Before I start, here's the link to my previous SWC page: https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/525644/
Hoping for another fun and successful month

(And just for archive purposes, here's my previous signature because I'm gonna change it:
-Starthorn / Star || (she/her)
ALSO July 2021 Sci-fi cabin lets goooooooo
oof we came in fourth to last lol )

Oh! And here's gonna be the new setup for these posts (so that it's easier to understand what you're reading):

“Day #: #۞ in total. (# words in total.)

Any applicable notes/tags - #۞ that it is worth
Writing piece
(# words.)”

Thanks <3

(It's “۞” because I'm in Fairy-tales btw)

LAST THING before I get to the pieces!!! I promise.

Here's my sister @savebats' SWC proof page: https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/614334/
Here is my OTHER sister (@fluffysheepwool's) page: https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/614786/

Read their stuff if you want! It's cool, they're both good writers.

Day one: 5۞ in total. (3855 words in total.)

Main Cabin Daily - 3۞
Hi! I'm Starthorn- a writer, musician, and animator! On Scratch I like to fool around with MAP parts and my OCs, but I also enjoy the art of literature a whole lot. In real life I am also a musician, I'm picking up bassoon right now and I already play flute. : ) (Just a fun fact, hee hee.) Maybe I'll update on that throughout the month, if the cabin dailies prompt me to! Anyway, I'm super glad to be back, even if I fear I may be busy throughout this month. I hope to have a good time. Long live fairy-tales!!
(100 words.)

Cabin Daily - 2۞
I'm going to introduce myself a little bit more thoroughly in this cabin than the main one, since I'm going to be getting to know y'all better than anyone else in Scratch Writing Camp this year. So, here we go!
Hi, I'm Starthorn! I've been on Scratch for almost five years (if you round up, of course!) but have only been involved in SWC once before this. (Last July I was part of Sci-Fi, which was very fun.) Because I had such an awesome time, I decided to come back- so here we are! I intend to pass my word goal as quick as I can (for a personal record, lol), but I am *not* going to try and beat my word-count from last year. That was low-key unhealthy, ha ha. (It was over seventy one thousand *worried face*)
Anyway, I'm very glad to join you guys! I hope you're as excited as I am to hear about my MAP part struggles and my ventures into the world of bassoon playing, if anything prompts me to go into that side of my interests. (You see, along with writing and reading I am very into both animation and music! I already play flute and my band teacher is having me pick up bassoon because… he wants me to suffer ig? /j)
Plus, I'll be writing plenty about fandoms I'm in and posting it on the Scratch Discuss forums- so if you're interested in a disorganized mess of Hetalia, Miraculous Ladybug, Pokemon, and so much more- I'm your girl!! xD (Those are all such awesome pieces of media, I swear… or at least they all have awesome potential! That's the point of fanfic, right?)
But besides that bunch of informalities, I fear I am going to be busy this month outside of Scratch- which is a little sad. I think I will still manage to write every day (or quite nearly every day), but if something comes up I will be sure to tell y'all!
Glad to be back, long live fairy-tales!!
(340 words.)

All That is Disconsolate is Without You - Chloenette, Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction
Chapter One: Gel-Pen Apology

It sort of started when Marinette got that apology letter in the mail, the one that she would end up re-reading at least eight times within the hour it was opened.
No way it was real.
She had to be dreaming, because it could have been really happening.
Maybe it was a prank, some kind of cruel joke.
But it wasn’t a prank, and it was real. She couldn’t have been dreaming either because her dreams were never like that. Yet even once she discerned this, she almost wished it wasn’t true.
Chloe Bourgeois sending a letter? To her? She was Marinette Dupain-Cheng! Chloe’s sworn enemy, a rival for reasons Marinette had never known. They were supposed to hate each other! (And it was a handwritten letter too, in a fancy font and with a professional signature. It even stated the words ‘I’m sorry’.)
What, had pigs begun to fly?
But when Marinette arrived at school that next Monday morning, half-expecting Chloe and Sabrina to be standing in the classroom ready to bully her for ‘thinking it was real’, Chloe stayed away from her. Not a single harsh word was spoken between them and Marinette didn’t even catch Chloe laughing at her behind her back.
As they sat in the same classroom, just a few seats apart, Marinette stared a hole in the back of Chloe’s head. Trying to somehow telepathically contact her and yell at her to turn around, just so that they would make eye contact. Marinette wanted to scream at her, not an upset scream necessarily, but something asking for an explanation.
Why in the world had she read the words ‘I was wrong to treat you like I have, and I understand if you won’t forgive me, but I do implore you to’ in glittery golden gel-pen at nine in the morning on a Saturday? What the heck had gone down?
And when school broke for lunch, Marinette actually witnessed Chloe tell Sabrina to get whatever she wanted, because Chloe ‘felt bad’ for forcing her to eat what she wanted for several years. What was this, a half-baked villain redemption arc?
This isn’t some sort of teenage rom-com, Chloe! What are you doing?? Marinette wanted to scream at her.
Plus, the fact that all of the apologies felt genuine sort of made her skin crawl.
No one else seemed to have caught on though, so these observations made her feel a little crazy when she brought them up to Alya, who slowly blinked in response.
“She’s probably just going through one of those phases she has- you know?” Alya had finally said, chewing her bagel and brushing it all off far easier than Marinette could. “When she watches too many ‘Ladybug helping people compilations’, or something, on Youtube and feels bad,”
Marinette had squirmed awkwardly in her chair, unable to explain the doubt she had at that response. “But it feels so real…”
“It always does, girl,” Alya frowned down at her food, “And then she goes back to normal.”
She was probably right.
She always was.
Still, Marinette found herself re-reading the letter when she got home. She found herself analyzing every word, scrutinizing whatever phrasing didn’t feel right. Then she would read it again, and suddenly the previously criticized phrasing was fine- but something else was wrong. Her mom eventually asked her what she was reading so thoroughly, camped out at the kitchen counter as she was, but Marinette just laughed hollowly; shaking her head and responding with a quick ‘nothing’ before folding the paper and slipping it into her pocket again.
Man, did she want to confront Chloe about this.
Initially she couldn’t because a part of her was still insisting that it had to be a prank, but her greedy (panicky?) curiosity still felt as though it was eating her inside out. She couldn’t deny that, although she tried hard to keep it to herself.
After about a week of Chloe treating her nicely, she couldn’t stand it anymore. Although Alya somehow kept her from confronting Chloe in the middle of class, pulling out the letter and all, once school was over Marinette found herself racing after her previously-rival as she walked home from school. Alone, Marinette barely had time to recognize before Chloe turned around to find the source of the pounding footsteps, she was walking home alone. (She never did that!)
Marinette skidded to a halt in front of her, breathing heavily as though she had run much farther than she had. (Oh gosh, was she really going to do this?) Chloe stared at her for a second, open-mouthed as if to say something, clamped her jaw shut, and went to turn back around and return to her speed-walking.
“Chloe!” Marinette exclaimed, exasperated and much louder than she meant to.
Chloe froze in place.
“What the heck!” Marinette burst out with very little patience left in her voice. Once more receiving no response, she stomped around so that she was standing in front of Chloe (who was apparently clutching her school-bag rather tightly, Marinette noted now that she could see her classmate’s whitening knuckles).
Who knew where the surge of confidence came from, but Marinette found herself whipping out the apology letter and holding it out so that Chloe could look at it. She said nothing to accompany the grand flourish of wrinkled paper, only violently gesturing in the air next to it with her other hand. Open palmed and flexed, pointing to it with her whole arm, even. This was more important than a one-fingered hand gesture, whichever finger she was to hold up.
“I-” Chloe stammered, and Marinette could have noted the nervousness in her voice had she been paying attention to anything other than the words themselves. Then Chloe’s voice grew small. “I… wanted to say sorry,”
A beat.
“For hurting you, and everyone else.”
Okay, Marinette was going to need a moment to process that.
She was for real? Chloe was honestly, one hundred percent, apologizing to her? Her?? (And directly as well? It would have made her feel almost special had it not been for her distrust.)
The astonished disbelief must have shown on her face because soon Chloe was stammering something about wanting to right wrongs and that it was okay if everyone hated her, and Marinette found herself at a loss of words. This was different from the other times Chloe went through an ‘apology arc’, it had to be. Marinette couldn’t forgive her, no. Not now, not so suddenly. But she would think about it.
“This isn’t a joke, right?” Marinette’s throat was dry.
“What?” Chloe seemed disoriented as her nonsensical soliloquy was cut off. And out of breath, from the way her chest rose and fell under its designer jacket, a movement which Marinette took more note of than she intended.
“You’re not playing some prank on me?”
Now it seemed that something was sticking in Chloe’s throat, because her voice filled with a sort of deep-seated regret that really dug at Marinette’s flight or fight response for some reason. “No! No, I swear, I’m not- I just- I just needed a change,”
“A change from treating everyone like *?”
“Yes!”
Marinette swallowed, feeling lightheaded. Had she really just agreed with that? No sassy response, no nothing? “You admit that you treated everyone like *?”
Chloe seemed to bite back a swear as she let go of her bag’s strap, letting it swing crazily from its secure balance on her shoulder as she waved her arms dramatically. “Yes!”
Scratch a moment to process that, Marinette was going to need another whole week.
All she could manage was a shake of her head, still disbelieving, and she let her arm drop back to her side. Her other arm, the one that did not end with a hand clutching a cursive apology letter, went to her hip. “Chloe…” she began, and then sighed. Chloe waited for her to speak, but Marinette only shook her head. “I’ll see you on Monday.”
And then she rushed back in the direction she had come from, now letting her own bag swing precariously as she hurried past and away from the girl that had tormented her for years. She didn’t look back, but if she had she would have seen how Chloe turned to look after her, right arm reaching out as if she could stop her. Forlorn, lost. That was the look in her eyes.
Not that Marinette saw it.

It seemed like Chloe kept trying to talk to her, but Marinette kept avoiding her. In the hallways, in the classroom, and everywhere else they both happened to venture to. Chloe even texted her for the first time ever, but Marinette just left her on read.
She didn’t know how to respond, she didn’t know if she should, so she just didn’t.
With no recent akuma attacks, there wasn’t even an option to take her mind off of the situation, so Marinette was forced to let it revolve inside her head with each passing day. She texted Alya about it too, but got the same response as before. Marinette bit her lip. It didn’t feel the same as before, Chloe had never admitted to doing wrong in, well, ever. This felt real, as much as the salty portion of Marinette’s mind didn’t want to believe it.
Another side effect of her enemy learning how to say sorry, she soon realized, was that Adrien started talking to Chloe more at school. It made Marinette purse her lips with (perhaps misplaced, at this point) worry, even though she already knew the two were friends. Jealous would be a good word for the way she felt, even though Adrien was still talking to her just as much. They were friends, of course he would.
Still, Marinette had to say the jealousy toned down a bit once she realized- after several classes worth of watching Chloe and Adrien converse- that Chloe’s flirting had basically left their conversations. It seemed like, along with making genuine efforts to stop insulting her classmates, a decision had been made to stop with the near-constant romantic advances.
What surprised Marinette most about that particular edge to the situation was the mixed feelings it gave her. On one hand, she was happy how clearly relieved Adrien seemed about being treated like a friend rather than a potential date, but on the other… ugh. She wasn’t sure, it just didn’t seem right.
She couldn’t help but wonder what the heck had happened, once again.
By the fourth week of Chloe’s escapades in treating-people-nicely, Alya finally gave in and admitted that, this time around, Chloe definitely seemed a lot more serious about it. Sure, Rose still hid behind Juleka whenever Chloe saw her do anything even mildly embarrassing, but that was a side effect of being harassed for every little thing she did wrong for a decade. But in reality, the only words Chloe had spoken to her in the past few weeks had been a compliment about her dress. The nice, flowy, purple one with the gold accents.
Marinette hadn’t been quite sure what to make of that exchange, honestly.
She caught Nino and Adrien talking about the change in Chloe’s actions as she walked into the classroom early one Tuesday morning before anyone else had gotten there.
“I’m really glad,” Adrien was saying, “She’s actually acting like the girl I befriended when we were little,”
“Don’t you think she could be lying, though?” Nino sounded skeptical, “Or at least that she’s going to go back to acting like she used to?”
“I hope she won’t,” Adrien responded, and that was that.

When Hawkmoth finally decided to akumitize someone again, dragging Marinette away from her crisis at last, she was half-surprised that she wasn’t the victim, what with all the wild emotions running rampant inside her. The akuma battle was not difficult, despite the rather longer break than normal she and Chat Noir had taken between the last victim and then. She didn’t even need to use her Lucky Charm, which didn’t happen very often.
So, after zipping away from the scene of the battle so that the media wouldn’t catch them, the pair of heroes dropped down onto a roof and sat down to relax. Even though she had been sort of preoccupied with the whole Chloe business, she had missed Chat. They were friends after all, and it wasn’t like they could hang out in their civilian lives.
“You were radiant today, Bugaboo,” Chat teased, careful to enunciate each syllable of ‘radiant’, “Not even a Lucky Charm? My, how professional you are!”
“I could say the same to you,” Ladybug teased right back, “Your ring isn’t beeping either,”
He sighed deeply, comically exaggerating a feeling of comfort he undoubtedly felt, “It’s as though we never left each other’s sides, even though we haven’t seen each other in weeks,”
The playful tone in his voice made the statement humorous, and Ladybug laughed. “It was a nice break,” she commented, “I actually got some sleep for once.”
“I know, right?” Chat exclaimed, sitting up straighter as they shared a moment over the side effect of being superheroes, “It’s like I’m a normal Paris citizen, like- holy *! Is this how being well rested feels??”
“My eye actually stopped twitching like it does out of pure exhaustion,” Ladybug put a hand on her chest dramatically, “I am once again a regular member of society.”
Chat Noir giggled immaturely, “Are you ready to go back to sleep deprivation though?” She looked over at him, smirking, already knowing how the statement was going to end. “Because we are back in business, baby!” He crowed, and she laughed as he continued on, “I am going to be so trashed tomorrow morning, I almost got used to the civilian life!”
“It’s nice to be back,” Ladybug smiled, voice softening as she continued. “Nice to have a source of distractions anyway… and I missed you,” she admitted.
“Aw,” Chat Noir smiled back at her, “I missed you too.”
A comfortable silence entered their space and Ladybug leaned back against the wall they had plopped down next to, hands wrapped around her knees as she smiled up at the sky. Chat Noir more or less mimicked her, he too leaning back against the wall, though his legs were splayed out in front of him and his arms were resting behind his head. They stayed like that for a moment, Ladybug allowing herself to think back over the battle and the days prior.
Then she remembered all the confusion as of late, and a slightly apprehensive frown replaced her reminiscent smile. “Hey, Chat Noir?” she asked out into the quiet of their meeting.
“Yes?” he responded, looking over as she sat up.
“Are you okay if I… tell you about stuff that’s happening in my civilian life?” she looked at him, nervously watching his face as he blinked, surprised but not judgemental. “Not anything super detailed or, like, invasive, just stuff that’s been going on,” she added, biting her lip.
“Of course,” he sat up too, voice smoothly transitioning into a slightly more serious tone. “I’m your friend, I’ll always listen.”
She knew that already, but it was still comforting to hear him say it. Still, it took her some time to actually start talking, opening her mouth to speak before closing it and rethinking her words. Then sighing and trying again. (This series of actions repeated a few times.) Finally, she gave up and just spoke. “So, there’s this girl I know…”
Chat Noir nodded encouragingly, and she smiled weakly before going on. “She… she used to, like, bully me?” her voice edged on questioning at the end, reaching an arm up and scratching the back of her head awkwardly. “I don’t know. Maybe that’s hard to believe, because I’m Ladybug for goodness sake, but I guess that’s what happened,” she pursed her lips. “I sort of fought with her a lot- we didn’t get along,”
She looked over at her partner for more encouragement, desperately wrinkling her nose and frowning, feeling suddenly as if she might cry. Whoa, crying in front of Chat Noir was not on her to-do list for today.
His voice was measured and careful, “So, she… used to bully you? Past tense?”
She nodded, swallowing the sudden urge for tears.
“Did that change?”
She took in a shaky breath and nodded again, “Y-yeah. She actually sent me an apology letter,”
“Like… an actual letter?”
“An actual letter.”
He made that expression he did when he half-approved of something, staring off into the distance as his tightly-squeezed lips formed an almost-pout, though it wasn’t exactly negative, bobbing his head with his eyebrows raised.
Ladybug sighed, “I just… don’t know how to feel about it, Chat.”
“Do you want to forgive her?”
Ladybug hesitated, and then drew in her knees to her chest, hugging them. “I don’t know.” her voice was small, seemingly too feeble to fit her superhero persona. “I feel like I should, but I don’t know if it’s…” she grasped for words, “if it’s right? Morally? If that makes sense.”
Chat Noir nodded slowly, then looked over at her, glowing emerald eyes begging for eye-contact. This was a side of him she didn’t normally get to say, though it wasn’t a mutually exclusive rarity being shared. She was also revealing a side of herself that he didn’t get to see often. As she stared into his face, he responded carefully. “I think I get what you mean,”
“You do?” She rested the side of her head on her knees, looking into his eyes.
“Yeah,” he clicked his tongue apprehensively. “Something like that happened to someone I know recently- well, in my civilian life I mean, someone other than you,”
She nodded and he went on. “She seemed kinda torn, sort of like you are, though she isn’t really talking to me about it,”
They blinked at each other.
“What I’m trying to say,” he reached out and grasped her hand, “is that you should do what you think will work for you. If you want to forgive her, go ahead! But if you don’t feel ready, give it time,”
Ladybug thought about it for a moment, thinking over the options, comparing possible outcomes and consequences. She wasn’t ready yet, she finally decided, and smiled at him. “Thanks.”
“Oh,” he smiled too, “You’re welcome!”
“You’re good at this, you know that?” she released her knees, though she didn’t let go of his hand.
“I go through this cycle with my dad all the time,” he joked, “Trust me, I’ve had plenty of time to mull over the best way to deal with this,”
She wrinkled her nose, “Your dad writes you apology letters?”
“Oh totally,” he laughed boisterously, “Sends ‘em right along with the birthday wishes and the milk he keeps trying to go pick up.”
Despite the dark subject of the joke, Ladybug laughed. Chat Noir really did know how to make her feel better. She was very glad to see him again.
They chatted for a while more before settling down into comfortable quiet again, smiling off into the distance. The sky had melted its way into a beautiful array of oranges and golds, like the rolling hills of deciduous trees in autumn. Ladybug loved the colors of the sunset, even if she was part-way preoccupied with her thoughts and with Chat Noir’s jokes.
Eventually they had to go back to their homes and they bid their goodbyes, sharing a hug before leaping away in opposite directions.
She transformed on her balcony, the evening had grown darker and no prying eyes should have been able to catch her, and went inside through the trap-door. As Tikki gobbled down a macaroon, she flopped onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling now that there was no sky to look into.
“What am I gonna do?” she murmured, not quite a question and not quite addressing Tikki either. Almost talking to herself, had another being not been in the room with her.
“I think you should give it time,” Tikki nodded wisely around her absurdly large snack. “You’re a nice person Marinette, but forgiving people is about trust, not apologies.”
“You’re right,” Marinette groaned, rolling over and rubbing her face. “But I still want to forgive her, kind of,”
“Then build trust,” the kwamii responded simply, as if it was as easy as that.
(3415 words.)

Day two: 7۞ in total. (5939 words in total.)

In-Cabin Daily - 2۞
Part one: send a ‘normal’ biscuit to the real-fi restaurant!
The door to the restaurant opens, and in walks a woman dressed in black and red. From the marking on the back of her hand (a red heart surrounded in a decorated box of black), you know she is a wandering merchant from the kingdoms of Fairy-tales.
It's early, and not many people are in the restaurant, along with this, it is clear that she is not interested in being a guest.
She sweeps past the tables and moves up to stand at the window leading to the kitchen.
You know what she's here for already. Many merchants, thieves dressed in green, and soldiers with the same symbol she bares have already popped in today.
Seeing her, a cook sighs and moves to the front of the kitchen to talk to her, muttering a quick ‘I’ll deal with this' to their fellow Real-fi members.
“Another biskit?” they ask once at the counter, “Other people from your kingdoms have already given us stuff like that,”
Her smile falters briefly, but she manages to mask the surprise again. “Oh? But why would you not accept a gift from a merchant? I won't even ask for payment,”
“It's poisoned, isn't it?” The cook scowls at her, “@-Krolia_Krogane- just set up a poison inspecting area,”
She frowns, the proud smile melting away as she shoves the biscuit back into her bag with an annoyed flourish. “You're no fun,”
The two stare at each other for a long moment. And then- “I'll take the soup of the day,” she finally sighs, defeated.
(257 words.)

Part two: send a cookie to the horror arcade!
For the upteenth time today, a Fairy-tales citizen has made it past the broken machinery, creaking floors, and flashing lights. She calls out into the darkness, seeing no one physical to hand the basket she holds too. Still, she knows people are here.
“Alright!” she calls into the emptiness, “I know you've had a bunch today, but I got up late and…” she trails off, that's not important. “Uhm, anyway- I brought you more cookies!”
Suddenly out of the woodwork (well, more like out of the arcade machines!), several campers appear, gleaming in the neon lights in a way this merchant does not. She laughs as several quickly pick up a cookie or two. “Don't worry!” she assures them, “They're free! I don't usually sell merchandise like this, I'm more of a card games and guillotine type of gall,”
And with that and one last good-natured laugh, she turns from the basket and begins to make her way out of the cursed arcade.
(163 words.)

Going for a walk (and writing about it, since I felt odd about just doing it) - 1۞
I walked through my family's garden today! It's really hot out where I like at the moment, which is unfortunate, but some of the plants seem to be liking it! The kale is growing in nice and my dad told me I could even eat some of the arugula! I wasn't exactly hungry when I went for this walk though, so I didn't take him up on the offer. Still, I'm excited to have some later! (I love arugula,,,)
It also seems like we didn't miss any of the garlic scapes when we went through and picked them a couple days ago, which is very good (garlic scapes get woody once you leave them too long and it really ruins the eating experience in my opinion). Unfortunately, none of the beans have grown yet, but that's to be expected at this time of the year.
Also, this made me realize how much I dislike the heat! I mean, I already knew that, but wow.
It's so unpleasant! I'm not sure how people enjoy it so much. (Then again, I wear T-shirts and shorts in winter sometimes so maybe I'm the problem lol.) Anyway, this was a nice experience, but that's all the logging I feel like I need to do.
I'll update on the crops on later walks!
(220 words.)

Drinking two cups of water (and writing about it again) - 1۞
Okay, so this is a bit of an odd thing to confess- but I hate drinking water.
It, like, makes me sick? Or, not literally, but it does make me feel ill. (I know, I know, super weird.)
Anyway, I know I have to drink water because I hate soda (too sweet) and right now there isn't any juice to water down, so I did this for points! (Usually it's just me and the gallon of one percent milk against the world, but I know something's wrong and I've gotta do something to change it.) Therefore, I soon found myself standing in front of the sink with a red plastic cup and a dream.
I drank the first cup really quickly, because I hate how water feels, but then I had to drink the second cup also.
Gross.
(139 words.)

Main Cabin Daily - 3۞
Question asked: Will Ladybug reveal her identity to Chloe?
Answer (as presented by this project): “Outlook good”
Alrighty then? Guess we're doing this now. v

All That is Disconsolate is Without You - Chloenette, Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction
Chapter Two: Forced Building Of Trust
A week had passed.
Chloe had leveled up to attempting to call her after several more sent text messages resulted in nothing more than ‘left on read’. Still, Marinette refused to talk to her, even though curiosity still burned in her.
Something about it felt odd, like she had forgotten something important.
“It’s not so much that she apologized…” Marinette was relenting into the phone, scanning the letter for at least the hundredth time as she described it to Alya. “It’s more the fact that I received it in physical form in an envelope covered in flowers,” She could hear Alya snicker on the other end of the call and growled, “Alya- this isn’t a laughing matter!! I’m so confused right now!”
To her dismay, that only made Alya laugh louder. “Confused about what, girl?” her friend’s voice finally crackled through the phone once her giggles had subsided. Marinette could hear the amusement in her words, it made her a teensy bit aggravated.
“Everything!” Marinette exclaimed, throwing herself spreadeagle on her bed, though her right hand still held the phone to her ear. “Why is she apologizing now? It’s not like anything huge happened- plus, why to me? She hates me!”
“Doesn’t seem like she hates you anymore,” Alya said with a tone Marinette couldn’t quite discern.
But something about it felt teasing.
Marinette flushed, “What?”
“Nothing,” she was probably shaking her head. “Nothing, it was stupid,”
Marinette frowned, the twinge of embarrassment twisting in her gut. “What?” she repeated, “You meant something by that, didn’t you? Something I didn’t catch?”
“Nevermind, it was nothing!” Alya repeated herself, quickly shifting the subject. “So- what did you think of the new Ladyblog update? I think that has something to do with this,”
Willingly pulled away from the previous topic, though something in her was still nagging to continue digging at it, Marinette hummed into her phone. “I haven’t checked it yet, why?”
Alya groaned, “Girl, you’re killing me! I thought you said you read it when I texted you earlier!”
Marinette bit her lip, “Oh, is that what that was about? I just-”
“I was kidding!” Alya laughed, “Though it is kind of funny that your immediate response to anything about the Ladyblog is ‘I’ve read it.’”
“Umm… yep!” Marinette forced an awkward giggle. Man was she tired. “It’s just, you know, I’m not as into Ladybug as you are so I don’t wanna seem…”
“Uncultured?” Alya offered, not bothering to wait for Marinette to approve of the word-choice. “I know,” she continued, “It’s so sad, I’d think she’d be a huge interest of yours if I didn’t know you,”
Marinette bit her lip again. She always had to tread carefully when conversations started to shift to her superhero persona, especially with Alya. It seemed like she knew more about Ladybug than Marinette did and that was kind of scary, to be honest. “R-really?” she twirled a strand of her hair around her finger nervously, “Why would you think that?”
“Oh, you just remind me of her- kinda,” Alya said casually, making Marinette’s breathing hitch with tension. Luckily Alya didn’t seem to notice, just continuing on with a joke. “I have yet to find that spotted costume in your closet- but I will!” She laughed, Marinette forced herself to as well even though her mind screamed panic. (She was lucky there wasn’t an actual Ladybug outfit that existed outside of using the Miraculous, because if it did she would probably be in for some real trouble.)
So as to not make room for an awkward pause or an identity reveal, as well as just for the sake of making a jab at Alya for laughs, Marinette smirked. “Oh yeah? Well you remind me of Rena Rouge, kinda,” her voice was teasing in a ‘all in good fun’ sort of way.
Hearing how Alya immediately froze up, stuttering a breathless ‘wouldn’t that be crazy, ha ha’, was worth the potential danger of such a comment. It was fun to switch up the stage a bit, every once in a while.
Plus, it made Alya rush to change the subject again. At least Trixx had taught her well, steering away from the secret identity topic the moment there was trouble. It made Marinette very happy with her choice of Miraculous holder.
“Anyway,” Alya said, the lightness in her voice a little forced from her efforts to shift the topic of the conversation, “Can you read the post now? It’s interesting,”
“Alyaaa,” Marinette groaned pathetically, exaggerating her ‘weakness’ to gain some pity points. (She even dragged out the final stable to really sell the silly act.) “Can you just read it to me? Pretty please?”
“Alright,” her friend laughed teasingly, obviously seeing through the half-serious act. “But only because you asked so sweetly!”
Marinette smiled as Alya searched for the post, relaxing further into the bed, bringing her arm up to rest her head on and rolling over onto her side. The Ladyblog made her a little nervous but Alya was super passionate about it so it felt rude to disregard the update completely. Sometimes it was fun to listen to her friend geek out about her as well, although it had taken some getting used to at first.
“Found it!” Alya suddenly crowed, making Marinette jump. “Okay, so- oh it’s kind of wordy actually,”
“That’s okay, summarize it?” Marinette suggested.
“Right,” Alya agreed, already clearly skimming the post because of how her voice clipped. Eventually the pause passed and she cleared her throat. Marinette listened carefully, polite as ever. “Basically,” Alya explained, “Chloe posted an old photo with Ladybug and put this long, drawn out apology below it. She said that a ‘final straw was put’ and she decided to change things. She didn’t explain what the ‘final straw’ was though,”
Marinette blinked. “Uhm, sorry to break it to you but that’s not really a Ladybug update, Alya. That’s more of a Chloe update,”
“Shh! I’m getting there,”
Marinette rolled her eyes fondly as Alya continued to explain the ordeal- even though this new reminder of Chloe sort of had Marinette’s brain buzzing (like bees) and that made it hard to focus.
Alya cleared her throat again. “She also said that if Ladybug sees the post, she would really like to talk to her- and then added that it’s ‘okay if that doesn’t happen, too, but this is very important.’”
For some reason, that made Marinette’s heart jump into her throat. “Uhm, did she say why she wants to talk?”
“Hold on,” Alya searched through the post one last time, “No, but Nino was theorizing that she wants the Bee Miraculous again,”
That made sense.
“Yeah, that sounds like her,” But Marinette pursed her lips, something still felt a little off. Something she couldn’t quite place, beyond just her oddly quick heartbeat and the sudden breathless worry creeping into her voice.
Alya hummed.

