don't have as much people.
”Yeah, jsut a couple thousand, not a bit deal,“ she snarked.
”Oh, you're getting the hand of that,“ he said randomly.
”Haha, very funny/“
”There you go again!“
Camphora wasn't the biggest fan of sarcasm, though, as it were, so she quickly stopped and went back to business.
”We could ask Ossie if she has anything,“ Camphora said again, revellihg again at how these past couple of days had led her to trust starngesr so swiftly. Hum. SCertay wuiqte interesting, if she said so herself.
So that they did. Ossie only looked down at them. ”Where did they say the port was?“
”Port Limestone,“ she said quickly.
”I don't know anything about Limestone,“ Ossie spoek up thoughtfull, ”but mysister lives quite closeby with her cousin. In Port Slate.“
The two teens chekced the map swiftly. They were indeed quite close, so close that Port Slate wasn't even indicated on the map - it only read ‘Port Slate is about 5 miles away from Limeston’” as a side note.
“Well, that's good news,” Basil said, nudging Camphora.
Cam nodded unsteadily as she took all of this in.
“So there you have it,” Ossie told her. “I guess your best choice would be to head there now, and wait to hear from your friend. I mean, I suppose you can stay here, but we are a bit strethced out thin” - and at this she looked rather apologetcially at the two chidlren - “and I think Brenn might be able to take care of you two better than I can. Besides, you can alway come back - it's not a far trip after all.”
“The train is pretty fast,” Camphora admitted
“But stay as long as you want before you go,” the woman assured her.


4:50-5:02

B-Day Gift????

Hans looked around in utter confusion. What was happening to Grangeville? And why couldn’t he do anything about it?



Wolfsbane!!! (4:59-5:20)
But for some reasons the train was slightly delayed as the operators stood outside the middle of the tracks.
“…problems from up north,” one of them said to another in a low voice as the passengers all peered outside in worry.
“This usually doesn’t happen, looks like it,” Camphora commented as she saw how many of them started to speak up in loud voices.
“The trains must be a punctual bunch,” Basil replied in like. Thankfully,, their one single fellow passenger did not seem all that upset by the turn of event, so the two of them weren’t disturbed much.
It took up until midday for it to be fixed, and that thime the two of them spent sitting down and reading. Given that it was now her one single book, Camphora was beginning to get a tad bored with tehc classic, especially since it was not her optimal read. As she had always thought, it was too clunky, but at least it was long - if she let it sit for a while she could probably forget a good bit of the events and and press on anyway.
But in any case, much of the time she now spent on gazing over the landscape. The capital city of Flicker was still visible from farr off in the distance, but it definitely looked to be a tad on the gloomy side. She wondered if Petrichor would be much the same – a busy and populated place of much bustle that sharply contrasted with its serene surroundings. Well, she certainly hoped that it wasn’t. Although she wasn’t sure what else it could possibly look like, if it wasn’t surrounded by wilderness.
Eventually, she would be to have her answer. The signs of population began appearing much earlier than Camphora would have expected, given that the train was just fixed and moved along at a rather slow pace. The wheels clunked awkwardly as well, so she couldn’t believe that there were more mouses appearing and more organized roads when the train was a mere hour into rerunning.
“Are we there already?” she exclaimed.
For the first time that the two of them had entered the cabin, the figure that they shared it with spoke up. “As a matter of fact, no,” they said calmly. “It’s just that this place is usually a bit on the populated side.
They turned more fully to Camphora and Basil, sheafs of paper in hand. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
Both of them shook their heads.
“Well, yes, Petrichor’s outskirts extend for a good bit outside the city itself. It’s three times as big as Flicker, so I’d expect that to be why.”
“Why is Flicker the capital if it’s so small, then?” Basil said quizzically. CAmphora knew that Flammox’s capital was its largest city by far.
“I’d assume it’s for less civilians to get in the way of government things,” the person chuckled. “There’s no real need for a large population for a capital to exist. Of course for Metzerene it’s probably a good idea to have a place wher epeople actually ahgn around, but Flicer’s still by far bigger than practically any city in Metzerene, so that’s a bit different.”
“Hmm,” Basil replied, not entirely convinced. “Well. Thank you for letting us know about that.”
“Mhm,” they replied, and went back to looking through their papers.
In a slightly lower voice Basil and CAmphora began to resume their conversation. “So, we’re just going to change trains at the station, right?”
“Yeah, I think to…. The Amythest line?”
“I’ll be going there too,” the figure spoke up once again, waving their already-obtained tickets.
“Well, that’s neat!” Camphora said brightly to them, and they nodded absentmindedly as they flipped a page.
“And then we end up at Port Slate-”
“Also going there.”
“…before we stop at Port Limestone, and voila!” CAmphora continued Basil’s previously cut statement.
“What are you two doing, traveling to Port Limestone all by yourselves?” the person asked curiously.
“What are you doing at Port Slate, then?” Basil fired back.
They, far from being offended, laughed. “Oh, I work there. Just got back from visiting my folks down in SOMEWHERE and I’m heading back to the coast. I’m part of the Shore Guard, you see.”
“The Shore Guard?”
“Oh, I’m guessing you live more inland,” they said. “Well. The Shore Guard is basically the organization that maintains peace on the shores of the Starrgo country. There’s a lot of shoreline, you probably know, so it’s a good idea to make sure that no one does anything illegal. Of course it’s not like there’s anywhere to go aside from Flammox and a couple of islands here and there, so it’s not a huge organization, but it does good to have someone prevent disasters and such.”
Then they sighed. “Although the disaster in South Starrgo… just horrible. I really don’t know how that could’ve happened. It was such a large thing, maybe that’s why – it’s just been too long since we really had anything serious going on.”
CAmphora and Basil exchanged a glance, and then looked back at the sailor.
“OH, I see,” Basil finally spoke up.
They nodded, more to themselves than the two teens. “So, does that answer your question for the most part?”
“Yeah, but I still don’t know exactly what happened! If they’re such a huge group, then surely the Starrgo government has to take them seriously and then send like a force to, like, fight them or something because they can’t just let their people be stuck and be worked so much-”
Camphora broke up with a sharp noise of frustration.
“I don’t think it’s really my place to speak on this, but we’ve just never seen conflict for so long that we don’t know how to deal with it, especially for such a renegade faction like this,” they said sadly. “My superiors are doing the best they can to get involved, but the truth is when you’re in Geringer it’s not easy to deal with something that’s in South STarrgo. Our province is just way too far.”
The sailor looked at her sympathetically. “But I don hope that everything works out for the two of you, whereever you’re going and whatever you do.”
Again they nodded to themselves, and after staring off into the distance for a while went back to reading yet again. Camphora nodded back before she realized what she was sdoing, sighed, and looked out the window to see ore of the buildings flow by.