A nagging inside Marinette made her get up from her bed.
That same thing led her to transform and climb up the ladder onto her balcony before vaulting away and making a beeline (no pun intended) to Chloe’s residence. It wasn’t her choice, she told herself. Something about Chloe’s request just seemed too important to ignore, something nagging in the back of her mind was imploring her to see what the deal was.
Maybe Chloe would have answers to the questions that had been buzzing around inside Marinette’s head in her civilian life. It would probably be easier to get said answers in superhero form too, though working around her civilian identity was going to take some finagling.
Ladybug landed on the balcony she knew lay outside of Chloe’s room, this knowledge acquired partly from having crashed there several times during akuma battles and also because of the red and black-spotted curtains she could see inside the windows. They looked gaudy from an interior design point of view, but Ladybug knew Chloe was also aware of that and simply did not care. Despite her personal dislike of Chloe, that put a little bubble of joy in her stomach that was hard to explain.
Of course it also weirded her out how her (ex?)bully idolized her, but it provided a sense of superiority that helped ground her (as odd as that sounded).
She stood outside the door to the balcony for a minute, debating within herself whether or not she should really go through with it. There was still an option to turn around and zip right back home, if she wanted to.
But after a second she sighed and raised her fist to knock, chewing on her lip nervously. (The light was off inside, was this really a good idea?) Ugh, she cut thoses questioning thoughts off, whatever- she was doing this.
Ladybug knocked.
It took a good moment for anything to happen, but eventually she saw movement inside. Then Chloe was peeking out the window at her. Lastly, so suddenly that she jumped, the door was flung open.
“I didn’t think you’d actually…” Chloe was breathless, makeupless, and with her hair down.
Ladybug swallowed. It was somewhat surreal to see her like that, distracting and oddly captivating. But Ladybug managed to get past the distraction and tore her eyes away from the free-flowing curls. “Uh… yeah!” Then she coughed awkwardly. “I’m a little surprised too,”
Chloe bit her lip and Ladybug caught herself watching the way Chloe’s teeth squeezed down so… gently.
Woah. What in the absolute-?
She must have been tired, that was all. Ladybug shook her head to clear it of the thought, and squeezed her hand into a tight fist behind her back. Nervous, she suddenly felt nervous. “Um, should I come in, or do you want to talk out here?”
Eyes widening, Chloe scrambled to move out of the doorway. “Yes! C-come in, sorry, I should have done that first,”
Ladybug forced some sort of glassy smile and stepped into the semi-dark space, scanning the area for potential threats and exit points. Habitually of course, she definitely didn’t spend a bit more than a second staring at Chloe’s messy bed. (Alright fine, maybe she did- it was just so fascinating seeing a different side of Chloe. A side that she undoubtedly kept to herself, nonetheless.)
Then Ladybug had to quickly shove away the thought of how oddly personal this was, because it sent her brain spiraling in a way she did not anticipate.
“Sorry about the mess,” Chloe’s voice was rather small, but it was enough to break through Ladybug’s thoughts.
Glad to have a distraction from her invading mind, Ladybug nodded, putting on a smile that felt somehow plasticy and flashing an easy thumbs-up. “Uh, yeah! It’s okay,” she tried weakly, “What did you… what did you want to talk about?”
“Oh, um,” Chloe flushed and suddenly went a little stiff.
“Is it about the Bee Miraculous?” Ladybug interrupted, reminded of Alya’s comment earlier, “Because you know I-”
“I know! You can’t give it back,” Chloe raised her hands in a desperately placating way and Ladybug felt her body ease out a little bit, somehow comforted that she didn’t have to go through that whole confrontation again.
They were frozen in place for a second as Ladybug mentally put herself back together. Finally she looked away, and out of the corner of her eyes watched Chloe’s arms drop to her sides again.
“Sorry,” she sighed, rubbing the back of her head, the gesture full of exhaustion. Why was this so tiring? “I interrupted you. What is this actually for?”
Chloe bit her lip again, “Well- I,” then she stopped.
Ladybug just blinked at her, watching as Chloe paled slightly. “Chloe?” she asked slowly, snapping the civilian out of her trance with just one word. She watched worriedly as Chloe scratched the back of her neck, looking anywhere but Ladybug and clearly trying to psych herself up for something. Ladybug sucked in her bottom lip, shifting her weight to her left leg and staring imploringly at Chloe.
“I…” she tried again, and Ladybug listened with her full attention. Her brain was buzzing again. Chloe sighed, giving and looking up to grab eye contact. “I think my dad knows who you are, and Chat Noir,”
Ladybug felt her throat seize up. What?
Her voice came out hoarse as she grabbed Chloe’s shoulders in a panic. “What? Your dad knows what?” She had to make sure she had heard correctly, this was a big deal. A huge deal! If Hawkmoth knew the mayor knew her and Chat Noir’s identities, well, she didn’t even want to think about it!
Chloe looked terribly worried by the genuine fear in Ladybug’s voice and repeated herself quickly, “I said I think my dad knows your identity- are you okay?”
No, not really.
Ladybug felt sick, to be honest. She staggered over to a chair and sat down, not even caring that she was in Chloe’s house. This changed things, if it was true. “Chloe,” she pleaded, grabbing onto the ex-Miraculous-holder’s sleeves as if they would tether her to the world once more. “How do you know this?”
“Well I-”
“Please?” Ladybug begged her, and then a horrible thought came over her. “Wait,” her voice gained a certain edge to it as she once again dropped Chloe’s arms, “Do… Do you know my identity?”
Chloe bit her lip.
Yeah, sick would be a very good way to describe this feeling.
Ladybug covered her face in her hands and groaned, bringing her knees up to her chest and squeezing them there with the insides of her elbows. “I wish you just wanted your Miraculous back,” she spat, seethingly ill. “How did you find out?”
“Well, I still don’t know if I’m right,” Chloe tried to reassure her, but it was too late.
“How did you find out?” Ladybug repeated more insistently and dragged her hands down from her eyes so that they covered her cheeks instead, “You sent me a glitter gel-pen apology in the mail, didn’t you?”
Chloe visibly cringed. “Okay, yeah. Now I know that I was right.”
“Ugh!” Ladybug slapped herself in the face, now the sick feeling had morphed into annoyance too. How had she found out? Had she done something stupid like detransform in the open? “Then there’s no point in staying transformed, is there? Tikki-”
“No!” Chloe flung out her arms, “Wait! Don’t, what if someone walks in?”
“Why would they walk in, though?” Ladybug retorted, catching Chloe off guard with the coldness in her voice and glaring at her. “Tikki, spots off.”
It was final, and in a flash of pink light Marinette was sitting in front of Chloe instead of Ladybug. Chloe had looked away, but Marinette just rolled her eyes. “We both know you know who I am now, Chloe,”
Chloe still didn’t look at her, but Marinette was honestly too tired to care.
Silence soon met them and it was brutal.
Then, into the sea of despairing quiet, (Ladybug had slightly calmed from her outburst) Chloe spoke. “I was going to send you another letter, you know, if you didn’t show up.” Marinette lolled her head to the side to look at her, though Chloe’s eyes were still trained hard on the floor. “I was going to explain that I know and that I think my dad does too,” she continued, “Vaguely, so that if anyone other than you saw it they wouldn’t know what it was talking about. I felt like it was too important for me to just keep to myself,”
Marinette stared at her silently. Judgingly. She felt like she had gone through all the stages of grief in just one chaotic moment. She was tired and she had entered the stage of acceptance, but she still needed to know the reason for all of this.
“Did you tell your dad? Is that why he knows?”
Chloe whipped her head up so fast Marinette jumped, shocked by the sudden eye contact. “No!” Chloe exclaimed, horrified by the accusation. “I know how particular you are about-” she clamped her jaw shut, realizing she was looking at Ladybug without her mask, and shot her stare down at the floor again. “-your identify,” she finished, voice very forced and rather quiet.
Although it felt like her heart had stopped when Chloe made eye contact with her, Marinette pushed her fear down with some effort. Man, she was jumpy without the mask. “How does he know, then?”
“I… I think he saw Chat detransform,” Chloe admitted, “He was talking about it in front of some visitors, but I distracted him before he could let anything important slip,”
Marinette thought back, yes. About a week before she received the apology note in the mail there had been an akuma attack near the building she now sat in. She and Chat had rushed inside, out of last-minutes on each of their Miraculous. Ah, yes. She had rushed off in the direction of the ladies room and detransformed there, but she hadn’t known where Chat had gone. She groaned and rubbed her eyes.
What could she even say to that? She couldn’t be blaming, it wasn’t Chloe’s fault that Chat didn’t detransform in a safe spot. Heck, it wasn’t even Chat’s fault! Sometimes transforming could be unpredictable.
So she just sighed, “Thank you for protecting Chat’s identify,”
Chloe hummed, fingers fidgeting in her lap. Ladybug looked over at her, watching her with disbelief. How was she not angry at her for being Marinette? That was what she had expected to happen if her identity was revealed. But instead, Chloe seemed oddly… civil.
Then she had to ask, the question bubbling up in protection of her partner. “Hey-” Chloe stilled as she listened. “Do you know Chat’s identity? Or, well, did you see him transform?”
Chloe bit her lip, voice small. “Um, I already knew his identity.”
“What?” Marinette jumped up, “How?”
Chloe looked up at her in surprise, raising her hands in some signal of ‘I’m innocent!’. “I just put two and two together! I’ve known his identity for months!”
Marinette stared down at the floor, trying to process this information.
“I told him I knew about it,” she continued, “I thought he let you know!”
“He’s aware of this?” Marinette smacked her forehead. That silly cat! Of course he would be the type of person to keep that from her! “I’m going to have to have a chat with him,”
Chloe looked up at her, worried. “Please don't take his Miraculous. It's his only escape,”
“His only escape?” Marinette repeated, dumbfounded.
“Just trust me,” Chloe nodded, pleadingly. “I know him in my civilian life, being Chat Noir is beyond important to him,”
Marinette stared at her for a moment, two pairs of blue eyes caught in connection, and then sighed before looking away. So many thoughts were running through her head, mostly about her partner's identity, but that didn't matter. “Fine,” she said quietly, “I wasn't going to anyway, because I would have to give up mine too- since you know both of our identities now,”
Clearly relieved, Chloe collapsed back onto her heels and dropped her head. “Thank you,” she murmured, “He would have been heartbroken…”
Marinette also collapsed back into her chair, sighing. “Yeah, sure, whatever.”
Silence met them as she reclined back in the seat. The ceiling was wide and decorated with golden designs that Marinette knew to be gilded. They sort of clashed with the pink wallpaper, in her opinion, but that didn't matter. (It felt weird to be in Chloe's room out of her superhero form.)
Then she remembered another question she had to ask. “Chloe,” she said suddenly, apprehensive almost, “I meant to ask already- how did you find out my identity?”
Chloe sighed, looking at the ground. “I just- I don't know, I realized who Chat was because he looks so much like this guy I know, so I eventually applied that logic to you and… yeah,” Her words were careful.
Marinette continued to stare at the ceiling. “Ah,”
“Yep.” Chloe said.
So… how did your dad figure it out?“
”Well,“ Chloe said slowly, ”I'm still not sure if he does know, but I sort of feel like he might,“
Marinette sighed, ”Yeah, okay. But how?“
”I think he looked at the school records, you know, for who's out of class and when,“
Attempting to swallow the lump in her throat, Marinette felt a little ill. ”He's allowed to do that?“
Chloe shrugged.
Marinette sighed. ”Well, um. Thank you, Chloe, for telling me,“
”Oh? Um, y-yeah!“ Chloe nodded, ”I felt like I had too..“
Nodding in response, Marinette uttered a soft ‘spots on’ and transformed again. Then, standing up and shooting Chloe a soft look that even she couldn't quite decipher, Ladybug went to the balcony and zipped away.

Oh yeah, she was going to have to have a talk with Chat Noir.
The next akuma battle came quickly, though this battle was far more difficult than the last. A little boy had lost the last soccer game before he had to move schools, or something like that. It was quite a struggle to avoid the rocks he kicked their way, and it took her a long moment of thinking over her lucky charm to realize it was meant as a distraction.
Once she put two and two together, she set down the red and black goal she had received and watched as the traumatized boy shot rock after rock into it. Making up for the shot he had missed when it counted.
With that distraction, Chat Noir had enough time to destroy his right cleat, which held the akuma in it.
Ladybug purified it swiftly and set it free, but after her customary fist-bump with Chat she grabbed his wrist.
”Wait, Chat.“
He stared at her, confused. ”My lady?“
”I'll detransform in any alleyway somewhere and feed Tikki, we need to talk,“
Nervousness crept into his face, ”Huh? Are you okay? What-“
”Just follow me, okay?" she felt her earrings beep and her urgency showed in her voice.
He nodded, and she zipped away. He followed close behind, waiting on top of a roof as she detransformed below. As soon as Tikki was done with her cookie, she turned back into Ladybug and vaulted back to the top of the building. Chat Noir was waiting for her, patiently as she expected.
Ladybug walked over to him, unsure how to start. He raised his eyebrow at her, clearly not willing to start the conversation either.
As she tapped her foot, she looked him dead in the eyes. “I want to preface this by letting you know that I’m not angry,”
He laughed nervously, “Did I… do something wrong?”
She frowned, “Well- not really, but still,”
“Okay,” he nodded, returning her eye contact earnestly, “But why are we…?”
Chatting? She finished his question in her head, but out loud she crossed her arms. “Chloe Bourgeois knows your identity?”
He seemed to deflate, even as he reached for her shoulders, panic clear in his eyes. “Wait, my lady, you can’t-”
“I’m not taking your Miraculous!” she assured him, reaching out her arms as well and grabbing his shoulders in a way she hoped would make her words sound genuine. “I just wish you would have told me, it’s really important, your identity,”
Visibly eased, his stiff grip on her shoulders lighted. “Thank God,” his voice was strangled, “It’s all I have…”
Ladybug felt a bite of pity catch in her chest, “Chloe said that too.”
“You talked to her?” he asked, dropping his arms from her shoulders and taking a step back.
“Y-yes,” Ladybug said, voice as measured as she could make it. “Um, and I feel like I should tell you this too- she knows my identity,”
Chat’s eyes widened, “She- what? Since when?”
“Since a couple days ago,” Ladybug lamented, “I let you know as fast as I could, we just haven’t seen each other since-”
“I can’t tell if I’m jealous or just surprised,” Chat cut her off with a nervous laugh, clearly letting her know that her ‘holding back’ the information wasn’t a concern of his. “She… knows both of our identities now? How?”
“She said she just put two and two together,” Ladybug sighed, kicking at a pebble on the roof they stood on. “I wish- I wish my costume was more concealing, she wouldn't have figured it out if…”
“You didn't look so much like you?” Chat offered after a beat. Ladybug nodded.
“If it makes you feel any better,” Chat said slowly, “You, whoever you are, look very nice.”
She smiled sadly, “Thank you, Chat, though that doesn’t really help with the whole secrecy deal,”
“That’s okay though,” her partner tried to assure her, “We’ll figure something out,”
Ladybug nodded, sniffing and realizing that tears had appeared in her eyes. She hurriedly whipped them away with the back of her wrist, “Oh- why didn’t you tell me I was tearing up?” She pouted in a half-joking way, teasingly accusing him as if it really mattered all that much to her.
“I- I didn’t notice!” Chat suddenly jumped into action, “Do you need tissues or something? I can go-”
“No, no, It’s alright,” Ladybug shook her head, “I’m just, you know, this caught me off guard, and the mayor knows too and that’s not-”
Chat paled and she realized that she had neglected to let him know about that part of this. “The mayor knows?”
Ladybug bit her lip, “Yeah, I meant to let you know but I kinda got sidetracked- what are you doing?”
He was suddenly pacing, hands pressing his temples and eyes wide (though he was only staring down at the ground). He looked scared, she noted, his mind was clearly racing. So, to disrupt his sudden panic before it got to be too much for either of them to handle, she reached out and touched his arm. He froze at her touch, looking up at her.
“Chat?” she implored, sniffing again.
His eyes were still wide as he spoke, robotically almost. “The mayor could tell my father and he’d- he’d kill me!”
She furrowed her brow. “Really?”
“Well, not literally,” he rambled on, “But he’d make me give up my Miraculous, probably, he’d pull me out of school and make me stop seeing my friends! Maybe more…”
“Whoa, really?” Ladybug’s eyebrows rose on her forehead as nervous surprise threatened to overwhelm her at this new light of her partner’s home life.
Chat nodded feverishly and Ladybug frowned, reaching out with arms wide in a wordless offer for a hug. Her partner quickly took it, walking into her grasp and burying his forehead in her neck. He was shaking, she noticed. “Chat,” she frowned, “You can tell me about these sorts of things, you know,”
“But it might reveal my identity,” his voice was small.
Ladybug hesitated. “I probably don’t know you in my civilian life, Chat,” She tried to reassure him, but he just shook his head into her neck.
“You probably do, though! Pretty much every teenage girl in Paris does,” he leaned back, though her arms still encased him and his hands were planted firmly on her shoulders. He looked panicked, but was clearly trying to reason with himself internally. “That’s why I wasn’t all that surprised when Chloe figured out who I was! It’s bound to happen with you eventually, but I don’t want to be at fault and lose my Miraculous!”
Ladybug bit her lip, mind racing at the various identity hints he had just given her. “I- I know you’re worried about that, I am too! But we’re too deep into this battle with Hawkmoth now, we can’t just give them up! A reveal would only make things dangerous, but we’re the protectors of Paris now and…” she sighed, “Well, I wouldn't want to lose you! I couldn’t take your Miraculous,”
He stared at her, still breathing hard. “You wouldn’t?”
“No! I couldn’t do that to you! Things are different now than early on, we’ve been fighting this guy for years and I couldn’t take a replacement,”
“You could take Chloe back,” Chat offered, looking at the ground.
Ladybug frowned, “Why?”
“If you really needed to, this was important to her too,”
“She gave up the idea of having a Miraculous when she transformed on live television,” Ladybug tried to keep the bite out of her voice.
Chat Noir looked into her eyes for a long moment and though he was still shaking she saw the way he searched for something in her. Finally, he sighed. “You know, me and Chloe are a lot alike,”
Ladybug frowned, and attempted a lighter tone of voice. “Are you trying to hint that you’re a politician or something? Because I don’t believe you,”
“Uhm, yeah- good,” he tried to laugh, “Because I’m not, but that’s, well, that’s not it.”
She looked at him, catching the hesitation in his voice and the way he seemed to ask if he could say more. “Go on,” she said carefully, “I’m… listening,”
“Can I be really honest with you?” Chat Noir looked away from her face, gaze straying to the roof they stood on. “Just for a second?”
She nodded, and with that permission he continued. “The reason I like having my Miraculous so much is because I’m out of the limelight and no one knows who I am! And even if they have an identity to place me with- you know, Chat Noir, it’s not… me,”
“Out of the limelight?” her voice edged on doubtful as her eyebrows knit together, “As a superhero?”
“I told you I was like Chloe, sort of,” his smile was nervous, “But, yeah. That’s why I can’t lose this, it’s an escape.”
Ladybug was silent, looking out at the city they protected together.
“It’s my only escape,” he finished, pleadingly.
Her inhale was shaky. “That’s what Chloe said, about you I mean,”
He was quiet, though he sniffed once as if to ward off tears. Ladybug looked back at him, though his gaze was still pointed down, and smiled a small smile. “Oh kitty,” she pulled him into a tighter hug. He squeezed her back and she nuzzled at his hair with her nose. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to threaten you with your Miraculous,”
“I know,” he sniffed.
And they held each other in silence.

At school the next day, Marinette worked up enough courage to talk to Chloe. For the last few days she had been aware Chloe knew she was Ladybug, but had still gone about her days as if nothing had happened. Chloe did too, though her attempts to contact Marinette had thankfully slowed.
If Alya noticed any change, she didn’t say anything.
Another odd thing that had changed, Marinette was now noticing, was Adrien. He seemed more nervous than normal, glancing about and tiptoeing around conversations as if to escape them.
(5160 words.)
—
Okay! Sorry guys but that’s all the time I have for today. I will finish this chapter later.

Day three: 7۞ in total. (981 words in total.)

Main cabin daily - 3۞
Feeling a little crappy at my stupidity from “yesterday” (turned in the daily late and couldn't get any credit but that's totally on me, so whatever) so this was kinda hard to do. Still, I had to for those sweet, sweet points, right? Yeah. Eh.
It's kinda hard to think about good things you've done when you don't feel great, but that's what it is today!!!
Therefore: you get to hear about the time I faked bad internet so that my sister's homework wouldn't get completely discredited.
It wasn't completely a lie, because at the time we were having internet issues, but it was an exaggeration. My teacher had assigned this homework that cut off at exactly midnight and we had been at a school concert and did not get to finish the homework. Or rather, she didn't, but I got it done in the nick of time. The next day, I emailed my teacher and let her know that my sister had not completed the assignment because our internet was being very funky.
To my surprise (she was the sort of teacher that would not take excuses), she actually opened the assignment again and my sister was able to finish it!
That was pretty awesome, to be honest.
I am now realizing that this is too short for credit and I must explain another scenario. Luckily for you (me, more like, because these points are for me, ha ha) I have another example!
Imagine, it is the beginning of Scratch Writing Camp, July 2022. (Sounds familiar, right?) You have never used Scratch Discuss before and your sister (me) made you sign up for SWC. You have no idea how to set up the thread for proof! Then, your very cool/j sister slams open the door to your room and dramatically takes your computer, setting up a thread before handing you your device back and disappearing into the basement once more.
…Basically my little sister didn't know how to set up a Scratch Discuss thread and I helped her, nothing much to it, but still an example eh?
(351 words.)
I'm… going to bed now. *I wrote this late on July 2nd because I refuse to turn in another late daily!!!!

In-Cabin Daily - 2۞
Due to the way the human brain works, a person cannot function for very long without rest.
Therefore, even when they need (or want) to get things done, sleep is still important if it is time to rest. As you sleep, your brain has time to do the things it can't while you are awake. It stores memories and ‘rests’ in its own sense, which is of course very important work!
Still, some may find sleep to be important simply because of dreams.
Not everyone wakes up and remembers their dreams, and no one remembers all their dreams, but they can be a wonderful escape from reality in certain cases. They can also provide awesome story ideas, or repeat plots over and over with endless exploration possibilities! Sleep certainly is… somethin'!
(131 words.)
This was so well timed lol

More water… yuck - ۞1
Not much has changed since yesterday: water is still gross in my opinion, the sink moves too slowly, and the noise of the water falling into the cup is highly frightening. (I swear, something's wrong with me.) Still, it's a good thing that I am drinking water I suppose. Still low-key wish I wasn't but points!!! …something is wrong with me ha ha ha
(64 words.)

Another walk/garden update - 1۞
I didn't get to do much walking around the garden today because we went to watch a symphony perform a bit away, but my little sister brought me a ton of raspberries from it! Yesterday there were barely any ready- insane how fast the sun works, right? That sort of blew my mind.
My family ate some pesto my dad made from the remaining garlic scapes and stuff, and also some greens from the garden cooked in oil and stuff! It was really good, I love having a garden.
It takes practice but in my opinion it is so, SO worth it! You get to grow good food (as long as you know how to take care of it, of course) and then eat it. Like, what's not to love???
Anyway, that wasn't so much about an actual walk as food, but it sort of relates- right? Right? (Not really, but whatever. Trust me, I did walk today lol)
Anyway- night night! Because of the concert I didn't have very much time to write today. I'll do more tomorrow!!
(179 words.)


I don't have proof of it because I wrote it in a notebook, but I also wrote about 256 words of a story I'm working on that it's fanfiction.
(256 words. )

Day four: 7۞ in total. (2719 words in total.)

Main cabin daily ft. Hetalia (RomeChu) - 3۞
Part one: Vagueness.
“In some way, I feel like I've known you before now,” the foreign nation whispered. His speech was different from that of anyone else Rome had ever heard speak, but in a good way. He swept syllables together in ways that Rome would have never imagined- in ways that he would have never experienced.
But here they were, sitting next to each other in a caravansary. Miles away from either of their hearts (of course, with this meaning of the word ‘heart’ meant the capital city).
“Oh?” Rome purred, staring into the other merchant's piercing gold eyes. Unnatural, that was the only way to describe the color, and in a way that the Roman- as a fellow nation- found very alluring. He could only imagine the man he stared at felt a similar way as their gazes fought.
Bright bronze staring into sharp gold, with a flicker of flame lighting between the too.
“Yes,” the other nation murmured, sitting up straighter. Although he was shorter than Rome and although even the corrected posture did not change this, Rome felt a pang of intimidation.
Oh yes.
This man was a nation for sure, and a powerful one.
“You're China- right?” Rome's eyes were wide with wonder and some sort of hunting hunger which the other man certainly caught onto.
He smirked, “Not how you say it,”
Oh right, he had used his own word for ‘China’. “So, how do you say your name?” Rome's voice was low but never threatening, not under those watchful eyes. It was like he could see everything, whatever he represented.
“I say it correctly,” China said, his smirk slinking away into some sort of frown, but not one with rude intent. Rome shivered, good Jupiter, he felt like his entire life was being watched. All of his secrets, everything.
Was this what humans felt like when he looked right through them?
Strangest of all, he felt himself sort of liking it. “Correctly? Why don't you tell me how?” Rome's voice was weak, not the booming presence he once was. He felt weak in his legs although he was not standing, the golden glare still crawling through the very crevices of his mind. Ripping up his soul into smaller, digestible pieces.
“It's to the East of here, but to the West if you go further,” China shrugged, his eyes flicking away and giving Rome a moment to breathe, “I'm sure you could work it out,”
Although he was finally free from the judging eyes, he wanted to press further. A sudden urge to know what he could uncover if he kept going like this. “But I can't work it out,” he was breathless.
China looked back at him, smirk widening into a grin as he saw Rome's wide eyes. “Why are you…?” his voice rose to suggest an incoming laugh, amused. He was amused by this, it seemed like he was surprised even. Rome's face flushed.
Bronze had no power against gold.
Sure he had armies and ruled the Mediterranean, but this nation… he was something else.
(510 words.)

Part two: Ambiguity.
“Have you done… much trade in this area?” Rome's voice came out choked. His head was spinning.
China's eyes widened at the forwardness of this double-meaning. For once he was caught off guard. “In this area?”
“Yeah,” Rome breathed as China sat back in his seat further, relaxing as if he was going to be there a long time. “Or, West of here?”
Eyebrows rising, China regained his ‘footing’ and the easy smirk returned to his face. It was like he was making fun of everything Rome said. Some sort of ‘I could do better’ which he certainly did not show to any humans he was around. “By West do you mean… in Rome?”
The corner of Rome's mouth twitched. He felt like he was getting peeled- like an apple. “If you'd like,”
China grinned. “But we haven't even negotiated prices yet,”
Groaning in the back of his throat, Rome wanted the floor to swallow him up. This was never so difficult! “Is this an off-day for me?”
“I'm just not that interested in Roman products,” China shrugged, suddenly flipping out of the second meaning and going full merchant mode. Then he blinked his eyes open again and the teasing smile returned. “But if you have something I would have interest in…?”
Rome swallowed. He was melting, he had to be.
His head was spinning.
China was laughing at him… he sort of liked that.
(235 words.)

A walk/garden update - 1۞
Yoooo we love when the berries are coming in well!
The raspberries and blackberries look awesome, but not much has changed. xD It's extremely hot out right now, which is a shame because some of the plants don't like it (same) but they are being watered sufficiently so it's all good honestly! I just can't wait until the beans come in, those are my favorites.
I also briefly checked on the pumpkin garden today, but it's not all the entertaining so I honestly don't have much to say about it. It is cool that it's a circular garden though! I enjoy that, and somehow it makes it feel Minecraft-like? Which is weird because Minecraft is all squares, but just trust me on this one, it makes it Minecrafty. Anyway, what was I talking about?
Oh yeah- and my legs are a little sore because I've done way too much swimming in the past couple of days. My hair may never recover from this one, bestie. *flushed emoji*
(167 words.)

Water :(( - 1۞
I drank water, and then I drank some soy milk.
But I forgot to shake the soy milk and ended up drinking chunky soy milk. One out of five stars- would not recommend. I think I'm gonna just drink regular milk from now on,,,,
(46 words.)

A bit of an RP just for fun,,,
c!Starthorn looks up from her seat at the porch, surprised to have visitors outside of her regular friends, “Oh- thank you so much!” she smiles awkwardly, “Do you wanna come sit down? I have another chair if you'd like,”
She wasn't all that used to talking with people, and for the last few days she had become a bit of a recluse due to another writing project which she had become engrossed in. Her friend, SWC!Starthorn, had joined a country far to the West- this had become a bit of a distraction.
(95 words.)

In-cabin daily ft. Hetalia (RoChu) - 2۞
So by combining the genre of fanfiction and fairy-tales, I get to make a Rapunzel AU! Buckle up ig, I am in a HWS China mood today!!
This is actually a mix of the Disney movie and the original text, since they are different, but it's close enough to a fairy-tale imo
Ivan = c!Russia
Yao = c!China
blue-eyes = c!America
the one with purple eyes = c!Canada
(The sorceress/Mother Gothel) The sorcerer/Altan = c!Mongolia (I'm basing this very VERY loosely on ancient history)
Yao was racing along the rooftops of the city with royal soldiers following close behind on the ground, he had finally managed to get the lost prince's crown. (Well, with the help of two local thieves anyway. Brothers, he knew, though he hadn't bothered to learn their names. They were both blond, one with violet eyes and the other with blue. He just used those colors as their names- neither of them knew his real name either, so at least it was mutual.)
His plan was to sell the crown and use the money to get out of the country- maybe buy himself an island and build his own kingdom. Yeah, that sounded nice.
But he couldn't focus on that right now, he had to get out of the city. The woods weren't too far off now, he could make it.
Soon him and the two thieves burst into the treeline, but the soldiers were still on their tail. He looked back at them and only got a glare from the one with blue eyes, he didn't seem to be enjoying the morning jog all that much. Yao on the other hand, was mostly sure he could get out of the situation without a scrape and just grinned back.
They winded and weaved through the woods as arrows whizzed past them and thunked into tree trunks just barely to the left and to the right- one even caught in the grass in front of Yao.
But, as luck would have it, they soon ran into a wall. Not a man-made wall, but a wall nonetheless.
It was of sandstone and packed dirt, naturally placed and unfortunately in their way.
“Gimme a boost,” Yao asked, though it was phrased more like a command.
“And let you run away with the treasure? No way,” the blue eyed one frowned, nervously looking over his shoulder to where the sounds of the soldiers were steadily getting louder.
Yao rolled his eyes, always put together (however shabily) even in dangerous situations such as this. “I'm not intending to do that, blue-eyes” (it was totally what he was intending to do, “Just give me a boost- I'll pull you up.
”Jones,“ the thief corrected him as he reached a hand out for the bag, but Yao was already not listening. He must have been stupid, Yao thought giddily, because as soon as he put the bag into ‘Jones’' hands he was clambering up the short cliff-face from the man's shoulders.
He rolled onto the grassy top and peaked over the edge. The sounds of yells and horse hooves were getting even louder, he almost felt bad about doing what he was about to do.
”Alright,“ the one with purple eyes reasoned, ”Now pull us up,“
Yao smiled down at him without a hint of that tiny remorse in his eyes, ”Nope!“
”But you don't have the-“ the blue eyed thief growled, searching about his person for a second.
”Wrong again!“ Yao crowed, showing off the satchel that held their burgled treasure, ”So long!“
And then he made a dash for it, listening to their furious screams as he raced through the brush. He had no idea where he was going, all the knew was that he needed to get out of there. If the royal soldiers let his ex-companions live, which was always a possibility, they were sure to point where he had gone.

After a rather long struggle, which included falling off a rather large cliff into a stream, Yao managed an escape into a clearing.
For a second, though not much longer than that, he almost didn't see the huge tower nestled in the center of the huge space. On all sides, save for a small cave entrance covered in vines, huge rock faces stuck out of the Earth and towered above them. Atop, he could see the forest's trees.
From here, they looked tiny.
”Wow,“ he breathed in amazement, for a moment forgetting the wild chase he had just been a part of.
Still, he came to his senses in a moment and realized that a place to camp out would be good for a while. He didn't want to stay in the forest, where he could be tracked with dogs (even though his little swim in the stream probably cut off most of his trail), so he headed for the tower.
After all, why not use it?
He was lucky for the arrows which had strung themselves through the edges of his satchel (oh how he hoped they hadn't scratched the crown) and stuck there. With them he managed a very slow (and very difficult) climb up the tower. Of course before going about this he had circled the tower twice in search of entrances, but there didn't seem to be any.
The only entrance was an open window near the top of the tower.
If he could make it there, he would be safe for the week or so he would need to stay here before the search calmed down. In terms of hiding places, it didn't seem so bad (although getting down was going to be tough).
But he was only allowed about a moment or so to rest and feel relieved before, out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement. Then something hit the back of his head and he was out cold.
—
Ivan had always lived in the tower.
His whole life, his father Altan had kept him safe within the walls and brought him everything he needed.
Together they would mend the little imperfections in his scarf and wash it, while singing a song about a golden flower. He had done it his whole life and didn't question it, he father tended to get rather closed up whenever he asked questions about it. Ivan was pretty sure that his mother had made it, or something equally dramatic, before she passed away long before he could remember.
His father didn't talk about it much, so that was just a story he had made up for his own reasoning's sake, but it seemed like it made enough sense and he stuck to it.
Not that he had anyone to tell it to, but that was okay.
In the recent days he had become obsessed with the lights which always appeared in the sky every year on his birthday. Altan insisted that they were stars, but he was pretty sure they weren't. He had, after all, charted stars in the past, and these were unique. Still, his father seemed to get pretty worked up about it.
This had happened the year before and he had given up asking to be brought to see them, but this year he hadn't quite given up yet. His birthday was in a few days and he felt as though he had enough time to convince his father that bringing him to see the lights was a good idea.
Where they would go to see them, exactly, he wasn't sure- but it was all he wanted this year!
He could put off painting and- good God- he was done with candle making, this was all he wanted.
That morning, when Altan returned from his trip into the dangerous city, he had asked about a trip but had gotten turned down very quickly. He was then given a very stern talking to about evil men with pointed teeth, poisoned food, and prisons with no trial… but he hadn't given up. That evening, at dinner, he was planning to ask again.
If he could somehow prove to his father that he was ready for the world out there, he would have to take him! (But how would he do that?)

His answer came in the form of an intruder, actually.
The only person he had seen other than his father since, well, he was a baby. Of course he knew exactly what to do from Altan's descriptions of various street fights he had gotten caught in, and the intruder was down with one strike of Ivan's frying pan.
”Ha!“ he pumped his fist into the air, also he was feeling a little faint, ”Can't handle myself out there, huh dad?"
He turned dramatically to the mirror that rested in the corner of the room and looked at himself, a grin spread from ear to ear with the unconscious body of… some man in the background. He had already checked: the guy didn't have any fangs.
Then came the matter of getting the unconscious body out of the center of his floor.
Even though the guy was shorter than his father, and even shorter than Ivan, it was still a struggle to figure out what to do with him. Eventually he managed to drag the intruder over to the wardrobe and shove him in, though it did admittedly take a couple tries. (During these tries, Ivan removed the man's satchel and hid it in a storage container. He wasn't sure why he did it, but it felt like the right course of action.)

Sooner than he would have liked, his father came home.
With the use of his scarf, after he was called over to the window, Ivan hoisted his father up into his living space.
(1540 words.)
To be continued I guess! Didn't have enough time.

I also continued that on-paper piece I was working on yesterday.
(126 words?)

Day five: 7۞ in total. (6065 words in total.)

Main Cabin Daily (ft. PKSP Feelingshipping) - 3۞
Proverb: If the sky falls we shall catch larks.
“I do appreciate you, you know that?” Blue said into the quiet of the night. The stars above them were clear in the sky, any traces of other humans far away. Even traces of many pokemon were gone- the desert not a good habitat for many of the species he was used to seeing in other parts of Kanto.
The fire crackled between them, bright and suddenly too loud after he had spoken.
In the cold of their campsite, though the wind had calmed down from the previous few nights and the cold was not as dramatic, the fire kept him warm. It provided light, but somehow it still got in his way as he looked over to where he knew his apprentice was lying awake.
“Yellow?” he asked.
She had been crying earlier.
He had yelled at her, but he couldn't remember why.
He sat up and looked over the flames, somehow catching her eyes in the questioning silence. They gleamed an off-gold in the burning light which warmed the trainers' space and somehow, she did not drop his gaze.
They looked into each other's souls for a moment, just a little fleeting moment in the dark of the night.
No one would know, he swallowed, if he went over and laid next to her. No one would know if he dropped his steely front, even just for a moment, to give her a hug. His thoughts fought as he was the first to look away. As he was the first to give up, was the loser of their sudden staring contest.
He heard Yellow sniffle again on the other side of the camp.
His chest was too tight around his lungs, but he couldn't show that. He couldn't let her know that he felt. He couldn't allow that to be something shown to anyone other than his sister. (Even his own grandfather was off-bounds now, and since Red was gone there was no one left.)
“Blue?” her small voice sounded strange as it interrupted the cacophony that was his thoughts.
Blue turned his head and caught her eyes again, she had sat up too. His lip shook as he breathed in and his chest still felt too tight, frozen almost. It was like if he moved too far he would shatter into a million pieces.
There was hurt in Yellow's eyes, he realized very distantly, but some terrible subconscious nag inside of him was stopping his words from coming out. Something was still encasing his heart. Chains with a padlock, and no one knew the combination.
“I'm sorry for messing up so much today,” Blue realized that Yellow's eyes had fallen again and he was staring at the side of her face. How had he noticed her move?
He looked down too, voice strangled when he spoke. “It's okay. Learning means… messing up, I guess.”
“That's not what you said when I first got here, is it?” he could feel her eyes on him again.
He swallowed, mind racing over his own training. Pokemon attacks thrown directly at him with no practice, no pokemon of his own, no weapon besides a wooden ‘blade’ he didn't know how to wield. The scars that wrapped their way around his chest. “I'm learning, too,” his voice was small. His heart raced, this somehow felt like betrayal.
Maybe training this girl was good for him, he hoped, even though that somehow made the feeling worse. Who was he betraying by saying this?
“Was it not okay when… we started?” Yellow implored. Blue could almost hear the doubt on her face although his eyes were still downcast.
His heart beat hard in his chest. It almost hurt, just on the threshold before his breath would begin to come quick and he would get all dizzy. This happened sometimes.
He was glad that he was now strong (even if it tempted him to check how far he could go with pain). He was glad that people couldn't read his face anymore (even if it made it hard to talk to people). He was glad that his pokemon didn't have to fight alone (even if he wished it could have been trained differently).
“I don't know,” he finally choked out, and suddenly he wasn't in their campsite anymore.
There weren't any stars above him.
There was no softly crackling fire.
Instead, he saw stone walls and whites spots in his vision. He could hear the voice of his teacher- he was yelling something. (But what? He couldn't tell.) There was a pokemon too, two of them.
They were his teacher's. (They were owned by someone who was supposed to be teaching him how to be safe.)
And yet the pokemon slashed at him and he was struck to the ground. He screamed. It felt like fire across his arm, he could feel the fabric tear a little.
Vision spotty, he tried to look up but the room was moving too fast. His teacher was screaming at him. Something about fighting back, something about getting stronger.
Then he was struck again. Another scream, it didn't feel like his own anymore.
Was that his blood?
This was too much. Arceus, this was too much! (Could anyone hear his pleas?) Everything hurt, and it was renewed each time another pokemon attack was brought across him. It was too loud as his teacher screamed commands that he couldn't hear anymore and his body felt like it was burning, hurting and beaten as he was.
Finally the pokemon was called off.
He just lay there. He didn't want to admit defeat, he had been planning on getting up… it just hadn't happened.
And just as his teacher began to stalk towards him, he felt someone shake his arm. Someone actually shook his arm, he could feel the contact and it was so much more than anything else he felt- and suddenly the mirage dissipated and he was snapped back to the campsite.
“You spaced out for a moment there,” Yellow breathed.
Blue stared straight forward, there were tears in his eyes, he realized with a start. Had she noticed?
His voice didn't feel real as he spoke. His throat was closed off and the words were twisted in a way that made them not his, somehow. “Did I?”
“Yes,” Yellow nodded.
She was sitting next to him, her hat fallen behind her and the golden hair flowing over his shoulders instead of laying hidden under the straw. Did she know that it was out? Blue looked away, preferring to keep up his dissociated staring contest with the rocks a few feet away from their little camping spot.
“I just…” he spoke before he could think about what he was doing. Something was catching in his throat. “It's hard to get better,”
There was no way she knew what he was talking about, but Yellow nodded anyway. She hesitated before her hand found his shoulder and squeezed. “Do you mean from before?”
“Before what?”
“Before you met me, I guess. Before you met Red?”
Blue's gaze had turned to the fire to his left. His peripheral vision showcased Yellow's worried face, but it was rightfully blurry in comparison with the bright flames that caught his eyes. “Yeah,” he said before his automatic guard could go back up. Before he would stop showing… whatever it was she had somehow broken him open to reveal.
For once, his steely front was down. For once, a fault had broken open and the magma underneath was boiling to come out. Blue didn't know how to stop it, and it burned on the way out. “I'm sorry for yelling earlier,” his voice was quiet, “It's just… how I was taught,”
Yellow hummed, looking down as she squeezed his shoulder. His heart hurt at how she suddenly closed off. He didn't mean to become this.
“I thought I had come out pretty good,” Blue hesitated. His voice felt wrong in the air again, and it tasted like betrayal. “But I don't know anymore, losing Red made me think about it more,”
Looking up at the mention of the boy she was searching for, Yellow finally engaged in the eye contact he was suddenly allowing. A connection like this was dangerous, he was sure.
“You made me think about it, too,” he breathed. Was he really this broken? But he had grown to be such a good trainer! He was strong, both physically and mentally. Pain wasn't something he thought about now. That was a sign of good training right? (He had thought that once, but now he wasn't so sure.)
“I did?” Yellow searched into his eyes. Like what she did with her pokemon when she wanted to know what they were thinking about.
Could she see what he was thinking?
Blue suddenly jerked back, feeling sick suddenly. Yellow yelped as his sudden movement knocked her hand off his shoulder and nearly kicked out her knee from under her kneeling position. His head was spinning with the memory of physic type pokemon and bad dreams. The feeling of his thoughts being torn from his own head and laid out to pick the worst of his fears.
It was something he was trained against, and it was something he was theoretically ready to face.
But he knew he wasn't, not as the magma that was the memories of his training was leaking out of his mouth. Like bile. It tasted sour and acidic, it burned his tongue as he stared at Yellow.
For the first time, he realized dizzily, she was seeing him scared.
For the first time in a very long while, anyone was seeing him scared. Really scared.
“Blue?” Yellow asked slowly, carefully. Like treading on glass.
He swallowed. His teacher had made him walk on glass, once.
Again, Yellow asked. “Are you alright? You seem…”
Jumpy? Nervous? Weak? Pathetic? There were so many words he could think of to fill the void of her empty, unfinished, statement. None of them were words his teacher would have ever allowed him to use in description of a greater trainer than himself, but all of them were words that had been used to describe him during their training. Never in a good light.
But Yellow didn't finish her sentence.
Her worried eyes traveled over his heaving chest and his still-booted feet, cold in their covers nonetheless, to his half-extended arm and racing eyes. It was like he was blocking something. Human contact? A breaking open of his shielded nature? He had frozen under the touch of her hand on his shoulder.
Like he was expecting her to hurt him.
“Oh Blue,” she whispered as she saw the glinting of tears in the corners of his eyes. Then she felt them forming along the edges of her own eyes, burning hot despite everything.
In the light of the fire, the tears shone bright like the stars.
And oh, the older dex-holder looked scared.
Misty hadn't said much about how Blue had been trained. Yellow hadn't really been paying all that much attention, too nervous and too focused on her search for the boy who had saved her life three years back. The only thing she had really caught was something about a powerful gym leader in Johto. Something about scars. Something about how, when he came back, he wasn't the same.
Yellow reached out her arms, slowly as he leaned away from her touch, jaw clenching and brows knitting together. But eventually he let her touch rest on his upper bicep, hand * on the light violet fabric that was his sweatshirt.
They stared at each other, each twisted into an awkward sitting position. Too scared to move lest they break the spell of silence, too scared to change their positions for more comfort. Despite the touch, Yellow was nervous around him. Despite the vague confession of fear Blue had allowed her to see, she was scared he would close off again.
She moved her hand a little further up.
He didn't dare move.
“They said you came back different,” Yellow said softly as her hand reached his jaw, “I think.”
Blue leaned into her touch, eyes rolling shut over his strained expression. He looked tired, and not just because it was late. “Please don't…” his voice was just as strained as the tensed muscles in his arms and chest. He was shaking.
Suddenly, it felt urgent. Yellow leaned forward and grabbed his shoulder with her free hand. Her hip lifted from the ground and she leaned over him, biting her lip as his eyes flew open.
Regret in the form of a quickened heartbeat.
His hand went to hers, clenching over her wrist in surprise as his throat let out a strangled sound halfway between a squeak and a sob. She almost recoiled at the look in his eyes- he looked terrified, but his leg had wrapped around her. An attempt to stay upright.
His mouth had fallen open.
This was dangerous.
“Why?” she asked, voice shaking. It took effort to keep it together. “Why do you yell when I make mistakes? What happened?”
His hand squeezed her wrist tighter, but it didn't seem voluntary. The leg caught behind her tightened, drawing her in closer. Soon their chests were inches apart. “Please don't,” he pleaded.
Yellow didn't listen. “Why? Did you get hurt?”
She must have hit the nail head on because he whimpered. Actually, honest to Arceus, whimpered. She didn't even know that was something he was capable of. “Blue!” she saw the hints of that far-away look in his eyes. She needed to ground him. She tipped forward, and his supporting arm gave out.
His stare became physical again, and he wasn't looking past her anymore.
She stared down at him from her half-kneeling position, both of her hands on opposite sides of his face now. She forced him to look at her, and put everything she had into showing the worry in her eyes. She wanted him to tell her what had happened. She wanted to help him, but she didn't know how.
Blue's jaw was tight as he spoke, eyes closed because there was nowhere to look other than her face. “He had me fight them,”
“What?”
“The pokemon- he gave me a wooden sword and had me fight them,”
Somehow, she hadn't been expecting that. “No!” her voice was loud (but not disbelievingly) and Blue jerked under her, hands flying up to claw at the sides of his head, eyes squeezed tight. It hurt to see, but she couldn't stop now. “Did he- yell at you? Often? Was there medical aid on standby?”
Blue's sob was strangled, head turning to the side despite Yellow's best effort. He turned away from the fire, hiding most of his expression in shadow. But from his body language, Yellow could almost feel his pain in the air. It tasted bitter, and it burned her throat on the way down. Like magma.
Everything was crashing down around them, even in the silence of the desert and under those beautiful stars.
It all hurt.
Yellow didn't know what to do, so she just collapsed on top of him. She reached under his back (lifting him from the ground for a moment) and wrapped her arms around him. He was limp and yet so stiff as his hands flew to her shoulders, a yelp escaping him as so much human contact was suddenly thrown around him.
She squeezed him, her chest pressing flush against his upper stomach, face buried in his shoulder.
She was pretty sure she was crying again, and he hadn't even yelled at her.
(2607 words.)

In-Cabin Daily - 2۞
Fairy-tale: Cinderella (again, some things are based off the Disney movie.)
Genre: Fiction??? (not fairy-tale, I got rid of all the magic)
Cinderella could hear what the little birds were saying, she pretended to herself.
She pretended she could understand what the mice and the rats and all the little creatures that crept through the halls of her step-mother's house asked her. She heard them say hello in the morning and she heard them beg for little snacks out of the kitchen.
Of course she snuck them some, what else was there to lose?
Over time, she learned that they liked other foods more than the cheese she originally saved for them. (The children's stories from when she was young had lied to her, evidently.) Sweet foods, like crumbs of the cookies she baked or the edge of a sweetened pie crust. were liked by quite a few of the little rodents she talked with. Some of them liked vegetables too, or bread. It was evident that they enjoyed food as a whole and not so much individual types.
That perspective made sense to her.
After all, she had to watch her step-mother and those horrible step-sisters enjoy the meals she cooked while only what she remembered to set away was hers. In fact, her stomach rumbled just thinking about it.
Logically, she should have eaten like a king (she was in charge of the food after all). The problem lay in her step-mother's rules, as it always did. If she took too much food (and the number seemed to change day to day, much of the time Cinderella was sure her family only enforced such things because they were bored) there would be punishment.
Sometimes it would come in the form of re-mopping the whole mansion. Sometimes she had to stand on her toes in the corner of the room while they all ate dinner (her calves had grown very strong from the repetition of this specific punishment). There were other ways her step-mother enforced this particular rule as well, but just thinking about them made her blood boil.
In the beginning, this new family hadn't been so bad.
She had always wanted siblings, and her mother's passing had been very difficult to get over. Around her father, her step-mother wasn't cruel and her step-sisters were well behaved. She had even managed to bond with one of them, the ginger one who never watched her as she struggled to stand on her toes in the corner of the room.
But after her father passed away (she still suspected poison), things had changed fast.
The new ruler of the house was the woman her father had married and things got dark quick.
Soon there was no more reading fairy-tales with the red-haired step-sister (she refused to call any of them by name). Instead, chores upon chores upon punishment became her only passtime. That was about when she discovered she could talk to animals, not that she could really say anything back, but it was when she learned to listen to them.
And as her life got more difficult, her step-sisters were given no duties around the house. Cinderella watched the raven-haired one bring over some friends and trash the living room, and then scheme to blame it on her. She couldn't even do anything about it, her step-mother never believed her and she wasn't planning to step out of her hiding spot and tell them off- that would only bring worse trouble.
Though the sister with the red hair did not do such things so outwardly, in fact later that same day Cinderella watched her sneak into the kitchen. She followed her and hid outside the door, peaking just in.
But instead of making a mess, the step-sister looked around nervously and began to bake.
By the temporary mess she made of some of the ingredients and by the order of the steps, she had no idea what she was doing. But it was the thought that counted, and it warmed Cinderella's heart. People didn't do nice things for her very often.
The plate of tiny cookies (if you could call them that) was placed outside the door to her attic room, and as soon as the girl's footsteps disappeared down the stairs, Cinderella opened the door and picked up the platter of treats. There was no note to go with it, and the cookies had an oddly cake-like texture, but they were good anyway. Cinderella shared them with some of the mice who liked to stay in her bedroom and then hid the evidence.
Her step-mother wouldn't notice just one plate gone and she didn't have time to sneak it back down to the kitchen before her and the black-haired step sister got home from their daily shopping spree. (They were wasting money that had once been her inheritance.)
As she imagined, she was called down to the kitchen soon after. (In theory, she was not permitted to leave her room once all of her chores were done and her step-mother did not trust her to begin cooking until she was home. It wasn't like she was worried about her burning herself, or even poison because she never watched her cook. It was just another one of the annoyingly stupid rules that she had to follow.)
It only registered as dull amazement that her step-sister had cleaned up after herself because her step-mother was there barking orders at her. A salad with the expensive English dressing she had bought from the merchant by the waterway, and slices of ham with the new seasoning from the seller who supplied the royal kitchen.
The meal went quicker than it could have and she was sent back up to her room without any punishment. (She had cleaned up the mess which had been left behind from earlier and her step-mother was none the wiser.)
As she passed by the step-sister who had given her the treats she shot her a smile which was very hesitantly returned.
Hesitant or not, it made her grin like a maniac once she reached her room.
Cinderella hadn't had friends in years because she was kept on the manor's property all day. If this could mean friendship, or a sisterly bond even, she was beyond ecstatic. There was always the danger of her step-mother being mad at it for some reason, but honestly that was something she was willing to risk.
She had risked it in the past and since the rules were so hard to discern, she always ended up getting in trouble no matter what she did.

In the following weeks, then turning into the following months, she and the red-haired step sister (who she now called by her actual name- Anastasia) grew a little closer. They still didn't talk much, but mutual tolerance led to Cinderella gifting Anastasia a plate of cookies in return for the treats she had been given, along with a thank you note.
Anastasia bought her a book of fairy-tales and Cinderella made her a pair of very nice gloves.
It was nice to have a friend, even if they still barely talked.
Her other step-sister, who she still refused to call by name, was just as nasty as ever. She was a year older than Anastasia and therefore two years older than Cinderella but she acted like she was an adult already when she was not. According to the rules of marriage, she was old enough to get a husband but she was still not what Cinderella would call an adult.
She was too immature.
Too petty.

And then a message was sent out from the royal family.
There was to be a ball and the prince would choose one lady to be his wife. He had no siblings and no living uncles, so securing the position as his wife was a promise to be the queen eventually.
As anyone could guess, the women of the town went absolutely ga-ga over this news. Dressmakers sales must have gone up by at least seventy percent and all the hair-stylists in town were forced to learn new techniques for hair lengths they had never dealt with before.
Cinderella's step-mother was too old to go to the ball as a potential wife, but her daughters were the right age. (Of course she didn't permit Cinderella to prepare for the ball, yelling at her when the very idea was brought up, but Cinderella wanted to go anyway. Maybe not even to marry the prince but to just get out for once.)
So she worked to make a dress out of the fabric she had kept in her room since her mother's passing.
It was old and worn, but somehow that made the colors shine brighter. A beautiful pink and violet piece, with good shaping techniques she had learned from helping her step-mother dress on some busy mornings it would be wonderful. Not fully in fashion, but good enough.
As usual, she was going to have a hard time finding shoes because she feet were really quite small, so the skirt swept the floor dramatically. Almost all skirts for dances and the like were such lengths, but she made very particular measurements to make sure her worn out shoes would not be shown. If the royal family saw them, they would probably take offense.
But when she walked downstairs in her gown, her step-mother only laughed at her and the step-sister she hated even threw some food at her, because she presented her outfit during dinner. She narrowly avoided the piece of chicken and the bit of mashed potatoes that followed it before turning tail and racing back up the stairs to her room.
She didn't know what she had expected, and she hadn't expected a good response.
But it still hurt to be turned down like that.

She could hear her step-mother and step-sisters getting ready, but she hadn't been called down to help them dress. Somehow, it felt merciful, even though it meant she was stuck in her room.
Splayed out on her bed, still in the beautiful gown she had sewn for an occasion she couldn't attend, Cinderella cried. She cried for her father even though he was gone. She cried for the mother she had lost so young, and for the future it seemed she would never have. She cried because her work was going to waste and she cried because she couldn't hope for anything.
And then she heard a knock on the door.
Cinderella froze. Was it her step-mother who came to destroy her dress? Was it the step-sister who had thrown food at her? Her throat seemed to close up around itself.
But the door opened and Anastasia stood in the small space.
Her hair was done up and her dress was beautiful, if out of fashion just as her own. Cinderella even saw the powder and gloss on her face, the pink tint on her cheeks that was definitely faked.
Anastasia tentatively stepped into the space, surveying the leaking ceiling and the stacks of old books and fabric in the corners, her hands clasped in front of her. Cinderella didn't know what to say or why she was there, just stared back as Anastasia looked into her face.
“I'm sorry for my sister,” she started awkwardly.
Cinderella sniffled, trying not to seem too surprised. They had been friendly as of recent, it shouldn't have been unbelievable. (But she still expected only insults.)
“For- for what it's worth,” Anastasia took a step towards her, “I think your dress is beautiful,”
“Thank you,” Cinderella sniffed, “I like yours too,”
Anastasia gingerly sat down on the edge of the bed, her huge skirts laying out around them next to Cinderella's slightly thinner outfit. She hummed, “I don't think the prince will marry me,”
Cinderella looked at her, “Why not?”
Shrugging, Anastasia pursed her lips. “I think it's unrealistic, my dress is pretty- sure. But it's out of fashion and old. I don't know how to act around royals, not like my mother,”
“Ah,” Cinderella responded. “I'd like to think he'd marry you though, not your sister,”
Anastasia laughed weakly, “That would be something. I wonder what she'd do,”
“Probably throw food at me,” Cinderella tried to joke, and Anastasia giggled.
No one spoke for a moment, but Cinderella felt comforted.
“You should go to the ball anyway,” Anastasia said slowly. “Sneak out, avoid my mother. She won't see you,”
Cinderella whipped to her, “What? Are you crazy?”
“I think you should, it stinks that you've been kept in this house for the past few years- you deserve a step-mother who cares about you,”
Dumbfounded, Cinderella looked back at the floor. “She wouldn't ever let me, she'd be so angry if I snuck out,”
“I'd tell her I told you to,” Anastasia offered, but Cinderella shook her head.
“She wouldn't believe that, and I'd get punished anyway,”
Anastasia looked down at the floor too, clearly thinking hard. “What if you wore a veil? And some of my jewelry?”
“You'd let me do that?” Cinderella asked hopefully.
“Sure,” Anastasia bit her lip, “I want to be… a better person than I have been,”
Cinderella smiled, “Thank you, really,”
“So you're going?”
“I'll think about it- do you think you can bring up some of your jewelry?”

She ended up sneaking to the ball.
With the help of a boy driving a carriage with his sister in it, she was dropped off at the castle. She thanked the boy and his sister, who were both dressed in much less than she (the king had invited every girl in the kingdom after all), and headed inside.
The veil felt like a lie as she passed her step-family, but neither of the people she was worried about noticed her. Anastasia did shoot her a thumbs up though, which she appreciated.
Out of everything at the ball, the food was her favorite. The royal cooks really knew what they were doing!
After that, dancing was something she enjoyed much more than she had expected. In her free-time, Cinderella sometimes practiced dance steps, although she had no one to practice with. But now, she was dancing with other people and it really was something!
To her grand surprise, the prince ended up dancing with her.
In theory, he was supposed to dance with everyone, but there were so many people there that such a thing was clearly hard to keep track of. She didn't know him, of course, but she liked how awkward he acted around the girls insistent on marrying him. Somehow, such a reaction made her trust him more.

“I like your dress,” he told her as they were swirling around on the dance floor, “It's very… different,”
She blushed under her veil, unsure of how to talk to a prince. “Thank you, um, your Highness,”
He chewed on his lower lip, “You don't have to use that title, when my father's not around,”
“But your Highness-”
“Please? Just talk to me like you would to someone else.”

“I don't really want to have this ball,” he confessed to her as they walked through the gardens, arm in arm.
Cinderella looked at him, Anastasia's expensive jewelry clinking together as she moved. “Really?”
They had grown more comfortable talking to each other over the past few nights, there were three nights to the festivities so that the prince would have enough time to properly choose a wife. Most of the people coming to the ball had a dress for each night, but Cinderella only had two. One was the first dress she had made specifically for this and another was a modified gown of Anastasia's that she didn't wear anymore.
“Yes,” the Prince said, “I don't feel ready to get married,”
“If it helps,” Cinderella said, “My s- friend, doesn't feel ready either, but her mother sent her anyway,”
“I feel like a lot of people here are in a similar boat,” he nodded, sighing. “But my father is insistent and I can't disobey the king,”
Cinderella hummed and gently squeezed his arm.
They fell into silence as they walked through the beautiful gardens, the moon glinted off the little pools of water and the fountains, and some flowers were still open to the night sky. Cinderella didn't know what the garden looked like during the day, but it was beautiful at night.
“Are you… ready to be married?” the Prince asked her, a layer to his voice that she couldn't quite place.
She looked at him, “I don't know, I've never been married before,”
“Me neither,” he swallowed thickly, “But… I could be. If it was with you,”
She nearly tripped over her skirts in surprise, “W-what?”
“You're nice to talk to,” the Prince said, apologetically. “And it doesn't seem like you're only after me for my fortune- but we could stay friends, maybe, if I marry someone else,”
Her mouth had fallen open in surprise, head spinning. “But what about all the other beautiful girls?” she denied the thoughts of this actually happening, it couldn't be real. Nothing good even seemed to stick with her.
…But she wanted it to be true.
“Sorry,” the Prince apologized, “It's… okay if you don't want to- I could find someone else,”
“No, no,” she said quickly, “It sounds alright, you're much nicer to me than most people I have to talk to, I was just surprised,”
“Surprised? I'd think a lot of people would want to marry you,”
She laughed, “I don't get out much,”
“Is that why you have to go home before midnight?”
Cinderella chewed her bottom lip nervously, glancing up at the sky and seeing that the moon was not quite at the center of the sky. “My step-mother would be angry if she found me gone,”
“Why?” he implored, emotion suddenly filling his voice. Worry, he sounded worried for her.
Cinderella shrugged, “I… I don't know, it's just always been like that since my father passed,”
The Prince looked down at the stone path they were gliding over, gently and poised as if everything was in their control. “Can I… can I at least see your face? So I can find you again?”
She looked at him, veil trembling as she breathed. “You want to find me again?”
“Tonight's the last night,” he offered, “And I want to marry you,”
Cinderella blushed, “Okay.”
“Really?” he asked, looking at her in surprise. Did he expect her to deny him? “Can I lift your veil?”
Her face flushed, “I'm… I'm not wearing any make up,”
“That's alright,” his voice sounded tight with excitement. She had to go soon. “I just want to be able to recognize you,”

He led her out of the garden as soon as the clock struck eleven, knowing that she walked home every night and the trek was a struggle in her long skirts.
“I'll find you,” he promised, “And then we can get married,”
“Just make sure my step-mother doesn't kill you first,” she joked. Why did this feel like a final goodbye?
The Prince smiled, “She won't.”
And with one last bow and one last curtsey, Cinderella headed down the stairs and off into the night.
(3186 words.)

Water - 1۞
I've got a bassoon lesson and am nervous, so water is a thing that I drank. Also I drank milk because my mom bought a new gallon when we weren't quite finished with the other one and there wasn't any room in the fridge. xD I much prefer the milk to the water to be honest, but I can see how it isn't most people's style. I just really like drinking it. Like, yes calcium!!! Also it tastes good (as long as it hasn't been frozen, in which case I tend to notice it has an odd aftertaste? I don't know if anyone else notices that).
(106 words.)

Walk - 1۞
The sky's all gray today, which is nice because it's been so blindingly hot out for the last few weeks. I bet the plants are very happy! They seem like it anyway, especially the blue berries- which I don't really like all that much but they are infinitely better right out of the garden than out of a store. I guess I don't like soft berries, so growing them means that I can eat them a little early. Like, sure it messes with the flavor a little bit, but it's better than having the weirdly soft, overgrown ones that the stores tend to be supplied with.
(I still don't get the obsession with huge berries, I know it's because of the Green Revolution because ~AP World~ but I don't get it. They end up tasting kinda weird a lot of the time, not gonna lie. Also, I'm aware that's a super privileged thing to say, but I feel like it's true a lot of the time.)
(166 words.)

Day six: 3۞ in total. (4314 words in total.)

Main Cabin Daily (ft. PKSP Gold/Silver + bad writing :() - 3۞
Horoscope used from this project: Taurus (randomized)
I'm gonna preface this by saying that I'm aware this writing is really bad! It's not complete either, but I'm quite honestly too tired right now to finish it.
I've been practicing bassoon a ton and my arm hurts really bad (still tryna find how to fix that) and I'm very tired.
(I'll be honest, this was more to get the idea out than anything.)
The last few days had been hard.
It felt like no matter where he went there was always something going wrong. Something he ended up fixing even though no one gave him credit. Even though no one trusted what he said or what he did.
Even after he risked his life and sacrificed himself countless times, proved to be a valuable member of the Johto trio, and helped fish Red out of one of the worst bouts of depression he had experienced… he was never enough. There was always an expectation he didn't quite meet, a bar that only seemed to be set for himself.
It was starting to get to him.
People really did hate him, didn't they?
He was Gold, after all, it wasn't like he could blame those who thought that was.
Some trainer from the suburbs who just so happened to have been gifted a pokedex. (Worst of all, it was really more like he had stolen it and- with the taste of bitter sarcasm- that fact did wonders for his reputation. Obviously.) He wasn't someone that deserved anything, if everyone else was right.
What they thought of him had become who he was- or maybe it always had.
That one famous Johto trainer that people laughed at, comic relief in the worst way. (He hated being in the position he was in, but after years and years of this same treatment it seemed like it would never change.) People thought of him as one of the weaker trainers even if they had no reason to believe so, and even his fellow dex-holders never seemed to take him seriously.
Things only seemed to get worse whenever he tried to prove himself. Then people would call him a liar- think to themselves about how ridiculous he was, talk behind his back. Call him names and compare him to his friends.
It was all getting under his skin, an itch to do something that he couldn't quite explain.
He wanted to leave.
Leave Johto, leave his duties behind. See how they would do without him.
(Just like a stupid, kid's movie supervillain. Arceus, they were all right, weren't they? He was pathetic.)

“Why me?” Gold would say aloud to himself, staring up at the ceiling of his room during long nights of tossing and turning.
He deserved all of this.
All of this bad treatment, all of these lies spread about him, all of the hate he had learned to harbor within himself. It was only right: he hadn't met their standards. It didn't matter that no one else had to meet those standards, of course.
But he didn't want to be someone else, even though all of that. Even as people made fun of his name and disgraced his being time and time again. Even as his very involvement in saving the world- multiple times, he might add- was swept aside. Pushed under the rug to tell him that he meant nothing.
Somehow, someway, he kept fighting it.
It didn't make sense, he didn't know why he did it.
But he did.

Silver didn't say bad things about him, as far as he knew.
He probably thought such things, as was the fashion, but the mere fact that he didn't say them (in front of Gold or otherwise) meant a lot to him. Not many people did such nice things for him, as horribly low as that set the bar.
So it was decided, just like that. Gold would go to see Silver. A talk would clear his head. (Heck, an argument would have the same effect. Just… anything but keeping it inside any longer. Gold felt like he was going to tear himself apart at this rate.)
So he shot Silver a text on their shared messaging system, not bothering to keep up his regular ‘I’m fine' persona this time. If he was going to talk to Silver, he was going to do it right this time. (Honestly he had no idea where this crazy idea had come from, but it suddenly became his life-line. An obsession, if you will. Instantaneous and all-powerful, hypnotically captivating to the point that he couldn't think about anything else.)
They would just talk about how he felt, if that was alright with Silver.
If not, well.
Gold was already considering getting better friends.

Just as he expected, Silver arrived by Murkrow and dropped down onto Gold's front lawn. Then, spotting Gold in the window, waved ‘hello’ and sauntered up to the door.
Gold got it for him, welcoming his fellow trainer inside with an over-dramatic flourish of his hand. (The persona was back, he supposed, if only for a second.)
And it was only for a second, because Silver clearly saw through him. Oddly enough, Gold saw hints of worry in his face. He had been conditioned to expect only jeering, so this was oddly encouraging.
“What did you want to talk to me about?” Silver asked tentatively, slipping his shoes off in the entryway. Silver wasn't exactly one to press, but Gold could tell when he wanted to know more.
“Oh you know,” Gold waved his hand, voice gilded as it always was. Nervous and rotting on the inside and coated in a good amount of pride. It was how Silver knew him to speak- how all of his friends recognized his personality.
Silver shook his head. “No, I don't. What's wrong?”
To be honest, Gold hadn't expected to get this far. His throat suddenly went dry, the situation made worse by how tired he was. So many different ways to phrase his next sentence whirled into his brain. Honest confessions, various angry rants, the good old ‘break down in tears’ line. But instead, his mouth just opened and closed.
Like a fish.
“What is it?” Silver pressed, frowning into his face and looking him over for injuries or something like that- Gold didn't know. He couldn't read thoughts.
A long pause.
“Just… dizzy?” Gold tried, voice tiny, when Silver scowled at him (threatening to ask again). Unsure of how to really describe it, Gold shrugged. “I guess. I feel dizzy- bad, I mean.”
“Are you sick?” Silver asked him.
“No,” Gold bit his lip, “But people are making me sick,”
(1042 words.)
yeah it stinks : (

All That is Disconsolate is Without You - Chloenette+Ladynoir, Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction
Chapter Two: Forced Building Of Trust CONTINUED FROM DAY TWO!!
Marinette couldn’t say it didn’t worry her a bit, but she was so preoccupied with Chloe that it was hard to focus on Adrien. She knew him well enough, they had been friends for a few years at this point, but she still tended to feel awkward around him when he was acting like this.
She didn’t know why he was so nervous all of a sudden but she could relate.
After Chloe let her know about the Mayor knowing her identity it felt like every little noise was a jumpscare. Every mention of Ladybug had her running for the hills, figuratively speaking of course. Having Alya talk about the Ladyblog was always nerve wracking but this was like nothing else.
And that’s why she ended up talking to Chloe.
At lunch, she skipped a meet-up with Alya and Nino knowing that they would probably just be talking about the newest superhero drama and instead went after Chloe. She was going to a little bakery on the corner. (Not as good as Marinette’s parent’s bakery of course, but the cooking was still fine in her opinion.)
When Marinette tapped her on the shoulder, it surprised her so much she dropped her phone.
Luckily for her the case was good and the phone screen stayed intact, but it was enough to encourage a little flare-up of her old bullying personality.
“Who do you think you-!” She turned around in fury, but her words died in her throat as she saw Marinette standing there (and looking slightly horrified at the chaos she had basically caused).
Marinette had tapped her on the shoulder.
Ladybug had tapped her on the shoulder.
Chloe’s face turned beet red, “Oh- I, uh,”
Marinette tried to smile at her, but it only came across as nervous.
“Sorry,” Chloe sighed, rubbing her face. “I’m really trying to not do that anymore- just got a lot on my mind.”
Awkwardly, Marinette smiled at her. It looked a little fake, more like a plea to step outside (out of the earshot of the other customers who were already staring at them) and talk. Some naive, stupid part of Chloe even wanted to interpret it as more- but such things were foolish and unrealistic. She shoved it down.
Soon, her meal was delivered to her and Chloe quickly paid for it.
Then she headed out of the store, feeling her heartbeat in her throat as Marinette followed her. To be honest, talking to Ladybug wasn’t very high on her to-do list at the moment, even though it really should have been. It was scary to face her now, knowing how much trouble she had caused her in the past. (Ladybug’s forgiving nature almost made things worse. It meant she couldn’t know what Marinette was really forgiving and what she just said she was, as the bug-themed hero was known to do.)
“Chloe,” Marinette said apprehensive as the door to the bakery shut. “Can we talk? Please? I really need to go over some things,”
Nervousness bubbled inside her, but who was she to turn down one of Paris’ original heroes?
“Y-yeah?”
(519 words.)