Lesbeans idk
Belgium is gray. It is coated with soot and despair, with the stifling presence of heat and fire reigning all around.
She hears that are arsons everywhere in this war-torn country, this forsaken land left to the crows and the unstoppable advance by the storm from the east.
There is no faith to be found in this land. No peace. No dignity.


Listen, now, you can hear them. Can’t you?
Yes. Yes, I can.
Wonderful.



Alinia works under the Germans units. Thankfully she can speak their language, and some of them treat her with visible kindness.
They are just like her former colleagues, and their soldiers are just like her soldiers, she thinks. There is some basic sameness to them.



But there is an unexpected factor. A bomb shell that roll sinto sight just before it explodes, and oh, how so beautifully and violently it does so.
The shell has a name. The shell has a face. The shell has sparkling eyes and hair that flutter daintily in the breeze, even if there is nothing dainty ever, she learns, about the shell.


The poppies are sprits of the field.
The rubble is their shattered bones.

Story swap <3

Lilia got a dog in the way that she least expected it.

The dog was curled up in the alleyway, and when Lilia was walking the very short block from her house to Fennel's house, she saw it eating weakly at some scraps of bones.

Lilia, seeing it, rushed towards it in concern. “Are you okay?” she asked the dog as it lifted its head up to look at her, and despite the miserable condition that the dog was in, it seemed happy enough to see her, jumping up and wagging its tail.

“Good doggy,” Lilia said brightly as she petted it. It circled around and around as she did, but then got up and started running away.

“Wait!” she called out to the dog, but it had already pelted around a corner and was out of sight by the time Lilia reached where she had last seen it. What a shame.



But on another day, when she was out and about with Fennel, she saw the dog yet again. It was peeking behind some buildings and looking at her curiously as she and Fennel tossed paper planes at each other.

“There's the dog!” Lilia called out to her best friend; she had told her about the dog as soon as she got to the house the other day.

It had disappeared around the corner yet again, and though Lilia and Fennel got there in less than a few seconds, it was yet gone again.

“Maybe he's still around somewhere,” Fennel said, as determined to find the dog as Lilia was.

So they split up and searched the alleyways and the spaces behind the houses. There were a couple of people about, but most of them smiled to themselves as they saw Lilia and Fennel, quite used to their small antics.

But after so long of searching, the two of them sadly concluded that wherever the dog was, it was certainly not near anywhere here.

“I'm sure we'll find him another day,” Lilia said fiercely. Partly a promise to herself, partly an encouragement for Fennel, who really seemed to want to see the dog.