Celebrity Crushes and Identity Reveals - Crackfic, Identity Reveals. Chloenette+Julerose and other background/unrequited things.
When Alya and Nino told Marinette they were dating, it was pretty casual (and a teasing invite to a double date with them, even though she didn't have a boyfriend).
When Ivan and Mylène revealed their relationship, it was kind of by accident and sort of on purpose, but no one was surprised in the slightest.
Nathaniel told Marinette about him and Marc personally, as they had grown closer over the years.
And when Rose and Juleka were finally ready to tell their friends that they were dating it was done at a girls night out specifically called for that reason. (Well, more like a girl's night hanging out in Marinette's room, as usual.)
Honestly, none of the girls were surprised- but it was nice that they told them. (Pretty much everyone had seen it coming from a mile away, of course, even Chloe who pretended she didn't pay attention to her classmates.)
But since that's what the ‘girl’s meeting' was called for, they needed something else to do after it.
And with a little too much push from Alya, the conversation quickly shifted to celebrity crushes. (Marinette was sure that Alya was intending to turn the conversation to getting her with Adrien, but no one else seemed to catch on.)
“I'm thinking,” Alya was saying, “That Carapace is mine, I just like the outfit I guess,”
A couple of the girls giggled, it was kind of a funny thought.
Marinette smiled to herself, knowing the full depth of this confession. It was adorable how her friends were in love, and she was now realizing she would have to experience that same ‘aw’ moment with the two girlfriends that sat on the bed next to her.
For other responses, Marinette sighed and admitted to liking Adrien. Absolutely no one was surprised at this. (Though she had expected Chloe to get mad, but she did not).
Juleka said something about liking Pigella, and Rose elbowed her pretty hard in the side. That caught Marinette of guard, she didn't know that Juleka knew Rose's identity as a superhero, but she quickly recovered. Pigella wasn't used very often anyway, so it wouldn't put them in too much danger if they were aware. (Honestly, it would probably be more dangerous to remind them of the whole ‘secret identity’ rule and, more specifically, why it existed.)
Alix said something vague about a professional women's weightlifter, to which Rose cheered and Alya laughed.
Kagami was there too, of course, and she reminded them all that she didn't have crushes on people. To which there was a chorus of ‘valid’ from the room. Mylène then said something about only liking Ivan, which Kagami seemed to understand more than anyone else (her response was complete with one of her signature curt nods).
All of the answers went a similar way, accepted and moved on from (which quelled some of Marinette's nervousness).
Finally it came time for Chloe to speak, she had been avoiding answering for the entire conversation. That was funny, because pretty much everyone knew she had a crush on Adrien.
Right?
“Come on girl,” Alya insisted, “I might not get along with you all the time but this is important!”
She laughed as Chloe rolled her eyes, “That doesn't make it more likely that I'm going to answer,”
The chorus of ‘come on’ and ‘just lie if you have to’ rose up.
Chloe chewed on her bottom lip, “It's just super embarrassing, you know?”
Alix laughed, “That's what I thought, but apparently people agree with me,”
“The problem is that people will agree too much,” Chloe rolled her eyes.
Marinette giggled, “Just say it's Adrien, that means you and I have good taste!” Wow, she was in a bold mood today.
It has been years since Chloe had attempted to be nice to people. She'd already attempted this a few times, but this time it seemed to be permanent. Sure she slipped up every now and again and yelled at people occasionally, but what mattered was that she was really trying and she didn't hurt people on purpose anymore.
With all that in mind, Marinette thought she was okay to hang out with and was fine with bringing her to a girl's night.
Chloe blinked at her, face flushing. “Oh, I got over Adrien. When I actually asked him to date me he turned me down and I decided that being friends with him was more important,”
Everyone stared open mouthed at her, shocked by the sudden transparency.
“What?” she blushed, “Is that really that unbelievable?”
Alya shrugged, “You tell me- you've been after him for, like, ten years. I'm a little surprised,”
Chloe blushed, covering her face in embarrassment. “This was a bad idea,”
“Oh come on,” Alix laughed.
Rose cocked her head to the side. “You don't have to say if you don't want to, it's just that…”
“It would be interesting?” Chloe agreed, nodding thoughtfully. “And you all said something, to be alright to say- right?”
“Yeah,” Marinette nodded, “What we say here always stays between us, this conversation isn't an exception,”
Alya nodded, “Even though it would be fun to talk about it outside of here, that's the rule,”
Chloe seem to think for a moment, all the other girls basically on the edge of their seats. (Except Kagami, who didn't seem all that interested in the conversation.)
“Okay fine,” she gave in, “But none of you are expecting this, so don't freak out?”
It was asked like a question, so everyone nodded.
Sighing with effort, Chloe put her hands on either side of her head. She was blushing furiously. “Ladybug,” she said finally.
There was silence for a beat, and then everything exploded into a ruckus of sound, shocked exclamations mixing with cheers of ‘she finally admits it!’
Chloe put her head in her hands, embarrassed.
Marinette, on the other hand, was frankly in a state of shock. Her mouth had fallen open and she was pretty sure she was paler than normal, judging by how she looked in the mirror across the room.
No way.
Chloe had a crush on… her???
“Wait, what?” Marinette sounded aghast even though the real emotion was just surprise (and maybe even some relief, deep down in the Ladybug recesses of her mind).
Alya was laughing hysterically, “What, you jealous girl?”
“I- no,” Marinette clarified, “I'm just a little shocked, I'd've thought it would be Chat Noir. That's all,”
Chloe let after barking laugh, “I never really had a crush on Chat Noir- and I gave up any thought of that when I gave up romantic pursuit in Adrien. They're too similar,”
Paleing at the thought of her partner being Adrien, have Chloe speech seemed to suggest, Marinette shook her head. “They're not that similar,”
“I think you're in denial,” Kagami put a finger to her chin. “They act alike,”
“Pft,” Marinette shook her head, frankly still reeling from the Ladybug confession. “No way,”
Alya squeezed in next to Marinette on the couch, “Believe what you want, but I have some nice Photoshop editing that says he looks a lot like Chat in a black mask,”
“Yeah,” Alix agreed, “It's kind of freaky,”
“Chat Noir is not Adrien Agreste,” Marinette shook her head, “They'd as soon be the same person as-” she fumbled for an example, choosing to shut down the conversation by making a jab at Alya before things got too out of hand. “-Rena Rouge and Alya,”
Alya turned to beat red, “What? I don't even look like her,”
“I dunno~” Marinette teased in a sing-songy voice.
Juleka shook her head still thinking over the whole conversation. “No, Miraculous' change how you look extremely, Adrien being Chat Noir would be too obvious,” she fished for an example in the air the same way of Marinette had, “just like you being Ladybug, it's too much of an easy answer,”
“I-” Marinette tried, but she couldn't come up with a good response. Oh, this had gone wrong, hadn't it?
Raising her eyebrows at Marinette, Alya looked her up and down. “Or,” she suggested to the room at large, “Marinette is Ladybug, Chloe doesn't look all that different when she's Queen Bee,”
“Alya!” Marinette hissed, “Don't start rumors,”
“Everything stays in this room, though,” Alya reasoned, “So it couldn't be a rumor,”
Kagami nodded at that, “She's right,”
Rose giggled, “Marinette, do you just so happen to have a pair of spotted earrings on?”
Paleing, Marinette felt everyone's eyes shift to her ears. It was true, she did even though the spots were black and gray when Tikki wasn't giving her powers. “C-come on guys, I've had these earrings for years,”
“So has Ladybug,” Alix teased.
“Yeah, but mine aren't magical,” Marinette reminded her.
It was a sound argument, not that she had any proof to go with it. (But it wasn't like she had any proof to go against it either.)
She looked around the room for support, but everyone either seem to be thinking it over quite seriously or just very amused by this new turn of conversation. Chloe, she noticed, was staring at her face rather intensely.
It made her blush.
Then Chloe spoke, a voice kind of soft but loud enough to break through the commotion that was the rest of the girls' giggles. “You should say ‘spots on’ then, Marinette,” she mused, half to herself and half to the room.
Unfortunately for Marinette, Alya heard this.
She gasped, “Yes! That's true, thanks Chloe,”
“No, no, I-” Marinette waved her hands, trying to shift the conversation away to no avail.
Even if not quite everyone had heard Chloe suggest it, everyone's attention was grabbed by Alya asking again. “Marinette, just say ‘spots on’, it's an easy way to prove you're not Ladybug,”
Marinette's brain was at a standstill, should she blush protectively or become so pale she blended in with the new white wallpaper? That would be camouflage, at least.
Juleka was squinting at her, Rose and Alix were poised eagerly as if ready to attack. Mylène frankly looked more nervous than Marinette, which was quite comforting. What worried her but how interested both Alya and Chloe looked. (Kagami as usual was kind of just looking at her, but Marinette could tell after years of them being close that she was also interested.)
Biting her lip, Marinette tried to reason with them. “Guys I can't just-”
“Why not?” Alix teased, “Too scared you'll turn into a superhero?”
Marinette put her head in her hands.
“Honestly,” Alya said after a beat, “This is proving that you're Ladybug more than transforming could have.”
Rose nodded wisely and Marinette groaned.
“Fine,” she said with great effort. Everyone leaned forward in their seats. Welp, there was absolutely no going back now! “Tikki,” she said with very little of her usual vigor, “Spots on, I guess.”
And with a flash of pink light, a very unimpressed (and very embarrassed) Ladybug was sitting on the couch between Alya and Juleka.
The room erupted.
“You know when I said my celebrity crush was Ladybug?” she caught Chloe saying to Rose, who was squealing like a fangirl. “I was wrong, my celebrity crush is Marinette,”
Ladybug made a strangled sound in the back of her throat and put her head back in her hands. She couldn't believe she had just done that. Couldn't believe she had just revealed her identity to a roomful of her classmates. Couldn't believe Chloe had a crush on her, still! Even after knowing she was just Marinette.
Gosh, she had a lot to think about.
When the room had slightly calmed down, although Rose looked slightly faint from all her excited squeaking, Marinette decided to do something bold. A little while ago she had given out all the ‘backup’ heroes their Miraculouses, of course carefully directing them to only use their powers when she said to. (It was dangerous to have everyone involved every time.)
“Alright everyone,” she used her superhero voice slightly by accident and everyone immediately turned to look at her, “It's now your turns to spill the beans, Alya- you first,”
“No, wait! But I-!” Alya tried, holding up her hands in some mock self-defense. Everyone's eyes shot the necklace around her neck.
“I thought that was a replica,” Chloe blinked.
Alya blushed, “I-it is?”
“No it's not Alya,” Ladybug shook her head, then pointed to her best friend dramatically like she was about to yell ‘objection!’ (She supposed she sort of just had.) “…or should I say: Rena Rouge!”
Alya crossed her arms, frowning. “But I'm not?”
“Liar!” Rose giggled, “Daizzi, rejoice!”
A second pink flash of the night, and Pigella was sitting next to Juleka- who smiled very widely. Ladybug giggled as Alya jumped in surprise.
“You're Pigella?” she gasped.
“Yes!” Rose, or rather Pigella, laughed. “She gave it to me out of panic and I rarely use it, but I like having a Miraculous on me, it makes me feel safer,”
Ladybug frowned, “Even though revealing your identity outside of the people here would make things very dangerous?”
“Yes,” Rose nodded in a way that said she really meant it.
Alya was still staring at her in shock. Ladybug giggled. “W-well,” Alya stuttered, trying to get back on her feet, “I guess then it doesn't matter. Trixx, let's pounce!”
An orange flash of light.
Then Juleka transformed into Purple Tigress, which Rose squealed very joyfully in response to. (Ha, that made sense- what with the pig Miraculous and all.)
After her, Alix turned into Bunnix and Mylène very tentatively showed everyone her Miraculous, but didn't transform. Ladybug could understand that, even she was a little nervous of one of her parents peeking into her room and seeing a bunch of superheros where her friends should have been. Heck, she was always nervous about that.
Finally, Kagami uttered her catch phrase and became Ryuko. Now, other than Mylène, only Chloe was not in a superhero form. But to Marinette's surprise, she was grinning.
“Oh my gosh, Ladybug,” she said in awe as she looked around the room, “Were you planning a class meetup or something?”
“Uhm-” Ladybug flushed, feeling kind of awkward to be referred to by her hero name by someone who knew her identity. “I mean, it wasn't purposeful- I just gave the Miraculouses to people I knew and who happened to be there, but I guess I sort of was,”
“That's hilarious,” Chloe grinned.
Alya, now Rena Rouge of course, but still lounging on the couch in her signature way, looked at Ladybug in a bemused way. “Marinette,” she said (and oh, that sounded even more awkward!), “Are the other heroes also in our class?”
“I, um,” Ladybug tried to come up with an excuse, some way to hide the rest of their identities because they weren't the ones letting everyone know. But there was nothing. Defeated, she kicked her foot against the floor. “…Yes.”
Alya cackled, and in her hero form it sounded very disturbingly like a series of fox sounds. Kind of like how Pigella laughing sometimes included a snort or two- or how Chat purred when he was happy.
Oh.
Oh no, Chat.
“But,” Marinette furrowed her brow, “I don't think Chat goes to our school,”
Chloe laughed at her, although not in the rude sense of such an idea. “You're still in denial, huh?”
“Denial about wha- no! No guys,” she shook her head, “He's not Adrien, there's no way,”
Alya laughed teasingly, “You've got two hot blonds after you, and one of them is probably Adrien Agreste~!”
Flushing as red as her mask, Ladybug barely had time to process that Alya had just jokingly referred to Chloe as a ‘hot blonde’. (She supposed it was true, but still.) “No way! He's not Chat Noir,”
“Why don't we call him right now?” Purple Tigress suggested, smirking.
“Yeah!” Pigella chorused, and Alya grinned, nodding in agreement.
Bunnix was grinning in a way that frankly made Ladybug nervous, “How about I go get him?”
“Or me,” Ryuko offered, “I have the wind mode, after all,”
Mylène was frowning nervously as the other girls schemed and Ladybug looked at her for help. But to her disappointment, instead of giving help Mylène just shrugged (if a bit shakily). “It would be interesting to see if he's Adrien,” she admitted, and Bunnix cheered.
Ladybug felt dizzy as Ryuko phased away into the wind and shot out the window.
How in the world had they got here from a simple relationship reveal?
(2753 words.)

Day seven: 6۞ in total. (1389 words in total.)

Main Cabin Daily - 3۞
“She was not”
(3 words ig.)

In-Cabin Daily - 2۞
The queen and her army in red and black,
rebel forces taking from the rich with
merchants and their items in a great sack:
together have beaten all- like a myth.

Joining together despite everything,
in words and in heart (all the points combine)
and we balance together on a string.
Our cabin refused to fall out of line.

Now we sit at the top- our pedestal
to gaze at those less-fortunate below.
It is only with teamwork, friendly gall,
and hope that our trophy is now aglow.

So look at those in second place or less
and thank them for this writing camp! God bless.
(106 words.)
I decided to do a Shakespearean/English sonnet lol, poetry is not my strong suit.

Water *throwing up emoji* - 1۞
Okay, so initially I thought it was going to be a ‘good water drink’ because the first half of the first cup I had actually? Tasted? Okay??? It was a shock, honestly. (You know those memes about getting up at three AM because you're thirsty and getting a drink of that ~sweet, sweet 3 AM water~? Yeah, it was like that, except it's not three AM.) It's just because I'm dehydrated of course, but it was still epic.
…But then the rest of the cup was kind of gross, but still drinkable after I shook it around a bit. (I am kinda like those cats that only drink moving water, usually I can only drink straight out of the sink. Yeah. Cursed irl!Starthorn lore, there you go.)
However the second cup actually almost made me throw up. Would not recommend water, I should just drink milk instead, but the gallon is out aaaa
(154 words.)

All That is Disconsolate is Without You - Chloenette, Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction
Chapter Three: Building Trust: Reprise
Marinette talked while she and Chloe walked back to the school, her voice low but desperate. Chloe was stiff as she listened, facing directly forward and sipping from a coffee she had picked up.
“I should have- we should have done this sooner,” Marinette had said apologetically, “But I kept getting sidetracked on things and I'm nervous and…” She had trailed off there, twiddling with her fingers, “Yeah. Yeah, just scared to confront things- or you,”
Chloe hummed.
Sighing, Marinette brushed her hair behind her ear. “Sorry, I'm not who you expected to be Ladybug, am I?”
“I…” Chloe trailed off, then shrugged. “I didn't expect it to be anyone, so you were no less of a possibility in my mind,”
Marinette bit her lip, remembering all the horrible things Chloe had said to her over their school careers. She felt a pit in her stomach- pointing not exactly in the direction she needed the conversation to go, but no time like the present to get things over with. “Did you apologize to me because I'm Ladybug?”
Chloe looked at her, expression morphing from forced indifference through a series of disgruntled surprise, indignity, and finally apologetic shame. She looked away, eyes filling with some deep emotion Marinette didn't get a good enough look at. “I've wanted to apologize for a while- to you and to everyone, but mostly you,”
“Mostly me?” Marinette was a bit surprised, thinking of all the other people who had been hurt by the girl walking along beside her. All the akuma victims she and Chat had been forced to fight because of Chloe's actions. “Why?”
Chloe took a very purposeful sip from her coffee, trying to seem more natural but instead coming off as more nervous. “Realized some things,” the answer was resolved and obviously vague.
Marinette wasn't quite sure what to think of it, looking Chloe over for body language hints a moment longer before looking away. For some reason, her heart was in her throat. “Ah,”
“Yeah,” Chloe said, voice clipped but only through nervousness. “So, why did you really want to talk to me? I know this wasn't it,”
Smiling awkwardly at how well Chloe had just read her, she had no idea that was something she could do, Marinette tried to conjure up the thoughts of what she had initially wanted to talk to her for. Her brain had been a bit scattered by Chloe's confusing response to her question, even though it shouldn't have mattered so much at all. “Uhm,” she laughed nervously, not quite sure how to phrase it. “I wanted to talk about your dad and, you know, how to get him to not spill the beans,”
“Oh you or Chat?” Chloe asked, taking another sip from her drink and looking at Marinette.
“Both, why?” Marinette asked, “Does it matter?”
Chloe grinned, “I convinced him that you-” she paused as a group of people walked past, Marinette smiled (finding it oddly endearing that Chloe valued her secret identity). “Anyway,” Chloe laughed, “I convinced him that you weren't Ladybug,”
Marinette's mouth fell open, then the look of surprise morphed into a grin, “Really? Oh my gosh! How?!”
Chloe was laughing as Marinette's walk turned into more of a skip for a second or two. “I reminded him that I was able to dress up as Ladybug and fool some people, even though we look nothing alike, so clearly Ladybug must just be an easy person to look like- by accident or not,”
“Didn't he compare my school attendance to akuma attack times?” Marinette frowned. She had previously been unaware of the whole ‘they look like each other’ logic in this scenario.
Chloe nodded, “Yeah, but I managed to reason with him that a lot of people end up out of the school during akuma attacks and then distracted him,”
“He bought it?”
“I mean, it's true,” Chloe shrugged, “Providing a second way to look at it was enough to fool him, if I didn't know for sure I might have second guessed myself too,”
“Huh.” Marinette stared off in front of her, thinking about Chloe's explanation for a second. “Lying through truth, I like that!” she turned to smile at Chloe, “Thank you- really,”
Chloe blushed. Marinette took too much notice of it. “You're welcome,” she said, and then the happy look on her face faded to worry again. “I… couldn't change his mind on Chat, though. It's all I can do to keep dad from revealing his identity,”
Marinette's smile faded too, biting her lip. “Oh.”
“Sorry,” Chloe apologized.
That was a word Marinette had heard from her a lot recently. “I-it's alright,” she sighed, “It's not your fault, that he knows,”
Chloe took a long drink from her coffee, finishing off the cup and tossing it into a nearby trashcan. Marinette took the moment to think about what to say.
“I talked to Chat,” she finally decided and Chloe looked over to her, blinking in recognition.
“He told me,” she nodded.
Marinette blinked in surprise, “Really?”
“I know him in real life,” Chloe reminded her, “We're pretty close, I'm honestly surprised I didn't notice it before- superhero identities make so much sense when you figure them out,”
Trying not to think too hard in case she figured out Chat's identity (she still wanted a reveal between them once Hawkmoth was defeated, or before then if something dramatic brought it on), Marinette swallowed. “I guess, I've never really had to think about it before. It's either that I have always known their identities or never have,”
They walked in silence for a moment. An oddly comfortable silence for ex-enemies, Marinette noted.
Then, Chloe's eyes brightened, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. Marinette watched her politely, hands clasped in front of her. “Sorry if this is too off topic, I just remembered,” Chloe apologized awkwardly, “Chat wanted me to tell you that he started a Discord chat for Miraculous holders,”
She held her phone out for Marinette to see. The screen displayed a Discord chat with only two people in it for the moment, Chat Noir and Chloe's own Discord account. “I know I'm not a Miraculous holder anymore,” she said quickly (before Marinette could hypothetically say anything), “I just need to be on the server to show you,”
“It's okay,” Marinette said quickly. As Chloe pulled away her phone, Marinette pursed her lips and sighed. Chloe listened intently as she flushed with embarrassment, voice small. “I don't have a Discord account,”
Chloe laughed, “I thought you were going to say something serious! You scared me- I'll show you how to set one up,”
Marinette blamed her blush on the embarrassment of not having a Discord account. “Neat,” she said, quietly.
(1126 words.)
Will continue this later!

Day eight: 3۞ in total. (2168 words in total.)

Would You Cook For Me? Hetalia. Short oneshot, UK x Spain, modern AU + human AU if you squint. Fluff/banter/cooking together.
Thanks to @-APHSpain- for the request~
“Antonio?” Arthur called from the kitchen, “Can you come in here?”
Sitting up from his comfortable position on the couch, Antonio turned towards the sound of his boyfriend's voice. “Um, why?”
There was a pause before Arthur spoke again, this time popping his head around the wall that separated the two rooms. He was frowning, but he was pretty much always frowning so it didn't worry Antonio. “Just come in here,” Arthur snapped.
“Alright, alright,” Antonio slowly stood up from the couch, chuckling.
He sauntered across the room as Arthur watched, smiling proudly even as Arthur's comically flushed frown deepened.
“What was I needed for?” he asked as Arthur grabbed his arm and pulled him into the kitchen, running a hand through his hair and looking around. There were ingredients laid out on the counters and a recipe book was open. He blinked, “Were you trying to cook?”
Arthur let out a noise that was somewhat like a hiss and swatted at his hand, “Don't laugh at me,”
“I'm not!” Antonio exclaimed, though he had to push down the urge to when Arthur looked at him with a very unimpressed look on his face. “I was just asking, I mean, you don't cook very often,”
(Since they had moved in together Arthur had maybe cooked a meal for the two of them nine or ten times, and Antonio had moved in about two years ago. He didn't even want to know how Arthur ate before that.)
“Exactly,” Arthur sniffed haughty, “So I want you to cook for me,”
“I usually do,” Antonio reminded him, fondly.
Arthur gave him another unimpressed look, as if to say ‘I know, doofus’. Antonio laughed at that mental image.
Then he smiled at his boyfriend and put a hand on one hip. “So what do you want me to make?”
“I laid out the ingredients already, idiot,” Arthur rolled his eyes, although the word which would be an insult in most contexts was used fondly. It had taken some time to get used to it, but Antonio knew what Arthur meant when he used such phrases while not actually meaning to be rude.
He turned around and surveyed the ingredients on the counter, then he walked over to the cookbook as Arthur followed him and peered down at the pages. “Oh! This is one of my favorites,” Joyful recognition caught in his eyes, and then faded to confusion. He looked at Arthur for an explanation, to his knowledge Arthur didn't like this meal.
“I know,” Arthur acknowledged his boyfriend's joy at the choice. “I'm willing to give it another shot,” he explained after catching Antonio's searching eyes.
Grinning, Antonio reached out for a kiss. Arthur rolled his eyes but leaned in anyway, after the short peck Antonio turned back to the cookbook. “Well then!” he exclaimed. “Time to get cooking,” he waved his hand in Arthur's direction teasingly, “Stand over there and look pretty or something,”
Flushing, Arthur made a choking sort of sound that caused Antonio to laugh. “You can also wash your hands and help me,” he offered, going over to the sink.
Arthur blinked, momentarily distracted from his past embarrassment. “Really?”
“Yeah, why not?” Antonio shrugged, drying his hands.
“Because I suck at cooking,” Arthur deadpanned, “You know that,”
Antonio laughed, remembering the burned meals he had seen Arthur cook, “I do- but your other option is standing around, so why not help me?”
Arthur looked away, flustered- which made Antonio laugh again. “Go on!” he encouraged, gesturing to the sink, “Make yourself useful,”
Seeming to give up on arguing against it, Arthur sighed and went over to the sink, making quick work of washing his hands before drying them on the dish towel and coming over to join his boyfriend next to the cookbook. “So what's the first step?” he prompted, interrupting Antonio's happy stare into his face.
“Oh, um…” Antonio leaned over his boyfriend's shoulders, making him jump, and checked. “Gather the ingredients- but you already did that, so the next step is to cut up the vegetables,”
“Cool,” Arthur ducked out from under Antonio and made his way over to the utensils drawer, “I can do that,”
Antonio laughed goodnaturedly and set to work on the next step.

As Arthur soon discovered, cooking was alright when he did it with someone he loved. Still not a pass-time he would turn to anytime soon or anything, but it was enjoyable with Antonio there. Plus, the knowledge that they were making a meal his boyfriend loved made him happy, even if the meal wasn't his personal favorite.
Once they were done the bowl was set out on the table and they both sat down. Generally they ate dinner together and fended for themselves the rest of the day (Arthur tended to eat the leftovers Antonio left in the fridge), so the lunch was a nice change of pace.
Antonio helped himself to a large bowl of the food and grinned over the table at Arthur, “Thanks for suggesting this,”
“Thanks for making it,” Arthur responded as he took a spoonful and put it onto his plate. He was ready to try it again, that was why he asked Antonio to make it in the first place, but he wasn't planning to want all that much.
“You helped too,” Antonio reminded him, taking a bite. “Oh my God,” he closed his eyes, “This is so good,”
Arthur chuckled at his dramatic reaction and tentatively brought his spoon to his mouth. It was an oily food, nothing like his own cooking, and very flavorful. Usually his problem with it was the texture but today he didn't seem to mind so much. Eyebrows raising in pleasant surprise, he took another bite. “It's actually pretty good,”
“See?” Antonio teased, “Now you understand me,”
Rolling his eyes playfully, Arthur set down his spoon and got up in search of some water. “Sure- do you want anything to drink?”
“Some coffee?”
“Sure.”
And it was in that way that the pair finished their meal, domestically, pleasantly, and without a care in the world.
Antonio was going to have to force Arthur to cook with him some other time, maybe they could even pick a recipe he liked- like scones. Except then, they would figure out how to actually make them instead of burn them.
Antonio smiled to himself.
Yeah, that sounded nice.
(1065 words.)

Main Cabin Daily ft. Hetalia AmeChu - 3۞
Today's daily is the classic ‘google translate a song a couple times for inspo’ so um
Original song: All American Boy
Ripped jeans, only drinks whiskey
I find him by the fire while his girl was getting frisky, oh…
I say we go this road tonight
He smiles, his arm's around her
But his eyes are holdin' me, just a captive to his wonder, oh…
I say we go this road tonight
And now, I know that that's your girl, I mean no disrespect
The way that shirt hugs your chest, boy, I just won't forget
I'll be sittin' here, drinking my whiskey
I won't say goodnight unless I think ya might miss me, oh…
Be my All-American boy tonight
Where everyday's the 4th of July
It's alright, alright
And we can keep this up till the morning light
And you can hold me deep in your eyes
It's alright, alright
So be my, be my
My All-American boy
Ripped jeans, tight shirt
He lights a cigarette - you know
I'm glad that she can't stand it, oh…
I drink the moonlight from his eyes
Now hold there, just a moment
I want to take this in now, we don't need no photo of it, no…
We should go this road tonight
Now, I know that that's your girl, and I don't give a *
She's been cursin' and cryin', she don't know what she has
So I'll be sittin' here, tryin' hold down my whiskey
You tell your girl “good night”
'Cause somebody'd like to kiss me, oh…
Be my All-American boy tonight
Where everyday's the 4th of July
It's alright, alright
And we can keep this up till the morning light
And you can hold me deep in your eyes
It's alright, alright
So be my, be my
My All-American boy
Of all the girls and boys to look my way
Ain't nobody ever hit me this way
So won't you come back with me
And lay with me awhile
I'm gonna wrestle you out of them clothes
Leave that beautiful body exposed
And you can have my heart and my soul and my body…
Oh, be mine!
Be my All-American boy tonight
Baby, you light my fire
I'll make you feel alright, alright
And we can keep this up till the morning light
And you can hold me deep in your eyes
It's alright, alright
So be my, be my
Just…
Be my, be my
My All-American boy…
I google translated it to German and back but it was kinda underwhelming. So…. then I have to take that to Chinese (Simplified) and back then! That always seems to do the trick.
Ripped jeans and only whisky
I found him by the fire when his girl was left out, oh…
I said we're going this way tonight
He smiled and hugged her
But his eyes are on me, just a prisoner of his miracles, oh…
I said we're going this way tonight
Now I know it's your girl, I'm not that disrespectful
The way that shirt hugs your chest, boy, I won't forget
I'll sit here and drink my whiskey
I won't say goodnight unless I think you'll miss me, oh…
be my all-American boy tonight
Everyday is July 4th
no problem, no problem
We can hold on till dawn
You can hide me deep in your eyes
no problem, no problem
So be mine, be mine
my all american boy
ripped jeans, skinny shirt
He lit a cigarette - you know
I'm glad she can't take it, oh…
I drink the moonlight in his eyes
stop now
I want to record it now, we don't need a picture of it, no…
We should take this road tonight
ok i know it's your girl i don't care
She scolded and didn't know what was wrong with her
So I'm gonna sit here and try to hold my whiskey
you say goodnight to your girl
Because someone wants to kiss me, oh…
be my all-American boy tonight
Everyday is July 4th
no problem, no problem
We can hold on till dawn
You can hide me deep in your eyes
no problem, no problem
So be mine, be mine
my all american boy
of all the girls and boys who look at me
No one ever hit me like this
won't you come back with me
stayed with me for a while
I will throw you off your clothes
Leave that beautiful body unprotected
You can have my heart, my soul, and my body…
Oh be mine!
be my all-American boy tonight
Baby you light my fire
I'll make you feel good, good
We can hold on till dawn
You can hide me deep in your eyes
no problem, no problem
So be mine, be mine
only…
be mine be mine
My typical American boy..
…tbh it didn't change much still. Must mean the song's perfect.
Um. Anyway! ,,,to the writing station!!!!
It's not very inspired by the song but I just thought about AmeChu, with past RoChu(toxic relationship hee hee)
Pain.
That was all he felt, just the burning hot of his nerve endings screaming at him. The scalding of the little cuts and the sore, frozen ache of the bruises. His whole body creaking and melting as he limped, trying to breathe in a way that didn't seem to jostle his bones.
Ivan had told him he was nothing like his father.
He was everything like his father.
Yao felt like if he took another breath he would shatter- an ice sculpture under too much pressure. A window beat by hurricane gales, flung open and letting in the rotten air. He felt like his very cells had called mutiny against him, and for what?
An argument with his ex?
A fight to prove some long forgotten point?
It had all happened so fast- he could hardly recall who had punched first, let alone with any clarity. Maybe he had swung at Ivan, maybe Ivan at him- but whatever the case it had ended with pain. Sometimes Yao couldn't even remember why they had gotten together, so different was the dynamic when the dating had first started.
But Ivan was the sort of man to get angry, and Yao was the sort of man to wish for things to get better. Not the type to make them better- he just kept rolling his eyes at his partner’s actions or distress, never paying any mind. He just kept hoping they would wake up one day and everything would be okay. But they were both the type to fight, both the type to scream. None of the arguments had gotten so physical before, though that was a surprise. (It was funny to think of all the empty promises they had uttered, all the ‘I love you’s and the rest of that false affection.)
Now that it was over, where was he supposed to go?
Now that he was hurt, who would help him?
Yao staggered alone and tried to ignore the eyes that seemed to follow him from the alleyways and the bleeding song of the police sirens down the road (not for him, not for Ivan either). He carried on through the empty sidewalks and the brightly lit storefronts, feeling how his left leg seemed to get weaker as he went. Feeling how his vision hummed in and out, like a traveler picking their way along some lonely desert path (no end in sight), mirages lighting the way.
Though he wasn't one for tears, the prick of them at the edges of his eyes was inviting.
He wasn't crying for Ivan, wasn't crying for the relationship. He wasn't even crying for himself, exactly. It was just from the pain, the smarting sting of the darkening bruises and the hollow ache that went along with them.
Ivan was the type to cry, though Yao doubted Ivan ever noticed it. He cried when things went wrong, he cried when he was angry. He cried when he was hurt. Yao was blank in comparison, though many people he knew would willingly describe him as rather expressive. His ex was truly unpredictable though, which was what made his tears all the more interesting.
Yao supposed the crying was part of the reason he had begun to take interest in Ivan in the first place, as messed up and toxic as that sounded in retrospect. He hadn't noticed it at the time, but it made sense looking back.
Being with Ivan had revealed a lot about him, much of which he could have gone without knowing.
There had been romantic love at some point. He was sure of it.
The dates they had gone on to all those parks, in the dark when no one could see them. The sweaty promises, full of gasps and linked hands- the urgency in their eyes (which never met save for the burning heat of the nights). All those past conversations, focused on things that didn't seem to matter, not much that was mutually shared.
But then; nothing except for the arguments, the one shining light of connection outside of the *, seemed to line up between them.
He was pretty sure there had been romantic love, anyway.
Who knew what was real anymore? What did it matter now? They had split up weeks ago, or had they? It was hard to tell (they still fought as much as they had when they were together).
That first punch had been unexpected- but it made sense with the story of their ‘love’. (Their lust, he supposed, and the violence. It was all one thing at this point.) Ivan was a broken man, sure, but he had never thought it would lead up to such a real thing. Yao supposed he was a little broken too.
Where was he even going now? There was no place to return to. Ivan's flat was, well, Ivan's now. They had been living in the same house since the breakup for the last few days (though not speaking to each other), so Yao could figure out where he would go, but after that fight…
There was Alfred's, he supposed.
Alfred was a coworker, but not someone he would really call a friend. (It was hard to have friends with Ivan around.) Still, it was the next best option since he couldn't go to his parents. They hadn't thought so highly of him since he and Ivan had begun to date. The ending of their partnership would only prove their judgment right, and that put a sour taste in Yao's mouth. (It was always hard to accept when they were right about something like that, even though he should have seen it coming from the start of their mess of a relationship.)
It had never exactly felt right to call Ivan his boyfriend. (Just like it had never felt right to call Alfred his friend.) It hadn't felt right to call Ivan his partner either, they were more like something with benefits. Two people far beyond help trying desperately to cling to a loveless but shared life.
Now look where that had gotten him.
Bruised and battered, limping down the uneven sidewalks to the apartment of a man he could barely call an acquaintance.
Whatever.
Yao had never just shown up at Alfred’s house like this before, but he had been there once. It was for one of those stupid parties he hosted for his coworkers- though Yao had never been the type for the party scene. He knew his way there, knew his way around because Alfred was so insistent of him coming over another time (who knew why)
(1103 words SO FAR.)

Day nine: 12۞ in total. (8016 words in total.)

Main Cabin Daily AND In-Cabin Daily!!! (Cabin Wars, lol) - 2+3۞
Silk Road, Meeting, Healing Hetalia. Oneshot, past Romechu, time skip, light angst, ancient AND modern setting… cats?
Thanks for @pokepower206 for the request!
I packed way too much history into this lol, you can tell this is one of my favorite time periods to study for this area.
In the beginning, China didn't have cats. At least, not domesticated cats like the ones he would become familiar with over the years. They just didn't live where he represented and the world was huge back then.
Because the world was huge, he and other nations did not see each other very often. Certainly not as often as they could in the modern day (with planes and cars and other ways to travel quickly). Even his boats, which for a long time were one of the fastest ways to travel due to advances in technology such as the astrolabe and rudder, had the downside of not going to certain places.
Some countries were landlocked- at least seemed to be landlocked (the African continent was very difficult to get around. In fact, it wouldn't be until around fourteen eighty eight that this was managed from Europe).
Generally because of such traveling struggles, nations did not see each other beyond diplomatic meetings with those nearest to them and battle. In fact that was one of the only ways he ever met new people before getting properly into the merchant business. He just needed some time to reconnect with other people… and a way to get money.
The Silk Roads were doing alright (he wouldn't call it booming because he kept hearing stories of merchants killed on their travels by thieves, but his government hadn't done anything about it when he pressed) and he had stories of several interesting nations along the paths. He was bored, personally broke, and not quite in a golden age as a representation, so why not go?
He packed with treasures and food (as well as plenty of storage for water, because he knew there was at least one desert in the way in the direction he had picked) and set off. His end goal was Rome, even though human merchants rarely if ever traveled the entire length of the trade routes. After all, it could take years for someone that couldn't risk being foolish even once or everything was over. Fortunately for China, he wasn't human.
For the time being, he officially lived in Chang'an. It was the capital of his current government and what he considered his heart at the moment. (Of course that always changed when a new dynasty came along- and it always seemed to, but who cared? For now it was his capital.)
Unfortunately, Chang'an was rather far to the east on the scheme of cities to travel the Silk Roads from. Still, he put a positive spin on it by reminding himself that for the time he was in his own country he wouldn't have to ask anyone for directions. It was a nation thing: just knowing where you were within your own borders. He had even heard that outside of the borders some nations could tell what direction led to their home country. (Of course it was still possible to get lost if you started to think too hard or freak out. Your mind had to be relatively calm, which was hard for him. Always thinking as he was.)
It was a gut instinct, so it just had to be followed.
Like that, he made it through the area of the trade routes that was his own country. For a while he banded together with a group of other merchants heading from Chang'an, but they turned around at Lanzhou to return to their families. He bid them farewell and headed on his way.
Traveling through the desert was hard and again he worked with a group of human merchants to continue. In fact, he bought a camel from one of them so that he wouldn't have to do the rest of this on foot. (The horse he had used up to that point would not do, so he had sold it to a soldier in a nearby town.)
The group almost got lost a few times, but using his ‘which way in my country’ internal sense (which, it may be noted, was rather hard to use because he was kind of freaking out) China stopped them from getting completely turned around. One of their camels died on the way, but he hadn't brought much merchandise so he walked for a while beside his animal, packing the other merchant's items on it's back. (The camel that died was carrying items rather than a person.) By the next caravansary, they traded these extra items away and he could take a break from walking for a while.
Eventually he had to say goodbye to that group too, and continued on his way.
He met several other nations on his path, it seemed that many of them had gotten the idea to be a merchant after too long of their governments constantly pestering them or being too lonely in their own Empire. He got some good trade deals in, received some items in return, and bid them goodbye. He would remember them, especially since several of the nations he met grew to be huge empires over the years. A couple were just people formed of cities or even a couple small towns here and there.
Still, even those representing such small things were born of hatred for something and love for a land and for a people- just as he had been. Some respect was always granted to those who he understood, even if he was of a much higher level than many of the people he met.
Not all, but many.
When he finally reached the end point of his journey (it had been years and he was pretty sure he felt a couple rebellions in his chest from back home, which was making him a little nervous) he did not have many of the trade items packed that he had originally brought. A few had been traded to humans who offered trade deals that interested him, but most had been given to other nations in exchange for something of theirs. Silk and jade (and even gunpowder) traded for items he had not seen before. A small statue, a proper saddle, weapons that were innovations of his own or even new inventions. Not all of it was properly of use to him, but someone to remember each of those he ran into.
Once in Rome, he found a place to stay and rested for a few days.
But he was itching to meet the man who represented this place.
Stunning architecture, innovations in technology, military strength, a beautiful language, the arts, mathematics and science. He could only imagine how good the guy looked. Or… acted. Get your mind out of the gutter!
There had been a few instances in his travels that nations he ran into were ‘high caliber’ such as himself. Empires, those with immense power and stronger ties to being nation than being human. From the stories he had been told by those he talked to (and even back home) Rome was definitely one of those nations, such as himself. Not that he would admit such a thing to any other country's face- the nationalism was too strong- but whatever.
When he did meet Rome, it actually wasn't on purpose.
He was at the city center buying food to restock, already thinking about the long trek back, when someone came barreling towards him.
China turned just in time to see a tall, muscular man with dark curly hair racing in his direction before the guy ran into him. He stumbled but did not fall, barely even letting out an ‘eep!’ of surprise.
The man apologized a couple of times, apparently not having meant to run into him- just being excited to meet another representation and especially him, if he really was China. China's head was spinning, of course he really was China!
So he looked up to tell the man that it was so and their eyes caught.
Gold on bronze.
Yes, this man was definitely another empire.
Both of them froze, Rome staring at him with his jaw dropped and China staring right back with a similar expression. The experience could be described in modern words as ‘love at first sight’. (Well, not quite love… but something like that.)
“H-hey,” Rome stuttered, a grin widening on his face as he flushed.
“Hello,” China breathed, face reddening as well. The whole ‘restocking of food’ business long forgotten.
Then, to his honest surprise, Rome reached out his hand and turned his head to the side in a way that probably made most women swoon. “Are you free later?”
China blinked at him, trying to process what had just happened. All of it so quickly, all of it so unprofessionally. But it didn't matter that it was unprofessional, somehow it didn't matter.
“Or right now,” he responded, barely managing to breathe out of surprise.
Grinning, Rome clapped him on the shoulder. “That's great to hear, come with me! Can I give you a tour?”
“Sorry- I've been here for a few days,” China said apologetically.
“Still, no one knows my heart like me, right?” Rome asked, not phased in the slightest.
For some reason, the words burst out of China's mouth before he could stop them. “I could.”
He slapped a hand over his mouth, reddening. He didn't even know the guy yet! Rome froze, looking way too in awe over such a simple, partly accidental, flirt.
“You could,” he finally agreed, winking at his fellow empire and looking him up and down. China flushed. “I'd let that happen!” Then he grabbed China's arm before he could react and whisked him away for the tour.

Rome fell in four hundred seventy six AD.
That's the number most historians agree on.
But China knew he lived for a few days after the day his empire officially fell, just as many nations did if they didn't get a chance to live out a human life stacked on top of their nation one. He died in pain.
It hurt to think about.
They had grown close, even as people so far away from each other.
China would go as far as to say he loved him, as rash as that was with their constantly changing world and the turbulent nature of relationships between those who, by human standards and stereotypes, didn't know how to love. And yeah, it had been messy and hard to keep together.
They hadn't dated, really.
Rome liked romance too much to stay with one person, but that was alright with China.
They could date… in spirit. Yeah.
He had hoped foolishly, that Rome would survive to when travel became easier. But he didn't and the Byzantine Empire lived on in his place. China never liked the man, even if he had no reason to dislike him as he did. (He supposed it was sadness, missing the nation who had once stood in his place.)
And he moved on, too.
To Russia, to others, back again and then away once more. Nothing lasted for him.
But he did remember, back then with Rome, a gift he had received. It was a small animal with very sharp claws and an equally lovable face. A cat, he had called it. So China called it a cat too. It had been his first introduction to the animal, really. At least, the first introduction of the domesticated variation.
And he loved the creature, it came back on the journey to his country with him even as Rome could not go. What kept it alive for so long, he supposed, was being around him so much. Some animals did that, if an immortal loved them enough. Japan's dog for example. The animals leeched off their nation's life just as representations leeched off their country. Parasitic, but in a good way? It was hard to describe.
Anyway, the animal meant a lot to him.
And it died when Rome died. (Perhaps it had been leeching off of Rome rather than himself, or perhaps the tragedy broke the bond.) He had hoped it could stay to comfort him once the man he loved was gone, but it seemed the universe wouldn't let him have anything good for longer than a couple hundred years.
In the modern day, he bought another cat.
He named it after the first one and fed it. Appreciated it, let it walk around his house like it owned the place. (Really they were remarkably like Rome. He laughed at that thought.)
Somehow, he could call that healing.
(2081 words.)

MAIN CABIN WEEKLY!!!! AAAAAAAA - 7۞
Part one: Character Reference Sheet

Character reference sheet for Chloe Bourgeois (Miraculous Ladybug- ignoring the new canon)
Series continuing or ended?: Continued by I am not paying attention to it because I don't like the direction it has gone in, unfortunately.

Pronouns: she/her
Sexuality: There is nothing explicitly canon. She likes guys (Adrien) but I also like to imagine she likes girls (Ladybug), so she gets to be headcanoned as some sort of mspec. Probably bi.
Species: Human
Powers of any sort: ex-Miraculous holder, or current Miraculous holder if you ignore canon. (Such as I do.)

Strengths: Attractive, oddly good at fighting, rich, politically powerful, brave, cares about people even if she doesn't like to show it, stubborn.
Weaknesses: Impulsive, rude, can't take ‘no’ as an answer, clingy, gets akumatized A LOT, stubborn.

General view of life: I don't think she thinks about it to be honest. She gets pretty much everything she asks for, except for her Miraculous. However, she is fundamentally a people-pleaser even as she insults those around her. She wants those she idolizes to respect her due to treatment by her mother.

Relationships:
- Romantic interests: Adrien, Ladybug (in AU)
- Friends: Sabrina, Adrien
- Classmates/people she interacts with: Marinette, Adrien, Sabrina, Nino, Alya, Kim, Max, Nathaniel, Juleka, Rose, Ivan, Mélyen, Marc, Alix, Kagami, Lila, Luka. (Basically the whole cast of teenagers.)
- Main superhero team: Ladybug, Chat Noir, Rena Rouge, Carapace, sometimes Viperion
- Family: Mr. Bourgeois/The Mayor (father), Audrey Bourgeois (mother), Zoe (…cousin? I think? I don't like her much/don't think about her).

Tendencies:
- Is mean to many of her classmates and people she interacts with, makes them cry, gets them akumatized… you get the deal.
Improvement: She improved a lot and then they retconned everything for the sake of… I don't know? I don't like it.
- Gets angry quickly,
Improvement: Stayed pretty much the same but she learned to control it a bit more and even used it as a strength a few times.
- Can't take no as an answer and always gets what she wants.
Improvement: Again, this improved in canon and then they gave up on writing good characters.
- Has issues with her mother.
Improvement: No improvement. It actually gets her into trouble a lot.
- Really really really wants to be Queen Bee, but Ladybug won't let her. (More of a Ladybug issue in my opinion but I'm a Chloe stan/hj so what do I know?)
Improvement: Very little improvement, she was better for a while and then things got worse.

Situations:
Loss of a friend:
- Completely breaks down, tears and all.
- Doesn't know what to do and is mean to people as a result.
- This starts a chain reaction where everyone usually ends up hating her by the end.
- At the end she tends to apologize or they get over it off-screen. She really only has two close friends.

Romantic struggles:
- Adrien is not interested in dating her at all and obviously nothing is canon with Ladybug (but if it was, Ladybug hates her).
- She just keeps trying over and over again.
- It seems difficult for her to be nice to people or let them stay on her good side, which makes everything harder for everyone.
- Usually they make up, but she doesn't really get in a relationship, um, ever.

Helping others:
- Is very happy, she finds it is what she's supposed to do.
- Usually she messes something up/goes overboard.
- Ladybug takes her Miraculous and/or people get mad at her.
- She tries to get over it and struggles to do so. This cycle usually repeats several times.

(572 words.)

Okay now that's done! Time for part two of that.
Scenario: “your character has to tend to multiple wounded people, but there are not enough supplies for everyone”

Wounded Bug (Wherever Is Your Home?) - Hurt Chat Noir + hurt Ladybug, whump, identity reveal, Bee Miraculous use, good end.

“You're going to be okay,” Chloe insisted as she worked on Ladybug's injured leg. Ladybug screamed in pain as Chloe's hands brushed the open wound and she cringed, but had to keep working.
Gosh, it all had gone wrong.
The akuma was more powerful than normal (they always seemed to be ‘more powerful than usual’ recently) and soon Ladybug and Chat Noir had crashed onto her balcony. Thrown there perhaps, or maybe landing there on purpose. Whatever the case, there was a lot of blood and it smeared all over her balcony floor and splattered onto the glass doors. Gosh, they would bleed to death if they weren't careful!
But the akuma was heading to the nearest hospital and they wouldn't be able to get there in time.
“Chloe,” Chat Noir had begged her as she rushed to their sides, blood soaking into her white jeans when she knelt beside Ladybug. “Please- we need medical supplies,”
He had a huge gash across his back and was bleeding from his head. She didn't even know they could get injured through their suits, let alone this much! And he looked at her like he knew her, pleadingly. Begging her. There was no choice, so she led the pair into her room- heart racing.
Carrying Ladybug, Chat stumbled to her couch and set Ladybug down, then collapsing onto the ground himself. Pale and breathing heavily, his eyes kept closing. “I'll go get someone,” Chloe assured him, taking a step back.
“No!” Chat Noir's head had shot up with panic, “No, you can't! We don't have time,”
Chloe felt sick, her heart in her throat as she looked between the two superheroes. Ladybug was curling into herself, blood somehow redder than her suit as it flowed freely from her leg and from her arm, moaning in agony. He was right, she realized. They didn't have time.
“Okay,” she breathed, “Don't die on me- I'm going to go get the first aid kit. It's not a lot, but it should be enough to get you back on your feet,”
“Hopefully,” Chat groaned, squeezing his eyes shut and leaning over to lay on his stomach, back hurting too much to lay the other way.
Chloe came back after a moment, kit in hand. She knelt down beside Chat Noir, whose breathing had become shallow- but he made eye contact with her and winced, going to sit up. “I can… probably make it,” he winced, “Ladybug's the one that needs to be healed, her Lucky Charm will fix things,”
“Chat,” Ladybug groaned from the bed, looking over at them, “I won't make it to defeat that thing, it's too strong to fight alone,”
“Guys,” Chloe raised her voice to interrupt the pointless argument she felt coming, knowing there were more important things directly at hand before they had to worry about other such items. “Both of you need to be tended to, and I'm not got with first-aid. Chat, do you think you can sit up all the way?”
He winced, doing so painfully, “Yes,”
“Can you detransform? Will that kill you?” she had turned to work on Ladybug's leg (knowing what Chat said was right) and muttered to her that it was going to be okay. Ladybug grabbed her shoulder as Chloe worked on bandaging the injured area, needing something to anchor to the world while the pain washed over her. Her grip was so strong it hurt, but Chloe didn't bring attention to it.
“Detransform?” Chat asked in shock, grounded for a moment from his agonized stupor.
“Yes,” Chloe bit out, focusing on Ladybug's injury.
Chat looked at Ladybug, searching for permission. “My lady?”
“Go for it, I'll close my eyes,” she panted, secretly thankful for a momentary distraction from the pain. “You used your cataclysm already, so you're going to detransform anyway,”
“But…”
“You'll be better if your suit heals right?” Chloe asked him, done bandaging Ladybug's leg and moving on to her arm. Ladybug screamed out in pain and she winced again. “Sorry,” Ladybug nodded, biting her lip hard. Eyes squeezed shut. It hurt to see her like this.
“Shouldn't Ladybug detransform then, too?” Chat asked. Boy, he was starting to feel lightheaded. He barely recognized as Ladybug answered that Tikki was too weak to get back up at the moment, she had to stay transformed. The room was spinning, flashing grey and white. “O-oh,” he keeled over and had to put his hand down on the ground so he wouldn't crash into it. He was soon panting with the effort of staying awake.
Chloe whipped to look over at him, biting her lip hard as she squeaked in concern. There weren't enough bandages left for him, or there wouldn't be after she was done with Ladybug. Her mind raced, then she looked back at Ladybug. “Hold on for a moment, okay? Chat, you detransform, I'm going to get you both some water and pain medication. Try to stay awake,”
He nodded weakly, collapsed against the edge of the couch, Ladybug half sitting up and looking at him with worry. After such a long battle the duo was absolutely beat, she couldn't even conjure words to say to him, just stared. But he was alright with that, in the comfort of his Lady's gaze. He refused to look away, and that kept him from fainting.
“Detransform,” Ladybug urged him as Chloe rushed away.
Staring into her eyes, Chat Noir opened his mouth. The words were shakey, broken. “Plagg-” he asked, “Claws out,”
And then he fainted.
When he awoke, Ladybug was shaking him. She was crying and bandaged and Queen Bee was standing next to her instead of Chloe. He had missed the surprise of the reveal, it seemed, and they were going to go fight the akuma.
“H-hi,” He breathed, and a cup of water was stuffed into his hands.
Next to him he faintly recognized Plagg eating some cheese desperately, like his life depended on it.
Then Queen Bee lifted him off the ground and he yelped, though it came out small due to his state. She set him on her bed, evidently not caring about getting blood on her sheets. “Stay here,” she said, “I won't have my friend die on me,”
Ladybug nodded, though she still looked pained from her injuries and still certainly shocked over his identity. Oops. “We're going to take it down,” It being the akuma.
“But my Lady-” he tried. It felt weird to say that when he wasn't transformed.
She shook her head, “Queen Bee's going to do most of the fighting. We figured out where the akuma is, probably,”
He swallowed, seeing that there was no changing her mind. He didn't blame her, he was itching to fight too. But he couldn't, not when Plagg wasn't ready and not when he wasn't bandaged. “Okay,” his voice was small, breath shaky.
Queen Bee nodded, “We'll come back. She'll fix your injuries,”
He nodded.
They stared at each other for a moment, ignoring the screams that came from outside and the blaring TV from some rooms down. Without that, it was silent and he was making eye contact with Ladybug.
She reached out and took his hand. “Don't. Die.”
It was a command. He nodded, throat dry despite the water he had drank. “Yeah,”
And then the two superheros were off, Queen Bee lifting Ladybug up and zipping off. Ladybug would probably hide for most of the battle and then come out when her opportunity came.
Adrien closed his eyes.
What a day.

(1358 words.

Eh, that was bad. I'll rewrite it at some point.
Next part! Voice identifications.

Chloe is usually loud and boisterous, always speaking her mind and insulting people when she gets the chance. (Because that is often what is on her mind, of course.) However, there are moments when she is different. Other personas we see throughout the series, perhaps more real than the one she keeps up most of the time. There is a form of her where she speaks softly, still proudly, but softly and carefully. Nervous and unsure if her words will bring it all down around her. Then there is also a form of her, when in her superhero suit, that is not so mean. It is a variation of her regular voice and actions but with less intent to hurt people. She is proud, yes, but there is more to it than that.

(133 words.)

Adrien, though he is a famous model and lives in a mansion with his rich father, does not seem to want much more than to be loved. He has lost his mother and his father is cold and far away. The people he has are important to him because losing them would mean losing everything. So in his daily life, he speaks respectfully and calmly. Cracks jokes and protects those he cares about. But when he is Chat Noir, he is allowed to act differently. Perhaps more like how he wants to. He is proud of himself but broken and desperate underneath, covering this with his constant jokes to entertain those around him. He is strong and knows it, but looks to those stronger than him and is desperate to be nearer. Both sides want love, but he goes about it very differently depending on what type of news chases him.

(151 words.)

Now the scene from two characters points of view! First Chloe, then Adrien. He tells her that if she keeps hurting people they can't remain friends. It's painful for both of them.
Chloe:

There had been one too many jabs at Marinette, or something like that.
Maybe too many people were akumatized due to her brash actions.
Perhaps her treatment of Sabrina was at fault, because she didn't know how to have friends.
Maybe it was a combination of all of those things.
Whatever the case, Adrien had taken her to the side with a very serious (and oddly hurt) look on his face. She felt it, something was wrong. But she couldn't say that, it wasn't something she said. She didn't say sorry and she didn't bring attention to when people were angry with her. Not the Adrien was angry, she hoped.
“Chloe,” he had started and she smiled at him, burying her nervousness in her usual ways.
“Yes Adrikins?” she purred, but he could see through it (they had known each other for too long for that act to work in this situation), sighing and shaking his head.
He looked disappointed, it made her nervous.
His words seemed to struggle on their way out, worry knitting between his eyebrows. “You can't keep treating people like that,”
She wanted to apologize, panic rising into her throat with the seriousness of his voice and the resolve in his eyes. But she couldn't. She wasn't raised like that, she wasn't raised to be nice. The world was made for competition, only the strong survived. “Oh come on,” she brushed it aside like it meant nothing, “They're not as great as me, not as great as you,” her voice was even, proud. How it was trained to be. But it felt like poison as it spilled from her mouth.
Lies.
Lies lies lies.
Adrien stared at her, looking heartbroken. She wanted to tell him that she didn't mean it, wanted to scream and shout and let him change his mind on who she was. (Wanted to change her own mind on who she was.)
But that wasn't an option.
She had a role to play, and that wasn't part of the role.
“Fine then,” he said finally, voice less even than hers. Full of emotion. So many emotions. “Fine,”
“Fine?” she asked, too unsure to let hope take over.
He set his mouth in a frown, but she could see him trying not to cry. “Fine, but we can't stay friends if you keep treating people like this,”
The world must have imploded, or something, because suddenly her ears were ringing and she couldn't breathe. ‘What?’ she tried to ask, but nothing came out. They just stared at each other, Chloe's shocked panic meeting Adrien's bitter resolution. No way, this wasn't happening.
He was all she had.
He was the only friend she knew how to talk to.
He was the only friend who understood her.
And there he was, turning around and walking away. She felt sick, this was her fault.

(477 words.)

Adrien:

For weeks now, Chloe's actions had been grating on Adrien's nerves. She mistreated Sabrina, he knew that, but it was hard to watch anyway. Especially how she just kept coming back, not knowing how to escape or even that she could. Somehow, it was how he felt (even if Chloe was never mean to him).
She insulted his other friends too, teasing Nino for things that didn't matter and tripping up Marinette at least four times a week. Not to mention how she tended to act around Kagami. Kagami and him weren't even dating anymore, he didn't know why Chloe felt the need to be so cruel to her.
Then, of course, because Chloe treated him well, people tended to blame her for what she did.
Or at least assume he would act the same way.
And that hurt.
Therefore, all together as it snowballed into a huge problem, Adrien decided he would talk to her. It was his job, as one of her only real friends.
So he took her aside one class, after she had insulted Marinette one too many times (it hurt to watch) and set his mind on doing it. Gosh, he really was about to do this, wasn't he? Worry solidified on his face, hurt finding its way into his eyes. Nervous because he really didn't want to do what he had to. He saw it in her eyes for a moment, she noticed. But then the realization was covered up by a cloud of her masking-pride. It hurt because even his model smile wouldn't come out to cover his seriousness.
“Chloe,” he had started as she smiled at him. No, he screamed in his head as if talking to her, don't do that. It hurt too much, he just wanted to talk to the real her, not the act she put up.
“Yes Adrikins?” she purred in response. Perfect. Her cover was perfect, but he could see through it anyway because she had let him grab a glace of it. He shook his head, sighing.
He felt disappointed in some way, in the pit of his stomach. But mostly, he was scared.
Gosh, he didn't want to do this.
He fished for words, setting himself back on track for the plan as his eyebrows knit together. “You can't keep treating people like that,”
Her response wasn't immediate. He saw it in her eyes for a second. Regret. Worry. But then it was gone “Oh come on- they're not as great as me, not as great as you,”
He wanted to scream.
It wasn't her, he knew it wasn't her. It was what she had been trained to be and she didn't know how to fight it. But he had broken out, so why couldn't she?
Heart hurting, shattered in some way, Adrien stared at her.
Her.
A girl he had been friends with since childhood, a girl that had been his lifeline when his mom passed away. A girl that barely showed her real self.
No.
He had to do this. (Oh God, he was actually going to do this.)
“Fine then,” he struggled out. It felt like he was drowning in his own words, voice strangled. “Fine,”
“Fine?” she asked, and he saw something real behind her eyes. But she didn't apologize.
He set his mouth in a frown, feeling the tears and not wanting to let them out. “Fine, but we can't stay friends if you keep treating people like this,”
Her reaction was real, but she still said nothing. Freezing in place, open mouthed and panicked. But she didn't apologize, didn't laugh, didn't say anything. His resolve was strong, even if his entire body was screaming at him to hug her. Even if his mind was racing with thoughts that told him not to do this.
But he already had, and there was no going back.
He would be friends with her again when she gotten better. When she acted more like herself- or more like the girl he knew she was, even if no one else saw it. (She didn't let anyone else see it.)
He had been like that once, but he had gotten over it.
So he turned and left, mind still screaming at him.
The tears fell when he was far enough away that his resolved guise fell.
This wasn't real, it couldn't have been.

(728 words.)

Now the tropes section! I've picked Fix-it, Crossover (Hetalia with Miraculous) and Magic AU- sort of. Modified, since I'm sort of just letting HWS France be a Miraculous Holder. Not in this piece, exactly, but he will be in the future.
This is a continuation of a fic I've been writing on and off for a while and I've included the entire chapter but keep in mind that I only wrote the amount of words indicated at the end of this today, not the whole thing right now. Also, since it's not the first chapter, there is very little context! Sorry about that, I have never posted this before.

Risks Of Mutations - Hetalia/Miraculous Crossover. Chloe has the Bee Miraculous. There's a lot going on tbh. (Louis is an OC.)
Chapter four: No miraculous for you! Also, attacks.