“Yeah, I hope so,” she replied longingly as she stared off into the long streets.

But then countless incidents like these happened; the dog would always look at Lilia, either when she was alone or with Fennel, or perhaps Brenn and Flavius, or her parents, and then disappear out of sight. She could've sworn that she saw him (for the dog had taken up those pronouns in her head) disappearing into thin air, but she just chalked it up to the wind blowing a little too hard.

When she was alone, though, she'd get a couple of chances to get closer to it. It seemed happy enough that it took notice of him when she was alone, and so he'd let her pet his soft fur. It was really soft. Perhaps a little too soft; sometimes Lilia could feel her fingers going right through them, but then soon later they would be fine again.

So that was how her encounters with the dog went.

Fennel, in the meantime, was trying to hide her disappointment, but Lilia could see that she wasn't very happy about not being able to see the dog. Lilia tried her best to hide her side of the story too, not really mentioning whether she saw the dog, and soon afterward he was rarely brought up again by the two girls.



That was, until one day when he trotted right into the alley where they were playing.

Lilia's eyes instantly swept to him, and he stayed still, then sat down. Apparently he decided not to run away anymore.

Now that Lilia looked more carefully, she saw the dog was silvery and… transparent. Its paws lifted off the ground slightly as it wagged its tail happily, and paced around the two girls.

“Oh, so this is the dog! He's so cute!” Fennel said, and although Lilia was happy that her best friend was able to see the dog at least, she was also confused a lot about why he looked like that. silvery, mist, like … it was like he was a ghost!

“Don't you notice that…”

“Notice what? Ooh, he has a burr on his paws,” she said as she took it off. Her hands touched the dog's fur without going right through.

“It's-”

She petted him, and her hands dug deep into his fur and cut halfway into his head. Lilia, for her part, did not notice at all. After all, to her the dog's fur was quite thick, and Lilia probably just got her hand buried inside of it. But she knew better than Fennel. There was something really strange about the dog, something that she didn't really understand.

“Okay, then,” Lilia said carefully as the dog scampered off once more.

“I hope he'll be back!” Fennel exclaimed.

Something was quite wrong, and it seemed that Fennel noticed how Lilia was feeling. “Are you alright, Lil?” she asked in concern to her best friend.
“Yeah, I think so,” she said uncertainly. There was really no way that the dog was a ghost, right?

“I wonder if he has an owner,” Fennel continued thoughtfully.

Given that the dog was a literal ghost, Lilia didn’t really think so. But of course he couldn’t be a ghost! “We should give him a name,” she said. “I mean, I don’t- it’ll be nice to call him something until we can find his owner.” Or if they could, for that matter. “How about Ghost?”

“Sure, I think that sounds nice!”

Fennel gave no hint that she could see the reasons for the name, and Lilia wasn’t about to explain.



And that was how Lilia got a dog. She’d find out for sure whether Ghost really lived up to his namesake one day—but for now, she’d just have her fun romping around the streets with him and Fennel.

omg no way thats so cool

His spirit lingers.
This field of poppies. The traces of the wars past have faded into the winds, but the souls they took remain.
How can it be so, that such a beauty could have been such a killing field?
He did not understand; he still does not. And yet he hopes that what he had done was enough, that his dead friend and suffering strangers can attest to the tribute of death. He hopes that the faith he had long promised will not be gone.
Step, step.
He stops, kneels, and sinks into the poppies in dusk's fading light.

very rushed drabble in honor of John McCrae's death 106 years ago <3

who's john mcrae?? that sounds so cool

A-Sad-Invention wrote:

who's john mcrae?? that sounds so cool

flanders field guy :3

MC Daily (basically) 3/1 - 1k intro!

Hello there everyone!! This is Sandy and i'm typing this on Write or Die and I'm trying to finish this 1k intro in 14 minutes because I haven't written as much as I would've liked in the past two hours and I woke up at 3 am just to speedrun (don't worry I did sleep early last night) so I shall make this count rawr!!!
Okay sorry that was a very chaotic intro to the intro. But yes, as I said I'm Sandy!!! I go by she/her pronouns and I live in the glorious land of PST, and we are superior because as cesslay the slayster said we are West Coast Best Coast!!! In any case I am Chinese American (I was born here in the gloriously expensive state of California but I lived in Qingdao China (sorry i spent three tries trying to capitalize that and I have a feeling I shouldn't care too much about grammar hmm) for a couple of years before I returned to the Golden State (TM)) and I love radish cakes!! I also love Cheese. Cheese is yummy. I'm not sure why i capitalized it but it's good.
I also have two cats and they're very furry but one of them is furry than the other. They're very passive-aggressive towards each other; I thought this would change with time, but it didn't, and they've remained passive-aggressive towards each other for almost two years. Oh well!! They mostly are able to live with each other however, so that's good enough for me.
I remember the last time I did this I rambled about history for 300 words, so i will try to limit that and focus mainly on myself! But did you know that Qingdao used to be a German colony- okay fine I'll stop!! In general I love food and I'm a bit hungry right now which I guess makes sense because I've been writing non-stop for two hours. I'll take a break after this, I promise!
Now let's see. We are 350 words-ish in (I'm typing this on Write or Die so I can constantly see my word count change aha) (but Write or Die does has its flaws) and I need things to talk about. Ooh okay, so recently I became like a tea person after I went camping! So the thing is I got sick while we were camping (and not really camping in the proper sense of the word; we were living in cabins and not tents) which wasn't all that strange given that it was consistently 30 degrees Fahrenheit (I can't convert it to Celsius right now for you metric folks because I'm a bit busy typing), And I started drinking the tea that my friends brought, which made me love tea more!! My parents have always been huge tea stans but I couldn't really get the hype until now. Although in the fall semester (especially when i was studying for finals) I drank a bunch of tea too. Mainly green tea. But recently we bought a huge stash of oolong tea—I think it was 100 packs for 5 ish dollars, which is a pretty good deal! But I really want more of those fun variety teas instead of the BORING Chinese teas (well they're good, it's just that they do get a bit repetitive when you drink them ALL the time and you don't have more fun teas to have). So during this event on campus like two days ago I just grabbed like 20 bags of six different teas! In my defense the event was already done and almost no one got the teas, so I thought I'd just take some and drink them periodically. The flavors I got were Cranberry Apple (which was actually kinda sour), Orange Spices (ditto, also it did remind me of chai a bit, which makes sense given the spices part), Mint Medley (personally I'm not like the biggest mint fan but my sister likes it a lot; it's not bad, it's just not something I have all the time and appreciate that much. It's like a decent song, but a decent song that's not necessarily your favorite, you know?), Chamomile (I know chamomile is a pretty famous tea but I don't remember having it all that much hmm), Sweet Dreams (essentially a combo of mint and chamomile; also one of my friends called it a “kidnapping” thing which honestly makes sense?), and Lemon Ginger (I'm not the biggest fan of Ginger but I thought maybe my parents would like it because they like the most objectively bad foods). So yeah those are my teas!!
Okay it appears that instead of rambling about history I rambled about teas which, while different, isn't necessarily me. Hmm. What else to say? My bigger and furriest cat is sitting on my lap right now. Usually he likes my dad better than me but since I am the only one out here right now I guess he wasn't about to pick favorites. I should probably take a nap later today if I can go home early. Otherwise I'd have to either nap at school (but thankfully no one's really on campus on Fridays so it's not like I'll really get judged, except for by Honors College staff I'd suppose) or nap at 5:30 pm, neither of which are the most appealing options.
Let's see. Around 50 or so words to go. I'm falling just a tad short of my goal of finishing this in 14 minutes, but I'm pretty sure I'll manage 15. Ooh, okay, music! So I got into Taylor Swift like last summer, and I really regret that I didn't listen to more of her songs before I went to the Eras Tour movie, because I absolutely love Our Song but I didn't know it in October. Oh well.
I would ramble more but I'm a bit tired and I've already hit 1k (which I did in 14 minutes so I guess it did work out after all) so I shall end this! I'm not gonna bother editing the grammar or anything else because I'm SPEEDRUNNING and you don't edit when you speedrun :p

interesting

A-Sad-Invention wrote:

interesting

erm actually who are you……… what are you doing in my thread………….

MC Daily 2 - Compliment

278 words!

compliment: “rambling about teas is a supreme art that is not appreciated enough.” –@PoemFlower

“And then for peppermint tea, it’s amazing but there’s that slight dissonance between the heat and the mint flavor, so-”

“Honestly, Flavius,” Brenn said as she turned to look at him. “I’m reading.”

“No, but it’s really interesting!” Camphora reassured him. “Rambling about teas is a supreme art that is not appreciated enough.”

Flavius stared at her for a second and cracked a smile. “No one’s ever said that before whenever I rambled about teas,” he said rather pointedly.

“Only because you’ve said the same things five times,” Brenn replied with a sigh, putting down her book to get a good look at the two. “I kept count.”

“But thank you, Phora,” he said sincerely, ignoring Brenn’s statement.

Camphora grinned in reply. “Yeah! I mean, I totally agree with what you said about peppermint—in all other cases mint is supposed to be cold, no? Or at least room temperature. But I mean, I definitely think it’s really good too, the dissonance is what makes it so amazing, I think.”