“Pretty wild, huh?” Louis said, pointing at the image on his phone.
France leaned closer to get a better look, brushing his hair behind his ear so it wouldn’t fall in his face. The image Louis was showing him was a short video clip of Queen Bee using her power. Nothing seemed odd about it. “Louis,” France looked up at him, “This is just-”
“Shh,” his friend shushed him, “Keep watching,”
Still a bit doubtful, France looked back at the screen. Then to his surprise, he watched as Queen Bee staggered and began to keel over, far away on the shaky video. France blinked, that was pretty odd. But then, if the sudden fall wasn’t already disturbing enough, he watched the akuma break out of the stunned state and begin to rush towards the superhero- brandishing a weapon. France didn’t want to keep watching. He looked up at Louis with incredulous worry, “…When is this from?”
“Yesterday, so the last attack,” Louis said, pulling the phone away and slipping it back into his pocket. “That’s not normal, right?”
Furiously shaking his head, France murmured a short ‘no’. Why hadn’t Queen Bee mentioned her power not working at the meeting? Wasn’t that sort of a big deal?
Louis nodded, “I didn’t think so, it seemed strange that she would suddenly just-”
“Where did you find that video clip?” France asked him, interrupting.
His human friend blinked once and then shrugged. “The Ladyblog,”
France was thoroughly confused by that answer. “Is that just some…”
“Bad pun on ‘Ladybug’?” Louis was already pulling his phone out, “Yeah, I think so. Here- I’ll show you,”
Louis' phone opened to the video again, and then he scrolled down. Under a video description and a short assessment of the situation, as well as some worried theorizing about what it could mean, there was a name. “It’s hosted by a woman, Alya, she’s been doing this pretty much since Ladybug and Chat Noir appeared,”
“She… posts videos of battles?”
“And gathers information for people who are curious about the superheros, she even has some stuff about the ones besides the main-” he counted on his fingers quickly, “-five. Also, she talks about Hawkmoth and gives ideas on how to avoid akumitization, which is how I found her,”
France nodded and scrolled up on the blog, immediately met by a bright pink banner with Ladybug spots.
“The sections at the top of the page change a lot,” Louis commented, handing his phone to France so he could explore the site. “When she first started the blog it was a lot more gossipy, I think. A lot of theorizing about secret identities, but I guess there are more important things now that Hawkmoth has gotten a little more serious about whatever he’s doing,”
“Yeah,” France hummed, clicking on the tab labeled ‘interviews’. He scrolled down, a post titled Superhero of Destruction???: Interview With Chat Noir caught his eye. Down further, Balancing Civilian Life With Superhero Work: Interview With Ladybug. He kept scrolling. There were about eight interviews, three with Ladybug and two with Chat Noir, as well as one with Carapace and two with Queen Bee and Chat Noir together. “Oh wow,” France interrupted whatever Louis was starting to say, “She’s pretty popular,”
Nodding, Louis reached out and took his phone back- peering down at the screen to see what exactly his friend was looking at. “The interviews? Yeah, they know about her. I’m kind of surprised you didn’t…” Then Louis seemed to notice the look on his friend’s face, “Are you alright?”
“I…” France murmured, a strange feeling had come over him. “Am I on there?”
Louis paused to think, “Probably, you’ve been in the last few attacks, right?”
Now his turn to nod, France thought back. It was true, he had been helping the heroes a lot. “Yes, ever since…” he trailed off. Both him and Louis knew when his interference was ‘since’.
Louis’ breath staggered for a moment, thinking about the blank segment in his memory from the akumitization, but then he shook his head to clear it. “You guys can beat Hawkmoth and the akuma’s will stop after that, right?”
“I guess, I’ve never fought him,” France said simply, moving over and sitting down at his kitchen table, “But I’ve beat far less pathetic enemies in the past,”
“Really?” Louis moved to sit down as well, slipping his phone away.
France laughed, “Of course, I’m a nation. I’ve had to beat up my friends countless times, though I was more referring to the regular-”
But he was cut off as Louis’ phone suddenly went off. Both of them jumped as an alarm sounded. “Another attack?” Louis exclaimed, pulling out the device yet again.
“Again?”
“Apparently,” Louis’ face twisted into a frown, “It’s a good thing my store’s closed right now, I don’t deal too well trying to keep my customers safe by myself,”
Only a minute seemed to pass before a loud crash was heard outside.
Louis followed him, France got up and peeked out the window. Outside he saw some people rushing around in a panic. At the far end of the street he could see something creeping around a corner, though he couldn’t quite think of a way to describe it. It was more than shadow and it wasn’t as simple as even a complete lack of light: it was like there was nothing there.
“Louis, go and see if anyone’s trying to get in the back door!” he called, quickly shutting the blinds and rushing to the front door. Once he opened it, a mother and a small child quickly came in, France ushering them to move faster- but when he looked outside again there was no one else. So he shut the door again, an odd feeling in his chest telling him to cover the small window at the top of it, and so he pulled down those blinds too.
When he looked back, the two people he had let in were looking around in fear (and bewilderment, perhaps). So he swallowed, put on a gentle smile and walked over, “I’m sure everything will be alright,” he said, trying to speak as kindly as possible so that his non-human-ness wouldn’t add to their fear, “Do you want to sit down?”
The woman stared back at him and shook her head, then in English she spoke. “Sorry- I don’t… I don’t speak French,”
France blinked, but it wasn’t really too surprising, Paris was a common tourist destination- though it used to be a lot more popular before the akumitizations. So he responded back in English, prepared for this as he was. “That’s okay- do you want to sit down?”
She looked very relieved and nodded, “At the table?”
“Yes,” France nodded, “Come sit, please!” He pulled out a chair for her and her son, then turned to see Louis and a group of three school boys coming back from the other side of the house.
“Guess I have to take care of people after all, huh?” Louis joked nervously, leading the three boys to take up the other seats at the table.
France nodded, “I guess so,” He peered over his friend’s shoulder to where he had come from and suddenly remembered the queasy feeling in his chest. “Hey- Louis?” he asked, voice raising slightly with sudden worry.
“Hm?” Louis responded, smiling at the woman at the table politely before looking back up at his nation.
“Did you shut the blinds?”
Louis shook his head, “No, why?”
But France was already rushing to the back of the house. He could see that the darkness creeping around the corner was only about a building away from his house. The fear rose up further, threatening at the back of his throat like bile. He flung closed the blinds on the back door’s window, then rushed back out.
“Sorry, but you all need to get up again,” France addressed the whole room. Two of the boys protested in confusion and the English speaking woman rolled her mouth into an awkward frown, but France continued. “Just trust me, please? It will keep us safe,”
The boy that did not protest nodded and got up, waiting for more instruction. As France repeated roughly the same thing he said to everyone else in English to the tourist and her son, Louis asked what to do.
“Are we… shutting blinds?”
“Blocking out all of the outside light,” France agreed, “I don’t like the look of that void, this feels like the right thing to do,”
The boy who was standing nodded and pulled one of his friends up, Louis and the tourist woman getting up from the table as well. France rushed upstairs and began to close the blinds in his room and the bathroom- really anything that led outside. When he came back downstairs, Louis was shoving a rag between the bottom of the door and the ground, the three school boys hanging up a blanket over a bigger window, and the woman pulling the drapes over the small windows in the kitchen. Clearly she had caught on from what the others were doing.
After one quick check around the house, France decided everything was sufficiently covered and went back to the kitchen table. His guests followed and sat around, though Louis had to pull over two extra chairs so everyone could sit down.
Right as the last student sat down, a wave of dark rushed over the whole room. Perhaps it could be described as chilly. Deary, and saddened, fearful cold. France was immediately glad he had trusted his instincts to block out the outside and judging by the looks on everybody else’s faces he could assume that they were glad that they had followed his instincts too.
As Louis put on some tea for everyone else (and poured himself some wine), France maneuvered over to the living room and turned on the TV. He quickly flipped the channel to the news and flopped down on the couch. The screen was bright against the darkness of the room and the violence displayed on it was not much less eye grabbing. From the shaky footage, there was no human form to the akuma- just a cloud of darkness. Still, the five main heros stood strong, cornered but still ready to do what they had to.
France felt sick.
He couldn’t be there for them. He knew he couldn’t leave while the void was right outside his door- especially if opening it meant putting his guests in danger as well.
As commentary from the reporter screamed from his TV, France leaned in closer to watch the battle. He stared as the akuma lashed out with what looked like hands made of fog- and then jumped in shock as Carapace put up a shield halfway through the hands, the cut off ends disappearing as wisps of fog. But the attacks kept coming.
He got up from his seat and began pacing back and forth, hand clamped tight over his mouth and eyes still trained on the screen.
His eyes caught on Queen Bee, heart jumping unpleasantly as he remembered her power not working in the video clip Louis had shown him. Sick, ill. He felt scared.
And as if on cue, Queen Bee suddenly collapsed. She fell backwards onto Rena Rouge, who stumbled and nearly dropped her flute, and then rolled to the ground- evidently unconscious. France gasped, biting his tongue so hard he was surprised it didn’t bleed.
The reporter yelped in shock as well and as Rena Rouge knelt down by her unconcious ally the video cut out. France turned back to the kitchen, eyes wide. “Did you-” he gasped out, feeling sick, “Louis? Did you see that?”
Louis came to the door of the living room, and seeing the agast look on his friend’s face, bit his lip. He began to walk over, voice hushed so that the people in the kitchen might not hear the panic in the conversation, “What happened?”
“Queen Bee, Chloe, she just…” the blood was pulsing through France’s skull. He felt faint and furious at the same time, “She just collapsed; like sand!”
Louis winced as if he had been punched. “Is she-”
“The video cut out,” France whipped around back to the screen, “I don’t know what’s happening to them right now…”
Then, saved by the bell, the English speaking tourist poked her head into the room. “What’s happening out there?” She asked, nervously looking to France for an answer. Looking for hope.
Louis went to try and answer, but France got to it first- patting his friend on the back before walking over to the lady and smiling down at her shakily, he forced his own fear down. “I believe Ladybug and Chat Noir have everything under control-” behind him Louis clicked the TV off, “And if they do not, I have two guest rooms upstairs for you and those boys until they do,”
If she noticed his voice shake, no she didn’t.
He hated lying, so he just willed himself to believe his full trust in the heroes wasn’t a lie. Humans looked to him for help because he was supposed to mean safety; so he had to be safety for them. He had to be home, no matter where a person hailed from.
The tourist nodded slowly, still clearly worried. Then it occured to France that she might not know who Ladybug or Chat Noir were. Hurriedly, he coughed. “Oh- Ladybug and Chat Noir are two superheros in Paris, they have been fighting Hawkmoth and his akuma’s for years now. They manage to save us every time! I promise,”
“Akumas?”
France paused, that was a little hard to explain. “They’re… sort of like the bad emotions inside someone take them over. Hawkmoth is at fault of it, and he’s stationed in Paris- which is why you don’t see them in other places,”
Swallowing, the woman rubbed her arm, looking back to check on her son at the table before looking down at her sandals. “So whatever’s out there is an akuma?”
“Exactly.” France nodded.
—
By the time the clock struck eleven, the battle was still on. In that time the boys and the tourist family had probably gone through just about every Disney DVD France owned and Louis and himself had made a pretty substantial dent in the wine he had in the kitchen. Cheap wine of course, he didn’t store the real stuff in the kitchen, but still wine. They capped off eventually, because France knew he shouldn’t be drunk around guests and because Louis wanted to go to bed.
The three school boys, a group of friends on their way back to class after grabbing lunch, claimed the larger of the two spare rooms. The woman took the smaller, though France did have to bust out the old play pen for her child (he knew it would have a use someday), and bid him a very tired goodnight. He didn’t blame her.
Since he didn’t have any more spare rooms, Louis and him had to share a room, but they were both too exhausted to care.
France fell asleep fast, even with the distant crashes from outside the chill of the unnaturally dark air. He was so tired that even his worry for the superheroes couldn’t keep him awake (and that was really saying something, since it felt like it was tearing him apart).
The last thing he felt before slipping into his dreams was guilt, and it dripped into them. When he woke up, he remembered very little of his nightmare but what he did remember was highly unpleasant. Queen Bee collapsed on the ground, Ladybug tired and weakening, his people hurting and scared- trapped inside their homes from a darkness persisting beyond any light. What felt worst about it was how real the threats presented were.
So he stumbled out of the arm chair he had collapsed into, not caring what time it was or that Louis was sleeping in his bed, and rushed down the stairs and to his TV.
When he turned it on, the words ‘Breaking News’ immediately blared across the screen, footage from the previous night’s battle playing along with newer content France had not yet seen.
“…We are very lucky,” the man on the new channel was saying, “that this akuma has fallen back,”
Fallen back? Was it defeated, did the superheroes complete the task?
But France still felt that undeniable tinge of pain in his heart, Paris. There was still an akuma somewhere, but whatever Ladybug and the others had done had managed to push it back. France was grateful and just as relieved, he was so glad they were so good at their jobs. Otherwise, he didn’t know what he would have done.
Gone stir-crazy, stuck in his house without being able to help, probably.
He switched the channel on the TV, all that was on was the news anyway.
A woman was reporting live and France instantly spotted Chat Noir next to her. An interview of some sort, he realized, barely a conscious thought as a new rush of relief crashed down over him. He hadn’t even noticed how much he had been shaking before this confirmation that at least one of the heroes was still visible alive was made.
Chat Noir was talking, “It’s retreated.” France didn’t miss how tired he sounded, nor how his hand rested firmly on his ribs. “But we think it will come back, it’s conserving power for now,”
“What should we do when it comes back?”
Frame sat forward in his chair, leaning forward and clinging onto the black cat’s every word. His every movement, every shift of his frame. He was part of France’s life-line, now.
“It’s weak right now,” Chat winced as he gestured- talking with hand motions and unfortunately jostling his body around (perhaps too much). His hand shot back to his side and he took a second to recover (eyes squeezed shut until he was ready), voice determined despite his state. “So Ladybug and Rena Rouge are going in to try to deal with it- I’ll follow them as soon as I can.”
“But that’s-”
“The idea is that it won’t come back, at least not at full force.”
“Alright,” the reporter said, “But what can regular people do?”
Chat Noir shook his head, sighing. “Stay home, close your blinds and keep the darkness out. If you do that, any enclosed space can become safe. It’s all you can do for now,”
France felt a small surge of pride knowing that he had done the right thing, but still most of his emotions laid in worry for the superheros and for his people. His chest hurt from the nervousness and from the damage Ladybug had not yet repaired. He continued to watch, listening carefully as the reporter asked the question that he had been worrying about.
“And where is Queen Bee?”
He leaned forward in his sport as Chat went to answer. His words were carefully measured. “Carapace had brought her to the hospital, we think she will be okay,”
“Does it have anything to do with the akuma?”
Chat Noir hesitated. France thought back to how she had been when they had met. Weaker than normal, her kwami sick, or hurt. Fear seized him.
“No,” Chat Noir finally said, softly. “The akuma isn't at fault for it,”
The reporter went to ask another question but he shook his head, his voice suddenly cold. Worry for his friend, France realized. “I'm sorry- I have to go, they'll be needing me soon,”
And with that, his vaulted away and off screen.
France turned off the TV.
Well, no time is like momentary peace to get everyone home! He set to work on a quick breakfast and then called his accidental guests (and Louis) downstairs. After Louis, the woman came downstairs first with her son, gingerly taking a seat at his table as he set a plate in front of them.
/“Thank you,”/ she said and he nodded.
Then he went up the stairs and called the school boys down, the three of them tiredly following him and also sitting down at the table. They ate quietly, clearly tired from a restless night.
“So what's the plan?” Louis asked, clearly having seen the light outside.
“We're going to get everyone home,” France said through a bite of food, then looked over at the boys. “Do you guys have phones to call your parents?”
All three of them nodded.
“Okay,” he said, “Do that once you're done eating, we don't know how long the akuma's going to be recharging so you need to get home as fast as possible,”
Then he looked at the English-speaking woman, “Do you have anywhere to go?”
She blinked and shook her head slightly, “There's a hotel, but I don't have a car to get there at the moment, I left it a while away when I ran here,”
“You ran here?” he asked in surprise, “From where?”
“The Eiffel tower,” she responded, looking oddly embarrassed.
He smiled, impressed. That was pretty far away from his house, actually. “Wow!” he nodded, “You can stay here for a little longer, if you have to, I'll get you and your son to your car though- alright?”
She nodded, taking another bite of her food. The plan solidified.
France then turned to the boys, “Have you called your parents?”
“Yeah,” one of them answers, “My mom's going to come and pick me up,”
The other two also nodded, still on their own calls.
“Alright,” Frane said, “Do they need the address?”
The boy who had already called his mom blinked at him and then gasped with the realization, embarrassed. “Yeah, probably!”
On cue, his phone rang. It was his mom calling him back. France laughed, glad to have something light hearted to entertain him for a moment. “Put me on I'll talk to her,”
—
Soon enough, all three of the boys were picked up (each of their parents thanking him profusely).
Then he packed Louis, the tourist woman, and her son into his car and went off in the direction of Louis' house. It was towards the Eiffel Tower too, so it was productive in each way. In the distance he could see the darkness, but it was far enough away that he wasn't worried by it exactly. What did get his heart racing though, was spotting the moving shapes around it- the superheros, he realized.
Dropping off Louis at his house, France got out of the car and gave his human friend a tight hug.
“Say safe,” he whispered, “Please,”
Louis nodded into his neck, “Of course, same to you!”
France laughed, “I'll be fine unless they don't defeat this thing,”
“Me too,” Louis nodded as they broke away from each other, “For the record,”
“Yeah whatever,” France rolled his eyes teasingly, though they sparkled with playfulness. “But I was trying to reference Paris being my heart,”
“Whatever, nerd,” Louis teased him, “Bye!”
Then he was in his house and France went back to his house, a small smile on his face. Then he turned to the woman in the backseat. “Alright, just tell me when you see it!”
She nodded.
When they reached her car, France gave her a hug and gave her son a light fistbump. “Thank you,” she sighed, “Really, it means a lot,”
“Don't worry about it,” he shook his head, “It's what we're supposed to do, right?”
She shrugged, “Maybe, but it was really scary to run away from that thing…”
They both looked off in the direction of the darkness, worry clouding each of their faces in turn before they managed to tear their eyes away, “I get it,” France nodded, “And I'm sorry that you had to have this happen on your vacation,”
She laughed, “It's alright, it's not your fault,”
He smiled, “You're sure it'll be okay?”
“Yeah,” she nodded, “I have a GPS to reach the hotel, we'll be safe there,”
“True,”
One last hug, France giving her his number. (Not for romantic purposes but because he wanted her to contact him once she was to safety.) And they each got into their cars and drove off in different directions.
—
France pulled up to hospital Queen Bee had been brought to, rushing inside and revealing what he was there for.
He was led to her room, finding her detransformed and asleep. Carapace was there, still transformed and holding her hand. He was biting his lip with clear nervousness and looked up as France and the nurse came in.
“Oh,” he sighed, “It's you,”
“Yeah,” France crouched down next to the bed, looking at Chloe's sleeping form. “What do you think happened?”
“It's the Miraculous,” Carapace said as the nurse walked out once more. He glanced over to the side table and France followed his gaze.
There, on a folded towel, Pollen lay. The little creature was also asleep, though the Bee Miraculous was nowhere to be seen. It wasn't in Chloe's hair either. “Where's the Miraculous?” France asked, looked back at Carapace's masked face.
“I'm holding it,” he responded, opening his other hand and revealing the magical piece of jewelry, before closing his hand once more. “I can't just leave it out, someone would probably take it,”
France nodded. That made sense.
Then, something in him rose up and he felt the urge to just ask. “Could I use it instead?” Carapace looked at him in confusion, “You know, since it's making her sick now,”
“I- no,” Carapace shook his head. “Not that I don't trust you! You're my country, after all,” he rushed out, “But it's too dangerous! Broken Miraculous' shouldn't be used. Plus, it's not my decision to make, it's hers,”
“Chloe's?” France asked, looking down and looking at the sleeping superhero as he tried to push down his greedy disappointment. (He shouldn't have been feeling that, he had known the answer when he asked.)
“And Ladybug's,” the turtle-themed hero agreed, “But mostly it's just too dangerous to use it,”
They fell into worried silence.

(1309 words written today.)

Um anyway, SWC fic time!

Star could feel the change coming.
Soon, she was going to have to pick a side.
It had been nice while it lasted, of course, to sit back at ‘neutral’ and watch the war go on. It had been awesome to get some sweet trade deals along the way, to become a merchant as she had been living up to be.
But things were changing fast, the rebellion and the forces crushing it moving with seriousness and pride. Too many customers had asked her what side she was going to take, too many people forcing her to pick a side. She didn't want to pick a side! That was the whole point of being neutral!
But now she couldn't ignore it.
She couldn't ignore the burn in her chest when she heard of the casualties on each side and of the struggles they went through.
Rumors of how badly the Queen treated people- perhaps a lie, though she had no way to confirm it to know for sure. Rumors of betrayal to the countries and law-breaking on the side of the rebels- that much was true, but who was to say it was exactly a bad thing to do? Not her.
Honestly, she didn't know what side she would pick. Each side looked good and then bad, depending on who she talked to, each side had evil and cruel bits but each side had people fighting for what they believed was right.
Gosh, this was why she always tried to stay in the middle of conflicts. It was too hard to pick!
It wasn't like she really belonged to either, being a merchant and all. She didn't keep her sales from people based on their political opinion or what symbol they beared (or did not bear) on the back of their hand. Oh yeah, she was going to have to get that changed too.
It was stressful, but it was part of living she supposed, packing up for maybe her final day on a neutral side.
What the future held was for the universe to decide, and she was not the universe so it was not in her hands. Therefore, she would have to wait for the change to come. Wait for the conversation to happen that moved her opinion from the middle to either side.
Wait for fate to take its toll, as it always did in these countries.
Only then would the change occur.

(406 words.)
Okay!
I'm beat, goodnight *snoring*/j
Ha ha, I wish. I still have more to write for other things!!! *I wrote the entire weekly today because I procrastinate too much ;v;

I then proceeded to write a bit of a fic I've been working on for a while. Unfortunately, I think it's too violent to post on Scratch. (Yes, worse than the MLB whump up above ha ha.) Anway, sorry about not being able to provide proof, but trust me I did it. :')
(801 words.)

Day ten: 5۞ in total. (2059 words in total.)

Main Cabin Daily ft. Hetalia SuFin- 3۞
Words guessed: Weary, Heres, Terse, Berth ….um what am I supposed to do with that : |
Using weary as in ‘tired’, here's as in ‘here is…’, terse as in ‘abrupt’, and berth as in ‘bed in a boat’.
Thanks to @SunnyPickle_1 for the request!!!
Late Nights In Tight Spaces - Hetalia, SuFin, cuddling, seasickness, sailor/pirate AU, nationverse.
It was just a week into their journey and Finland was already weary. The floor creaked under his feet and although he trusted the boat to be watertight (Sweden and his crew had reminded him that it had been on many such journeys before) it still made him nervous. Sure, he was brave enough on land but he was not really the seafaring kind.
Well, not until recently anyway. The goal was to become seafaring over the next few months.
Before then, he had never really been the type for pirate business. He supposed it was how far it kept him away from his country, but after hearing that Sweden had picked it up he decided to try it as well.
With so much time to do things, why not try it?
Well.
He regretted it.
Again- the floor creaked and made him nervous. Then, the food wasn't that great (especially when including the fact that he was expected to have less of it due to his immortality). And on top of all that, he discovered he was exactly the type to get seasick.
Just fantastic.
He spent long hours when the crew had moments of downtime just sitting on the edge of the boat and occasionally vomiting into the waves below. Since the beginning of the trip it had gotten a little better, because now he could sometimes sleep full nights, but it was still very unenjoyable.
At least he had Sweden to talk to, though. Even though they hadn't always gotten along (with various periods of history that included skirmishes and small-scale battles), he had respect for the man. Often, they were allies but even outside of that they were both countries and, stuck on a boat with a crew of people who weren't, the pair had grown a little closer.
Bonding over their shared memories of battles long past and telling them as stories to the rest of the crew. Laughing about something stupid Norway had done a while back, or another one of their enemies. Obviously many of the pirates weren't the type for government, but Finland assured them he was much less his government than he was his people- just as they were.
Sweden agreed.
They had smiled at each other, Finland remembered. Sweden barely smiled.
For some reason, it put butterflies in his stomach just to think about the joyful expression on his ally's face.
'Get your mind out of the gutter, Finny!' he scolled himself, struggling to roll over on his berth (a small cot that was oddly itchy), and then immediately regretted it. The quick movement made his stomach churn unpleasantly and he sat up with a start. (Which, of course, didn't make it much better.)
Darn it, he didn't want to have to run on deck and throw up again. He was sure whoever was on duty up there would make fun of him for it! Plus, the whole experience was wholly unpleasant.
In an attempt to distract himself from the ugly feeling, Finland looked around the dark of the room he slept in. For all he knew he was the only one awake (except for those on duty for the night), so he peered around at the sleeping forms of the fellow sailors he had come to know better over the week since he had joined the crew. There was the man with the eyepatch who told great stories of the land he had come from and there was the cook! (He wasn't the greatest with names, yet, though he swore he would get better over time.)
With a start, his searching eyes fell on someone who wasn't asleep.
Sweden.
“Gah!” Finland exclaimed in shock, jumping and almost shocked out of his still present seasickness. (Not quite, but almost.) Then, he struggled his voice down to a whisper, “You surprised me,”
“Surprised?” came the other nation's groggy voice, rubbing his eyes and yawning. Had Finland woken him by sitting up? How??
“Did I wake you?” Finland asked apologetically before continuing without giving Sweden time to respond, babbling in that nervous way he did. “I'm so sorry, I'm just still having trouble with the seasickness and I can't sleep that well-”
Sweden shook his head, cutting him off. “No, no. I was already awake, I just sat up when I saw you did,”
Finland opened his mouth to respond, but a wave of nausea washed over him and he gagged instead- slapping a hand over his mouth and coughing. To his surprise, Sweden suddenly got out of his bed and rushed over (narrowly avoiding tripping over the cot of the man who slept in between them- still snoring peacefully). Finland shook his head, pushing down the feeling and waving his hand, “No no-” he tried, but then coughed again. “I-it's okay,”
Seemingly worried, which surprised Finland to be honest (Sweden wasn't exactly the type to display his emotions for the world to see), Sweden grumbled something under his breath.
“What?” Finland asked, but Sweden had already left his side and was heading up the stairs to the main deck. Confused, Finland watched him disappear out of the trapdoor, but at least it momentarily distracted him from his seasickness.
A moment later, his seafaring colleague returned with what looked, in the dim light, like a bucket.
“Here's a bucket,” Sweden offered, voice quiet but not quite monotone. Ah. Apparently his eyes were correct, the nation had returned with a place to vomit into should the time come! How oddly… considerate of him.
“Thank you,” Finland smiled at him, taking the bucket and leaving Sweden to gingerly sit down on the edge of his bed.
Oh. Oh okay, that was fine.
Finland shifted over so that Sweden had more room to sit next to him, which he accepted. Finland smiled at him in the dark, pushing down the nausea because he wanted to look at him. Sweden had always been rather handsome, he thought distantly (though much of it was covered up by the more forefront complaints of how tired he was and how sick he felt).
He didn't really like how intense his instinct-related thoughts were, but it was a nation thing and not exactly something he could get rid of. Oh well.
Sweden coughed, seeming to be thinking hard about something he wanted to say. Finland didn't interrupt.
“Do you…” he started, staring at the opposite wall. His words weren't quite as terse as usual, Finland noted in the back of his mind. Then Sweden shook his head, sighing. “No, nevermind,”
Finland blinked, frowning. “What is it?”
Sweden looked at him, that same blank expression on his face as usual. Still, even in the dark Finland could almost sense that something was different. The air hummed with nervousness around him- like that odd aura he got when he was really angry, just different. Not so scary.
“I was going to ask if a hug would help,” Sweden said finally. Finland blinked, not quite sure how to respond through his surprise.
A hug?
But Sweden must have interpreted his surprise for judgement or annoyance because he quickly backtracked. “But it's stupid, that's why I said ‘nevermind’ and-”
“No no,” Finland waved his hands semi-frantically as both of their voices rose. Then, he lowered it again, “No, it sounds… nice. Yeah, a hug sounds nice,”
Sweden stared at him and- had Finland pretended it or was that blush darkening his cheeks in the dim light? If it was, Finland felt himself flushing as well. (In fact, he was no matter what.)
“Oh,” Sweden said, voice unusually small.
“Yep,” FInland nodded.
But neither nation moved to either give nor receive the hug, just staring at each other in the semi silence of the boat. The splash of waves outside accompanied the snoring of other crew members, the creaking of the floor blending in nicely with the winds that crept down through the deck's wood above.
Sweden coughed, looking away (and clearly embarrassed, even though his body language was still concealing). “Sorry,” he apologized, suddenly going to get up off the bed.
No! Finland's heartbeat suddenly quickened, he didn't want Sweden to leave!
“Hey!” he reached up, grabbing the other nation's arm before he could get too far. “Come back!”
Sweden blinked down at him, uncomprehending why Finland would actually want him to stay.
With the hand that wasn't in a death grip around Sweden's bicep, Finland patted a spot on the scratchy mattress next to him. “Here, sit. I'll hug you,”
“You will?” Sweden asked, unsure.
“What else would I do? Punch you in the face?” Finland teased, “Come back, I'm cold,”
Sweden shifted to move away, “But you have a blanket,”
“Not warm enough,” Finland shrugged, though it was clearly just a hypothetical excuse because neither he nor Sweden actually got cold that easily. Sweden knew that, but Finland didn't care, if the guy's heart was as big as he knew it to be it wouldn't matter either way.
Sure, Sweden was scary from time to time and even seeing him was enough to make Finland jump when he wasn't expecting it, but he also knew that Sweden really cared about people. His people, other nations, friends, even enemies (though like any other representation it wasn't exactly a good idea to get on his bad side anyway). He just wasn't the best at showing how much he cared. Finland felt, in that moment, like it was his job to push forward that ‘showing it’.
“Come on,” Finland pressed, smiling a cringe smile at what he was about to say. “We can cuddle and be warm,”
“Cuddle?” Sweden's confused voice came out a rather higher pitch than normal.
“Or whatever,” Finland shrugged, pulling Sweden down to sit next to him again now that he was surprised and no longer straining to go back to his own cot.
So they sat side by side once more, again in silence. Neither said a word, but Finland looked into Sweden's eyes and saw something there (even in the darkness). Embarrassment, perhaps, but something else too.
Finland wrapped his arms around him and scooted over, leaning back against the wall and bringing Sweden with him. He chucked at the little yelp of surprise Sweden let out. “To be honest,” he nodded, “I'm pretty distracted from my seasickness right now- pretty sure it's passed for the moment. Thank you,”
“I noticed,” Sweden observed, and ah- there it was. His voice was terse again, but not in a closed-off or angry way. Instead, it was more nervous, perhaps of saying something wrong?
“You don't have to be worried, I don't bite,” Finland assured him again, laughing lightly. He leaned into the other representation's side and to his surprise, Sweden leaned back.
Murmuring, voice soft but less nervous, Sweden hesitantly rested his head on Finland's. “I know you have a bite, when you have a sword,”
“You do too,” Finland nodded, in turn moving to rest his head on Sweden's shoulder, “But I'm not scared right now,”
They were silent for a gentle moment, breathing together as Finland waited for Sweden to respond.
“Good,” he whispered, and Finland glanced up in time to see him shut his eyes.
Finland smiled, then looked away again. “This is nice.”
His voice was quiet and a feeling in his chest was growing. Warm, but not like flames. More like a sunny day after a storm or the hand of someone he loved resting in his. There were no uncomfortable butterflies, like he often felt when in close proximity to others that presented the comforting warmth in his chest. It really was nice.
He felt comfortable, even on the scratchy mattress and leaning against the jutting headboard. Even in the creaking boat that he still could not quite trust. Even with the edge of nausea still just-present in his mind.
Even with all of that, he felt like he was where he should belong.
“Yeah,” he said again, more to himself than Sweden. “I could do this again,”
Next to him, Sweden hummed gently. He squeezed his hand lightly, leaning just a bit more into the hug.
His eyes were still closed, but when Finland looked up at him, he could see a soft smile tracing his lips.
(2043 words.)

In Cabin Daily - 2۞
I tried my best to be honest (the daily was to get eight hours of sleep).
(16 words.)

Day eleven: ۞5 in total. (867 words in total.)

Main Cabin Daily ft. Hetalia Japan- 3۞
The trees screamed to life in the wind that whipped through them, leaves tearing apart and from their branches. The sky reflected the color of the darkest depths of the lake, but it was day time. The clouds that hovered in the sky were to blame- though not quite as directly as it might seem.
It was a hurricane, sort of.
Not quite as extreme as the real natural disaster (it could be argued that it was not natural).
As he stalked to the edge of the lake to sit on that one rock that was warm under the sun, the wind whistled and the leaves rustling on the ground picked up. Just like some sci-fi movies, or a film with superheros. Something that reflected a person's emotions onto the world.
He was angry, that much was clear.
There was no way he remembered about what he was so mad, because the emotion had gripped him as he woke up and that lead him to believe that it was reflected from something political.
Japan (he was not called that, in those days, but for the sake of understanding it will be his name) didn't represent a large area of land yet. In that way, the land responded to his emotions stronger than that of other representations he knew. They were connected, him and the physical piece of Earth that he technically was.
But that could change and as such the reflections of his anger in the oncoming storm frightened him. Not a forefront emotion, as anger still resided most comfortably in his heart (he wished it would leave), but still there.
Sometimes he would trade being a nation to be human and not have to experience these things. When getting angry meant the world responding to him and kicking up in storms, it meant he had to calm down. Really calm down- because just putting up a front didn't mean the emotions went away.
Almost.
He would almost trade it away.
Obviously, it wasn't possible. That was most important, though it made him a little more mad and he sunk down onto the rock to sulk for a while.
As he touched down, closing his eyes and trying to be calm, the rain started.
Great, apparently some sadness was also relevant to the political event that was gripping his emotions right now. (Of course, he didn't even know what event it would be, since he lived far from what technically ruled him.)
Technically, technically.
There was a lot to being a nation that revolved around ‘sort of’s and hypotheticals.
Their existence was flawed, after all.
The storm picked up as he thought about it and he tried to clear his head by thinking of calming things. What he ate for dinner the previous night, or a story he had heard. (But none of it worked and the rain still poured around him. At least the farmer's crops were being watered.)
Tears joined their wetness on his cheeks even as he struggled to squeeze his eyes closed.
It was tough to represent such a small space.
(515 words.)
Not exactly my interpretation of nations but fun to do anyway.