Brenn huffed and took a sip of her own peppermint tea, which Flavius had made for her literally five minutes ago, right in the midst of his own little debate between mint and chamomile. “They’re different, so you can’t really compare them,” he had decided resolutely as he handed her the tea. “But…”

“I guess you two have a point,” she admitted reluctantly.

Flavius and Camphora exchanged a delighted glance.

“Welcome to the Tea Club!” Camphora exclaimed.

“Wait, what?? I did not-”

“You totally just did,” Flavius said with a smug face.

Brenn sighed yet again. What a pair of idiots. They do keep life interesting around here, though.

MC Daily 3 - Anthems

102 words for poetry, 103 words for utopian!
and i just realized that they should probably have song names but i'm too lazy to think of ones rn xD

Poetry
The Valley is forgotten
And the land destroyed
The fields of the Grove
We seek to restore
To return to the glory before

The petals are carried
On the blue breeze
With the power of
Our mighty words
We will triumph over the darkness before us

Around the Sequoia
We stand and swear
To reclaim this ground
With our own hands

If we all stand together
There is nothing we can’t do
We are the gardeners of Poetry
We will bring every word
To bring back the trees and flowers
That have once dotted the riverbank

That have once shaped our land


Utopian
Our stars
Our stars
See how beautifully they shine
In our blessed Starlands
Of perfection and grace

Beyond the reign of arson and chaos
We drift in eternal stars
Together we are all one
In our glorious land

Our stars
Our stars
See how fervently they glow
Like our lovely Star Queens
The skies they have graced

We arrive here by our wishes
For a timeless utopia
We will live forever
In our glorious land

Every star is a blessing
We count them in our hands
Floting in lovely space
Where dawn will never break
Our stars
Our stars
Our stars
Our stars

MC Daily 4 - Dice

338 words :0

March knows the place too well. They rather prefer not to, they think, but they do.

Theo wishes he knows the place better. After all, it is obviously important to March.

Ri is the one who has made the place what it is. He feels sorry for March, and for Theo, for the unceasing cycles of grief they go through. This a force that even he does not know how to navigate, for it concerns the work of gods.

He waits for the two as they climb the long staircase together, arms linked. He has seen the same story play out in too many universes, and try as he might to help he always fails.

Maybe this time it will not be so.

“Ri,” March greets him. He nods back, lost in his thoughts. March wonders what he is thinking, whether he has the same doubts as they do about this.

If the three of them succeed, it will be the end, for better or for worse.

If they fail…

But March can’t think about that right now, not when this is so close. They lean into Theo and feel his comforting familiarity wash over them.

“It’ll be alright,” he reassures them, tucking a loose blossom back into their hair.

Or at least that is what he hopes. He looks towards Ri, who has taken out the materials he has gathered from his various universes. Jade, all too scarce in the Starrgos. Something he calls radium, kept in a tightly sealed box. Theo never quite understood the concept of these universes, but he is willing to suspend his curiosity in favor of results. For results are what the two of them need, what Ri is able to give.

“Thank you, truly,” Theo says to Ri. He supposes he will never know why the mysterious stranger has chosen to help them, but no matter.

“All the best,” he replies, usual playful manner gone without a trace.

Then he steps aside, allowing Theo and March to enter the cold shrine.

mc daily 5 - continue a chapter

215 words!
tw: blood

But of course the little owlet didn't respond to the word. She didn’t even stir, and her cries eventually trailed into a cold silence.

As Twilight gently nudged the owlet, taking care to not push too hard, he saw something that stilled his gizzard.

Red.

“Digger, look at her.”

Digger did not like the tone in the great gray’s voice, but he bent down to examine the owlet. And there it was.

“What happened to her?” he exclaimed. And as the two of them noticed the splash of blood, more and more came to their notice.

And then the owlet’s beak opened. “Tyto… is… pure…”

She trailed off, unable to continue.

“Eglantine? Eglantine?” But if she recognized her name in Twilight’s worried tone, she gave no sign.

“Twilight, let’s go,” Digger said. The two of them had been staying here too long, trying to get the answers to their questions. Eglantine—if she was indeed Eglantine, that is—needed help. Now.

So they flew over to where the herd of owlets was gathered. Matron was busy looking over the owlets, but when she spotted the barn owlet’s state she paused for a full second.

Twilight set her down lightly in front of Matron. “Will she be alright?”

“You need to get her back to the Tree. Now.”

mc daily 3/6 - new genre

305 words! this is so zany BAHAHA expect this to disappear one day

Germain strode merrily besides Simon as they wandered the front. It was dangerous, they knew. Even though the action here was dying down, with the French objectives being retaken, this land was obviously never a safe place.

“So,” Germain said as he looked up. “Looks like we’re going to…”

“Win,” Simon said.

“Essentially,” Germain said with a flick of his ears. He knelt down and ran a paw through the ashy dirt. “I think I might be transferred away.”

Simon’s gazed swiveled to him. “Really?”

Their separation was inevitable, they both knew. The fact that they had lasted so long together was a miracle already. This was a long battle.

“Maybe I’ll join Foch’s staff again,” Germain said quietly.

He didn’t know if he really wanted that or not. The general was gruff, but he always seemed to be fond of all of his staff members, from the artist that was the wolf to the otter and the pine marten, both of whom were especially close to Foch. That made sense; after all, the otter was his chief of staff, and the pine marten was… to tell the truth, Germain never quite figured out exactly what Colonel Desticker did.

And as these memories returned, so did others. Germain didn’t think he’d ever be able to forget that one argument—when the general seemed to swell up and then deflate in the blink of an eye, his grayed muzzle betraying his age more than the stitches below his eye. Foch was a proud lynx of a commander, sturdy and reliable, but with each month that passed he seemed to lose something of himself to the war.

Just like they all did.

Simon already knew Germain was lost in thought, from the way that his gaze landed on the faraway skies and his almost-perpetually twitching tail settled down.

mc daily - 3/8

this was unfortunately kinda rushed and the words would not sound right when i said them :') milunka savić is such a cool figure though
233 words!

Dear Sergeant Savić:

You are remembered for being one of the most decorated female soldiers in all of history, although there are few who remember you. But then you led quite the life of anonymity, of personal struggle—I do not want to romanticize suffering, but wasn’t that courageous on its own?

You fought for your country and your brother, and saved him from the war that is so unfortunately forgotten today. A character out of a ballad from halfway across the world, yet you were very much real.

So thank you, thank you for doing what women were so intensely discouraged from doing, what would eat at the soul of any human regardless of gender. Thank you for being the kind mother I think you were, and thank you for refusing the formalities of those who partner with evil. It is a drab life you led between the two wars and after, a drab and often hard life, and I am certain you deserved better. Just because you excelled in war does not mean that peacetime must be difficult—and yet it is for far too many of those who return from combat.

It is my hope that you will be remembered by more of those for your courage, your force of will in war and in life. You truly are an incredible woman, and I wish that there are more to recognize that.

Weekly 1

Mythology - Retelling

basically the legend of meng jiang nu but it’s shanghai 1937! honestly i’m not sure how well this works out hmm but i had a nice time researching and writing it!
206 words

They come from the land beyond the sea, from the stolen fields of the north. After years of threats and skirmishes, it appears that they have made up their mind. The Japanese invasion is in full swing.

Conscription arrives in the village, where whispers and rumors fly through the small space. He is taken.

And now she heads for the direction of the city, where she knows he is deployed, even as the tide of refugees heads in the opposite direction. She has to make sure that he will be fine, that he will not be stolen from her by this dreadful war, by these invaders.

By some miracle, after trials upon trials of misery that she hopes to never recall, she finds his unit. She is battered and bleeding, eyes and lungs stinging, but she makes it to the International Settlement. Some of these foreigners speak her language, and she reveals her plight. They seem sympathetic. There is nothing they can really do.

When news comes with the survivors of the battalion that he is dead, she weeps. The Yangtze floods with the force of her tears, and the city is ravaged almost more than it is by the war. But she no longer cares.



Hi-Fi #1 - What if: Change One Thing About a Historical Event

very fortunately for his legacy, petain dies before wwii starts!
270 words

It was a peculiar day in August 1939 when Marshal Petain passed away in a car crash. The newspapers all bemoaned it, how unfortunate it was for the marshal to have departed the country at such a time of need. After all, the nation was on the cusp of a great war with its neighboring country.

As the years went by, former officers of the great war became collaborators, prisoners, or—as too often happened—both. Some of them spoke of Petain in passing, much as they have spoken of Foch and Joffre, in their discussions of their horrid conditions and the bitter shame of defeat.

After the end of the war, where all is put to its rightful place (or at least attempted to be; there wasn’t quite a way that the mistakes of the past could all be finally resolved), there is a statue erected for the marshal. The Lion of Verdun: the one who had saved France from its struggles, a hero along the lines of Marshal Foch.

No one doubts his loyalty to the nation, as involved in politics as he was after the end of the war. After all, he never did live to see the Second World War.