Water :| - 1۞
Ewwww water.
Anyway yeah, I did that. Look at me go, I drank water. (After realizing I was dizzy ha ha, just cursed irl!Starthorn ‘lore’ I guess.) Kind of happy with myself, I also microwaved a bowl of oats, milk, and peanut butter! It was surprisingly good, even though eating it made me feel a little sick. I'm trying to up my protein intake though because I want to be stronger.
That's probably not healthy. Um.
Yep! Water and a meal, how awesome.
(85 words.)

Walk/Garden Update (it's been too long) - 1۞
So we made that one food that's wrapped in grape leaves? The rice one? I can't for the life of me remember what it's called, but we made it today. The reason this relates to a garden update and/or walk is because we picked the leaves from a wild grape vine that's growing in our yard. That was pretty epic if we do say so ourselves (we as in the family), though it was our first time making it from scratch so the end product wasn't exactly stellar. Still! It was good enough. Epic meal (we also made some salad and trout), would recommend.
(105 words.)

Random rant about bassoon???
Okay so, like, maybe I mentioned that I'm learning bassoon before? Yeah, I think I did.
But I also might not have, so- yeah! I'm learning bassoon. It'll be the second instrument I'm serious about (because I dropped ukulele after realizing string instruments are *not* for me and the recorder doesn't really count since it was just for school), the first being flute.
Anyway, do you guys realize how heavy those things are on your left hand? (Maybe, I hope other bassoonists understand this struggle. TuT Otherwise I'm doing something wrong, even though even what my teacher recommended low-key did not help aaa.)
It's like- you support most of the instrument on your left hand, since your right hand is on top of it and rests there, not picking it up. Of course, there's also the seat strap which you sit on, but my freaking h a n d dude! OW
Anyway.
Yeah so there's that~
Ha ha, this is pathetic xD
(162 words.)

Day twelve: 5۞ in total. (1362 words in total.)

Critiquing @Galaxy_Awesome awesome writing!! - 2۞

Okay, starting off with some positives first because this was a very engaging piece of writing! :0

I really liked how simple yet descriptive you were with The Doctors, especially the detail of them falling from the ceiling! The use of super short sentences to describe things was also very neat, especially in combinations with one word sentences. I always enjoy that sort of thing in writing, it sort of breaks up the flow and adds a super cool dramatic effect, you know? Also, it is a wonderful retelling of that saying, a very interesting way to think about it for sure.

I think really the only ‘advice’ I can give is that the counting down of the seconds, while a good way to show how time is moving, could probably be broken up a little bit more. For example instead of counting down all of the seconds you could count down most of them but have some areas (perhaps after the “You wolf down another apple.” line) cut off with something like ‘the seconds still ticked by’, before coming back in after the next line. I'm not sure exactly how to describe it, but for example in that place instead of…

You wolf down another apple.

16.

15.

14.

They stop in place, just like their kin standing still in a ring a floor above.

13.

12.

…you could have something more along the lines of:

You wolf down another apple.

The seconds continue to tick by as your heart beats quickly.

They stop in place, just like their kin standing still in a ring a floor above.

13.

12.

I guess what this chalks up to is preference, but finding a way to break up the counting might make it slightly less jarring to read for the first time.

But really, the biggest thing that stands out to me about this piece is the style! Again, I really love how you describe things. It was a fun read! Would critique again.
(337 words.)


Main Cabin Daily - 3۞
The daily today was to take personality quizzes for your protagonist! I did mine for a character I do not have a name for yet, but some story is written. Throughout this entry, they will be referred to as ‘my protagonist’.

The first of two quizzes I took was a ‘which hot drink are you’ quiz by @spottedwoodpecker11 in this quiz, as the name suggests, your goal is to determine what type of hot drink you are! For my results, I was described as a mixture of tea and hot chocolate. As an actual drink that sounds pretty gross, but that's very interesting. Then, for my protagonist's results I received coffee! I'm not quite sure how that relates to their actual character, but it's an interesting way to think about it for sure.

Next I moved onto a flower personality quiz by @ravenpuff08. In this quiz I received no precise results as my results were apparently a tie between two possible answers. I think that's kind of funny, and oddly descriptive in its own right- I mean it's not like I know what type of flower I would be either, ha ha. Anyway, I then put in answers for my protagonist and they got a lily!

Both of those were very cool and although this daily is not worth any points officially, why not gather some points from word count alone?

But seriously, it was a very fun daily to do, super simple as well! It's nice to have a break every now and again.
(265 words.)


This was not your best idea yet. - Mspec Snotlout, HTTYD Race To The Edge, vent, argument.
I didn't write all of this today, I just counted the words I wrote today, though!
Snotlout's hands were curling into fists.

His breath felt hot and heavy in his throat, but he couldn't seem to get it all out. He felt out of breath and yet so choked on the air that clogged his lungs. What emotions were rushing through his mind other than the anger? Was there even anything other than it, or were the accompanying emotions buried too deep?

He was so bitter, so furious.

No one seemed to know how he felt when they made those jokes at the shared dinner table, when the made fun of how he struggled to come up with answers to some of their questions. Of course he didn't even have a response to snort back at them, nothing except an awkward laugh- or an anxiety filled insult. Something that didn't dig deep enough to convince them all that it was real and yet managed to get him in trouble with the others.

Maybe it was true that he shouldn't have felt as though this was such a big deal but he didn't care, why should he? It was too hard to push out the anger at their uneducated offenses and see it as a joke, he was still figuring himself out. (Some of them probably were too, but that thought rarely left the logical part of his brain to comfort the rest of him so him counting for it was an even rarer occurrence.)

Panting for air, he punched the stone and dirt wall of the basement. (The riders had briefly returned to Berk for a quick supply run before the devastating part of winter, as a wildfire had run through and destroyed much of their store of food. They didn't need much, only enough to get them through the time it would take to get back their supply.) Clenching his teeth together and feeling a scream of anger struggle to leave his mouth (he held it back, suppressed to the level of a growl instead) Snotlout pushed his forehead against the wall, even though he had to crouch due to the depth of the room.

He had to release this angry energy somehow, but it was too late at night to go out flying and too dark out to go for a run through the woods. (Oh how he wanted to do either, oh how he knew it would help- but he couldn't disturb his father's sleep, the guy had been up since way too early in the morning helping more supplies from the store house he had built.)

Sure he could pace around the room, since he couldn't seem to sleep due to the furious intrusive thoughts that demanded on disturbing him, but that didn't really do much for him. It was the best option at the moment as he certainly wasn't going to wake up a tired Hookfang even for a game of ‘keep away’ with a chair. (Though that sounded so inviting; a good distraction… he knew he couldn't let himself set the house on fire again.)

That wasn't likely to make the people of Berk want to give the Riders extra food.

It also wasn't likely to make him feel better about himself or the confusion he had regarding what he ‘was’. (How could he like men? He had been attracted to Astrid as long as he could remember, and he hadn't realized that he could like… everyone. Overtime he was slowly falling closer and closer to comfort with his identity- but he was still in that awkward phase where the teasing jokes his friends made hurt.)

The ones where they joked about him ‘not being able to decide’, or when they laughed and said that he would get married to two people at once. Nothing was wrong with that idea (other than the marriage laws on Berk) but he felt himself repulsed by the idea because it was what he wanted. Because it felt like they could see what he thought, even though they were really just kidding around with faked assumptions for the sake of humor. The Riders would never say things like that if they knew he was uncomfortable, but he didn't know how to tell them that he was!

He felt trapped because if he told them to stop it would be more obvious why he wanted them not to joke about it, because it was how he actually felt. What with all his strength and power, Snotlout still wasn't ready to face the truth.

Months back he had promised himself that if he ever found out what he ‘was’ he would tell the others. They didn't need to know, but they deserved the truth. (Otherwise he would feel like he was lying to the people he cared about the most.)

Helplessness. (Another emotion to join the anguished fury.)

—

“Snotlout?” came Hiccup's voice, calling down the stairs to where he sat at the bottom of the twins' Yak Pit (there were still no yaks in it).

Again, Hiccup called his name. “Snotlout?” This time, it was from right behind him and he turned to look at the man who stared at him in confusion.

He didn't respond, just stared. He felt anger boiling in his chest, but it was buried in that sorrowful helplessness and he couldn't force himself to act on it. Instead, he just turned away from Hiccup and stared down at his feet again. He felt terrible, but he didn't know why. He felt sick, but he didn't know why. (It was the realizations, of course, but he had never pegged himself as homophobic. He hadn't really thought about it much, before the last few months.)

“Hey,” Hiccup said, more forcefully, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

Hiccup pretended like he hadn't heard him, just sitting down next to Snotlout (who scooted away like he had touched fire). Any moment now he was going to explode. He felt so angry, so furious, burning alive in his skin and boiling inside himself. If Hiccup made him talk about this he was going to blow up at him.

“Let's talk about it,” Hiccup said, not a single chance of wavering evident in his voice.

Oh Thor.

“It's nothing,” Snotlout tried attempting to ward off the incoming argument he was about to make happen. His voice sounded harsh even to himself, but it was a plea nonetheless. “Don't make me talk about it,”

Hiccup frowned at him, evidently not seeing how serious he was. “Talking about things helps you work them out,”

“Not for me,” Snotlout insisted, getting to his feet. “Now, I'm going to be somewhere other than here, goodbye-”

“Oh come on!” Hiccup stood up as well, “You're stressing everyone out with how you're acting!”

Snotlout whipped around to face him, disbelief painting his face. Was Hiccup for real? His worry was for the other Riders? Anger soon replaced the emotion and he balled his hands into fists, “I'm stressing you guys out?”

Seeing what his sentence was interpreted as, Hiccup tried to backtrack, but it was too late. Snotlout interrupted him before he could get another word out. “It's you people that keep stressing me out!” he waved his arms around. “I'm tired of being the butt of the joke- and not just obviously! You guys can't seem to take a hint,”

“A hint about what?” Hiccup fired back, “You're unpredictable! We don't know what will make you mad!”

It was true, but Snotlout didn't like admitting that Hiccup was right about things- much less in an argument between them. “Just everything!” he seethed, “The jokes at the dinner table, do you seriously not see the signs?” (It was a little unfair. He was still going through an identity crisis in some ways, so why would anyone else have caught on? Still, he was sure they knew. Or at least Astrid did, she poked fun at him directly.)

“What jokes?” Hiccup seemed confused, “About Hookfang? You know we're just-”

“No!” Snotlout shook his head, “Thor, why do I even try to talk to you? The rest of them, especially from Astrid,”

For a moment, confusion remained on Hiccup's face. Then it dawned on him and he bit his lip, “The… the other jokes? About Thor Bonecrusher?”

Snotlout's heart did a flip with the mention, feeling sick. “Yeah, those ones,” Gah. He hadn't wanted to talk about this with Hiccup. He had no idea how it would be taken, though he assumed it wouldn't be taken in a bigoted way. Even then, though, he didn't want to be thought of differently and judging by the look on Hiccup's face that was what was about to happen.

“I didn't know you were-” Hiccup's voice was slow, words careful. Mind measuring everything he said. It made Snotlout feel ill.

“Exactly,” he managed, lightheaded and still angry. “Now if you'll excuse me.”

He maneuvered around Hiccup and headed up the stairs. That boy was going to tell everyone, wasn't he? Thor, he felt gross. That look Hiccup had given him, a changed perspective. He didn't want a changed perspective! He was still the same person, right? So why could no one treat it that way, not even himself?

Hiccup didn't follow him.

Snotlout ran to his hut once he was out of the pit, already feeling the tears on his cheeks.

He wasn't ready. He was never ready.
(760 words.)

Day thirteen: 3۞ in total. (3955 words in total.)

I wrote a bunch of stuff but it's WAY too dark for Scratch ha ha
(3955 words.)

I also did the in cabin daily but I had to rush to my bassoon lesson which meant I would not be back home in time to turn it in, so then I tried to take a photo of it (the daily was to do a map of a fictional place) but then I suffered because my camera on my computer is broken… so I just quickly sketched up a thing online.
It was really sad because my other map is super cool and that one doesn't even have labels, but I really had to go to my lesson. It's here.

Day fourteen: 12۞ in total. (1765 words in total.)

Main Cabin Daily -3۞ (I ended up writing more words than I had to with the amount of sleep I got lol)
Though he is still lacking a name (though I have decided on gender for him, as you can see!) my protagonist does have character traits. Due to the sort of book it will be, my protagonist is not allowed to sleep often. This is due to the setting in a survival type book, combined with fantasy elements of course. Plus, he has traits of certain birds due to his wings (I have not decided if he is some sort of osprey or some falcon yet) and many birds do not sleep a lot.

Therefore, he is trained to end up tired most of the time.

Still, he likes being rested and spends time sleeping when he can. His friends, some of which are also bird-hybrids, can also look out for the group if they really have to. Still, he's the one that ends up doing it most of the time because he is considered the leader. (Many of his friends are new to living in their situation.)

Another character, a member of this group who will be referred to as Cupid here, though I'm not sure that name will stick, has a different sleep-schedule engrained in her character traits. Unlike the protagonist, she does not care about being all that well rested and spends time with him when everyone else is asleep. Then again, she is also an owl hybrid and is awake at night much more than some of the other people in the group. Still, she has to rest anyway, as her natural time to do so would be in the day but the day is busy. (What with collecting resources and fighting other groups.)

This means that Cupid is tired much of the time and other characters have to force her to go to bed sometimes, since her being well rested is very important. There aren't any other nocturnal bird hybrids in their group and so she is the only option for certain plans, as everyone else is not good at functioning in the dark. (The protagonist tends to take the night shift so she won't get completely estranged from the group by reverting to a more natural sleep schedule for her.)

One of the characters that worries about Cupid is her friend from childhood, a girl that I don't have a name for yet nor much else. Still, given that she is friends with Cupid and is human her sleep schedule is important to note and therefore I already have some details of it. (I think I'll refer to her as Cupid's friend for now, ha ha.)

So, Cupid's friend is a human. She does not have bird wings or tail feathers or any other traits, but when she was a kid she lived in a village with a lot of different sorts of people. In this village she met Cupid and they grew close. (Even in that village there were not very many nocturnal animal hybrids and Cupid felt sort of left out of place with the feline hybrids as they couldn't really understand each other.) The reason they even could grow close was because Cupid's friend had a horrible sleep schedule.

Night after night, she would stay up way too late trying to talk to Cupid and then sleep during the day. (Neither were allowed to go to school because they were girls, but Cupid's friend obviously still had do chores and things so this was disrupting.)

Anyway, she has largely improved her sleeping by the time the book takes place, but she still tends to wake up later than many of the rest of the group. (Not that there are many characters left to be honest.)

Alright, hope you enjoyed that little rant!
(620 words.)


In-Cabin Daily - 2۞
Genre picked: Sci-Fi. (I am so bad at sci-fi, space scares me. I have no clue how I ended up in the Sci-fi cabin last year xD)
North was a planet close to the star at the center of the little solar system, which was an odd name because space didn't have directions like north or south, not really.

Anyway, the space ship was heading there.

The fuel was packed for the journey and the residents of the ship had their heat resistance suits since they were weak to the intense heat of the star. It would rise in the morning and nights and days were very short, so even as they were planned to land at night on the planet the suits were still very necessary.
(100 words.)


Some stuff for an RP
Star looks down at the papers before looking up again at Sierra, “Oh- these are my pieces for the country I've joined! It's a place called Fairy-tales for the Scratch Writing Camp, last year I landed here from a space ship belonging to the Sci-Fi group. Mostly, the writing is fanfic-” she laughs awkwardly, “-but I've been working on some original writing too,”

Star also notices the lack of sleep in Sierra's eyes and smiles, it is in her own eyes as well. That makes them similar.
(87 words.)


In-Cabin Weekly - 7۞
Part one. Option chosen: Fake Politics.

I decided to make an online tabloid type of political commentary on fictional people in a fictional universe. This means that it will be exaggerated and not the sort of thing that would ever get published in an actual newspaper, it will be VERY unreliable! Super fun to write.

“I Don't Care About the People On the Ground” Former President Admits She is Bigoted Against Non Birds

Mrs. Annahew, former president of the city of Together has stated in a speech last Wednesday that her directions for government and laws have benefited the hybrids of those with wings more than those without.

This confirmation shows her bigotry as this article has argued since the beginning of her employment as president.

When asked by the interviewer, Mr. Pan of Greenburrow (a chipmunk hybrid himself and one who understands our struggle), what direction the laws took under Mrs. Annahew, the former president seemed to quickly close off and think about her answer.

When she does decide on her words they are clearly in an attempt to fool those that are listening into thinking that the laws she has allowed for do not only benefit those who can fly.

(Our source for this quote is an amateur video found here on TameTale.)

Mr. Pan: What direction did the laws take under your guidance when you were president?

Mrs. Annahew: (pauses) I'd like to think that it benefited those who the laws were directed to protect. I like to think it brought us together, like the city name itself. The protections put in place to allow the existence of sky patterns which lead to better flight for those with wings were some of my most memorable and most controversial decisions and the sidewalks-

Mr. Pan: And what of those who cannot fly?

Mrs. Annahew: My direction of these laws about flight patterns was to allow for those who can engage in flight-

Mr. Pan: Yes, but what about the people who are not bird-hybrids?

Mrs. Annahew: (pauses) The laws do not affect people who do not engage in flight. Those with wings do not fly as high as planes and the like, so protections in a city only make it so people with wings cannot be sued for flying instead of walking as we have been in the past.

Mr. Pan: But people who are not birds must still walk on the ground, seeing people in flight can be harmful because there are no protections for us.

Mrs. Annahew: Sidewalks have existed in this capital city of this great country for a long time, and under my guidance I would like to think that walking conditions have improved as well. My goal… was to make the city more walk-able.

Mr. Pan: And ‘fly-able’? Why does that have to be included in walk-able?

Mrs. Annahew: Those with wings deserve to fly, it is part of our instincts and is hard to ignore-

Mr. Pan: So you care about bird hybrids more than the rest of your previous citizens?

Mrs. Annahew: (pauses) In the past we have been discriminated against for reasons we cannot control.

Mr. Pan: It has been argued by some that this has swapped under your ruling. Do you not care for people without wings?

Mrs. Annahew: No more questions please, next interviewer?

Here, it is clear to see from Mrs. Annahew's pauses that some sort of bigotry is at play. After all, why would so allow laws supporting those with wings while only minor reforms are made about the city's real walkability?

Bird hybrids and bat hybrids as well as insects with wings have the ability to walk for the most part, why are they allowed to fly?

That defeats the purpose of making a city walkable, does it not? It invades the rights of those without wings by preventing us from doing something that other citizens can.

Physically, those who are grounded cannot fly outside of planes and helicopters.

Our instincts should be taken into account just as birds, who need to understand that they do not rule the world. These laws which Mrs. Annahew agreed to in the last part of her term do not support rights, they invade them.

Many* people I have spoken to agree, we wish to sue those which fly once more.

Hopefully Mr. Carry, our new president as voted in by the majority, will take steps in the right direction and tear down these ‘protective’ laws which do more harm than good.

In the past, when he was voted in for his first term before it was disrupted by Mrs. Annahew, he has taken down laws protecting the right of flight so that those who can not do not feel threatened by the abilities of those with wings.

We hope that Mr. Carry can continue on this route for his new term as his promises have stated.

Mr. Pan also interviewed Mr. Carry last evening about what his goals are for this new upcoming term. (Our source for this interview is Ruh News, a local new station.)

Mr. Pan: What were your thoughts when our previous president implemented the controversial Flight Protection Act?

Mr. Carry: I was horrified, naturally.

Mr. Pan: As was I, it is good to find someone on the same page.

(They both laugh here.)

Mr. Pan: So what is your plan to lessen the impact of this controversial act?

Mr. Carry: I plan to do what I have done in the past and replace it with restrictions so that the citizens of Together have to walk once more and those who are flightless regain the ability to sue anyone they see flying.

Mr. Pan: Do you think it would be better if those who flew did not learn to do so?

Mr. Carry: (laughs) I think that it would prevent arguments from occurring, so yes.

Thank you Mr. Carry and Mr. Pan! We look forward to new Acts put in place to erase the effect of Mrs. Annahew's oppressive reign.

*This source is missing or deleted.

(958 words.)

Day fifteen: 3۞ in total. (2539 words in total.)

Weekly continued - no chapters because I already counted them yesterday!
Part two, sports opinion.

I decided to use a fictional sport I made up for my book because (at least where I live) people get very worked up about this stuff. Like, even more than political things. Therefore, it is going to belong to the same universe as the unreliable tabloid article above.

Feather Ball is Heading In The Wrong Direction - Opinion

When it started, Feather Ball was a sport highlighting the art of combining flight and running.

Started by Adrienne Barclay early on in the Federation of West and East's history, before the Revolution which began us as a country, Feather Ball was a way to connect the communities of flying hybrids and those who lacked wings. Variations of the game include various setups with various amounts of ratios of wing to non-wing.

Similar to battle strategies, these various versions have players in different formations and place the goals at different heights.

Each team tries to score in a total of three goals at least two times each within a time limit. Traditionally, two goals are on the ground and one is balanced twelve feet high. In modern games, one goal is on the ground, one is placed at twelve feet, and the last is placed at thirty two feet.

Originally, the game was laid out so that if one team did not have very many people who could fly the other could have some winged members tie their wings so they could not fly for the game. This made it fair and so that as long as a team had one flight hybrid, they could play.

Obviously, Feather Ball encourages diversity and many types of it. The game is open to any type of hybrid as long as they can breathe oxygen, though there is another game with the same general rules called Scale Ball as an option for those underwater. Because of this, it is very popular in cities where people of flight and people of non-light both reside.

But now in professional teams new rules are being put into place that take away from the original idea of this wonderful sport.
With professional teams doing these things, it is a fear in the hearts of many that believe in Feather Ball's initial reason that perhaps things will change. Rules force a certain number of players of each type of hybrid and professional teams often do not allow people with the wings of smaller birds to join.

This is to be expected, as it is with other sport teams (whoever is physically the best at the sport tends to be allowed on the team, but these changes for Feather Ball mean a lack of diversity).

As we are aware, many people do not see an issue with recent changes of this sort. However, it is clear to see the harm that placing rules such as the ones offered up by the National Feather Ball Agency. This harm would not only tarnish the reputation of the sport but also the reputation of the players and the noble cause for which it was created.

New rules are always a thing to look out for in the case with sports, so this is not new.

However, it is new to limit who can join a team simply based on what species they are.

And the rules suggested regarding the set up of a team are also against the original idea of the sport. The head of the NFBA has suggested that a team should be allowed half of their players to be able to fly (though, as often in sports regarding flight, bat-hybrids were suggested to be kicked off as well as insect hybrids who can fly). This means, by cutting down the options of a team that many teams from areas where the ratio is not 50/50 will be unable to play professionally.

As you know, if you have followed this sport, issues regarding Feather Ball as presented by the NFBA are rules that apply to even small school teams. By putting these rules into position, teams from smaller schools that do not have the option to play with a 50/50 ratio of winged persons to non-winged persons will not be able to play in even the little league or against other school's teams in a way that counts.

This would put many students at risk and take away many brilliant players which we could otherwise see in the professional games in the future.

Rules like these take away from the idea of the sport, even if the idea presented in order to explain themselves to the NFBA are supposably inclusive, not because they present a change but because they influence the sheer amount of creativity one can put into just on Feather Ball game. In the beginning, as I have referenced, it was made so that a team could be a team as long as they had the right amount of people and at least one person who could fly.

Generally, of course, it was better to play with more than one person of flight because it made a game much easier. (Even if back then it was only necessary to score a goal in the air twice whereas now the lowest amount of four times do to the two goals in the air.)

Still, options were available to make it so any team that met these very simple requirements would be able to play. There were no professional leagues back then, but it is easy to apply this logic to modern games even if teams of this sort making it to professional leagues is very rare.

But it is the opportunity that counts, and this is why the NFBA should rethink their decisions on these new potential rules.

(912 words.)

Part three, Fake Gossip. (Again, part of that same fictional universe! The people referenced in this short article are fictional celebrities made up for this in particular.)

Ane Harley Gets Surgery on Tail!

Fans from all over the country have been ringing in to report over this new information on Ane Harley!

The movie star rose to fame when she was seventeen and since then has stared in various popular movies, blockbusters likes Among The Sea Sand and Alone Always being some of them. But some would also argue that she has gone down a path different from the one projected by any who saw her early role in simple children's series A Babysitter And A Dog.

Back then, it appears, Ms. Harley was interested in keeping her image clean and giving back to the public that supported her.

With various decisions that we have seen over recent years, some say that she has fallen from grace.

This new ‘correcting’ surgery on her tail is yet another piece of her personal history that is being critiqued by fans and haters alike. Some argue that her surgery supports the body shaming of those with crooked tails while others congratulate her for this achievement, as it has also been referred to.

The star has not released any public statement regarding her surgery and it's sudden controversy other than a post on her TameTale page regarding leaving the hospital.

The post contains a photo of her tail covered in bandages, with the captions “I have to keep this clean from now on!” above it.

The reactions to this post were immediate, and since then fans have been calling in to wonder what our take on this moment is. Are we against it and think that her getting surgery supports body shaming or do we think being against her choice is body shaming?

Well, dear reader, we are rather torn on this issue.

There are good points from both sides and it is clear that the star herself was planning to get the surgery and that it was not thrown at her by her management. This would have made it problematic we believe. But it is also hard to let go of representation for those like her before her surgery.

But what we can make of this is that we hope she heals quickly and goes back to making films!

Her upcoming role in a new Majestic film coming out, though no title has been released, is certainly exciting news! It has been hinted that she will star alongside fellow actors Henry “Harty” James and Annabel Blut!

Hopefully this film comes quickly because we can not wait!

Plus, it will be a way to say goodbye to her look before this controversial surgery, both for people who agree and for people who think it is bad news. As well as this, the ongoing series which she stars in has hinted giving her character, Mary, a reason for changing her tail.

Perhaps it will be plot relevant (in fact, it is projected that it will be! The studio behind this show is known for that sort of reasoning when an actor leaves or changes drastically).

To sum things up, we hope that Ms. Harley heals well and can go back to doing what she loves soon enough! Much love.

(531 words.)

Part four, recipe! Not exactly in the same universe as the other parts of this weekly but I imagine it being there just so the whole thing is together. :')

Weird Green and Pink Smoothie, Kind Of Tastes Sour In A Good Way - Recipe By @Starthorn

Utensils necessary:
Hand Blender or Blender
Medium Sized Cup
Butter Knife

Ingredients:
Hannaford (or any other brand, but that what I used) Vanilla Whole Greek Yogurt
Spinach
Arugula
Strawberries
Banana
(Soda Press Co) “Organic Soda Syrup” Pink Grapefruit Flavor *optional, you could also add real grapefruit juice but it won't be as sweet.

Instructions.
Pour yogurt into the cup (or, if you have a blender and not a hand blender, into the blender) until there is about two inches in it.
Add a handful of spinach and arugula.
Cut a banana into sixths and add these to the cup/blender.
With the hand blender or in the blender, blend these ingredients for a while.
Once you are done with this take out the blender and add another handful of spinach and arugula.
Add three medium sized strawberries.
Add a little more yogurt on top of these.
Pour a bit of Grapefruit Soda Syrup into it. Not too much!
Blend again, this time for longer and until you do not see chunks or streaks of color. (The greens will still probably be visible in tiny pieces, don't worry about that.)
Enjoy and feel free to mess around with this recipe! That's how I make it every time, trial and error depending on what I'm in the mood for.

(233 words.)


A Word War With @skywrites - 1۞
I'm not a vampire, she promised. But it was a lie, since she was (in fact) one of those with the red eyes and the bat wings and teeth. It was not her issue, this whole vampire business, but rather her family.

After all, since she turned it was rather hard for them to feed her.

She could not just eat the family's meals anymore and was forced to eat more meat. (Originally the stuff had made her feel ill, but now she didn't have a choice if she didn't want to hurt the other people who lived in her village.)

The reason she turned was another vampire in the village, her friend.

It had been a plan because her friend was done starving in family meals and the like. She she offered a little blood, knowing what was to come but being ready anyway.

The next night was when she turned.

From then on, her family had to modify her meals so that she would not go hungry.

It wasn't really an issue outside of that, she was still the same person really.

That made it work, that and her family's supportiveness. (And it made her friend feel not so alone anymore, which was very helpful.)
(207 words.)


Main Cabin Daily - 3۞
Part one:
I'm giving away my bassoon reed that has a chip out of the side, wires that poke my fingers, and cannot, no matter what I do, manage a low crow? Someone else can take it, I'm tired. I have other reeds now so someone can take it off my hands! Begging on my hands and knees
(56 words.)

Part two, prompt: “giving away an old perfume bottle that still has a citrus scent lingering” from @create12now
Even though there was perfume left in the thing, the bottle was very important to Cupid.

For some reason, looking at it meant that she was safe. The citrus smell added as well, helping to show the nostalgic ‘flavor’ of how it looked and felt to be around. Someone, it reminded her of her childhood, although it had not been hers back then.

It used to belong to her friend, the girl down the road who did not have wings.

The girl who ruined her sleep schedule for her, for whatever reason. That was what made it so important, probably, since that girl was important to her. It used to be that they hung out by her friend's window since she wasn't allowed out of the house at night.

Neither was allowed to go to school, so they hung out instead. (They wouldn't have gone to school at the same time, anyway, since Cupid had to be nocturnal due to her instincts and her friend was supposed to be awake during the day.)

Anyway, they hung out.

The perfume bottle reminded her of those days now, since she had taken it from her friend's room as they left to join this group in their survival quests. At first the joining had just been to feel something, she supposed, but being there had soon turned into a necessity as they were wrapped up in the nasty business which they could now not escape.

So when she slept, to remind her of those times (though neither thinking of them as better or worse than her current situation), Cupid would keep the perfume bottle near her.

It was a simple object, and the scent only barely stuck around after all this time, but it reminded her of what had been.

She was still close to that friend, physically even- because their camp wasn't big enough to sleep far apart, but sometimes she still missed how their friendship had been at the start.

The excitement of talking in what was early morning for her but what was late night for her friend, hiding the whole thing carefully and consistently so that they wouldn't get caught my their parents.

It was a whole thing, really. Sometimes she missed how dangerous it had felt while it still wasn't dangerous, because now was different. Now was dangerous, and it wasn't something she could change.

After all, they were caught up in the whole issue now, and she couldn't let down the other people at their camp.

Not the girl with the snake tail who had introduced them to this place in the first place, not their group leader who she had grown close with, not any of the rest. It would feel like betrayal to leave, for those new friends and for herself. (Now, the camp was part of who she was, and leaving it behind would mean leaving a fragment of herself there.)

Maybe, if she left, she would need to bring something with her.

Just like the perfume bottle- it too represented something she once was. That was why it was so important, she supposed.
(520 words.)


A Walk - 1۞
I went to a friend's party today and went on some walks as well as a swim. It was quite fun, especially with the rest of the things that went down, we set up our Dungeons And Dragons characters- or rather, they did. I tried to remember how to be a DnD dungeon master but I'm sort of lost. Hopefully we don't forget everything by the next time we remember to play this game, that would be quite sad.
(80 words.)

Day sixteen: 3۞ in total. (6327 words in total.)

Main Cabin Daily - 3۞
He hadn't seen the old man since both him and his friends were very young.

Back in those days he had lived in a village that rested on an island only a little way off the mainland, and there he had met the man. His name was Mr. Awsten and when Protagonist was a kid the man was his teacher.

He liked Mr. Awsten because he was nice to his students, always careful to listen to what they had to say and carefull to keep his own words kind. It meant that students could answer questions without being afraid of judgement from the adult in the room, as was a fear for many kids then. (And still is now.)

Because of this comforting fact, Protagonist liked him.

Mr. Awsten was a man he looked up to for sure. He was an idol as much as he was an important figure for personal reasons, a reason to hope for other kind people like him.

So when Protagonist met Mr. Awesten once more, now years later, the event stuck out in his mind.

Protagonist was walking on the edge of town, having gone in to buy the supplies him and his group were now in need of. Then, in the store while he was in search of provisions, he spotted the ex-teacher out of the corner of his eye.

They looked at each other in surprise and also joy, since it had been so very long since they had met.