What difference would it have made, some wondered, if he was like General Weygand? Or Pierre Laval? Or, for that matter, any of the former generals of the Great War? But no one really gives it much thought, because to them, there is only one thing that Petain is truly known for: the victory of the war to end all wars, which did not really end all wars.



Hi-Fi #2 - Original Characters in Historical Times.

203 words :>

The snow is stifling. Theo and March are huddled together, puffs of breaths intermingling in the air.

“I want to go home,” March says. They have repeated this countless times, but they can’t help themself. They want to go home.

“Me too,” Theo says, giving up on reassuring March. “Me too. I don’t want to fight anymore.”

Both of them know that there is some grander cause they are fighting for, as part of a hypocritical imperialist nation who wishes to correct others’ crimes before their own. But then it is truly a horrible regime that is their enemy.

Snowflakes begin to fall from the sky, coating their helmets in a light sheen of white. March watches the snowflakes settle on their gloves, melt when they press two hands together.

“Does anyone still live here?” March wonders out loud.

“Someone must,” Theo replies, glad for the distraction. But then he is not sure of his answer. The people of this part of Belgium and France must’ve long fled already. Still, there must be some who remain, who refuse to abandon their homes despite such violence and terror, refuse to become another part of the wave of refugees created by the lighting war machine.



Hi-Fi #3 - Historical Figures in Modern Times.

omg the erwin rommel modern au fic i’ve been wanting to write for FOREVER
361 words!

One lovely spring day, Erwin Johannes Eugen Rommel found himself sipping on almond milk at a Starbucks.

He blinked for a moment as he looked around the crowded room full of laughing and chattering people, mostly young adults who were getting ready for their day of world or school.

What was this place?

He tried to think back to where he was last. He looked down at his uniform. And he tried to remember who he was. he knew he was Rommel, Erwin Rommel, but there was something about his identity that slipped beyond the reach of his mind. Who was he, really? It was as if he was trying to recall a blurry dream, from which only one detail he remembered—his name.

But then it all came flashing back. The war in Africa, the Atlantic Wall, the failed attempt, and… the taste of almonds.

He pushed the drink away, his heart beating swiftly. What was happening? Was this some sort of illusion, some post-death hallucination? Or was his past life the illusion?

In any case, he soon realized the whispers going around. He glanced around at the people in the Starbucks, all of whom were looking over at him and whispering. In German, thankfully.

“That has to be-!”

“I'm sure it-”

“How can he-”

Feeling very unsettled, Rommel stood up and decided to leave the shop, but realized the horribleness of that idea when he saw the bustling people outside. How were there so many people here? Why did everything look… slightly different? The cars driving by looked so foreign that Rommel had to blink several times to make sure they were real.

And the people! The style they had! And the strange device they all held in their hands, emitting light. Indeed, a good few people were looking at their phones instead of the historical figure who had just randomly spawned in front of them when he was supposed to have died eighty years ago.

Rommel looked around for alternative exits, and saw one right behind on the other side of the Starbucks that led out to a comparatively quieter street. Alright, it was time to make his exit.



Fairy Tales - Mixing in a Little Magic: Place Yourself in a Fairy Tale

throwback to july 2022 hehe
209 words!

Sandy gazed over the wagons of the caravan as she looked up from her book. It had been another nice long day of trading and travelling, and she wanted to soak up the last bit of natural light she could get before the stars came out.

And it was often on sunsets like these that she thought about her past. Her father. The Beast. The old curse.

Sometimes, no, more than sometimes she regretted ever running away from all of it. But she also knew that she made the right decision. Neutrality was always the path that could allow for the best judgment.

And look where it led her. The factions of good and evil and neutral too, all united under a reigning peace. That had to count for something.

It was not easy at first. Sandy had to act as a peace broker of sorts between the Queen and the Rebels’ head, and both of them suspected her of having ulterior motives. Valid suspicions, she had acknowledged. But slowly they were able to mend the fractured kingdom, to restore all of their forces into one unified group.

Sandy closed her book and breathed in the night air. Yes, it was a very beautiful night for the Merchants’ Caravan.



Folklore - Oral Retelling: Show Characters Passing Down a Story

209 words again! yes it's the same march hehe and they're talking about themself and theo

“Sooo, what are you here for?”

Fabian didn’t really have a better way of interrupting the awkward silence that fell around the campfire. He didn’t know either of these two people, but they just happened to be camping at the same spot out here in these woods, and he suspected they were running away from something too.

“That makes it sound like we’re in jail or something,” Syless replied.

“Which we’re not,” March said softly.

“I guess you don’t want to answer the question then,” he huffed.

“I’m from Flammox,” Syless said simply. “Nothing else to say.”

“I… don’t know why I’m here,” March added.