“Mr. Awsten?” Protagonist asked, clutching his fish to his chest.

“Protagonist!” the man exclaimed in surprise, “What a shock to see you here huh?”

“Y-yeah!” he stuttered as this elementary school teacher hobbled closer to him to get a better look. The explanation of ‘my eyes aren’t as good as they used to be' was enough. “I'm not in town too much,” Protagonist smiled apologetically.

Dismissively waving his hand, Mr. Awsten shook his head. “That's fine- it's not like this is ‘town’ anyway,”

It was true. The store they were currently standing in was several hundred miles away from the town Protagonist had grown up in.

“I guess,” he smiled, “So what are you doing out here?”

“I moved,” Mr. Awsten nodded, thinking back. “I moved when things started to get bad back home, is that what you did?”

Shrugging, Protagonist began to make his way towards the front counter in order to pay. “I might have moved before then, but the letters from my mom explain the situation pretty well,”

Mr. Awsten hummed, walking alongside his previous student and thinking. “Is she doing well, your mother?”

“I think so,” Protagonist agreed, “I haven't gotten a letter in a bit but it's nothing to worry about,”

“That's good,”
(456 words.)


All Is Desolate Without You - I realize that I forgot to continue this. What I did was write almost all of chapter four, squint at the word count of what I had for chapter three and had a realization. Also, I changed the ending of what I had.
Chapter Three: Building Trust: Reprise
Then, Chloe's eyes brightened, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. Marinette watched her politely, hands clasped in front of her. “Sorry if this is too off topic, I just remembered,” Chloe apologized awkwardly, “Chat wanted me to let you know that he accidentally ordered the wrong type of camembert for Plagg and got screamed at by him, look,”

“Jesus,” Marinette laughed as she looked at the short video clip of the little creature having a fit on a carpeted floor.
(84 words.)
Again, I will finish this soon! I got super turned around aaaa


All Is Desolate Without You - Chloenette, banter, realizations, Adrienette friendship, Queen Bee references.
Chapter Four: Backseat Driving
Though some break in akuma attacks was occuring, or at least from the ridiculous amount her and Chat Noir had become accustomed to over the last few months, Ladybug still found herself transformed on the roof of some building near a park she and the other heroes often congregated in.

It was late at night but that was alright because she couldn’t sleep anyway and school the next day was going to be a struggle no matter what.

Around her the cool air hummed with faint city sounds but also the chirping of crickets from the green area below. The sky was a dark gray and although not many stars were visible due to the lights of the city that still burned bright, it was still beautiful. Clouds dotted across the expanse above and created patterns that she traced with her eyes. It wasn’t a sight she could easily become bored looking at, especially with the added addition of fireflies blinking in the park, among the trees and above the walkways.

She came here often when she was stressed or had something on her mind. As long as night reigned over the place, it was a good spot to clear her head. (On her and Chat Noir’s patrols this was a spot she often claimed.)

Sighing, Ladybug kicked her leg gently against the side of the building she sat upon, watching it bounce back up and glitter reflectively in the lights of streetlamps below. She was grateful that Chloe had convinced the mayor that his impression of her identity was wrong, at least for the time being.
However, that made way for worries about her partner’s identity.

She had to be honest with herself, she was curious about who the other hero was. She always had been, but now wasn’t the time to take advantage of a situation and she felt bad for the reveal.

At least, according to what Chloe reported, only her and her father were aware. That was good, at least. It meant that if Chloe could force her father to keep it under the wraps, everything would end up alright. When she told Chat about it he had been a nervous wreck, but when Ladybug let him know that Chloe was making attempts to keep it a secret (even with the mayor’s relative blabbermouth) he had calmed down a bit.

That made her glad.

Even if they had both decided that romantic pursuit of each other was not going to happen, she clearly still cared about him just as he cared about her. He had told her, one day, that he was pursuing a guy at his school and she had congratulated him. From then on their ‘flirting’ was purely a joke, not that it had ever been fully serious.

And from that tangent, Ladybug felt her mind start to inch towards romantic gossip with itself (as there was no one else here to talk with, not that it was a conversation she would have engaged in with other people anyway).

Her crush on Adrien remained strong, but she had put it behind her when she really assessed it and realized that what he really wanted was friends. That was alright with her, and since that realization speaking with him had been much easier and they had grown closer. It also made her notice that she did not have many other people to romantically pursue. Luka was an ex, but they were happy to stay as friends now. (The schedule with her being Ladybug had made it very difficult to date him and they had broken it off before one of them got hurt from misunderstandings.)

When she really thought about it, very few other people stood out in her mind as ‘crush material’.

Alya was pretty, but Marinette didn’t have a crush on her, all they were was very close friends. Nathaniel had taken up dating Marc, Rose and Juleka were together… There just weren’t that many people to go after, really.

And that was okay, it really was. It meant that she had more time to focus on being Ladybug and that was very important. After all, akuma attacks would be very dangerous if the city did not have her to protect them. (Of course they would still have Chat Noir if she did not show up, but he didn’t have the ability to reverse the damage done by more destructive akumas. That was a power only she had, hence the reason they had to work as a team.)

A car horn honked and unceremoniously snapped her out of her romantic ponderings.

Sitting a little straighter up from where she had leaned down to, Ladybug turned to look at where the sound had come from. Obviously it was nothing to worry about, but a distraction would be nice.

So she stood up and began to walk along the roof of the building she had been sitting on, just to peer away in the direction of the car horn. She was too tired to go swinging through the city at this hour, she hadn’t really left all that far from home for that exact reason, so Ladybug just stared off into the distance. From this angle she could see the Eiffel Tower clearly and took a moment to look at it all lit up.

Lights shone and illuminated the structure, a beacon towering over much of the city (she supposed that was even in its name). She distantly wondered how different the city scape would be without it, but soon left the thought and turned away, padding back to her original sitting location.

In the night air she was a little chilly standing so tall, so she welcomed her initial curled up position overlooking the park, sighing contentedly as she wrapped her arms around her knees. Now, many of the clouds had gone from the sky and left open the gray canvas and its lightly speckled stars. She smiled, looking up at the little white spots and imagining her own constellations between them.

Then, her eyes caught on movement below.

Her eyes snapped downwards and she crouched down lower against the roof, knowing from experience that her suit was very easily spottable against any dark background.

It wasn’t that she really expected to see any criminal activity, but it was that she anticipated it from years on the job.

To her dismay, it was exactly what she saw.

On the street below, a man was walking down the sidewalk, a bag in hand. He wasn’t the issue. The issue was the other man running up behind him, unnervingly silent in the darkness. He wasn’t brandishing a weapon that Ladybug could see, but a mugging wasn’t something she was about to let fly either!

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” she called out, bolting to her feet and leaping off the edge of the building.

Both men looked up at her in surprise, the one that was walking freezing in place as the other skidding to a near halt.

She landed, knees bent to absorb the impact and raced past the man with the bag. He watched her in confusion as she went past him, eyes then catching on the man running up behind him.

Speaking of him, as Ladybug ran towards him he turned around and sprinted down the road in the opposite direction. She gave chase only for a moment and soon stopped, content with stopping the crime at this before she turned around to face the first man again. He was still frozen in place, watching her in gratitude (though some of the initial surprise clearly still lingered in his eyes).

“Sorry about that,” she apologized as she walked up to him, “He was going to try and take your bag, I think. I happened to be around so I stepped in,”

“T-thank you,” he breathed, then laughed awkwardly and flicked his eyes down. “I thought for a second I was doing something illegal,”

She flushed in embarrassment, “Oh, I’m sorry about that,”

“It’s okay!” he quickly pacified her apologetic nature, “It’s more important that you stopped him,”

Nodding, Ladybug cleared her throat. “Yeah- it is, you’re right,”

He smiled at her and she smiled back, both realizing that they were at an awkward standstill. Ladybug quickly jumped into action, “So where are you going from here?”

Clearly relieved to have a topic instead of an awkward staring contest, the man scratched the back of his head. “I was just walking home from work, I had to stay late,”

She nodded, “I should probably go home soon too, do you think you’ll be fine on the way to your house?”

“Yeah, it’s near here so I’ll be okay,”

“That’s good,” she smiled at him, “Glad to, um, stop you from being mugged?”

He laughed, “Yeah, glad to be stopped from being mugged,”


When he was out of sight, Ladybug turned to go. She really should have been heading home at that point, it was getting quite late in earnest.

But just as she was about to swing her yo-yo to zip away, another figure entered her peripheral vision. Distracted, she let her yo-yo drop again, turning to look at the person who had just turned onto the street.

To her surprise, she caught eyes with Chloe Bourgeois.

They stared at each other for a moment, both clearly drawn away from their focus by the bright colors of the other’s clothing. Ladybug stood where she had been, putting one hand on her hip teasingly as Chloe jogged over. “What are you doing out so late, miss?” she called, jokingly.

Chloe laughed, looking both ways before crossing the road over to where Ladybug stood (not that there were any cars to be seen in the vicinity). “I was just… walking, I guess, you?”

“Clearing my head,” Ladybug shrugged, dropping into a more casual stance as Chloe made it to her side.

From somewhere within her, Ladybug could feel the distant thoughts of romantic contemplation bubbling up from where they had been shelved when she stopped the mugging. Swallowing and looking away from Chloe to hide a blush which suddenly spread across her face, she stared out into the park and shoved the thoughts back down. “Hey,” she stared before she could think about her words, “Do you wanna go for a walk?”

Chloe inhaled sharply and for a moment Ladybug thought she’d said something wrong, but then Chloe responded. “Y-yes! Yeah, let’s do that, in the park?”

“Sure, why not?” Ladybug smiled, flashing the look at Chloe before looking back into the park, “Neither of us can sleep, apparently,”

Chloe laughed and Ladybug could feel something shift in her stomach.

Were those… butterflies? She frowned to herself, pushing them down. What had gotten into her recently?

Then Chloe cleared her throat, a nervous twinge to her voice that distracted Ladybug from her thoughts. “Um, after you?”

“Oh- yeah! Sure,”

The pair made their way into the park, feet padding along the pavement of the walkway, looking out into the rows of trees and flowers. It was a small park, but it was still beautiful. Ladybug found herself looking over at Chloe as they walked in silence, noting the way the girl’s face looked without her usual makeup. Memorizing it.

Her hair was tied up under a baseball cap and she wore a bright yellow sweatshirt instead of her usual designer jacket. Ladybug didn’t even know she owned clothing like that.

Then Chloe’s eyes flicked over to look at her and Ladybug tore her eyes away, watching the path in front of them instead.

Say something, her mind pleaded to itself, anything.

So she cleared her throat, catching Chloe’s attention (she could see her turn her head out of the corner of her eye, although her eyes remained forward).

“I… stopped a mugging, like, just now,”

“Really?” Chloe gasped, “Oh my God, like, right before I got here?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Ladybug tried to ignore the way her face heated up as Chloe talked to her with that genuine excitement in her voice. “It was, well, I was sitting on the roof up there and looking at the stars but I saw someone moving,”

Chloe giggled, “How? While you were looking up?”

Ladybug found herself smiling, “I don’t know! Just out of the corner of my eye, I guess, but I looked down and there were these two men walking on the street,”

She put a finger to her mouth in pondering, “The… the one in front was kinda strolling along and he was holding a bag, I don’t think he noticed the other guy,”

Chloe nodded and Ladybug smiled, looking over to her as she relayed the story. It was nice to have someone to tell these things to before she had to go back home and be Marinette again. “And the other guy was running up behind him, like, weirdly quietly?” she continued, “I don’t even know how he was doing it, but anyway- I kinda just jumped down there and chased him off,”

“That’s really cool,” Chloe said, then seemed to think for a moment. “Was the guy with the bag about my height?”

Ladybug looked her up and down, “Pretty much, yeah,”

“I think I passed him on the sidewalk,” Chloe nodded, smiling as she looked forward again. Ladybug watched as her features formed the gentle expression without the usual smirk she included. It was… beautiful.

And then Chloe turned again to Ladybug and their gazes met. Chloe smiled a little wider, eyes flicking over Ladybug’s face. “You look tired,” she murmured, and the sound arose something inside Ladybug, “how often do you do this?”

“Do what?” Ladybug asked, blushing and looking away. What in the world had gotten into her?

“You know,” Chloe waved her hand dramatically, “Save people in the streets of Paris? Is this why you’re so tired in class all the time?”

Ladybug swallowed, coughing. “I guess, but I’m also just generally tired all the time,”

“If you do this often that would make sense,” Chloe noted, “But that’s superhero life, isn’t it? How do you even sneak out?”

“My mom and dad go to bed pretty early,” Ladybug shrugged, not quite sure why she was telling Chloe this but too on a roll to really stop. “Since they’re…” she glanced around to make sure there were no other park-goers within earshot. “…bakers, they have to wake up really early in the morning. It gives me a little more time to do stuff at night as long as they think I’m going to bed at a reasonable hour. I can leave through the balcony or a window, either works really,”

“That makes sense,” Chloe pondered, “It’s a trend, I think?”

“What’s a trend?” Ladybug looked at her incredulously.

“Leaving through windows, A- um, Chat said that’s what he does,”

Mulling it over for a moment, Ladybug nodded. “That makes sense, he’s always talking about his parents being controlling and stuff, not that he ever goes into detail about it!” She quickly cleared that up so that Chloe wouldn’t think she knew more about Chat’s personal life than she did and accidentally spill something. “So, um, it makes sense that he would leave through a window,”

Chloe nodded, smiling with a faraway look in her eyes. “Yeah,”

They walked in silence for a moment, Ladybug looking up at the stars and Chloe gazing around at the plant life that surrounded the little walkway. It felt… comfortable.

It felt right.


Marinette walked into school the next day on very little sleep, but at least she wasn’t alone in it this time.

In the front row, Chloe chatted to Sabrina tiredly, pointing out the still visible bags under her eyes and noting something about her concealer not being full coverage enough. Marinette smiled distantly as she watched, resting her chin on her arm.

By her side, Alya watched her, following the direction of her eyes and letting her gaze also fall on the Bourgeois girl. “Woah,” she said, catching Marinette’s attention, “She looks tired,”

Marinette nodded, voice a bit airy as she smiled tiredly in Alya’s direction, “Yeah,”

Alya laughed at the look on her face, “You look tired too!”

“A bit,” Marinette admitted, yawning as she sat up and stretched her arms over her head, “Aagh, it’s like- a headache or something, I can feel it coming on,”

Alya laughed again, “Oh girl, what have I told you about staying up late?”

“That the sewing projects can wait?”

“Exactly! So take the advice to heart instead of memorizing it like I don’t mean it!” Alya patted her on the back, causing her to giggle a bit.

Marinette let her eyes stray around the room as she leaned back in her seat a little more comfortably. Almost instantaneously, she caught eyes with Chloe. They both stared at each other for a moment, Chloe blinking as Marinette raised her hand a bit. When Marinette waved, the gesture small as she yawned, Chloe smiled and quickly returned the motion.

Then she turned back around and returned to her conversation with Sabrina, Marinette felt her cheeks warm a little bit.

Seriously, what was going on with her??


At lunch (she and her friends had decided to eat on the steps outside of the school that day), Marinette found herself staring off into the distance with a dopey grin on her face, thinking about her walk through the park with Chloe the previous night.

“Dude,” Nino’s laughter brought her out of her thoughts, “What are you even thinking about? Adrien’s photo in the new perfume ad?”

Adrien busted out a guffaw, nearly choking on his food as Marinette spluttered, successfully distracted and now embarrassed. “What?” she gawked at him, looking between Alya’s giggling form and Nino, “His what?”

“I did another perfume ad a bit ago,” Adrien explained, shaking his head and patting Nino on the back beside him. “They had me wear this weird shirt,”
“It looked so stupid,” Nino grinned.

“It was a weird color,” Alya corrected, rolling her eyes around her salad, “It didn’t look-”

“No no, it did look stupid, he’s right,” Adrien nodded, “I thought it looked weird with my hair, but who was I to judge?”

Marinette looked on in confusion as Nino cackled, “Oh yeah- your hair dude! They had it slicked back,”

“I looked like my dad,” Adrien grimaced pathetically, “I have no idea why they styled it like that, I’ve seen the backlash online too,”

Alya giggled, “They’re horrified,”

Feeling a smile growing on her face, Marinette tried not to think about Adrien with slicked back hair. It was an unnerving thought, Still, she totally wanted to see it. “What? Can I see it?”

“Yeah! Hang on, I’ll pull it up,” Adrien laughed, taking out his phone and setting down his food.

The photo was soon brought up and Adrien reached out his phone for her to look. Sure enough, there he was in an off-purple T-shirt and slicked back hair. Altogether, it wasn’t that bad a photo. However, it was very not Adrien- both branding and the actual person. Marinette laughed as Adrien took his phone away.

“It’s bad, right?” he shook his head, “I think my father’s upset about it,”

“You even look uncomfortable in the photo,” Marinette giggled, causing Nino to nod.

“Right? That’s what I was saying!” he agreed, “He looks scared,”

Adrien frowned, sticking out his lower lip in a joking pout, “I do not!”

“You so do,” Alya looked over his shoulder at his phone screen, “You look like you’re thinking about the math test on Friday and realizing you haven’t studied yet,”

The whole group laughed, Adrien shaking his head. He looked a little less stressed than he had been recently, Marinette noticed. Good, she thought, it was hard to see him worried. Especially since she wasn’t so sure why he was worried in the first place.

Their banter continued as lunch went on, assessing new superhero drama (both Adrien and Marinette rushing on through the topic like their lives depended on it, as usual), teasing Marinette for being so tired, and finally to a light debate about whether tomatoes were good in salad or not. It was in the midst of this debate that Marinette noticed Chloe walking up to their group, Sabrina beside her and carrying a box full of something.

“Hi!” Marinette called out, swallowing down her worry at the sight of Chloe in the context of school. (After years of sharing classes with her the fear was pretty much innate, though she could feel it disappearing bit by bit these days.)

Chloe smiled and waved as the other three turned to look where Marinette was looking. “Hey,” she responded, prompting Sabrina to smile as well.
Marinette saw the slightly distrusting look on Alya’s face, but nodded to her reassuringly. Before she knew it, Chloe and Sabrina were right at the group’s sides. “Do you want a cookie?” Chloe asked, “Me and Sabrina cooked them after school yesterday, I’ve been waiting for them to get to the right temperature before handing them out,”

“Yep!” Sabrina nodded, extending the box, “We put jelly in them,”

Marinette smiled up at them, particularly making eye contact with Chloe (though she wasn’t quite sure why she was doing it). “Thank you, I’ll take one,”
She stood and reached into the box. The cookies were a pale cream color with a little heart shaped window of jelly in the center. They weren’t exactly bakery quality, but they were still pretty well crafted. Adrien stood up too, thanking the pair and retrieving a cookie as well. Then, despite her still standing dislike for Chloe, Alya also reached into the box and took one of the treats, Nino following soon after.

Marinette bit into her’s. The flavor was good! Sweet and buttery almost, with raspberry jelly in the center. She smiled, thanking Chloe again. “These are really good, thank you both,”

Sabrina smiled and Chloe blushed, voice quite precisely in the way it had been during their walk the previous night. “Y-you’re welcome,” Marinette felt her heart skip a beat, butterflies rising not-quite-unpleasantly in her stomach. Something she couldn’t place.


That following Friday, another akuma attack occurred.

She and Chat had gotten back into the swing of things, so the battle went relatively smoothly at first. However when a cataclysm was wasted on an incorrect guess to where the cursed moth was, the pair had to fall back. The good news was that the powers of this new manifestation of Hawk Moth’s power were not destructive, really.

To Ladybug’s knowledge, no one had been harmed so far in the battle. Sure, people were frozen in place where they stood, but no one was actually hurt.

“Sorry!” Chat Noir was apologizing and he and Ladybug retreated behind a series of chimney’s. He was out of breath and she was cursing herself for not guessing properly where the moth was, “Shoot, it’s probably in her hat,”

“Her hat?” Ladybug whipped around to watch the akuma, about fifty feet tall, wreak havoc in a public park. She wore a purple baseball cap with an ‘M’ on it. “Why her hat?” she looked back at her partner for an explanation.

“Dunno, it clearly wasn’t in her necklace though- darn it! We had such a good opportunity,” he stamped his foot in annoyance.

“Don’t kick yourself,” Ladybug went back to watching the akuma, “I still don’t feel like it would be the hat, though, is she holding something?”

Chat peaked around the chimney he was pressed against, craning his neck to watch the akumatized woman shoot a beam of light blue light and freeze a bunch of people in their tracks. “I… I dunno, can’t tell- we’ll need to get closer,”

Ladybug nodded, “Do you have your breath back?”

“Can I have another second?” he asked and she nodded again.

A moment later he gave her a signal and the pair turned to head out and continue fighting the akuma. But just then a voice called out from the other side of the building.

“Chat Noir! Ladybug!”

Both of the heroes whipped around towards the source of the sound, staring down at the street where it came from. There, on the sidewalk below, stood Chloe. She was waving frantically to them, clearly trying to encourage them to drop down and talk with her. Chat Noir looked over and Ladybug in confusion, she shrugged.

“Yeah?” she asked. There was a time where she would have ignored the urgent look in Chloe’s eyes or even scolded her for it, but now she didn’t feel like doing something like that.

“Come down here!” Chloe waved them over again and Chat Noir nodded.

The pair of superheroes dropped down onto the street below, Ladybug rolling to absorb the impact while Chat Noir just bent his knees. “What is it?” he asked Chloe, “Because we’re sort of-”

“Busy, yeah,” Chloe nodded, “I didn’t expect to see you- the akuma’s in her bracelet! I saw it happen,”

Ladybug blinked at her, then at Chat Noir. Apparently both of their guesses had been incorrect.“Her bracelet?”

“Yeah,” Chloe repeated, “She was sitting on a bench in the park, I saw the akuma flying up to her but couldn’t do anything about it,”

“You wanna go for it?” Chat Noir asked Ladybug.

Nodding to confirm, Ladybug agreed. “Thank you Chloe,” she smiled. Chat Noir grinned in agreement and saluted her.

“No problem!” Chloe called up after the pair as they leapt back up onto the roof and launched themselves towards the park.

With the use of her Lucky Charm and sheer dumb luck, the akuma went down soon enough. As the magical ladybugs swept through the city to repair the damage done, Ladybug fistbumped her partner and smiled at him. He smiled back, if a little frantically due to his beeping ring, and they parted ways. Ladybug headed back home and Chat vaulted off to who knew where- probably an alley to detransform.

She dropped down onto her balcony and went inside, detransforming as she touched down on the floor of her room. Tikki flew out and landed on the bed, groaning. “Gosh,” she rubbed her head with her tiny hand, “You cut it close with that transformation Marinette,”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Marinette apologized, already fishing around for macaroons in her bag. “Just let me get you some-” the bag was empty. “-*.”

“*?” Tikki questioned, confused.

“Yeah, I don’t have any sweets on me, just wait here while I dash downstairs really quick, okay?”

Tikki nodded, laying back on the pillow and closing her eyes to rest, clearly quite exhausted. Marinette hurried down the stairs and into the kitchen, hearing a few voices in the ‘store’ segment of the house. Her mother and someone familiar in deep conversation. From the few words she caught as she searched the counters for leftover cookies it sounded like they were discussing… her.

So she peaked around the corner, confused and curious.

Her eyes fell on Chloe.

Her heart fluttered in her chest. Goodness, she couldn’t seem to escape the girl recently, could she?

Walking out into the space, Marinette made herself apparent by clearing her throat. “Hi mom,” she nodded, grabbing her mother’s attention quickly. “Um, and Chloe…?” Her voice rode on questioning, unsure what Chloe was doing there.

“She was bringing you some cookies, dear!” her mother smiled, “Why don’t you two go hang up in Marinette’s room, me and Tom have some business to attend to in the shop,”

“Mom-” Marinette tried and Chloe struggled to utter a ‘no no it’s okay’, but Mrs. Dupain-Cheng just smiled and shooed them off.

Sighing, Marinette beckoned Chloe to come with her. She had to admit, she was still a little nervous around her (though if it was purely from her initial fear of the girl or not she could not tell), but it was hard to turn down an offer for cookies.

“I’m so sorry,” Chloe apologized nervously as they entered Marinette’s room, “I didn’t mean to stay over, I just wanted to drop off the rest of the cookies since-”

Her eyes fell on Tikki, who had frozen in place (not finding a good enough hiding place in time). She noticeably relaxed when she realized that it was just Chloe, knowing that Marinette’s identity had been blown to her.

“Oh!” Marinette exclaimed, heart jumping into her throat, “Oh, I’m so sorry, she’s hungry,” she addressed Chloe.

“Marinette? Sweets?” Tikki prompted, kindly but in a serious manner.

“*! Sorry Tikki, I-” Marinette apologized, then she remembered the cookies Chloe had brought. She turned to Chloe, who was still standing by the trap door nervously. “Can she have the cookies?”

“Of- of course?” Chloe nodded, taking a few steps forward and reaching out the box for Marinette to grab.

Marinette passed it to Tikki, who peered inside and squealed excitedly. (She had once told Marinette how much she enjoyed the cookies with jelly in them.) Digging in, Tikki had soon devoured two cookies.

Chloe and Marinette watched expectantly (and rather awkwardly) as the kwami ate.

“She normally eats this much?” Chloe hesitantly made conversation.

Marinette blinked, a little surprised to be spoken to. “Um, sometimes? It depends, honestly,”

Nodding, Chloe took a few steps forward. By then, Tikki had removed herself from the box and was laying back against the pillow looking content. “Hi,” she started, smiling nervously. Tikki looked up at her, blinking with her usual wide eyes.

“Hello,” she smiled politely, “I don’t believe we’ve properly met, have we?”

Marinette took some steps forward, “I mean, you once pretended to be a doll because you fell out of my bag near her,”

Both kwami and classmates seemed to think back for a moment, scanning their memory for such an occurrence. They both cringed at the same time. “Oh, yeah,” Tikki muttered at the same time as Chloe let out a strangled whine of embarrassment at the reminder.

She couldn’t help it- Marinette laughed.


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.)
(5133 words.)
To be continued!!


Word War With @i_like_kotlc - No chapters because I lost! GG.
Of course, he liked to think that he wasn't a jealous person. To be honest, perhaps he was. Still, it wasn't the type of thing he would exactly admit to anyone.

After all, why would he? His friends were interested in other topics than simple romance, it wasn't something that he was going to be asked about. But then again, as he watched his friend get a hug from his girlfriend, the jealousy skyrocketed. It rose in his throat like the burning urge to cry. It boiled in his skin and fried his heart as if there was no where else to go.

It was sickening because he had no real reason to feel that way.

It was his friend's girlfriend after all, they were meant to be close!

But after years and years of distrust and struggling to find family, seeing people he was close with be close with others was somehow hard. It was toxic, really toxic. (He knew, but he didn't know how to deal with that!)

And it made him sad, because his friends deserved better than him. Better than a man (or a boy, as he was) that watched on as they received hugs from others they loved, green jealousy burning in his chest.

It tasted bad in his mouth, leaving a horrible stench that he-
(221 words.)


Continued a piece that I still can't post on Scratch. :/
(432 words.)

Day seventeen: 4۞ in total. (1250 words in total.)

Main Cabin Daily ft. Miraculous Ladybug /p!LadyNoir - 3۞
“I'm fine,” he told her.

He always told her that, but she didn't know if she believed him.

After battles, her and Chat Noir go through with their signature ‘pound it’ fistbump and usually they would zip off. Sometimes, though, conversations were had after they removed themselves from the vicinity. (In order to avoid reporters.)

They talked on patrols, too.

Usually, their conversations would not stray into their civilian lives for fear of busting the secret identity rule. Ladybug was still convinced she did not know Chat in real life, though, and he thought the same. Therefore conversations dipping into a more personal direction wasn't a problem for her.

Not really.

So sometimes, on particularly long days when she could see something was wrong, she would ask Chat Noir if anything was up. If anything had changed recently or if the problem was that nothing was changing.

(The later was a problem for her sometimes- as it often felt like their battle with Hawkmoth was going on for too long.)

But every time she asked him, he answered the same way.

“I'm fine,” he would say. Or- “It's fine.” Then he'd quickly distract her and take the subject to something else.

She had learned, over the years, how to read him. He wasn't the easiest person to read, in fact he could be very secretive (which was why she struggled so much to ask questions about his personal life, not knowing if he was lying or not), but after years of knowing him there were certain hints she could pick up on.

Between countless battles and long hours of watching over the city together, Ladybug had seen many sides of her partner.

One of the sides that scared her most to witness was the one that was hinting on her face right then. A closed off expression with that fake smile that she had believed for quite a long time. It made her wonder how often he was masking his inner turmoil at home or in her real life, that smile.

It was convincing.

It wasn't real, but it was so perfect Ladybug had taken years to see what was wrong with it.

He looked glassy, that was the problem. Like he was going to fall apart any second (even as he cracked his horrible jokes and fought alongside her). She hadn't seen the smile break yet, but sometimes when he didn't think she was looking Ladybug could catch a glimpse of what was going on under it.

She would look away for a moment, pretending to survey the area or take in their surroundings, but then she would watch him out of the corner of her eyes. It was a trick she had pulled many times to check if the fake smile she was seeing was as fake as it felt.

When it worked, the expression would melt as her eyes were not on him anymore. Not fully (he was clearly a professional at this business), but enough that it looked wrong.

Most of the time, she wouldn't pay any mind to the fake expression. At least not in a way that he could see. (It would weigh on her mind in it's own way, dragging down her moods so much that sometimes he caught on and asked her if anything was wrong.) Those moments hurt, seeing that he could see easily ignore what was going on with him and attempt to comfort her.

So she asked him what it was about.

“Are you really fine?” Ladybug asked, biting her lip as she kicked her legs on the edge of the building they were sitting on.

He blinked at her like he didn't know what she was talking about and she felt something twist in her stomach. “Of course I am,” he responded. She could feel that he was going to drag the conversation away from the topic with the tone of his voice. Wary, nervous. (And just a hint of either, so hidden that she was probably one of the only people who could tell that something was off.)

Cutting in so that he couldn't change the topic, Ladybug shook her head and looked at him. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?” he murmured, eyes flicking away the second she achieved eye contact with him.

“Deny that something's wrong?” she prompted, “You do it every time I ask if something's up, what's the deal with that anyway? It makes me nervous?”

“Nervous?” he repeated, looking confused but still not raising his eyes to meet her gaze.

Ladybug nodded, “Nervous, exactly. I can tell something's off, I've known you for years,”

He was closing up, she could tell. For a moment, surprised by her sudden interest in his emotional state, he had been open. She could almost smell it in the air. But now, he was closing off again.

There was no way she was letting that happen.

“Hey, look at me,” she demanded.

He did so, the expression on his face unreadable (even for her). There was no fake smile, but no frown either. The hurt she had seen in his eyes for a moment was gone, replaced by a blankness she knew from trying to avoid akumas.

It was a perfect cover and if she hadn't seen that little peice of his soul he had expressed for that single moment, it would have convinced her.

But she had seen it.

“Stop it,” she shook her head, “Don't… don't do that, please. Masking your feelings isn't-”

He suddenly stood up, already facing away from her.

Her head shot up and traced his movement, confused as he began to walk away.

“I can't tell you about my life, Ladybug,” he reminded her as she got up and began to follow him. His voice was quiet and slow, careful but not angry at all. He sounded apologetic.

“No, Chat,” she reached out and grabbed his shoulder, turning him around. (He still had that blasted expression on and it almost scared her to see.) “Please don't do this again, I want to make sure you're okay,”

He hesitated and emotion flicked into his eyes for a moment, his perfect disguise faltering as she presented the option. But even as hope burst into her chest, the hesitation was gone.

Chat Noir shook his head, voice soft and calm. “I've told you Ladybug, I'm fine. Even if I wasn't, what matters is that we keep our heads,”

“You're not,” she shook her head, watching the spark of anger that lit his eyes for a moment. Good, she thought.

But he only sighed, “I'm fine,”
(1102 words.)


Word War With @yishujia - 1۞
That summer seemed to last forever in these parts.

Among the trees and the hills and the little fairies that called out her name, the place was entrancing. It burned her on the inside like the scorching sun she knew from other summers, but it was not as hot as those in reality.

Warm and wet and cold at the same time, she yearned for something that did not last as long as these.

(She was never the type to enjoy this hot weather, never the type to rise to it with ease and with joy. She never enjoyed the burning hot, hot, hot or the breeze that shook her to her bones.)

She just wasn't the sort for this time of year.

And, so being in a place like this was torture of its own.

She wasn't accustomed to it. (A spirit of snow, as she was.)
(148 words.)