Fabian was quite confused. “What do you mean?” But they didn’t elaborate. “Ahh, well, we’ll just sit here in silence until we leave, then.”

“But I do have a legend, if you want to hear it so much,” March told him.

“Yes please,” he replied. Syless nodded her agreement too.

“Alright. Once upon a time, as all of these stories go, there were two gods. They were minor gods, nothing so famous as the main ones, if you know what I mean.”

Syless nodded.

“They didn’t get involved in mortal matters, did not even care for them. They were happy in their own worlds.”

Critique of 11/10 daily for the critiquare

> No. It was of the daisy that Max had given him.
I am just generally curious how the flower got here and also where exactly Simon is? I feel lost? I'm assuming Simon is at the prison but I don't know how long he's been there or if Max is/who Max is. I understand this is a sequel to some previous writing so I don't know if this is something I've missed or something that just needs clarifying ^^'

> so the aforementioned captain besides him listened intently to his story
I'm lost again, what story? I know you don't want a critique on sentence structure etc.. but the story up to this point has been confusing about the exact going on's. Are they in a trench or in a prison? I'm assuming the Captain isn't Simon's captain due to the earlier description of ‘mysterious French Captain.’ so why is he listening? Is this why he's mysterious or is there something else? I'm writing this on a re-read and I still don't understand exactly why the Captain is introduced to us as mysterious

>Maybe it was his inability to tell the dead and alive apart that sent the captain to this wasteland wrought by millions of shells.
I get the sense this is supposed to be a meaningful moment for us as the reader to understand why the Captain is the way he is (and the part about loosing someone like Simon does this very well) but I don't feel like I'm gathering much infomation? Was his friend lost in the war, is the Captain also imprisoned so he's been seperated from his friend? Was his friend lost before the war (as implied by this death being what sent the captain to the war).
Once again, I knw you don't want help with sentence structure/wording but I don't think ‘sent’ is the right word here since wasn't everyone conscripted into WW1 (I might be wrong. You are the history buff in this exchange) maybe he went with enthusiasm? Was already a soldier?

> Germain Moselle’s
I just think it'd be neat if we saw them exchanging names.

> he work was hard, and cruel, and Germain’s eyes would flicker wearily when he approached the laboring prisoners.
I think in terms of dynamic building, it'd be a lot stronger if we understood why Simon is different to Germain and also Simon's own relationship with the other prisoners. It's not necessary, for a short span of words you do a brilliant job conveying their relationship. Obviously, all dynamics seem better built when they have more time to simmer and I reciognise that's not always possible.

> he told Simon that it had been a bestseller perhaps half a century ago
At this point it'd be called a classic! Think of the likes of The Handmaids Tale. We consider that a classic despite it being published pretty recently. Unless Germain's really old in which case this still being a bestseller to him is a fun quirk!

> Germain quipped as he nodded to the prisoners.
I don't think you have enough words to have Germain act out of character without giving a sufficent reason (I don't find it clear that the war is ending on a first read through) and this contrasts everything you've said about him before.

> Their hands were clasped tight, and though they shouldn’t have found it in themselves for smiles
That dog meme: I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE.

> But the moment itself was fine enough.
chefs kiss. I love when stories takee place on such a small plain and have no long lasting effects.

Okay, Having gone through it again: Thoughts

I love the indidvual characters. Especially of Simon. Your choice of language is superb and it's amazing showing not telling. You can tell he's optimitic and he just genuinly feels like a fun character. Germain feels like he could use some more develpment/small moments between being described by the metaphor of stormclouds and being called ‘mysterious’. I still have a strong sense of his character but I feel a lot more told how he is than shown. I'd like to know them both beteter, such as Simon's relationship with Max etc.. but I'd rather see scenes of Germain. Good ideas would be: How he treats Simon differently to other prisoners, How he became a captain or the story about his friend.

In terms of develpment: I don't think either Simon or Germain have much develpment in the story. I can't tell if there is meant to be any besides the relationship (which I also feel could use use with some develpment on why Simon is differentto Germain besides reminding him of a friend we the readers know nothing about). The relationship is also cute and I don't really have any problems with it besides the point above on possibly spending a but more time on it pre-liking each other?

As stated, several times before, you're the history buff here. There's nothing that screams historical inaccuracy to me and if the boy in striped pajayma's could get published without the fact checking, this is more than fine.

So yeah! Finishing conclusions! great writing!! Loved reading it and getting to critique it! If you can spare a few more words to include further develpment of Germain and the relationship, it would make it even greater. The beginning is a little confusing, especially on where exactly the story is set, but it finds it's footing as it moves further into the story!

Loved the ending and loved the flower symbolism!